#i noticed he owns a lot of businesses including clubs

[desirespeaks]

@courtesons sent in a meme.

❛ you think i’m jealous? ❜ casey / owen, ethan or tony

"Honestly, I don't know what to think. Ever since we started hooking up, I feel like every guy I look at could end up at the bottom of the river somewhere." He paused. "I know what you're like, Owen. I've heard the stories."

[evansbby]

𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | dark!Ari Levinson x innocent!reader, dark!Steve Rogers x innocent!reader, dark!Curtis Everett x innocent!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | dark, smut, noncon, dubcon, foursome, daddy!kink, oral, anal, physical violence, slapping, mention of alcohol and drugs, insertion of objects, spitting, toys, degradation, dumbification, spanking, very very strongly misogynistic, domesticity kink, slight petplay, bullying, Ari, Curtis and especially Steve being very mean, adultery/cheating, dacryphilia, collars, leashes, free use, sharing is caring.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Your husband Ari invites his friends Steve and Curtis for poker night. You knew they’d be sharing a few drinks together - what you don’t know is that they plan on sharing you too.

𝐀/𝐍 | This work includes MAJOR misogyny and degradation. The views of these characters do not reflect my own. Please heed warnings and don’t read if this isn’t your cup of tea. Otherwise, enjoy!

“Honey, where the hell are those drinks?” Ari’s voice is loud, booming and dripping with authority as it carries from the living room into the kitchen. Exhaling slowly a few times to steady your hand, you drop the final few ice cubes into your husband’s glass of whiskey, giving the drink a gentle stir before placing it on the tray next to the scotch and the beer.

“Sure, she’s a real looker, but she’s a bit slow.” You hear your husband explain to his friends. “I don’t worry, though, because what she lacks for in brains, she makes up for in other areas.”

“I’d definitely prefer a broad who’s dumb as bricks. I’d say it makes ‘em hotter.” One of his friends responds – you’re too focused on making sure you have their drinks exactly right to notice who it is that’s spoken.

Their laughter echoes and bounces off the walls of the living room, your husband’s the loudest of all.

Your parents had warned you against Ari Levinson. A business tycoon of his magnitude rocking up in your small town? He’d bought up all the small businesses, bulldozed down the local mall and played a hand in more than a handful of people being left unemployed – including both your parents. Your dad called him a ruthless, big city snob. Your mom called him trouble with a capital T. But you called him your husband.

Or daddy.

“She’s a bit on the younger side.” You hear another one of your husband’s friends – Steve Rogers, you think – comment, “You sure she knows what she’s doing?”

“She’ll manage.” Ari sounds smooth and unperturbed, “I’ve got her trained. And she’s well aware of what’ll happen if she messes up.”

You swallow, tray now gripped tightly in your hands as you make your way out of the kitchen.

Ari was charming and friendly when you’d first met him, and he’d swept you off your feet instantly. The naïve, small-town waitress seduced through his sugary sweet words and expensive gifts. The fact that he was so much older than you didn’t seem to matter, not when he made you feel sparks across your body and see stars behind your eyes.

You were married within three weeks of knowing him.

“I hope she does mess up.” Course, almost sadistic laugher echoes from the living room. Curtis. Ari’s other friend. “I’d love to stick around to witness the repercussions.”

You cringe at his insinuation. You know Curtis Everett is married. You also know he has a wild reputation for being a regular at both the town’s strip club and the local whorehouse. What he does for a living is unclear to you – Ari never discusses things like that with you – but he hangs around in the same circles as your husband and drives a nice car, so you assume he must have a lot of money.

“You ever used your belt on her, Levinson?” Steve asks casually. There’s a darkness to Steve Rogers that you can’t quite pinpoint. An air of mystery that no one in town seems to be able to crack – least of all you. All you know is that he’s one of Ari’s business partners, he’s divorced, and he rides a motorbike from time to time.

Your husband smirks, “Wouldn’t you like to know, you sadistic fuck.”

They know you’ve entered the living room, slowly making your way towards them whilst balancing the tray of drinks, yet they still talk about you like you’re not there. But you still feel nervous, despite none of the three men bothering to tear their gazes away from their game of poker to even spare you a glance.

Curtis is nearest to you, so you approach him first, silently holding out the tray of drinks just like Ari has taught you to do with every guest that’s come to visit in the past. And he looks up, head buzzed but facial hair dark and thick as ever. Beard not as thick as Ari’s, but still thick enough. Ocean blue eyes sparkling with intensity, he grabs his beer from the tray, taking a long swig while maintaining eye contact with you.

“That’s a pretty dress you got on, sweetheart.” Curtis leers, his gaze stuck on your cleavage peaking out past the neckline of your dress. After marrying you, Ari made sure you had a wardrobe full of cute dresses and skirts to wear just for him. All pastel and flowery and girly to match his tastes – which Curtis clearly seems to share.

You hesitate, glancing back at Ari with your lip tucked between your teeth. Curtis’ gaze is hungry and wolfish, taking advantage of the close proximity between the two of you. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand, being stared at like this. As if you’re an exhibit inside a zoo enclosure, but he’s the animal circling you from the outside.

“Don’t be rude, honey. Tell him thank you.” Your husband’s order is clear and commanding.

“Th-Thank you, Mr. Everett.” Never first names, your husband had told you that his friends – like Ari himself – were not your equals.

You move on to Steve next. He’s sat on the couch, or more like spread out on the couch because he’s taking up more than half the space. Not even sparing you a single glance when you bend down so the tray is level with him, he grabs his scotch and takes a long, calculated sip. A single strand of his dirty blonde hair falls over his forehead. He’s got long hair just like Ari, but where Ari’s is darker and wilder, Steve’s dirty blonde mane is almost always perfectly styled.

“She’s shaking like a scared little kitten.” Steve comments, and he’s looking at you now. Or rather, your body – his blue eyes drinking in all your curves whilst he still has yet to acknowledge you. But sure enough – he’s right. The tray in your hands is shaking despite your many efforts to calm your own nerves. There’s just something… fearsome about the blond sat in front of you. As if one wrong move on your part and he’ll eat you alive…

Curtis grins, “I think she’s scared of you, Rogers.”

Steve is unamused, “I could give her a good reason to be scared.”

You gulp, slowly straightening up and making your way over to Ari, who’s sat on his leather armchair. Handing your husband his whiskey, you take your seat on his knee – your designated place for whenever you guys have company. Very early on in your marriage, Ari had told you that good little wives sit on their husbands’ laps because the couches and chairs were reserved for the men.

His arm encircles around your waist, pulling you close and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. The act of affection relaxes you, tenseness evaporating from your limbs as you settle down against your husband. In his lap you feel so tiny; he’s just so big – they all are. All three of them don’t look an inch below 6’5, and it only adds to the intimidation you feel.

Their poker game resumes, and you try to make sense of it in your head but the truth is you have no idea what’s going on. You never understood the rules of poker, and Ari had just laughed when, in the past, you’d asked him to explain the game to you. “Poker is a men’s game.” He’d said wisely, “Little girls like you just need to sit tight and look pretty, so don’t you worry your dumb little head over it.”

“My wife’s being a fucking bitch.” Curtis breaks the silence with a drawl, cigarette waving in one hand and beer bottle in the other, “Got herself these progressive friends, telling her she doesn’t have to be in the kitchen all the time. Now suddenly she wants to go out for fucking girls’ night – as if she doesn’t have four of my fucking kids to be taking care of.”

Steve snorts, not even looking up from his cards, “You scared you might run into her at the strip club?”

Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Curtis exhales and the smoke billows out past his pink lips slowly, his blue eyes looking straight at you through the grey mist. “I don’t give a shit if I do. Maybe if she knew I was getting pleasure elsewhere, she’d try harder in the bedroom. Fuckin’ bitch.”

“Divorce her. That’s what I did when my broad got too big for her boots.” The blond finally looks up from his deck of cards, his icy blue eyes – like Curtis’ – drinking you in with their intense gaze. “Now Levinson’s got the right idea. Got himself a pretty young thing who doesn’t dare to even breathe unless he tells her to.”

Ari smirks, his thick fingers tracing shapes on your bare thigh, “You got that right. My little angel knows exactly where her place is, don’t you, baby?”

Of course, you know your place. You’d been happy to grant Ari full control of your life from the moment you had met him. He was just so handsome, so sweet, so charming – with seemingly endless amounts of money and praise that he had no problem spending on you. In your naïve eyes, he seemed like a God. And he still does, so you nod.

“Yes, Ari. I know my place.”

“Ari? Is that what she calls you?” Steve’s remark is quick and biting.

Your husband sighs, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch is soft but his gaze hardens, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. His disapproval is evident in the look he gives you, and it makes your heart sink.

The rule is to only call Ari “daddy” when you’re inside the house. But he’s never made you do it when the two of you have company over. The thought of calling him that in front of Curtis and Steve makes your heart beat faster and heat rise to your cheeks. But the possibility of disobeying Ari makes you feel almost sick to your stomach.

“Sorry, I meant daddy. I know my place, daddy.” You correct yourself, earning a soft kiss on your lips from your husband, the simple gesture making you glow inwardly. It’s like your body is now wired to function on his approval. You try not to think about the fact that his friends are right there, because that might make you spontaneously combust with embarrassment.

“Fuckin’ newlyweds,” Curtis growls as he watches you and Ari continue to kiss. He suddenly slams his beer bottle on the coffee table, the loud thud making you jump. “Hey sweetie, get me another beer.”

No please, no thank you. But you scamper to obey anyways – you already know your night’s going to be spent going back and forth from kitchen to living room as you fetch drinks for them. You’re barely on your feet when Ari’s hand smacks your ass hard, the lewd sound echoing across the room along with the squeak of surprise that leaves your mouth.

The men laugh and you scurry out of the room quickly. “Where the hell did you find her, Levinson? She’s shyer than a fuckin’ mouse!” Curtis’ voice booms.

Inside the kitchen and away from their burning gazes, you allow yourself to exhale slowly. You may be overthinking it, but something seems off about tonight. It’s in the way that all three men are looking at you – your husband included. And the dress Ari chose for you is shorter than usual, which doesn’t help much with the staring. They’re treating you like an object, and you honestly don’t know how to feel about that.

“You think she got lost in there?” Steve’s voice is loud enough to carry through the walls and into the kitchen. You sigh, grabbing another bottle of beer from the fridge and making your way back out, being sure to tug your tiny dress down before you return.

“Here you are, Mr. Everett.” You say politely, breath hitching in your throat when his hand brushes against yours as he takes the beer from you.

“At least some women still remember their manners,” The buzzcut-haired man murmurs, “Fuckin’ feminists, ruining this world for the rest of us. You’re still good though, sweetie. Your daddy trained you well, huh?”

“Yes, Mr. Everett.” You disagree with just about everything he’s saying, but you have to keep that to yourself.

It’s hard to not be intimidated when all three men seem to have their eyes glued on you; you can feel their gazes again as you make your way back over to Ari. You’re about to sink back down on his lap when he raises a hand, the simple action making you freeze.

“Why don’t you sit by daddy’s feet for a little while, angel?”

He says it so sweetly, almost like he’s requesting you to do a small favour for him. But the edge in his tone, that unmistakable tinge of darkness dancing around his words can’t be ignored. It’s an order, cleverly disguised as a question although he has no reason to disguise it. But by his feet? On the floor?

You swallow harshly, suddenly remembering your parents’ distressed words of warning when you’d broken the news that you and Ari had eloped: “That man looks at you like you’re a piece of meat. You need to get out while you still can, he doesn’t respect you and he never will.” But you love him. You’re so in love with him that it hurts to disobey him, to upset him in any way, shape or form.

“Is she hard of hearing or something?” Steve’s deep baritone makes you jump inadvertently, not a note of sympathy in his words. “Maybe she isn’t as well trained as you say she is, Levinson. Hey sweetheart,” He clicks his teeth like he’s beckoning a dog, “Are you deaf or just plain dumb?”

Bristling at Steve’s stark meanness, you waste no more time in sinking down to your knees next to Ari’s feet, hands clasped neatly over your lap and chin jutted upwards to look at your husband. And Ari seems cool and collected as ever, taking another long gulp of his whiskey. He doesn’t even look your way, but his hand pats the top of your head – the action bringing you both embarrassment and comfort at the same time.

“To think she asked for a puppy for Christmas.” Ari says offhandedly, “I told her I didn’t have time to take care of two pets.” Again, the men laugh crudely, and you’re left feeling more than a little dejected. But Ari pushes the back of your head forward, making you rest your cheek on his thigh with his fingers raking through your hair and you relax once more.

“Speaking of dumb,” Curtis pipes up as they continue to play poker, “Ransom’s got a new bitch and she’s dumb as hell. Saw her at the club with him the other night, he had her dressed looking like a fuckin’ whore.” He smirks, “The things that girl would do for a line of crack.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Steve scoffs.

“Things you can’t even dream of, grandpa.” Curtis slaps his knee and barks out a laugh, “How long’s it been since you got your rocks off, huh?”

The blond shrugs, “At least I’m not a walking STD.”

You want to wrinkle your nose at their conversation but you know that wouldn’t be a good idea. But the way they speak about women is so crass, so dehumanising – it’s almost scary. The only thing keeping you calm right now is Ari’s heavy, warm hand as it strokes the top of your head continuously as if you’re his pet.

“My angel does everything Ransom’s crackwhore does, except she does it for free.” Ari interjects, a satisfied smirk painted on his face.

Curtis’ eyebrow cocks up in interest, and even Steve puts his drink down.

“Yeah? Sweetie, are you a little freak in the sheets?” Curtis asks as he leans forward to toss what’s left of his cigarette into the crystal ashtray that’s on the coffee table.

You immediately look up at Ari, who is now scratching the space behind your ear in a way that really does make you feel like you’re some kind of puppy. Your husband sighs, “Answer him, angel. And don’t look at me like that again. You speak when you’re spoken to, no ifs or buts. Got it?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You flinch at his stern tone before turning to look at Curtis. “I… I don’t know, Mr. Everett.”

A snort sounds past Steve’s lips, “She’s a little airhead, isn’t she? Gotta find me one of those. Hey, sweetheart, you ever let your daddy spank you? Fuck you all rough, take it up the ass for him?”

Eyes wide and blood running cold, you can feel the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the blonde’s blunt questions. But the sting of Ari’s disapproval and the threat of disobeying him has you stumbling over an answer:

“Y-Yes, Mr. Rogers. Daddy has done all of that to me.” And more.

Curtis whistles lowly, “Damn, sweetie, wish I had you sitting pretty in my bedroom instead of my cunt wife.”

You let out a soft gasp, immediately waiting with baited breath for Ari to blow up. In the short time you had been together, your husband was always very possessive of you. From giving dirty looks to random men who even dared to look at you, to resorting to violence any time another man tried to talk to you.

But the rules are different for his friends, clearly, because Ari doesn’t move a muscle, coolly downing his whiskey before setting the glass on the crystal coffee table. You almost mewl sadly when his hand stops stroking your head and he stands up.

“I forgot something upstairs,” He says vaguely as he looks down at you, “Honey, can I trust you to look after and entertain my friends while I go upstairs and get it?”

Again, it’s not a question. And the idea of being alone downstairs with Curtis and Steve without the comforting and protective presence of your husband is daunting to say the least. But it’s not like you can say no. You knew the day you married Ari that the word ‘no’ was no longer in your vocabulary.

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You nod subserviently, and your husband grins almost wolfishly. And there’s something about the expression on his face, the slight smirk on his pink lips and the way his tanned skin flushes in excitement – he’s been cool as a cucumber all evening but now? It’s as if he’s got something up his sleeve, and a glance at his friends shows they share the same dark sparkle in their eyes too.

But you don’t have time to ponder over anything, because the next thing you know you’re being hauled up onto your feet, a pained yelp escaping your lips as Ari yanks you upwards with a death grip on your hair.

“You hear that, guys? She said she’d entertain you. Who wants her first?”

It’s like everything’s happening lightning quick – Ari picking you up easily, and you squealing because your dress rides up and you’re pretty sure your panties are visible for a split second before you tug it back down. But that turns out to be the least of your worries because the next thing you know, your husband has unceremoniously dumped you into Steve’s lap.

Like a ragdoll.

“Hey, hey, calm down, sweetheart.” Steve immediately wraps his arms around your waist to stop you from flailing. His words drip with condescension and faux-comfort, and it feels almost alien to be in his arms. You’ve never been held like this by a man apart from your husband, and although Steve is so similar to Ari in build and looks – he’s still not your husband.

“Ari?” You squeak, but the only response you get is the sound of all three men laughing – a sound that you’ve been hearing all night.

“Hush, little baby.” Curtis mocks, reaching out to pull your cheek as if you really are a little baby, “Me and Mr. Rogers, we can be your daddies too, you know? Your daddy said it was okay.”

Your gaze trails dejectedly after Ari, or rather Ari’s back, as you watch him leave the room. And now you’re left with two pairs of steely blue eyes that are so like your husband’s yet so different in so many ways.

“Hand her over,” Curtis demands Steve almost immediately, “God knows I need her little body against me right now. I’m harder than a fucking rock, watching this little sweetheart fetch me beers all night.” He tries to yank you by your arm, but the blonde’s grip on you only tightens, and the younger man frowns, “Give her over, Rogers. She likes me better than you, anyways. Don’t you, sweetie?”

Well, he’s certainly nicer than Steve – but you don’t particularly like either of them right now. And you’re too panicked to answer him. How could Ari leave you alone with these two? And why would he throw you on Steve’s lap as if you were expected to…

Entertain him.

“A little girl like her craves the firm hand of an older man.” Steve responds smoothly, his hand resting on your bare thigh and giving it a soft squeeze that has you practically panting. No other man apart from Ari has touched you like this, and you can feel something so hard underneath you. The blond grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Don’t you, sweetheart? You like men twice your age best, don’t you? Gets your little pussy wet knowing you’re with a man old enough to be your dad?”

Curtis snorts, leaning back and lighting another cigarette, “Clearly. She married Levinson.”

That grabs your attention, and you find yourself shaking your head, “No, me and Ari are in love!”

You’re serious with your claim, and you don’t expect the two older men to burst out laughing. Loud, booming laughter that makes you even more uncomfortable than you already are. Beneath you, you can feel Steve’s hard crotch rubbing against your bottom as he laughs, his chest snug against your back as he holds you close with one muscular arm.

“Sure, sweetie, he loves you a lot. So much, in fact, that he’s willing to share you with his friends.”

You frown at Curtis’ statement – what does he mean by share?  

You find out not two seconds later when Steve’s huge hands find the zipper of your dress, fingers deft and quick in unzipping you. Gasping, you try and wiggle away again but to no avail. “Mr. Rogers! Wh-What are you doing!?”

“Stay the fuck still,” Steve orders you, “Gotta get you out of this dress. As pretty as it is, I prefer my toys naked and compliant.” The straps of the dress are pushed down your shoulders, and Curtis joins in too, pulling the fabric down your body.

Blood rushes to your face, but for some reason your protests barely make it past your lips with how feeble they seem to be. Having both older men’s hands on you, pawing at you lewdly and practically shredding your dress to pieces with their impatience to get you naked; for some reason you feel your pussy throb.

No, no you can’t! You can’t betray Ari like this! So then why do you bite back a moan when Steve finally rips your dress in two, throwing the sorry-looking flowery rags to the floor before he cups both your breasts (Ari had told you not to wear a bra tonight), squeezing the soft flesh and rolling your hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Curtis’ rough and calloused palm immediately cups your pussy through your pale pink panties that Ari had chosen for you.

“Did you wet yourself, little girl? Or are you just excited?” He asks, grinding his palm down against your covered mound, making you gasp out loud. And you’ve always lacked willpower – Ari’s punished you enough times for it in the past – so you can’t help but buck your hips against Curtis’ hand, feeling the shame wash over you but not caring enough to stop.

“Look at her, humping against my hand already like a little slut – almost like she’s an eager little virgin or something. I guess Ari never taught her anything about self-control.” The buzzcut-haired man comments.

Steve smirks, still toying with your breasts as if he hasn’t touched a woman in years; squeezing them and pressing them together, holding you taut against him as you flail on top of him from all the mixed sensations you’re currently feeling.

“She’s all riled up from earlier. Pretty pussy’s all wet from fetching our drinks all night, or maybe it’s because she’s cheating on her husband. Hey! Stay the fuck still, you dumb fucking slut!” Steve growls suddenly, because Curtis chooses that moment to slap your panty-covered pussy hard, and your whole body convulses on top of Steve.

“Give her a drink, maybe it’ll calm her down.” Curtis nods to the glass of half-finished scotch on the coffee table, “It’s too bad Levinson didn’t want to drug her for this. Something about fucking a girl who’s half unconscious really gets me going.”

“No way. Half the fun is in the way she wails and fights back. Look at her now, conflicted and guilty because she’s feeling so good. She can’t even keep still, rutting like a little bunny in heat. Hey, sweetheart, have a sip.” Steve nudges his glass of scotch against your lips and you wrinkle your nose, eyes wide as saucers.

“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink.”

“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink,” Curtis mimics you cruelly, making his voice all high-pitched, “Sweetie, your daddy left us in charge of you, so drinking a little bit of alcohol is the least of your worries. Now open up.”

You part your lips, ready to take a timid sip except Steve has different plans – he tips the glass over your face, the burning liquid sloshing all down your front. It’s icy cold against your skin, dripping down your neck and over your chest. Curtis groans, immediately dipping his head down to lick the liquid off of you. And his rough tongue against your smooth skin has you crying out as he licks a tantalising trail between your breasts, before his mouth latches onto your nipple, suctioning hard and practically fitting your whole breast into his mouth, making a show of it and moaning lewdly the whole time.

“Dumb baby,” Steve tsk-tsks, “Look at the mess you made. Wasting all of daddy’s drink. Apologise, right now.”

You hiccup, mind slowly going empty with Curtis going to town on your tits with no sign of slowing down. And he’s still got one hand pressing between your legs, and that mixed with the feel of Steve’s hard dick poking your ass from underneath has your mind going empty at a faster rate than ever. You involuntarily buck up against Curtis’ hand again, your pussy weeping already and you know you’re embarrassingly wet, and –

SMACK.

The force of the slap across your face leaves you winded and shocked, as does the stinging pain now spreading across your cheek.

“When I tell you to apologise, you apologise.” Steve warns sternly, and Curtis finally looks up, licking his full pink lips at the site of you with your head whipped to the side.

You feel your breathing grow ragged and your lower lip wobble, the pain and embarrassment almost too much for you to handle. Salty tears well in your eyes, a natural response to the slap you’ve just received, and you sniffle softly.

Ari reappears at that moment, and your heart swells at the sight of your husband. He always makes you feel so safe, so familiar – unlike the man whose lap you’re currently splayed out over. Like a baby, you outstretch your arms towards him. “Daddy! H-He… He hit me!”

That proclamation has Curtis beside himself with laughter, “Hear that, Steve? She just tattled on you! Like a little girl running to her daddy.”

Ari crouches down till he’s level with your face, grabbing your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, “He hit you, honey?”

“Yeah!”

“Where?”

Your hand is shaky as you point to your cheek which still throbs with pain. Steve hadn’t held back with his slap, and now he sits back with you still on his lap and a smile on his face, not an ounce of regret visible in his demeanour, as if he’s admiring his handiwork.

Ari’s own hand reaches out to stroke your stinging cheek softly, and you nuzzle into his palm, welcoming his touch. Steve is horrifically mean and Curtis is crass and rude, but your daddy is the best. He knows how to treat you right, knows exactly how to make you feel better with just a simple, soft touch –

SMACK.

You can hardly believe it when Ari strikes you across the face, the blow almost as hard as Steve’s, and now you burst out crying in earnest.

“Poor baby,” Curtis coos, lighting up his third cigarette of the hour and taking a long drag before puffing the smoke directly in your face. You cough harshly, his smoke filling your lungs and adding to your discomfort, but he doesn’t seem to care; “I guess that’s what you get for being a slut and cheating on your daddy with his two best friends.”

Ari strokes the side of your face where pain still blooms from his blow, and you find yourself flinching now, scared he’s going to hit you again. His eyes locked with your own tearful ones; and you don’t even notice the collar in his hand until he waves it in front of your face. In a voice beguiling, and so falsely gentle, he speaks as if he’s talking to a toddler: “Now honey, can you read what this collar says?”

Ari has made you wear plenty of collars in the past; you have your special pink one – the one with his initials on it as well as the words “daddy’s princess.” That one’s definitely your favourite. You also have a black one that says ‘daddy’s property’ which is nice too. But this collar in Ari’s hands, this one is new. It’s jet-black leather with silver studs, and a matching silver dog-tag that dangles from the front, glistening in the light with only one word inscribed on it:

Whore

You blubber softly, cheeks still stinging with pain and now a matching sting in your heart. What exactly is happening right now? You wonder to yourself as Ari fastens the collar around your neck while Steve holds you in place with a death grip.

“I asked you something, sweet girl. Did you read what the collar says?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You sniffle, “Says whore.”

“It does. Because that’s what you are for tonight.” Ari chuckles softly at the bewildered look on your face, stroking your cheek once more in time with Steve who is now running his hands through your hair. “Angel, you’re new to this whole marriage and relationships thing – so I understand that you’re too dumb to know how it works. But good little wives not only offer their services to their husbands, but to their husbands’ friends too. And that’s what you’ll be doing tonight.”

You feel like he’s dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, “B-But…But…”

“No, Angel. No ‘buts,’ remember?” Ari taps your cheek lightly as if to remind you of the pain his palm is capable of inflicting. “You don’t want to be like Curtis’ wife, do you? A dumb, wild broad who believes she can think for herself? No, that’s not you. You’re good and innocent and you’ll do exactly what daddy says, won’t you? Because men don’t like women who think they have any power in this world – it turns us off more than anything else. Do you want to turn me off, baby? Do you want to disappoint me?”

“No!” You cry, and you’d have reached out to wrap your arms around Ari’s neck if it weren’t for Steve holding you close to his own chest, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “No, daddy! Never wanna disappoint you! I’ll do wh-whatever you guys want me to do.”

Steve is unforgiving when he drops you on the floor, and you wince as you land painfully on your ass. “Be a good whore then.” He says bluntly, “Hands and knees. Lick my shoe.”

It’s not the first time that night that shock courses through your veins, but three pairs of blue eyes have now locked in on you, with hungry and expectant gazes that make you believe that you are the object that they want you to be, that they undoubtedly see you as. And so you gulp and get into position, naked and kneeling before the blond, his boots scuffed and slightly dirty as you stare at them from eye level.

“She’s got a great ass.” Curtis remarks crudely, the men casually falling back into conversation whilst you will yourself to part your lips, peak your tongue out and give Steve’s shoe a tentative lick. And then another. You stifle a soft gasp when you feel Curtis’ rough hand on your bottom, patting it as if you’re an animal at an auction, “If she was mine, I’d have her naked and crawling around on all fours all the time, this peachy ass is too fuckable to hide underneath clothes.”

“It’s the first thing I noticed about her.” Ari agrees, and his hand joins Curtis’, grabbing onto your other cheek and giving it a firm squeeze, “She was working at some dingy diner… Had this tiny fuckin’ dress on – called it a ‘uniform’. Didn’t even know her back then but I got an eyeful of her little girl panties every time she bent over. Fuckin’ slut. She gave out not fifteen minutes later.”

Your cheeks burn, but you concentrate on Steve’s shoe, licking it as if your life depends on it. And despite everything, despite how inhumane and disrespectful and shameful and objectifying the act is, there’s something about kneeling in front of a powerful man like Steve, or like Ari or Curtis, that makes your pussy throb with need.

“Make the leather shine, whore.” Steve is so stark, so to-the-point with his orders; he shoves his boot in your face, rubbing it over your lips, chin and cheeks and covering your sensitive skin in a mix of your own spit and dirt. “You like that, don’t you? Like being treated with no respect like all little girls like you should be. You’re nothing more than the dirt beneath my shoe, sweetheart. Remember that.”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You find yourself saying between licks. Being the main object of attention between these three men has you wetter and steadily growing dumber by the second.

Your panties – the last article of clothing covering your modesty – are roughly ripped off of you, the soggy fabric landing on the floor next to your face. Steve’s hands grip your hair tightly, jerking you roughly upwards till you’re level with his dick, cowering between his parted thighs. Less than a second later, he’s unzipped himself, pulling his dick out and nudging it against your lips, “Open up, whore.”

The only man whose dick you’ve sucked prior to this is Ari – and Steve is a lot less forgiving. Stuffing his length into your barely parted mouth, the blond moves you by the hair, guiding your lips up and down his fat dick, and you were already crying but fresh tears well in your eyes from the choking feeling of fullness, your nose smacking against his pelvis as he manhandles you.

“Wish she’d been a virgin up here.” Curtis mutters, completely unperturbed by the fact that you’re currently choking on Steve’s dick, and you feel a rush of cool air when he spreads your ass cheeks, “Would’ve been so much fun to break into her little asshole.”

“I couldn’t hold off on that,” Ari’s fingers are deft and confident, tracing the rim of your puckered hole like he’s done countless times before and making your entire body shiver from head to toe. “She let me fuck her ass on our second date. She’s still tight up there, though. Try and finger her, you won’t even get one in.”

Curtis spits, his saliva dripping down the crevice of your ass, pooling around your asshole where Ari works it in with his pointer finger, the thick ring of muscle practically closing up around him, barely allowing an inch of his digit in. You involuntarily wiggle, trying to move your hips backwards to meet their fingers as Curtis joins in. But while Ari is teasing, Curtis is straightforward – wasting no time in ramming his pointer finger up your ass. The pain blooms almost immediately, making you cry out around Steve’s dick.

“Ah, she’s a good little cocksucker, Ari.” Steve comments, his grip on your hair so tight it hurts, “But she can’t take my whole dick in, can she? Look at her, already crying and I’m not even halfway inside of her.” Once more, he slaps your cheek before tapping it in quick succession, “Hey, cockslut, did your daddy not teach you how to deepthroat?”

He pulls his dick out of your mouth, the loss of contact making you pout despite the fact that you were practically choking not a second ago. “S-Sorry, daddy. T-Too big, it’s too big. Mouth’s too small – oh fuck!” You lurch forward when you feel something warm and wet lapping at your puckered hole – it’s Curtis’ tongue, hungry and desperate against your tight hole, his hands roughly pushing apart your ass cheeks.

Ari’s fingers slip down to your sopping core, your wetness dripping down and staining the carpet, making it so easy for your husband’s knowing fingers to glide up and down your slit, circling your clit in a way that has you panting and grinding back into his hand, earning a slap on your wiggling bum in the process.

“Needy baby,” Ari murmurs, and you’re about to whine, beg for him to stop teasing, when your head whips to the side once more from a rush of contact. Steve’s gripping his huge dick in his hand, and it looks so hard and angry as he slaps you across the face with it. Once, twice, three times till you’re wailing like a baby.

“She’s so fucking hot when she cries.” Steve comments, rubbing his dick over your face now as if he’s a feral animal trying to mark you with his scent, pressing the bulbous tip of his cock against your lips and you can’t help but pathetically part them, mouth gaping to taste him again. But he moves on, rubbing his length and his balls over your cheeks, nose, just all over. “You like being a messy whore? Want daddy to smear your face with cum, spit and dirt, get you looking like a proper slutty whore?”

“Y-Yeah, please!” You cry softly, and Steve grins.

Ari’s two knuckles deep into your pussy by this point, his fingers so deliciously thick as he pumps in and out. He knows exactly how to curve his digits, and at what angle, making your back arch from doing the bare minimum, causing you to press your ass further into Curtis’ face and eager tongue.

“She tastes like a dream.” Curtis’ voice is muffled, hands reaching up to slap and squeeze your ass obscenely, as if the flesh is his personal stress-ball, “God, Levinson. Why didn’t you think of sharing her before? With a sweet tasting ass like hers…” It’s like he can’t help himself, his beard prickling your skin as he dips his head back down, tongue practically making out with your puckered hole.

He tries to shove another finger in, but barely manages to fit in the tip of it. “God, a sweet ass that’s also tight as fuck? No wonder you call her an angel.”

Ari smirks, “Told you. I gotta take my time loosening her up before I fuck her up there. Or you could hold her down and force yourself in. She’ll cry either way.”

You whimper needily between them. It’s crazy how they continue to talk about you as if you’re not splayed naked right there. But it turns you on beyond belief, the idea that you’re just an object to them, that they can discuss you as easily as they would discuss what’s on the morning news. It makes you want them even more, especially now that Curtis has lifted his head up, Ari’s fingers have stalled and even Steve has pushed your face back down to his boot.

The blond is busy palming his dick as he now gazes down hungrily at your exposed ass, “If we’re gonna vote on it, I say force it in. She’s just a hole at the end of the day, and she’s going to be taking more than one cock up her ass tonight regardless.”

Mewling softly, you reach out with grabby hands for one of them, as if silently begging them to keep touching you, to give you some sort of contact because all of it seems to have stopped as the three older men casually discuss your body. You can feel your slick pouring down and coating your thighs, making them sticky with your arousal but you don’t dare to touch yourself.

“P-Please, daddy, please touch me.” You don’t know who you’re addressing, but your desire overtakes your fear of the three intimidating men. Face nuzzling Steve’s calf, ass wiggling pointedly towards Curtis and hips grinding down on the carpet below you, you know shame is something you’ve left far, far behind. “Please. Need–wanna be touched!”

Ari’s fingers find your mouth, pushing past your lips and effectively shutting you up.

“I don’t know. There are certainly other ways to stretch her out.” The mischief is evident in Curtis’ eyes when he suddenly reaches for something on the coffee table. Your eyes, hazy with lust, follow his hand, breath hitching when he grabs his now empty beer bottle.

“What do you think, sweetie?” Curtis asks you, “You want daddy to stuff this bottle up your ass like you’re some kind of cheap whore performing tricks at the brothel?”

You cower as Ari gathers you into his lap, your back against his chest and his hands gripping your bare thighs, spreading them wide open for the other two men to see, pussy spread open and splayed out with wetness trickling down your thighs, glistening and embarrassingly obvious.

“She looks scared.” Steve remarks, “You scared, sweetheart?”

You quiver in your husband’s arms, nodding in response although your fearful eyes don’t leave the bottle in Curtis’ hand. The neck alone is daunting, and the rest of the bottle has an even wider girth that makes your unprepped asshole twitch in fear.

“Use your words when you’re talking to me.” The blond growls, irritation clouding over his handsome features.

“Y-Yeah, I’m scared.” You answer softly.

“But you’re gonna do it anyways, aren’t you?” Ari sings in your ear, slapping your thigh to spread your legs out even further, bending your knees and adjusting you so that your rear hole is in full view. And you’re so wet, so incredibly wet that your juices spill down to stain Ari’s jeans and the couch.

You turn to look at your husband with pleading eyes, hoping to find a semblance of pity in his handsome face, “D-Daddy, please. Please don’t make me – AH!”

Again, your face is whipped to the side with another unforgiving slap, and Ari smiles down at you so casually, as if he’s just kissed you good-morning instead of slapped you in the face. “Honey, you know better than to deny your daddies.”

That’s how you find yourself laid out on the coffee table, three pairs of eyes belonging to three very intimidating and powerful men staring down at you as if you’re a piece of meat and they’ve been starving for days.

“Stay the fuck still, whore.” Curtis barks; he’s got your legs over his shoulders to give him better access to your puckered hole, grip harsh as he tries to keep you from flailing around. Your hole’s been stretched out by his and Ari’s thick fingers and a mix of your wetness and his saliva, but it still burns as he tries to force the thicker end of the beer bottle into you.

“H-Hurts!” You mewl, blindly grabbing at anything you can – which happens to be the collar of Steve’s shirt. Ruthlessly, the blond shoves your hand off of him, instead guiding it to his erect dick which is still wet from your saliva.

“If you’re gonna grab on to something, might as well be useful about it.” His dick is so thick, and just as big as Ari’s from what you can feel. Your little hand barely wraps around it, but you can’t even focus on pleasuring him because of the violating pain of the beer bottle being stuffed up your ass.

Ari guides your other hand to wrap around his dick, which is now also out of his unzipped jeans. “C’mon baby, jack us off the way I taught you to. The way I like it.” His tone is mesmerising, it’s almost instinctive when you obey, pumping the two thick dicks in your hands, trying to focus on their veiny girth and the way they twitch against your palms, how hard they feel, how big they both are.

“Oh, fuck, daddy, it hurts!” You cry out again, legs tightening around Curtis’ shoulders as he continues to stuff the unforgiving glass bottle up your ass. The buzzcut-haired man swats your thigh warningly, dislodging the bottle from your puckered hole completely, leaving you gaping as he swirls it around your pussy, gathering your wetness on its surface before returning it to your ass.

“Cut the complaining, baby girl. Your daddy already told us you’re a slut for anal, how much you love taking cock up your ass. How is this bottle any different, huh?” Curtis kisses up your thigh, slowly staring to fuck the bottle in and out of your ass as he sucks on your sensitive skin – no doubt leaving a mark in the process.

Meanwhile, Steve guides your hand to his balls, making you fondle and squeeze them, play with them indecently while the blonde grunts lowly, “God, wish my bitch of an ex-wife was half as compliant as you. What made you decide to become such a slutty whore, huh sweetheart?”

“W-Wanted to please daddy.” You answer quickly, knowing that if you didn’t then there’d be hell to pay – and probably another slap.

Ari smirks, brushing your hair out of your face almost tenderly as you continue to jack him off, “Damn right. It’s beautiful how just a few months ago, you were a naïve little virgin, and just look what a cockslut you’ve turned into now.”

“She’s still naïve, I’d say.” Curtis pipes up, his bicep muscles tensing as he shallowly fucks you with the beer bottle, in and out and in and out so rhythmically yet you’re seeing stars created from your own pain and sick pleasure.

“Naïve? More like dumb. Don’t think I’ve met a slut with an emptier head – but that’s what makes her the perfect wife, I guess.” Steve muses.

Being the “perfect wife” leads to you splayed out on the coffee table while the three men return to their seats, leaving you panting, unsated and still with the beer bottle lodged up your ass.

“Keep your legs open, angel.” Ari commands you, picking his deck of cards back up and that’s when you realise that they plan to ignore you and continue with their poker game instead. A low whine sounds past your lips at the thought.

“Look at her, crying like a baby again. She’s used to you spoiling her, Ari. Bet she thinks we were gonna make her cum or something.” Curtis snickers, kicking his feet up on the table, dangerously close to your pussy.

“P-Please – n-not fair – wanna cum so bad!” You cry softly, wanting to touch your pussy so badly but not knowing whether or not you had the permission to do it. And you’d much rather have one of them touch you, knowing it would feel so much better.

“You’re the entertainment tonight, before anything else, whore. The entertainment doesn’t get to cum until your daddies say so.” Steve says firmly, holding his cards in one hand and pumping his dick leisurely with the other, hungry blue eyes devouring the sight of you in such a compromising position in front of him, “You’re going to stay like that while your daddies play our game, and you better fuck yourself with that bottle the whole time.”

So that’s what you do, pursing your lips in pain as you do it. Never in a million years did you imagine yourself being used as the visual entertainment for your husband and his friends; naked and splayed out while they made you fuck yourself with a beer bottle. You can feel your asshole stretch and burn at the intrusion; eyes scrunching shut from the pain that blooms. But your pussy is so wet, slick cream pooling on the coffee table underneath you in the filthiest sight imaginable.

“God, she looks hot as fuck.” Curtis is quick to comment, his boot nudging your thighs open even more so he can get a better look, “You ever think of doing porn, sweetie? You’d be a natural, just look at the way you’re putting on such a filthy show for your daddies.”

Almost instinctively, you arch your back, the bottle making obscene squelching noises as you fuck it past the tight ring of your asshole, little pants leaving your mouth as if you’re a dog in heat.

“She’s enjoying herself.” Steve clicks his tongue at the observation, barely looking up from his deck of cards.

“You’re not allowed to cum, angel. Remember that.” Ari says casually, his words making you mewl in frustration.

But it’s hard not to cum when you’re so wet, and Curtis’ boot keeps nudging against your leg, inching closer and closer to your pussy till the sole grazes against your clit and you gasp loudly, jerking forward, “AH, daddy!”

The older men all ignore you, continuing their own conversation whilst you shiver and convulse and whimper between them, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, trying your best to focus and keep your legs apart as you continue to sheath your poor, quivering asshole with the beer bottle.

But more than the beer bottle, all you can really focus on is Curtis’ boot and how he’s so obviously pressing it against your wet folds, making the leather glisten with your juices. Half panicked, you whip your head towards Ari, wondering if he sees what his friend is doing. But your husband seems determined to ignore you – almost as if you’re not even there.

“Daddy,” you cry softly, not really knowing who you’re crying for. It’s instinctive and slightly shameful when you can’t help but grind down against Curtis’ boot, your pussy squelching and needy from being treated like a whore. And the buzzcut haired man doesn’t even acknowledge you, cigarette lazily caught between his lips as he digs his boot into your wet cunt.

It doesn’t take long until you’re riding his boot, grinding down on it as if your life depends on it, panting like you’re in heat as his shoe swirls around your wetness. Your cream coating the leather, he digs into your clit, nudging at your sensitive bundle of nerves and making you moan out wantonly in pleasure.

“Ah, ah daddy–oh fuck!”

You’re squirting all over his shoe before you ever realise what’s happening, so much of your cream now pooling on the coffee table that it’s made the surface slippery. And Curtis continues to push his boot cruelly into your sensitive button, and like a thirsty whore you hump against him, riding out your high and forgetting that there’s anyone else in the room.

“Levinson, looks like your whore wife doesn’t know how to follow instructions.”

Ari leans down over your quivering form, “Honey, what did I say about not cumming?” His voice brims with disappointment and you just want to bury your face in your hands.

“ ‘m sorry,” you hiccup, “C-Couldn’t help it. Mr. Ev-Everett – He used his shoe… wouldn’t stop!”

“Look at her, tattling to her daddy again.” Curtis laughs, getting to his feet and giving your ass a hard smack that has you howling with pain, “You’re lucky I’m not gonna make you lick your mess off my shoe, you horny bitch. But I think I’ll give my wife the honour of doing that when I get home tonight.”

Your eyes are wide as saucers as Ari helps your shaky body get on your hands and knees on the coffee table. From his pocket, he pulls out a leather leash, casually hooking it to your collar and tying the other end around the leg of the table, effectively trapping you in place.

“Stay still honey, and stick your ass out nicely so I can see it,” Ari commands softly, and it’s the gentleness in his voice that scares you the most. Because you’ve broken his rule – you’ve cum without permission, and you can’t even begin to imagine what’s going to happen now.

It’s the deathly quiet that has your heart beating harder than ever, this ominous sense of foreboding building up as the three men surround you like a pack of depraved wolves. Hunger in their eyes and hands itching to touch your body as they close in on you slowly, and Ari strokes your hair softly – but it feels like the softness that precedes the inevitable blow…

“I told you not to cum without permission, honey.” Ari breathes in your ear, “I guess you’ll have to learn how to follow orders the hard way, won’t you?”

Your breath hitches when you hear the unmistakable sound of Steve’s belt as he unbuckles it.

Well! There we go! The truth is, I wrote this fic many, many months ago and lost inspiration to complete it - which is why it ends where it does. I would never say never to a potential part 2, but who knows! I feel like I’m in my soft dom loving era atm, so this kind of depraved stuff isn’t as easy for me to write anymore. But do tell me what you think, as I know a lot of you have been waiting for this for many months! Please reblog and comment and let me know what you think! Any thots and ideas about this fic are also totally welcome! I hope you enjoyed.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Cross The Line 

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.2k

Summary: Wanda accompanies you to one of her clubs

A/N: Request: "Wanda getting mad at a stripper for offering us a dance not knowing who we are with and then firing her because obviously she owns the place". Enjoy!

Warnings: unwanted attention, jealousy

The fact that you’re even here is still a shock to you. Given the complicated history you have with strip clubs, you had never expected Wanda to let you go to one since you both agreed to steer clear. That said, when your best friend practically begged you to join her at one for her birthday, you were put in a tough position. Luckily you were spared from an argument when Wanda agreed on two conditions that were pretty easy to go along with. The first was that she was going with you which was preferred honestly because she’d been invited and it was going to help them all make sure they were treated well. The second condition was that you and your friends went to one of her clubs, so she knew you’d be respected. Your friend had jumped on the idea of you knowing a good place, and even without mentioning Wanda’s connections, you were glad that your friend seemed happy.

Now almost an hour after getting to the club, you and Wanda are having a good time. Wanda’s silently ordering people around with looks, but she’s not doing it in a way that’s obvious to anyone but you. She makes sure that everyone has as many drinks as they want, and she makes sure you get as much food as you want. She knows you're more focused on that anyway, and she loves the little thank you kisses you give her each time. You’re mostly sitting back and watching your friends enjoy themselves as they watch the performers or dance very drunkenly. You notice very quickly that there aren’t many people here, at least not as many as you expected. You ask Wanda about this at one point, but she just shakes her head before telling you not to worry about it. This definitely means she had a hand in only about 2 dozen people, including them, being present opposed to the near hundred that usually frequent the place on a nightly basis.

“I'm going to step out for a minute. I need to make a call.”

That was another thing about tonight. Wanda was taking off work to be with you which you appreciated, but you knew that it stressed her out. She obviously still had things going on tonight, and you just offer her a nod before meeting her lips for a quick kiss. She glances at your friends who are still watching the performers before heading toward the back of the club. You decide to join them once she leaves, but you want to finish your drink first.

“Hurry back?”

Wanda smiles with nod before standing up to excuse herself. It’s getting late and you notice as soon as Wanda leaves that new people begin to trickle in. After her last dance, the performer that had been with you for most of the night is finishing up her shift. She had mostly danced for your friends because she recognized that Wanda’s presence beside you meant that you were off limits. You were still polite as you watched her, and you tipped a lot once she was done for the night. She found it interesting that you’re even here tonight, but that’s not her business so she just leaves to let the late shift girls take over. She hopes they remember all the rules of the club. Even those not often applicable.

“Steve? What’s going on? I thought this was handled?”

As Wanda listens to her friend tell her about the little hiccup tonight, she regrets not taking the cigarette offered to her just a few minutes ago. She was craving one but you’d just busted her for it, and if she came back smelling like smoke, you’d likely chew her out in front of your friends and couch her for eternity. For this reason, she’d grabbed another drink on her way to the office where she was going to camp out for this call. She’s beyond frustrated at this person that she’s working with because he keeps changing his damn mind and taking up all of her time. She just needs him to give her what was promised then they can part ways and never speak again.

She sits in the chair behind the desk and sighs as she throws her legs up. She had let you dress her tonight, and in exchange she’d picked out your outfit as well. You’d wanted your wife in a nice suit, and Wanda had complied as usual. For you, Wanda had chosen a backless dress that was short, but not too short to risk anyone sneaking a peek at what was hers.

“Well can you have him call me?”

When Wanda leaves you move seats so you’re closer to your friends. The first row in front of the stage has a free seat and you slide into it with a sigh. Your friend whose birthday was today turns and hugs you tightly before looking around for your absent wife. You tell her that she stepped out and she just nods in understanding before smiling widely at you.

“Thank you so much for coming! And for recommending this place. It’s amazing!”

You smile widely before nodding in agreement. The service has been amazing, and you’re sure it still would be great even if Wanda wasn’t here. Still you believed that she made everything better. Your gaze wanders to the new group of dancers that have flooded into the club. You hadn’t realized that it was so late, but it didn’t matter much. You use this transition time to catch up with your friend. She’s only in town for her birthday and tomorrow, so you won’t have much time to hang out. You think about ordering another drink, but you don’t know what Wanda had ordered you. It was fruity because you drank it quickly and she got to see you tipsy and adorable. She let you finish the first one quickly, but the next one would either be watered down or not for a little bit. You didn’t like to get drunk and you made sure that she didn’t let you drink too much.

You end up ordering a mocktail and you’re sipping it as a new dancer wanders over toward your group. You stay quiet and wait to see what happens. You look over your shoulder hoping that your wife will suddenly appear.

“Hey there, beautiful.”

Tonight Wanda had dressed you up in a knee length green dress that showed off your curves, and kept her close by to make sure no one got too bold around you. You’re regretting her choice a little bit as you turn to see a beautiful blonde in front of you wearing something skintight and very transparent. You shift slightly before sitting up and looking around uselessly for your wife. Why you can’t have a sort of bat signal to summon her during times like this you’ll never know.

“Hi there. My wife just stepped out, but she’ll be back soon.”

You hoped this was true and you resist the urge to look for her again as you sit back in your chair and focus only on her face, not daring to look any lower as you smile politely while doing your best to convey zero interest in her. She smiles at you in a way that definitely doesn’t make your face flush at all. Walking towards you as you sink into your chair in an attempt to disappear, she eyes you curiously. She’s never seen you here before and she can’t help but want to get to know you as she watches you down your drink. She notices your wedding ring, but she ignores it for now as she moves closer to you and starts to lower herself into your lap.

“Well she won’t mind if I keep you company until she’s back.”

She definitely will, and you sit up suddenly to try and get away from the woman who’s about to sit in your lap. Your friends open their mouths to help you out too because they know how uncomfortable this makes you. You’re the only one of your friends who’s actually married, and of course you’d be the one that the stripper wants.

“Woah, no, no. Don’t—.”

“Hey! Get off of her!”

Wanda had finished up with her call and she was storming back into the club with a scowl and a ruined mood. She was going to have to deal with whoever fucked this up first thing tomorrow, but she’d like to try and get back to enjoying her time with you for now. She hates being interrupted when she is spending time with you no matter how long she’s taken away. She hurries back toward where she left you, and she takes a deep breath as she tries to calm down. She’s going to take advantage of the rest of tonight.

When she sees where you're sitting with your friends it takes her a moment to process the sight in front of her. You’re sitting in a different chair so you could be closer to your friends. However you’re not talking to them when she returns. You’re almost standing up as a new dancer that Wanda doesn’t recognize is only seconds away from sitting on your lap. Her scowl returns and she speaks up before she’s even within hearing distance which means she’s shouting across the room.

You jump in surprise and practically scramble out of your seat as you try to get as far away from the blonde as possible. Luckily the sound of your wife’s angry voice makes her stop in her tracks before backing away from you so fast that she runs into your friend who’d been out of her seat to help free you from the unwanted attention.

"Ms. Maximoff, I’m sorry, I--.”

Wanda didn’t give her a chance to try and come up with an excuse. She shakes her head before walking over so she’s standing in front of the blonde. She’s slightly taller than Wanda, but she seems to shrink under your wife’s harsh gaze. You almost feel bad for her.

“It’s Mrs, and the woman who told you no? That’s my wife.”

The woman turns pale and the visible horror is something you’ve only seen directed toward your wife a few times. You wait for only another second before Wanda turns her attention to you to make sure you’re alright.

“Get out of my club. You’re fired.”

You see the blonde consider arguing, but she thinks better of it and just nods before scurrying away as fast as possible. You frown as you reach out for Wanda with a relieved sigh. That was stressful. You ignore your friends' confused and shocked expression for a moment as you try to guess your wife’s mood. You pull her onto your lap and wrap your arms around her quickly with a small smile. You kiss her cheek and then lips when she turns in your hold to face you.

“Thank you for your great timing. I was about to come looking for you.”

Wanda nods as she watches the blonde disappear from sight and hopefully from her building. Everyone who stepped foot in here with an intention to work was shown her picture and told that she was the boss. The spiel was different depending on who told it, but the gist was to keep her happy and do as she said. Whether or not you were mentioned was something she’d have to check on, but the fact that she’d left you probably made it hard for people to know who you were. She didn’t want to keep a picture of you anywhere here . She didn’t want people to know who you were by face, only by name. She’s not sure if this is still the case after tonight.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, detka. I should have left someone with you.”

You’re shaking your head because everything’s fine. It had been handled and you were just grateful to have your wife back. You give her another hug before sighing and looking over to your friends with a smile. It was getting late and you’d probably leave soon, but for now you’re going to sit back and enjoy having your wife in your lap.

“Don’t worry about it, Wands. I’m just glad you’re back.”

Wanda smiles as she shifts in your lap so she can throw her legs over the arm of the chair. She sighs before leaning further into you, and burying her face in your hair. You can’t help but smile as she stakes her claim for the new couple of dancers that wander toward your friends. You hold your wife close as you watch your friends have fun for the next half hour. You’re pretty sure Wanda’s fallen asleep on your lap, but you’re fine with that. You could stay here all night with your wife, and as you start to feel your eyes grow heavy you make sure that you have a good hold on her before you let yourself drift off.

“Night Wands.”

The only response you get is a mumble of acknowledgment and a tightening of the arms around your waist. You simply kiss your wife’s temple before closing your eyes and letting the noise of the club fade into the background.

Masterlist

[elioslover]

Little Angel, Only Freak? - Grapejuice.

🎃 Halloween Flashbacks 🎃

This can be read as a stand-alone piece! 👻 I've really been wanting to include some flashback moments from Harry and Klutz's past, so I thought Halloween would be the perfect place to start!

Premise: Harry has been pining over Y/n - his best friends slightly older sister - for as long as he can remember.

GRAPEJUICE MASTERPOST / Other Writing

NB! Y/n's (Klutz) brother's name is Jack. In Grapejuice it's mentioned that Harry may have wrote some songs about Klutz. These events were inspired specifically by two of his masterpieces lmao, so lemme know if you notice any references hehe. - Em. xo

Warnings: Drinking/smoking (this oneshot contains quite a bit due to the fact that they are attending a lot of Halloween parties). Age-gap (2yrs). Self-insert she/her.

Word count: 5.4k

🍷 2011 🍷

Sitting with your legs criss-crossed, on the kitchen counter which is perhaps the highest off of the ground you are most comfortable with. Your firm belief in keeping your feet on the soil, neither under deep waters nor up in the air. 

That aside, you are eating a toastie, courtesy of your own cooking- rather surprised that not only did you manage to get ready on time, but actually finished with plenty to spare. 

Indulging in your meal, the sound of Travis Scott accompanying your chewing, Harry's sudden appearance in the kitchen is startling, but nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, there have been plenty of worse and compromising interactions in the past. 

“Aren’t you too old to be trick-or-treating?” You mumble through your food-filled mouth, eyeing him from top to bottom, shamefully admiring his choice of costume. Perhaps you were a sucker for a sexy pirate- though a large part of you believes the 'sexy' part was unintentional. 

Harry only smiles and meanders further into the kitchen, invading the fridge for god knows what before giving up, strolling over to you, invading your space in an instant and with audacity you have never witnessed prior, he snatches the half-devoured triangle of a toastie and takes a hearty bite before speaking through muffled chews, 

“Age is but a construct.”

“I guess I agree.” You shrug, thoughts travelling to the dangerously explicit fantasies you experienced at the mere existence of Tom Hard, your brain concocting a dreamland in which a 15-year age gap would be graciously welcomed. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry archives the moment. An entirely separate dreamland surrounds him and yourself. But, you still seem so far away, Harry is aching to extend the conversation, “Where are you off to, a Tarantino-themed party?”

“That my dear, is none of your business.”

“Well for what it’s worth,” he informs both sweetly and sultry, “you make a beautiful *Viper.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Styles.” You open the gates and let your guard down, needing him to know you notice him- see him, and if vulnerability is the way to make that clear, god willing, something inside you wishes to share it. 

Harry is stunned- your words are one thing, your tone is another. He wants, no, he needs to hear your softness, again and again. Then there is an invasive double honk and it can only belong to the red Mazda parked in the driveway, stark headlights shining through the kitchen curtains. 

You hop off the counter without a care in the world, straighten out your costume, and check your makeup in the reflection of the microwave before strolling straight past Harry and into the entrance hall, grabbing your matching purse. You raise your voice to address both your brother and the sexy pouting pirate stunned to silence,

“That’s my ride." Certain they've both heard, you open the front door and as an afterthought, call over your shoulder, "Save me a Mars bar!”

👻

The boys are in line for the entrance to a club that Jack stated would be "popping", but there is a clear age limit and Harry's anxiety is already reaching its limit. He turns to Darth Vader- ignoring how ridiculous his friend is- and Harry cautiously ponders aloud, 

“Are you sure we’re even gonna get in?”

“Trust me.” Jack sternly enforces. 

“What is this hold you have over me?” Harry concedes. 

By what could either be deemed a miracle or exceptional finesse, it's not long before the boys have their left wrists stamped with a small ink jack-o-lantern, and are entering the club. 

“See! Am I ever wrong?” Jack projects against the booming bass, but Harry certainly hears him, more focused on the dissipating nerves being replaced with confidence. 

“Drinks!” Jack doesn't allow a retort, making his way to the bar with the assurance that Harry is following close behind. Harry was, and after a few other patrons are tended to, the boys order their choices and cheer a duet of tequilas in celebration of their success. 

The tequila is still travelling down Harry's throat when a voice, so sweet and so familiar, almost causes him to choke, his eyes opening, neck dropping to look at the person who had exclaimed "Oi!". Unsurprisingly, you are standing there, arms on your hips, a look of disappointment painted across your face,

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to be here either.” Jack shrugs.

“I thought you were trick-or-treating, Jack." You chide.

“Oh, please, we’re seventeen. You knew that was a cover.” His eye-rolls with a jovial smirk. 

“Still. I thought at least a house party.” 

“Which is exactly where you said you would be.”

“Shut up.” Your last line of defence. 

“C’mon, Y/n. Go have fun, it’ll be like we’re not even here.”

With a dissatisfied sigh, you grab your drink from the bar counter and gather within the group of girls all dressed with glamorous uniqueness, disappearing into the mass of dancers, praying that Jack’s statement would prove correct. 

But, as expected, this promise was broken within the first hour after the desperate need for a Marlboro was lulling in your lungs, and for some useless and godforsaken reason, smoking is banned from the bar and dancefloor- bar vaping- however, due to the lack of an outside area, the designated smoking zone was the hallway. 

After a trip to the bathroom- which had vanity counters, ladies waiting near the cashmere wash towels to unnecessarily aid in drying your hands; each bathroom is garnished with gold framing and every stall comes with a little glass table attached to the wall; perfect for cutting lines of coke- you decided it was time to settle down for a good smoke, spotting an empty, luxurious maroon and velvet two-seater sofa. 

Your focus is on the ridiculous custom silver bear lighter you bought second-hand, your head bowed, smoke balanced between your lips, so it comes as a great surprise when you glance up and Harry is standing before you. By the time your cigarette sets alight, he is settled next to you on the lounger, 

“Fancy seeing you here.” He teases lazily.

“You lost Jack?” You shift your body to better see him, simultaneously handing him your smoke. 

“Always do.” He softly chuckles, knuckles brushing your fingertips in exchange, and he takes a good drag, hoping it will miraculously cure the anxiety that seemed to return the moment he found himself alone. 

“That guy’s a menace.” 

"This is the strangest hallway I've ever seen." He comments, glancing around the room of scattered stoners and straight smokers. Then he remembers the house he visited less than three hours ago, "And that's saying something." 

"Our hallway is not that bad." You lamely defend- this conversation has been ongoing since youth. 

"Can't believe we're sitting on a chez lounge." Harry marvels, hand stroking at the smooth material. 

"This place truly is something." You agree, proceeding to ponder the answer to a premonition she needs confirmation for, “What are you doing over here?”

“Just needed a breather.” He admits. “You?”

“Guess I’m doing the same.” You consider. 

“What’s the matter, klutz?” He reads your mood like a medium- some sort of magician.

“Boys are shitty.” You allow him the tip of the ice burg- it has been bugging you, perhaps not as much as the other things bothering and plaguing you.

“We are.” He agrees lightly, knowing it would be detrimental to pry. 

“You aren’t. most of the time, anyway.” 

“I thought I was the most annoying person you know.”

“You are. Maybe ever.” You dramatise your distaste, “But you are by no means shitty.”

For a reason Harry had always known, yet never questioned, he found your presence as relaxing as falling asleep cradled by a fluffy cloud. He briefly wonders if you feel the same, but knows better than to embrace hope. Nevertheless, he says what he can guarantee will suit your interesting demeanour, 

“I’m sorry about… whatever you’re going through.” 

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile earnestly as the pair of you proceed to pass the cigarette back and forth, comfortable in the presence of taking a cool-down. 

But, with your vulnerability out in the open, it becomes mandatory to verify the reason he is currently sitting beside you, 

“Why aren’t you down there?”

Harry knew it was coming, thought about what to say, and came up with a few reasonable excuses but as soon as the question leaves your quirked and lush lips, the truth comes pouring out and he cannot do anything but witness his honesty,

“I feel out of my element.”

“That’s all in your head.” You try to reassure him, knowing it isn’t that simple, yet hoping he might allow you the chance to prove it, even for just a moment. 

“Oh, is that right?” He smirks. 

You are standing before he can blink twice, singing your cigarette in the ashtray and reaching your arm out for him to join you, 

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t protest- he doesn’t even hesitate as he wraps his hand in your own, raising from the chair and allowing you to drag him wherever you please. 

This results in descending stairs, weaving through a crowd before finally reaching the destination; the bar. He shouldn’t be surprised, but the pleasure and subconscious pride he wore as you tugged him about, moving closer, sometimes a few steps apart, but never letting go of his hand- even if only one finger was hooked to his own.

The bartender arrives with such haste that Harry is almost certain it has something to do with your beauty- it does- but mere moments later he finds out that you are in fact a regular visitor- and a loved one, at that. 

Harry is so enamoured and floored with such an overload of new information about you that he hardly registers when you tilt over the counter and order four tequilas. 

And when the tequila arrives, there are five, offered as, ‘on the house’. Your reaction is mischievous and Harry feels exhilarated at the promise of your mission to make his night memorable.  

“Bottoms up.” You command, double-parking and encouraging Harry to wrap both of his shot glasses in each palm. He does as follows, giving you awkward cheers before copying your skill and tossing back the tequila one after the other. You then guide Harry to drop both glasses on the table and immediately grab the lonesome shot glass, still filled to the brim. 

You go in for half a sip, savouring the sharp spirits slipping down your throat but leaving half the glass full. Handing it over to Harry he finishes the drink and turns to you in anticipation for further instructions. Your shoulders can’t resist a consequential shudder, and then you clap your hands together and cheekily beam up at him,

“Now, we dance.”

“I can’t dance.” His pitch is one of panic and protest. 

“Neither can I.” You answer proudly, wrapping his hand in your own and leading him onto the dancefloor.

🍷 2016 🍷

Your boyfriend has caused yet another scene, taking it personally when some poor guy dressed as a zombie accidentally stepped on his foot.

Before he had the chance to toss more furniture, you plan an escape and make a beeline for the kitchen- somewhere likely to be devoid of party-goers. But when you round the corner, the sight of Harry, dressed in a white and red striped shirt, hair quaffed beneath a goofy matching beanie, and eyes framed by large, black round glasses. He's sitting on the counter, his light jean-clad legs dangling, shoes knocking against the bottom cabinets.

He seems too calm for such a festive evening, especially when he is as notorious as Jack when it comes to turning into a playful nuisance- affectionate, chatty, and likely to end up attempting to dance.

You walk straight over, only coming to a halt when your sternum presses into his knees, and beneath those gaudy glasses, you don't miss the way his deep green eyes swell and his lashes bash beautifully with bafflement.

"Ah, here's Waldo." You beam up at him.

"Y'got me." He lightly shrugged, a sneaky smile painting his cheeks.

"What do I win?"

Eyes widening with an accompanying Chesire cat smile, your tone tainted with taunting cheeriness. But, nonsensically you lean in closer, bare abdomen grazing his denim.

Whether intentional or not, Harry is set alight, his burning knees spreading along his stomach, trailing up his chest, simmering his heart and throat, coals burning at his cheeks and brain. He is so stoned on placebo, that his mouth is unable to project his profession,

"Anything you want."

You are experiencing first-degree burns, bathing yourself in diversion,

"Are these your real glasses?" You lean your face forward, lining up with his own, your hands gently clasping the black frames and examining the determined false lenses. "Guess not."

There are less than zero reasons for your bodies to remain so stuck, relaxed in the sanctuary of physical contact, but neither of you makes an attempt to move, unaddressed and absolutely mad. You deem it time to turn things around,

"Avoiding the party?"

"A little." He shrugs.

"Bad company?"

"The worst." He tilts his chin to the ceiling before returning his gaze to your own, "Though I can't imagine I'm much better."

"Anything is better than the mess going on outside." You meet his pondersome eyes with a competitive roll of your own.

Now Harry understands the crash he had heard through the kitchen window. Your expressions of annoyance and disappointment emit all of the information he needs to know,

"Dickie acting up again?"

"You know that's not his name."

"It should be."

Harry has never shied away from expressing his distaste for your boyfriend- simply because you were dating him. Harry was hardly around, and when he was, you were almost guaranteed to be absent due to plans with Ricky.

With a sudden bough of frustration, your hands press into Harry's upper thighs to properly balance yourself. he does everything- and more- to avoid physically reacting to your unusual closeness. You breathe out and it matches the mournful furrow of your brow,

"He's just... why does he have to be so aggressive?"

"Yeah, that table certainly didn't deserve that." Harry leans in, looking down at you with a worrisome but sensitive demeanour. And then he leaps and lightly wraps his hand around your hip.

His eyes are studying your soft face, his heart focused on your sweet features and the feeling of your skin separated by his clothes, but his head is still stuck on the confusion currently holding you captive. He can't help by prying,

"He's not... aggressive with you, right?"

"Not yet." The words trail off of your tongue. And then you toss everything aside, pressing your fingers into his thigh "I don't wanna talk about it right now."

Harry doesn't know how to react, sudden shocks of arousal emulating at the discomfort of your digging nails, the desperate desire to destroy the distance between your lips, loop his arm around your neck, softly cup your cheek and express how special you should be treated- with such certainty that you never forget,

"I like your costume. Might be your best so far."

It definitely is, you are rather impressed with how well your Other Mother costume turned out. Though, your already tragic bank account has taken a traumatic bashing,

"I spent way too much money on it."

"How much?" His grin is mischievous.

"Too much."

"Now I have to know." He pleads, but know you will never utter the shame you suffer. He won't let you off the hook so easy, though, "Just to rub it in, I'll have you know, I only spent three pounds."

You huff, leaning further into his touch, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your flesh. He has to tilt to see you fully, and you aid him craning your neck to meet him in the middle, dismissing the deemed unnecessary distance,

"Well, you've done a terrible job at making it hard to find you."

"Maybe I wanted you to find me." He shrugs with suave.

"That was ambitious."

"It worked, yeah?" He is seeping with playful pride, though he cannot prevent his need to compliment you- perhaps the only way to get his attraction across was through words, true words at that, "You really do look beautiful."

"Not just sexy?"

"Sexy as fuck." He groans, fingers pressing into the plush fleshyness of your waist, "But not just sexy."

"Filthy." You scold seductively.

And then you seem to find yourself sinking further into his touch, trying with everything in you to get nearer- his neck so biteable, collarbone begging for loving bruises. Harry is on the same page, body pressing into your own, his palm trailing up and settling on your lower back.

You think he might kiss you. You think you are out of your mind... But, you think you're going to let him. The only thing to pause your seemingly-senseless thoughts is the defensive, stern, and frankly, threatening boom of your boyfriend,

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my girl?"

Like velcro being violently ripped apart, you have never moved with such haste in all of your current existence to date. Harry is now at least three feet away from you, and your boyfriend is berzerkly striding towards him. Harry calmly and rationally raises his palms in defence,

"Nothing, mate."

"Ricky-" You edge closer.

But, your boyfriend has already aimed his fist at Harry's face, and instead of reacting with returned aggression, he interjects,

"Mate, chill out." Harry reasons with a casual shrug, "She's like a sister to me."

An invasive feeling of disappointment pangs at your heart at the sound of sister, and to this day you will not analyse why. It was something you were guaranteed to repeat in the future.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" Ricky scoffs but his arm drops to his side nevertheless.

Harry hops off of the counter with ease, stepping past your boyfriend with effortless confidence. He glances over at you for a mere instance- not long enough for you to comprehend the event that just unfolded.

He reaches over to the nearest countertop and grabs his solo-cup and before turning his back completely, he addresses Ricky with finality,

"Believe what you want, Batman."

🍷 2018 🍷

Harry knocks for a third time before Jack finally answers the door- and when he does, dressed Pennywise- a red balloon tied to his wrist- Harry instantly regrets his entire life, attempting to prepare for a chaotic Halloween party. Whenever Jack finds himself in an extravagant, far-too-detailed costume, two things are certain; there will be a magically, monstrous punch bowl, and Jack will be dancing on any piece of furniture that catches his eye.

“So, this was your last-minute decision?” Harry works hard to keep the disturbed feelings from projecting across his features.

“It was this or Heisenburg, okay?” Jack sighs, audatiously comparing his- what can only be described as a slutty Pennywise to simply purchasing a hazmat.

“How much time did you spend on this?” Harry finds his amusement increasing.

“Too long.” Jack admits with distaste. But all in all, This is the best of his costumes to date, and Harry certainly agrees.

“I’m sure the ladies will love it.” He commends, and Jack nods avidly, his face mimicking that of confidence.

Harry ponders halfheartedly as they enter the home Harry knows so well- the home he spent at least a quarter of his 28 years. It's only as he reaches the living room, packed with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Many of them seem older than he, and Harry can only assume these are friends of Jack’s college, and your work colleagues.

A pang of panic threatens to become a full-blown wave of disappointment and regret. Missing out on the life he could have had.

Before he can be swept away by his newfound unfamiliarity, Jack has led them to the makeshift bar- a dining table decorated with spooky decorations, all surrounding the notorious monster of the eve- the Halloween punch. Harry doesn’t protest- by this point he deems it necessary.

Lightly tapping their cups together in cheers. Jack takes a hearty sip before his brows suddenly raise in realization,

“Huh. That’s funny.” Jack finally takes a moment to acknowledge his best friend, emulating the Devil himself.

“Hm?” Harry asks halfheartedly, eyes scanning the room for something and he doesn’t even know what.

“I just noticed your costume.”

Harry’s gaze snaps back to Jack, giving him a puzzled look, masking a sudden bough of insecurity simmering beneath the surface,

“I look funny?”

“No, Y/n told me she was gonna be an Angel. Coincidence, huh?” Jack shrugs.

“Is she here?” Harry tries to hide the sudden panic.

“Not yet. You know she’s gonna lose her mind over it.” Jack grins, always bemused by the so-called banter between his sister and best friend. 

Harry’s panic is substituted by an odd sense of relief- he now knows what- or who- he had been searching for. With a bough of mischievous confidence, he mimics his best friend's grin and informs,

“Just what I wanted to hear.”

👻

Upon the news of his holy crush’s imminent arrival, Harry finishes his first punch cup and then heads towards the ‘bar’ to pour another.

Pleasantly, someone is already attending to the punch- an old teammate from his high school football team has the same intentions, finishing up on filling his cup before recognizing Harry and enthusiastically initiating a catch-up. One that proves helpful, replacing his thoughts of you with good conversation and in turn, allows him to react.

It’s unclear how long this chat persisted as the boys moved from the make-shift bar to a spot on the porch- already scattered with smokers and an extremely tense game of beer-pong.

Eventually, the punch has caught up with him and Harry has to excuse himself in favour of the bathroom. This should be an easy enough task, but this monstrous punch has proved poisonous as it lags his movements and encourages him to take a long, good look at himself in the cobweb-framed mirror.

Impressed with his costume, and impressed with how calm and cheery he felt. Things don’t seem so bad- the intrusive thoughts were offering silence for the sake of letting him have a good time.

His best friend’s home has always had the oddest of hallways. A complicated combination of narrow to wide, with unnecessary corners and nooks. These proved sacred during the times of childhood, the perfect place to out-smart the person trying to yell, ‘Tag, you’re it!’ Now, this hallway is treacherous and Harry longs to find himself back in the living room, especially with the amount of party-goers crowding the corridor.

Looking back, Harry wonders if he would have even seen you wedged between a pair of what seems to be Cersei and Jaime Lannister. It would be hard not to, with the way the shimmering satin dress and the sparkling halo create a ring of glory around you.

But you certainly see him, meandering down the hallway dressed in a costume to match your own. Your first feeling should be annoyance, but unfortunately, your thoughts are redirected to just how good he looks.

The duo you were humouring are a thing of the past as you mutter an “excuse me”- gaze and mind already set on intercepting Satan himself.

He’s leaning against the wall- being extra careful to not knock over any picture frames. His head is bowed, contemplating his next move and it suddenly and forcefully occurs to him that his original plan to find you was diverted by a pointless side-quest.

As if the thin veil of Halloween was thoughtful enough to grant him instant gratification, a set of white heels, laced to the upper calf is walking his way. He lets his eyes trail the length of soft thighs up to the seams of lacy trim, savouring each fleshy, smooth thigh before finally addressing the owner's face.

When his eyes are met with your own, glittering with each blink, Harry’s widen in surprise, jaw threatening to slack as you stop before him. Giving him a good glance before mimicking his stance and balancing yourself against the wall. 

“Well, well, well.” Your tone is both amused and annoyed.

A sudden rush of ease and euphoria washes over him at the coolness of your mood- though, that was subject to change rather quickly in the presence of Harry.

On a whim you attribute to both a poisonous punch and the devil standing before you, Harry is taken off guard by the sudden contact of your palm on his chest, even more, surprised as you push and guide him into the nearest alcove.

But that was as far as your thoughts had progressed, what was the plan now? This is a result of impulsivity, and when you concede and don’t go on to say anything further, Harry takes the opportunity to back you into the corner, arms balancing loosely on the wall near your face.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” His smile is cheesy.

“I’m sure you’re enjoying this.” Your eyes roll, arms crossing your chest in distaste.

Harry tilts down ever so slightly, aligning his lips with the shell of your ear,

“Loving it.”

“And I’m supposed to believe this is just a coincidence?”

“Believe what you want, Angel.”

He returns to his previous position, aching to get a better look at your face, hoping that the blush pink scattered across your cheeks is a product of not makeup, but himself. You cannot admit that it’s a combination of both- not even to yourself- instead opting for a classic eye-roll and continuing to do what you do best,

“I see you chose to go costume-less this year.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“You’re the Devil.” You try, “Truly.”

By now, your hands have dropped to your sides, securing distance but still unexplainably allowing Harry the chance to wander closer if he wishes. He does, but only enough for your chests to brush, his head bowed to gaze your way, one of his hands reaching out to fiddle with the accessory adorning your head,

“Why, because I make you want to ditch that pretty little halo?”

“You’re insane.” You chide, palm raising to his abdomen in protest.

“And you want me.” He articulates with certainty.

“Correction, you’re psychotic.”

But you like the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your hold, the musky and fruity aroma invading your senses. The curve where his shoulder and neck meet is aligned with your chin, and for a split second, you ponder the impulse to get closer, latch your lips to his skin and sink your teeth in.

Harry likes having you so near, he can smell the Chanel and cocoa butter seeping from your skin, the crown of your head smells of something fruity and fresh. And when your hand absentmindedly trails further along his stomach, settling on his shoulder, Harry almost stops breathing when his impulses get the best of him, wrapping his free arm around your waist, and when you don’t protest and your free arm goes to rest along his shoulder, he thinks he might have a chance,

“Are you sure, pretty Angel? Your body seems to think otherwise.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“You’re more than welcome.” he smirks, loving the way your eyes simmer with conflict, “…To shut me up, that is.”

You decide that fame has done a lot to him, not just the typical singing, stadiums and superstardom, so why the hell is he talking like a… man? Like he knows how to seduce a woman, and why the fuck does that make your stomach churn with curiosity.

But, you remind yourself that age equals experience and that makes you the superior. Besides, from the way he’s currently behaving, you have an inkling that his ego has likely inflated.

This could be fun. Two could play at this game, and no matter the amount of fraternizing Harry may have committed, you were competitively and egotistically prepared to knock him down a peg.

Raising to the tip of your toes, hand tightening on his shoulder, nails softly scratching at his back, your other hand reaching to wrap around his neck, your thumb stroking the crook of his chin. Batting your eyelashes with a lick of the lips, you ensure he hears each and every word,

“Is that what you want, sweet boy?” You coo, and Harry stiffens in an instant, blinking rapidly as you push on, “Want me to take care of you?”

“You can do whatever you want.” He blurts out before the ‘ou’, fist flexing against the wall, his body aching to be tangled up with your own.

It's cute, and unnecessarily arousing, and as much as you know you shouldn’t, there’s an ache in your chest that chants for you to crumb him along for just a little longer,

“Pity. After all, this is just a costume.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes are eager, nose bumping along your forehead, and your hand comes to its finale as it holds his cheek in place, gently pulling his face nearer to your own. You pout, but the sly smirk prints itself at the corners of your lips nevertheless,

“A Devil certainly isn't deserving.” 

“Prove it anyways.”

Harry thinks he’s about two sentences away from begging for something he didn’t know he needed so desperately. As much as it pains you to put a pin in this, the confusion of juxtaposition of attraction is threatening to make you light-headed.

“No.”

So, to Harry’s utter dismay, you release him from your hold and tactfully slip out between the space you once occupied. With one more sympathetic pat on his shoulder, you smile at him and make your way back down the hallway, feathered wings taunting him in your wake.

🍷 2019 🍷

Harry was lucky enough to have been in town for Halloween- he can't count how many holidays he missed over the last half-decade. He’s dressed as her favourite thing; a teddy bear- fuzzy ears and makeup to match. Your brother, Jack was hosting his famously chaotic annual Halloween celebration, and Harry was far too giddy at the guarantee of seeing you again. He can't count the missed holidays, but he can certainly count how many years it’s been since you last spoke- mar the quick birthday wishes, and periodic congratulations and praise.

But, after an hour or so, he is starting to doubt his certainty, gaze shamelessly studying the room, hoping he had merely missed your arrival. Two solo cups of warm beer later, Harry is itching to locate you- this is your tradition after all, and he was so sure that this time would end differently, that she would finally see him for the man he was becoming.

He definitely wouldn’t be asking Jack why you weren’t here- partially because he seems preoccupied with a makeshift gravity bong. Instead, Harry seeks out one of your oldest friends, Nova, who is dressed as a Harley Quinn, but before he can even reach the group in which she mingles, his boot trips on a rug and unable to help it, the contents of his cup comes spilling out, splashing and coating Nova’s front with the sticky substance. After apologising profusely- even if just to come off polite- Harry musters up the humility to ponder your lack of presence.

Disheartened and disappointed when she responds with, “She’s in Italy”, Harry is once again confused by Jack’s lack of mentioning the news. Though none of his business, the dichotomy of standing his ground and avoiding the question versus caving in and simply asking Jack has him in quite the frenzy.  

The rest of the evening is a bore- Harry switches to ginger ale, and though he attempts to mingle, maintaining interest proves to be impossible, and for the first time, Harry makes the decision to head home early.

But, now, with a make-up-free face and his favourite jammies, he is tucked beneath the fluffiest sheets and your mere existence is pulling the sheets tighter, trapping him in a series of thoughts of yours truly, thinking about you.

[nekoannie-chan]

I won’t wait for you

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader (past).

Word count: 371 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You don’t need Steve.

Major Tags: Angst, mention of cheating.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @caplanbuckybarnes Weekly Writing Challenge! #1 with the prompt:

"You don't get to leave and then come back after all this time and expect me to welcome you with open arms."

@saiyanprincessswannie

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You gave a biscuit to your daughter Sarah and another one to the puppy that was only a few weeks old that you had just adopted after the little one had been begging you for more than a month for a pet. You just couldn't say "no" to her; she actually looked a lot like Steve. Although that didn't bother you, you just kept pretending he didn't exist anymore.

You didn't notice that someone was watching them in the park; nothing seemed suspicious, not even when he started following you.

"Y/N, “Steve called out to you.

For a split second, you stopped but immediately kept walking, even though Steve caught up with them.

“Y/N, it's been a long time," Steve said.

“Who is he? “your daughter asked.

“An old work colleague," you replied. “I don't have anything to talk to you about," you mumbled quietly enough so your daughter wouldn't hear.

Steve turned to look at the girl, who looked a little dismayed, and then at the puppy. He stepped aside; it wasn't the time to talk.

You looked at the clock; it was eleven o'clock in the morning, and it wasn't time for Clarice to come home from school with your daughter. John and Clarice were busy taking all the children who were mutants back home after school.

You opened the door and closed it later, but Steve wouldn't allow it.

“Why didn't you tell me I have a daughter?“ Steve reproached you.

"You don't get to leave and then come back after all this time and expect me to welcome you with open arms."

“You just disappeared."

“I saw what you did with Sharon; I had planned that after you got Bucky to safety, I was going to tell you, you know, we don't need you; you'd better go," you said.

"Everything is all right?“ Lorna stepped in; you hadn't even realized when they'd arrived.

“I think you should leave, Rogers; you're not welcome here," Wanda said.

Steve looked down and turned to leave.

“I can still take Sarah for the ice cream I promised her, right?“ Wanda asked, not taking her eyes off the road.

“Sure, she hasn't stopped talking about it since you told her."

[blues824]

Can you do ohshc host club with a s/o who is like Diluc from genshin impact

I most certainly can! Gender-neutral Reader. Anyone can read this, you are just a member of the Host Club (remember that Benibara charmed the girls in Lobelia). 

Does not include Haruhi. Feel free to request her, though.

Tamaki Suoh

Before he truly got to know you, he was aware that you were of noble descent (probably because of Kyoya). Your family owned a winery, and a lot of rich families loved to import the wine from your specific winery. Hence why you got all that dough.

However, he also knew of your father’s passing. Since you were the oldest out of you and your younger brother, you inherited the business as well as the money. It also left you with habits of isolation that he tries repeatedly to break through. Eventually, you accept his invitation to the Host Club. After all, ladies like people with tragic backstories.

Eventually, he cracks through your cold exterior and gets to the gentle person that lies underneath. He charmed his way into your heart, so to speak. All the visitors notice the chemistry between the two of you and absolutely eat it up. One of the girls even pushed Tamaki to confess, which he did.

He confessed to you underneath one of the cherry blossom trees. His palms were sweaty and his knees were heavy (there’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti). A huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders when you accepted the rose and placed a kiss on his cheek. He was frozen in shock as blush erupted on his face.

Kyoya Ootori

He was also aware of the family you came from. In fact, he was the one who suggested getting you recruited into the Host Club. You were from a very rich family, and you just became heir to the winery that his parents often order wine from.

Kyoya also knew of your father’s passing, and that’s how you became the heir of your family’s assets. Also, your younger brother was said to be a flirt. Even if that was the case, the Vice President saw more value in you than him. People love to romanticize a single, saddened person who is surrounded by alcohol.

You do eventually join the Host Club, and you both work side-by-side together in running the financial aspect of it all. That’s how you grew closer together, and now we can see Tamaki pushing Kyoya to confess his undying love for you.

He actually takes his advice, and tells you in passing. You weren’t the type to make a big deal out of things, so he figured this wouldn’t be an exception. You nearly dropped the folder you held, had you not been keeping a vice-like grip after he let it slip. You told him that you felt the same way, and he gently pressed a kiss to your temple before getting back to work.

Mitsukuni “Honey” Haninozuka

Let’s be honest, you were probably shocked to see a child-like person running around Ouran Academy looking for sweets. It wasn’t a usual occurrence for you, especially since you had just recently transferred here with your younger brother.

Honey knew about you, but he didn’t know you. When Tamaki gave orders to get you recruited, he tried to use his child-like charm to try and get you to accept. Who can refuse him? Obviously not you, because you agreed.

He has to admit that your routine also worked on him for whatever reason. You would pour the visitors some drinks as you talked about taking care of them, if only they would accept your alcohol-earned money. To set aside all they ever knew and allow you to protect them. He kept getting distracted from work, and Kyoya encouraged him to confess so that he could get back on track.

One day, he hands you a box. When you opened it, you found that it was a cake he made for you. The frosting on top read as follows: “Will You Go Out With Me?” You let a small smile grace your face for a moment before accepting. After all, who can refuse him?

Takashi “Mori” Morinozuka

It was an unusual sight for you, seeing a tall (fine-looking) gentleman escorting a child-looking student around Ouran Academy. You both officially met when you stopped him to ask him for directions to a certain class. Turns out, you both were heading in the same direction.

Tamaki had told the whole Host Club about your known history when he simultaneously ordered them to ask you to join the club. Instead of pulling off any sort of stunt, he just asked you like a freaking normal person. He felt glad that you accepted, but he didn’t show it.

He was secretly happy that you took to being a host so quickly. The host life wasn’t for everyone, after all. In fact, you got the most requests. He grew slightly envious of all your visitors, since you had them hooked onto your sad, ‘lonely’ charm. He didn’t get distracted, but Honey noticed and told him that he should tell you.

He eventually did, with a note. He wasn’t great with words, so a note would be the next best thing for him. It was surprisingly very sweet and romantic. As Eliza from Hamilton said, “He made palaces out of paragraphs”. He let a smile out when you accepted his confession.

Hikaru Hitachiin 

Like with Haruhi, he was in a few of your classes. When you were introduced to everyone (as you were a late transfer), you both met each other’s gaze. He quickly looked away, but he knew karma had to get back at him because you were sat right next to him.

When the President of the Host Club voiced his desire to have you join them, he was exasperated. No one would allow him to get you out of his mind, would they? After class, he decided to ask if you would be interested in being a host, and he was surprised when you accepted.

He honestly thought you made a great host. You even charmed a lot of the other hosts, and the visitors… don’t even get me started. Your promises of taking them away and taking care of them really felt like a personal attack for him because it secretly made him swoon. However, he constantly got distracted because of you. Kaoru eventually made him go confess to you.

When he did, he decided to do it in a very unorthodox fashion. He requested you to be his host, and in your private session he told you about his feelings for you. He let out a breath of relief when you accepted his love.

Kaoru Hitachiin

He was also in a few of your classes. He was appointed to show you around Ouran Academy. It was then that he got a text from Tamaki. He explained that he had to go because there was an emergency Host Club meeting. 

The next time you both met up with each other, you asked about the Host Club. He gave you the basic introduction, and he remembered that Tamaki had asked him to recruit you. He was absolutely ecstatic when you agreed to become a host.

He also thought you were a great host. Not only did you bring in mountains of revenue, but you also got into his head. You were like a siren, talking to others about your sad story and how you would never leave him them. He started getting distracted, and Hikaru got angry and made him confess to you.

He did it by handing you a rose everyday for a week. When he gave you the 7th rose, you knew what he was up to and accepted his feelings. He wrapped his arms around you in a hug, just happy as happy can be.

[star-gazer101]

Ortho the Snooping Brother

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pairing(s): Idia Shroud x Reader, Vil Schoenheit x Reader

Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud, Vil Schoenheit

Warnings: GN reader, slight OOC, unrequited love, reader gets compared to an otome game heroine, slight misunderstanding on Ortho's part, one sided Vil x reader

AN: Sorry it took too long to update! I had a really hard time trying to do Vil justice on my part and I had to cut it short cause I thought it'd be too long! Hope you enjoy it! ^^;

-

Something was going on with Vil.

Not from the usual standard–mind you–it was just the way he started to act around his peers and club members.

During film studies, Vil was strict as always with running the club. Giving everyone the right amount of critique to make everything well-runned as possible. And Ortho is included in it as well…

It’s just…Vil has been smiling a bit more than usual, and the punishments were less harsh.

Everything about it felt…odd.

And then there was the Prefect…

Lately during their hangouts, the Prefect’s appearance was starting to look different each and every day. Their skin was starting to become less blemished, a bit of eyeshadow was there to add color, and weirdest of all, their taste in clothing has gotten a lot better!

His brother may not have noticed, for he was too busy gushing with them about this week’s new anime episode, but Ortho certainly did!

Something horrible is afoot, and he is gonna get to the bottom of this!

-

Or at least he was once classes were over, but had completely forgotten about film research. Curses…

And he was so close too!

Maybe he should stop moping around so much since Vil has been giving him the cold stare to finish up the stage’s final touches before the other club members reprise their roles.

Right. He really did not want to disappoint. Vil has gotten more irritable than ever these past few days and no one knew why. And Ortho did not want to be on the receiving end of it.

Fortunately for everyone, there was a silver lining and everyone sighed with relief when the Prefect unexpectedly showed up.

The Prefect was the moral support everyone needed at that moment.They gave out the best advice when needed for rehearsal and somehow soothed the brewing storm that was clouding Vil’s better judgment.

A breather was all he needed.

And when the third year’s eyes warmed at the sight of the Prefect’s smile did Ortho realize something.

A raise in body temperature, increased heart rate and a soft tone of voice?!

Oh no! Vil Schoenheit is in love with the Prefect!

-

This can’t be good! A sudden rival appearing out of nowhere was not on the checklist for a “Happily Ever After”!

And the worst part is neither you or his brother had a proper confession yet!

What if Vil decides to sweep you away from his brother before it even happens? The steps are already there, what if you decide all on your own that Vil is the better choice in the end?

And why is he of all people all that concerned? Didn’t he originally not want the Prefect and Idia to end up together?

…

Status: Unsure. Will need some time to rethink this before moving forward…

-

Brother’s happiness comes first. 

But ever since you came into their lives, your happiness became just as important.

What is he going to do?

“Complete and utter betrayal…” Was all Ortho muttered as he hovered around his brother’s room. What was he going to do once the Prefect breaks his poor brother’s heart? Then what? It’s not like Idia has any other options to choose from!

“Uh…trying to practice your lines again, Ortho?”

And then there was his brother: Idia Shroud; the smartest person in NRC. But instead of worrying about his doomed love life, he was laying in bed playing games! Because of course he is!

Ortho huffed, which quickly sent his brother to look back at his game. He flew over to glance at his brother’s portable screen, as if it was the cause of his dilemma, but froze in shock at what he saw.

Idia is playing another otome game. Not all too surprising there. It was the usual. However, there was something different about it.

The heroine of the game looks exactly like–

“Idia, why does she almost look like the Prefect?”

Almost on instinct, Idia tried his best to quickly hide the game, but it was already too late. Ortho saw everything.

“I-it’s nothing, Ortho! Really! W-when did you decide to get all snoopy?!”

‘Ever since you decided to date the Prefect, idiot!’ Is what he wanted to say, but decided to glare with irritation in his eyes and his brother’s name said as a warning.

Idia sighs in defeat and reaches for the discarded game to show his younger brother. “You see the male love interest I’ve been pursuing?”

“Yes?”

“The forums I’ve been looking at recommended his route to be saved for last. And since I’ve speedrunned the other six routes, I think I’m understanding why he’s important to the MC. She’s been trying to save him this entire time while collecting gems from other romantic routes. And once you have all of them, the dark curse in this timeline will finally be broken.”

“Sounds too overly complicated, big bro.”

Another sigh. “I have to agree it’s a bit cliched, but it is one of the OGs.” 

‘Originals, huh? Perhaps there’s some research to be done…’

“If it’s alright with you, big bro. Would it be okay for me to borrow this when you’re done?” Ortho innocently asked.

There was hesitation, but Idia relented. “Fine. Just be careful not to lose it. That limited edition cost a fortune!”

“Thanks Idia~! You’re the best!”

Idia only shook his head with a grin. “Look at you, Ortho. My little bro’s growing up.”

Unbeknownst to Ortho, Idia was already planning on giving out suggestions that would suit his little brother.

-

Everything about this game is seriously giving him deja vu.

A fictional game school setting that’s all about using magic, the main character with no magic of her own being forced to be there as the new exchange student, and seven love interests with tragic backstories that hit a little too close to home…

Was this a threat?

Should he be concerned?

‘Focus,Ortho.There’s no need to be alarmed. Only Idy has use of the school’s cameras. It’s not like he’s using the information from S.T.Y.X. to make this otome game…Right?’

Well, on the bright side, the Prefect hasn’t shown any signs that they can use magic yet. Yet being the key word.

Still, Ortho really did hope that this game doesn’t predict the future on what’s to come…Especially with the fact that one of the love interests who looks exactly like Vil was worrisome.

The character even showed up as a rival against Idia’s look-alike and it made it even worse!

“Aren’t you worried about the Prefect?” The younger Shroud had asked. “Have you ever once had fears that they might find someone else?” 

“All the time…” The eldest Shroud muttered as he continued his dailies. “I sometimes wonder why they chose a creepy otaku like me. But…”

“But?”

“I know they want me to believe that they actually care about me. We have to trust each other in order for this to work…Or else they’ll threaten to make me talk with all the normies IRL. And I don’t want THAT.”

“Idia.”

“Alright, I wasn’t being serious on that one. But I mean what I said about trusting them. I want to believe that they’ll always be there for me…It also helps to rub it in other normies’ faces fweehee!”

And that was the end of their conversation about the Prefect…his brother is doomed.

-

Ortho needed a break from his frustrations and somehow ended up in the Botanical Garden. An unlikely place for him to be suddenly in, but the silence of the garden’s atmosphere was a much needed welcome.

Maybe this will clear his mind…

However, it feels like he wasn’t alone…

There were sounds of footsteps and mutterings of a couple of voices.

And judging by the noise, there were two people. Possibly here for more than simply gardening.

And if Ortho didn’t know any better, the voices sounded very familiar…and they were getting closer…!

Quickly Ortho found a spot to hide as he watched the scene unfold: It was you! And Vil Schoenheit! 

What a coincidence seeing the both of you here…

You and Vil were in a very passionate conversation about life in general and the possible struggles of the upcoming future…

How strange to have this kind of talk in the deeper parts of the garden where no one can see you. And with the way Vil is talking to you it almost feels roma–

Oh!

Oh…

Ortho had heard rumors about this place from other first years. Rumor has it that if you have feelings for someone, the best thing to do is confess in the deepest part of the botanical garden where the flowers bloom the brightest. There may be a chance the person in question will return their feelings.

This what-if is becoming a real life nightmare come true!

He has to do something before you confess!

But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to initiate his blasters.

If he interrupted now, both of you would know he was eavesdropping and everything would be ruined.

He didn’t want to disappoint Vil, and worst of all he didn't want to disappoint you.

Ortho was already walking on thin ice by just being here…

“If you really feel that way, you’re always welcome to stay with me in the Shaftlands. I’m certain my father would be overjoyed to meet you.”

There it is! The confession! If you return it, Idia’s doom flag will rise!

However, you look uncertain–a mismatch to Vil’s hopefulness. 

“I’m very flattered, Vil…Really. But…It feels so sudden. I don’t think I can accept it.”

“Why not? If you’re worried about money, then there’s no nee–”

“It’s not that Vil! You’re a really great friend and I’m happy that you helped me out a lot during this year! It’s just…There’s already someone else that I admire and I hope I can stay with him for as long as I can. Please don’t hate me for it…”

There was defeat in his eyes, but still held an elegant smile as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face to ease you from breaking down.

“Potato, you know I could never hate you for the way you feel.You should feel proud to have someone you truly care about. So tell me, does he know?”

You gave a wobbly smile before nodding. “I sure hope he does…”

“Then I will pursue you no longer. I pray to the Great Seven that if he finds a way to break your heart, there will be no mercy. I’d take it you’ve been improving on your poisons?”

“It’s getting better with thanks to you. Why?”

“Perhaps you would like to do the honors of taking him out yourself. Though I am only half joking about this.”

A nervous chuckle. “Half joking?”

“You know what I’ve implied, Prefect. Continue taking better care of yourself.”

The young Shroud heard you sigh as soon as Vil had left, leaving both you and him alone. Now if you can leave, he could get away without any con–

“I know you’re here, Ortho. You can stop hiding now.”

Shoot!

[hughiecampbelle]

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 2

A/N: This I'd solely based on this fic, which I am in love with :) I ran out of room on the first part and had much more to say lol

Warning: addiction/addiction mention, abuse/neglect

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 1

Waking up at random underground bars, clubs, random streets in the city not knowing where you were or how you got there. It was definitely scary at times, but you were too numb to care

No one carded you, fearing your name more than your safety

Whenever you were hungover, you could hide away in your own bathroom on your own floor of the house, not that your father went looking for you or would seek you out very often, if at all

Everyone in that house knew. Everyone knew and they said nothing. When you got sick all over your clothes, reeking of a seedy bar or covered in glitter from clubbing, a fresh pair would magically show up folded on your bed. When your nose bled from the drugs and you used a white towel, a fresh one would be replaced in no time

You always believed you were being careful, that nothing bad would happen. You thought you were holding up the charade, and in some cases you were. Logan never said anything to you, about anything. As long you showed up and did as you were told, he didn't really care what you did outside of that

A few times you'd overdosed. Purely on accident, in your room, at the bars, at a party. A few times you woke up in the hospital, the closest one, but no one ever showed up. Even when you collapsed in your own home, your father was too busy in his meeting to pick up. Your mother was your emergency contact and she rarely picked up, too. Doctors knew who you were and that was enough to silence them, for better or for worse

It was easier to pretend this problem didn't exist. Like everything, your father ignored it, swept it under the rug

It wasn't until you called your father for help, drunk, high, crying and scared, unsure of where you were in the middle of the night did he reach out to someone, angry you woke him up, getting your brother to come find you. Your last attempt at seeking his love, his care, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to think he'd care in the first place

Connor dropped everything and got to you, seeing just how fragile and lost you really were for the first time. You could barely keep your eyes open. That scared him to death

It took a lot longer than they'd like to admit to realize you had a problem, that this wasn't just the occasional drink

Connor was the first to suggest an intervention. The rest followed, unsure of what to do, ashamed they hadn't seen any of this sooner

Coming off a high left you feeling low, helpless, and now embarrassed your big brother had seen you in that state. It wouldn't be the last time you'd go to rehab, but it would be the first

The anger came back though, it always did, and with nothing to soften the blow you took it out on yourself, on others. Your siblings were the first targets and no matter how many times you apologize, the guilt eats you up alive. Accusing them of not caring about you, of not noticing. In one particular dark moment you even accuse Roman and Kendall in aiding you in your addictions in the beginning, neither of them knowing. Kendall tries to tell Rome it's not his fault, coming to his baby brothers aid. If you could take one thing back, it would have been that. The look on their faces still haunts you

"Rome, I'm so sorry. I should never have-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I know, okay? I know."

You try getting clean on your own, something your sister makes it known she's against, but there's nothing she can do. When you can't get into places, when they refuse to have you again, you do it by yourself, mostly at Connors ranch. It's secluded, far away from your father. Once you stayed at Kens, a few times with Shiv, but you liked being at Con's the most. It's a mess and really you should be somewhere with professionals, but it's only for when you slip up, for when things are mostly stable, if that can even be measured

In the end, rehab is where you end up. More than a few times. When you get your phone back, one of them always makes sure to pick up your weekly call, even when you talk about nothing, like with Roman

You still thank Connor for picking you up that night

"Don't worry about it, I was happy to."

Being in your fathers presence is a major trigger. You try to stay with your mother for a few weeks, but she always grows uneasy with you around. She doesn't believe in your addictions, in any of your problems. She sends you back to Logan without a second thought, thinking you and your siblings are blowing things out of proportion

You got your own place, somewhere free of association from all those terrible years, all that sickness. You invite your brothers and sister often, trying to make it up to them every single day

You've been clean from everything for a year. Connor couldn't be more proud. Everyday you fear you'll go back to the old you and every day you find a reason, no matter how small, not to. Most of the time it's for your brothers and sister. All the shit you put them through, everything they've done for you, all the times they picked you up from rock bottom, it's the least you could do for them

Kendall still sneaks you candy, one of the last vices you can truly indulge in. Your favorite from when you were a kid. He doesn't hold anything you say against you, knowing what that mindset is like. When you feel yourself slipping, you turn to him. You don't always have to say it, sometimes he just knows, he understands

Shiv still helps you out. Straightens your hair, fixes your collar, doing some damage control with the public when they've turned the story on you, looking after you in those small, significant ways like when you were little. She and Con are the ones to ask if you're okay, if you need a place to stay for a few days, anything at all. Sometimes you even take them up on their offers

You and Roman are closer now, too. He seeks you out at events, hugging you harder than anyone else. He's always kissing your head, holding you close. His comments remain snarky, but for you, self-aware. Nothing that goes too far. He'd always got a glass of sparkling water ready for you so you don't have to go near the bar. What you said hurt him beyond words, but he also knows that was the detoxing you speaking, not the real you. Still, he checks how much is in his glass now, trying to make up for the past

Connor is still the only good father figure in the world. Every year you send him a card for fathers day, writing the same long winded note as a thank you to him. He pretends they don't mean the world to him, but he's got each one in a box under his bed. They make him feel so, so loved

It's not easy. It never will be. You still have to see Logan, talk to him, pretend there's anything left of your relationship. God only knows what story he's spun for Marcia. But it gets more bearable knowing you have people on your side now, that Connor, Kendall, Shiv, and Roman all have your back no matter what. You're their baby sibling after all

[bitchlessdino]

Happier (m)

Pairing: minghao x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 5.9k

Tags: e2l, gendered reader, college au, mean hao, kinda toxic dynamics,svt member appearances (some good some bad), lap riding, oral (giving), unprotected sex, swallowing

Summary: Minghao was never more clear about how he really feels about you. And you couldn't be more wrong.

author note: So I found this old thing that i wrote a while and never posted and i was like, damn bestie you wrote that. It's been a while since I touched this so it's obviously very rough so I reworked it! always nice to revive old work. especially for hao and i think it turned out really well. enjoy!

You didn’t get why the hated you so much or at least behaved like he did. You belonged in the same circle of friends, were in a lot of the same activities and clubs on the same university campus, and lived a walking distance from each other, so you’d think that the two of you would at least bond or find common ground. Anyone that thought that would be wrong, including yours truly.

“Is dressing like shit your hobby or something?”

You huffed before turning to face him, gritting your teeth. “Nice to see you again Minghao, every one of our encounters is so...memorable and pleasant.”

Not to add fuel to the fire, but did you have to be so attracted to him despite him being a jerk? 

An evil chuckle escaped his assumably soft, pink lips, allowing his signature smirk to stretch over his cheeks. “I am speaking from the heart. There is such a thing as freedom of speech.

You cleared your throat, reacting blandly to his insult, already dulled to them, and pretended your attention was on anywhere but him. “I’m aware. Where’s Seokmin?”

He waved you off, walking past you. “Probably looking for you, when you see him, tell him how sorry I am for pushing your burden on him.” 

You didn’t know whether to punch his face for being such an asshole or punch yours for the hopeful feeling in the pit of your stomach taht is optimistic that his behavior is nothing but a ruse. Why he behaved like that around you, you had no idea, and neither did anyone else within a 100-yard radius. 

“Hey, Y/n. I notice Minghao passed by. How was that?”

You exhaled a breath of relief seeing the familiar teasing smile of the man you were looking for. “Like it always is, you know him. Rude, being a jerk, and me taking it like an idiot.”

“You always do something to change that, you know,” the boy wrapped his much thicker, brawny upper over your shoulders, guiding you to the warm and loving presence of your friends at the other end of the room bickering over an aimless topic like the purpose of time due to being either high or drunk, if not both, which was a disaster waiting to happen. You could see from where you stood, Minghao was already halfway there.

“Like I haven’t fucking tried. You know the man’s bitter like his coffee.” You spewed.

Seokmin looked at you amused. “You mean his vanilla latte with extra cream, I agree.”

“You know what I mean, Seokmin.”

His bright white smile resonates into view, softly giving his friend pats on the back as a sweet gesture, but loud laughter erupts from his lips. “Minghao’s weird and expresses himself unlike others, but he’s my best friend. However he chooses to behave, he probably has his own reasons.”

“Yeah, he finds me a burden and would rather have me dead.” You spoke rolling your eyes as you both reached your friends with friendly nods.

“Are you talking about Minghao again?” Chan oh-so rudely butted in.

You sighed at the younger as you accepted the beer offered in his hand and took a swig sitting on the space beside him on the worn-out, brown couch, “Yes child, but like any other times you ask, it’s none of your business.”

“Y/n, I’m not an idiot. You think I’m not listening when you’re ranting to Seokmin while I play games on my phone, but I do. So, you gonna jump his ass or not?”

You crinkled your nose, asking yourself why you bothered listening to what he had to say. “See? This is why I talk to Seokmin instead of you, Chan.”

You rejoiced in your reunion, smiling at the faces you’d see in some classes, faces that you wouldn’t ever see unless you’d intentionally planned something, and others that were new but simply pleasant. You’d poke one of your girlfriends at how Joshua reacted to being hardcore hit on when you knew she liked him, and every other minute you’d laugh at anything Junhui said, usually something random or obvious. College will always be stressful, but with the right people, it’s all worth it, even with Minghao throwing insults every few minutes, moments like these made everything seem okay.

“So, how long have you and Seokmin been a thing?” The radiant girl before you gave a breathtaking smile, making you peer at the male behind her blushing a deep crimson as you mention his name.

“A couple weeks, but I really like him and glad to know he likes me.” She pressed a tender kiss against his cheeks that would show no sign of deflating.

You cooed over at them, genuinely happy for the man whose care for you all this time. You remembered the last time you spoke the man face to face and that was when he had told you the truth of his feelings for you, how he found rapid his heart would flex at the sound of your voice, the familiar churn of his stomach every time you smiled, and the look of his eyes seeing you meters away jumping excitedly about some new music video from your favorite band.

It was awkward for a while knowing how he felt, but despite your honest rejection, it didn’t change how either of you acted toward each other. Seokmin understood your feelings and he was glad you told the truth instead of leading him on. You were still friends, and that was okay with him.

Now you couldn’t help but smile to see that he’s felt for you towards a girl more worthy for him. He’s someone you’ll always love as a part of your life, but you could never return the same romantic feelings. Now you were just glad that there was someone who would love your best friend for all he’s worth. He was special, and you knew that this girl would remind him of that everyday.

“You guys are precious. The last relationship I had wasn’t nearly this sweet.”

Seokmin chuckled, wrapping your arm around his beautiful girlfriend, “Well, in all honesty, your last boyfriend was pretty big as--Wait, what the fuck is he doing here?”

His eyes lingered on the presence behind you, who was anxiously finding a sign of his ex that has already forgotten all about him. You turned your head to witness the same scene as the couple, and accidentally met eyes with the devil himself, looking absolutely gorgeous from head to toe in a black t-shirt and jeans, stumbling and shoving everyone to grasp for your comparably small hands.

“Y/n,” he heaved a euphoric sigh of relief, “Finally, I’ve found you.”

“Mingyu, what are you doing here?” You spoke as you gave him a deadpan glare.

“I was wrong, everything I did was wrong, I was a terrible person and boyfriend.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Your head averted to your friend you came with, red in the face, who voiced out her opinion in anger. “Jinhye!”

“No, no, she was right. It was no shit that was a terrible and you didn’t deserve any of that, but I’m here to say I’ve changed. I’m ready to be the person you can be with, Y/n.”

You shook your head. “Mingyu, you can’t honestly expect me to fucking forgive you every lie you’ve told.”

“I love you, Yn.” His broad arms wrapped around your smaller frame in an embrace, “Everything I’ve done was because I was being stupid and I’m going to change everything for you. Please. Please, tell me your feelings for me haven’t changed.”

You couldn’t lie to him, there were times you had thought about the good moments you both had and wondered if you had met later, that things wouldn’t have been as messy as it was now. You honestly missed his warm embrace, and how he smelled like he just spent hours building the most perfect tree house. Even though he ripped your heart into a million pieces in an uncountable number of ways and made you cry for three weeks straight, you couldn’t push him away no matter how much your head told you to.

Seokmin couldn’t stand the sight in front of him. You were just eating the shit he was feeding you as Mingyu grinned profoundly as if he reclaimed his prize. He obviously hasn’t changed and was just going to hurt you again just like he did before. No one could change that much or that quickly. This asshole was deadass looking for you just to use you again.

He was going to do it, make him leave quietly with a civil conversation, or a punch to the face, whatever comes first. Pulling himself up from the couch, he was blocked by the short, paler individual that did the latter for him, making Mingyu crash on the floor with bled out nose. “What the fuck?”

Minghao stood towering over him, stumbling over his own feet, but suavely swiping his nose with the pad of his thumb, displaying a shit-eating grin over his inflamed cheeks. 

“That’s right, bitch! You can’t come into someone’s home to get back a girl that’s dead over you. You cheated on her, stole her money, a whole apartment from her, and here you are groveling on your baby kneecaps saying you want her back. Well, stay the fuck away since she want nothing to do with your pathetic ass.”

Mingyu’s eyes burned a hole in Minghao’s head, quickly picked himself up and wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He is now the one to tower over that man that previously stood up to him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re just a big dick with no backbone or conscience. You’re pathetic. You couldn’t see how beautiful, amazing, beautiful, sweet, and most kindest girl you’d ever have the pleasure to date. And you took too long to see that, well, sucks to be you!”

You stared speechless over at the man hollering from the top of his lungs at your ex-boyfriend, insulting him while complimenting you, the very girl he’s insulted since day one, making you wonder if he was doing this because he wanted to or because he was drunk enough to do anything, either way it made your heart swell.

You noticed, with everyone else at that party, that Mingyu was at his last straw seeing him finally land his fist on Minghao’s cheek, causing the smaller man to fall backward and crash unconscious on the floor. Everyone gazed over at Minghao in horror, questioning whether or not he was breathing and friends immediately rushed toward his side. You immediately followed until an arm wrapped its thick, rough fingers around your wrist.

“I love you, Y/n. Don’t give up on us. I wasn’t there then, but I’m here now. I want to be everything for you.”

After the scene in your of you, all you could do was a scowl. The rageful disgust from simply looking back at the eyes you once loved made you wish that your fist was the one that planted against Mingyu’s face. You ripped your hand away from his grip, looking him dead in the eyes saying all the right words for the first time. “I never want to see you again. Leave and never come back. Stay away from me and my friends.”

Tearing away from his gaze, you followed your friends and Minghao into a room upstairs, checking to see if he was alive. You never let a breath of relief so heavy leave your lips as you say the man’s chest heave up and down.

“Okay, thank god the idiot’s alive. Who let him drink vodka?” Seokmin asked no one in particular.

Joshua sighed. “We should really let him rest. Come on, guys.”

They all proceeded heading towards the door, ready to head back into that party. Seokmin noticed you staying by Minghao, unable to pull your gaze away from the man who need his rest. “Y/n, you coming?”

You finally met Seokmin’s eyes and shook your head. “No, I’ll look after him if he wakes up.”

Seokmin saw recognized the look in your eyes, it was the same look you gave Minghao when you thought no one was looking. It was the same look Seokmin would give you when you weren’t looking. Seokmin knew all too well of how they felt for each other and for the first time in a while, he felt ready to give it up. He always suspected Minghao’s behavior to be for some convoluted reason and tonight proved that.

He smiled at you and nodded, leaving you two in your own peace.

Your eyes fell back at the unconscious man and wiping his bleeding nose and lip with a tissue you grabbed from the nightstand, feeling his soft breaths ghosting over your hand as you subconsciously smiled. His sweat dampened hair with smoothed over his forehead as you pushed them aside.

This was the most peaceful you’ve seen him, it was a refreshing sight. Any other day, he would be bashing on you for whatever it is you had or looked with no remorse for your feelings, very much like the beginning of the party, but what happened only moments ago on that floor with the surprise appearance of your ex-boyfriend was anything but ordinary.

Why would the man that hated you cared at all about your love life or who even whom had hurt you?

His actions left you with many questions, and many doubts about where exactly you stood in his life. You’ve never a lover, nor friend, he had no reason to get involved the way he did, yet he did. Like a dark knight, his fist landed against Mingyu’s face with all his might, getting himself hurt on the process. “Why would you do that, you idiot?”

It was ridiculous knowing Minghao and the type of person he was, he’d never sacrificed himself in a life or death situation for someone he simply knows. He was a bystander type of guy and very much would laze around in the background, sometimes not even batting an eye if he was in of of those moods, which was most of the times actually. And in every way he has made it clear that the man had nothing but pure hatred for you.

So why?

Your internal monologue was interrupted with a stir in Minghao’s sleep, seeing that him quickly unfamiliar with his surroundings. “W-where am I?”

“Well,” you scanned your surroundings, “I can only guess it to be Chan’s room from the multiple empty cups of ramen, gross by the way, and the unhealthy amount of figurines on his shelves. Wow, when the kid says he commits, he really commits.”

“What dumb shit did I do this time?” He pulled his upper body against the wall behind him.

You looked back at him, “You seriously can’t expect me to believe that you forgot everything that happened there downstairs.”

“Will you stop beating around the bush and tell me what happened?” He gave you the familiar scrunch of his eyes he’d give everyone when he was irritated.

“What happened was that you saved my dumbass from making another dumb mistake with someone I know is all wrong for me.”

He huffed. “Don’t get all hysterical.”

You exasperatedly shook your head, moving your hands in the air uncontrollably in disbelief at his request and lack of reaction. “How can I not? You punched Mingyu, Minghao, someone twice--no three times--your size and even defended me by saying all these nice things about me that I’ve never heard--”

“I was drunk, get over it. As if you weren’t annoying enough.”

He was his old self again, his cold attitude was back, flinging insults to you like monkeys with hands filled with shit, acting as if nothing had happened. He brushed off your enthusiasm and gratitude and you weren't having it.

“Hop off your fucking high horse. You obviously don't find me completely repulsive and even if you did, why would you punch someone for me.”

He gave an aloof shrug, “Maybe I'm nicer than you anticipated. Ever thought of that, Sherlock?”

“You're not nice for no reason. Not the Minghao we know. Just two days ago, you knew Seungkwan was struggling with those boxes, but you just stayed there with your ass on his couch. Like a dick.” You pointed it out, clearly frustrated.

“Kwan’s a big boy, he could handle it himself.”

“Fine! You’re not a complete ass, but that does not change what you said out there, chanting from the top of your lungs how beautiful, amazing, beautiful, sweet, and most kind--”

He brought up his hand to your face, muffling your words. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“That’s the thing, you don’t. You punched Mingyu in the face, said all those nice things, defending me every way you could, even though you act rudely to me on any other occasion because…” You almost couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth yourself, “...You’re into me. That’s the only logical reason for all this.”

“Will you shut up?” He sneered. “You’re so fucking loud and couldn’t be any more wrong.”

Your hands slapped against your sides. “Then what the fuck is it?”

“What? Maybe I did all that because you’re an ugly crier and I just didn’t want to see those stupid tears running down your dumb face since you’re a lot less ugly when you don’t cry. God damn it, Y/n. Just shut the fuck, before I go over there and make you.” He aggravatedly banged the back of his head against the wall, letting out a deep sigh closing off vision from all sides and closing his eyes.

“You’re so into me.” The corner of your lips curled up in a smile, taunting him.

He palmed over his head, feeling the alcohol hit him hard, but has found it in place to calm down. “Don’t get way in over your head because I was out of my mind a little bit, okay? This doesn’t mean I like you.”

You scooched yourself closer, feeling his arm brush lightly against yours. “Minghao, look at me and tell me you have absolutely no feelings for me.”

He exasperatedly sighed, rubbing his thumb and forefinger against his forehead before looking back at you, sitting up straight. 

“I…” He stared back at your eyes, gleaming in anticipation, finding it in his beating heart to reject you, only to find himself getting lost looking at every crease, mole, every scar on your face and committing it to memory. Much like the first time he laid his eyes on you, he could never get over how alluring you felt to him.

He let out a long and deep sigh to pull away from your gaze, then was quickly gripped by the chin to look back at them, noticing your other hand wrapped around his wrist, pinning him to the side of his head. “I’m right, aren’t I? That you’ve only pretended to hate me all this time to intentionally push me away. And for what exactly?”

He gulped down the saliva that formed in his mouth, wanting nothing more than to see if your lips were as soft as they looked. “What can I say? There’s no ulterior motive behind it if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Minghao!”

“What? There’s seriously nothing else to it.” Another lie. He’d spew them out like word vomit. He couldn’t stop.

Your hand crawled up to the side of his face, thumb brushing softly against the soft pink rose of his pale cheeks. “If I kissed you, would you actually mean all those words you’ve been saying?”

He said nothing as if those words have never been said, as if you weren’t in your position right now, hovering over him on the bed, staring deeply into his eyes, giving yourself enough hope that maybe you were actually right about your assumptions and maybe he did actually like you back.

You drew your lips close, fluttering your eyes close as you finally made contact with the velvety soft skin of his lips you’ve imagined on you more than you’d like, and needingly pressed against his until you realized the lack of response. You forced yourself to pull away, washing yourself over with disappointment.

The hand that gripped around his wrist loosened, only allowing you now to realize how insane you were acting, how the boy in front of you was probably terrified and hated you more than ever for being such a perverted freak. You tightly shut your eyes, embarrassed by your actions. You felt more ashamed than you’d ever been.

It came as a shock as he reached up for your face and reconnected your lips, returning the same passion you gave him seconds ago. His lips molded with yours, bringing his head up to kiss you deeper, now cupping both your cheeks in his hands, brushing loose strands of hair away from your face with his fingers.

You remained stunned, processing the fact the man you constantly thought and lusted over was here kissing you like he wanted you. You didn’t have any trouble reciprocating the kiss, running your hands up the soft locks of his thick hair. When you both pulled away, all Minghao could do was stare up at your eyes and for the first time and smile a smile that didn’t intend to be rude or insulting.

“Are you proud of yourself?” 

Heat rushed to your cheeks and now you were holding your cold, clammy palms against them. “I-I’d like to be, but your punk-ass had to get me all flustered.”

He hummed a low tune, brushing the pad of his thumb softly over your chin. His for the first time were genuine, gentle, and endearing, and your heart had no choice but to slam fast and quick in your chest, allowing you no control over the matter. “A-are you gonna deny that you like me?”

He sighed. He’s been doing that a lot lately, more than he should. Only realizing that resisting you get harder and harder every time. It couldn’t help with the fact that you get cuter and prettier every day, and this whole lying thing was getting to his head. He only had so much sanity left and denying it won’t make the truth falter from what it already is.

He was too drunk to deal with this responsibly, not that he wanted to anyway, so he kissed you again without for you a chance to think. He pulled himself up from the be, sitting up and cupped the back over your head. He relayed sweet pecks against the corner around lips, your nose, your cheeks, and then your lips against, unable to taste anything as sweet. 

“I don’t like you, stupid. Because I love you. I loved you then at that student orientation, I loved you when I got punched, I love you now. Happy?”

The corners of your lips pulled align your ears, pressing a hard cheshire smile as you nodded shyly into his shoulder, shielding away from his eyes. “You love me.”

The man scoffed, sliding his hand down to stroke lovingly at your back. “I do...but so does Seokmin, which is why I have to stop.”

You tore away from his embrace. “What? Y-you knew about that?”

“He’s my best friend, of course I knew. Like I knew it’d only be right if I backed off. If anyone deserves you, it's Seokmin.”

You let out a scoff of disbelief. “You don’t get to determine that, Minghao. Shouldn’t I get to have a say in who I get to be with?”

“I was just guiding in the right direction is all.”

You huffed, placing your hands against his shoulders. “Well, now I’m gonna take matters into my own hands and say there’s no way you are getting rid of me now. You’re stuck with me, stupid.”

He shook his head. “But Seokmin--”

“Did you not see him out there with that girl? He couldn’t have been happier.”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s over you.” He retorted.

“He will understand, like you,” you brought a hand to rest around his neck, looking back at him with knowing eyes, “he’s also an amazing friend, and I know that he’d want both of us to be happy, and what would make me happy is obviously you.”

A deep sigh escaped his lips, thumbing over your knuckles thoughtfully before looking back at your wide eyes, gleaming with pure ecstasy. He loved to see you happy, and all this time he thought it is with the best person he knew: his best friend. You were an adrenaline rush worth getting out of bed for. A perfect view to witness in the morning. He wanted everything you had to offer, maybe you were worth being selfish for.

He finally nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Your lips pulled back in an anticipating smile.

“Okay, let’s make this work. You like me and I obviously haven’t pushed you off of me yet, so yeah. Let’s make us work.”

You squealed and crashed your lips into his longingly. Your hands cupped the back of his neck and Minghao’s hands over your hips. You leaned in his chest, feeling him instantly melt underneath your touch. His hands reached around you, crawling up your back to rest on your shoulder blades. You steadily lowered your hands, easing them over the top of his pants to play at his button.

“I see you down there.” He spoke to you in hushed tone.

You hummed, feigning innocent as you undo his pants and teasingly allow your hand to pull the zipper down. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

A corner of his lips lifted up in a smirk. “Y/n, you’re being so obvious.”

You shrugged, “Are you going to try to stop me?”

“Now, I wouldn’t exactly say that.” You beamed a little too brightly. “I can only give you the excuse that our friends are a staircase away, maybe even smaller than that, and would definitely see what we’re doing.”

You drew yourself closer, your nose grazing his ever-so-slightly as suspicious playing against your lips. “I finally got where I want you and I’m not wasting any time, nothing and no one will stop me.”

You wanted this, only able to picture some things in the comfort of your bedroom, and if your roommate was home, the locked door of your bathroom with a running faucet as you touched yourself imagining his beautiful hands. You licked your lips at the thought and rolled your hips on his lap. Your lips reached up, ghosting up his jaw.

Minghao could feel himself practically shake underneath you. He’s never anticipated how active, and even dominant, you were. His mouth feels slack at the contact of your small finger over his member over the thin material of his boxers. He had always been sensitive, and strangely more than often when you were around. He would be lying if he were to deny the reason for his multiple trips to trips to the restroom was because of you.

Your lips pressed against his ear, flicking kitten licks against its structure, and darkly whispered inside. “I want you to fuck me so hard that I can feel your dickprint inside me for weeks. ”

The man in question was speechless, unexpecting such a vulgar and lust-hungry exclaim from the seemingly sweet girl everyone else knew, only giving him a few moments to respond back nearly the same level of passion. He pulled himself up from the bed and had you laid flat against the well worn out comforter.

“Don’t say words you’ll regret.”

His lips clashed with yours hungrily, holding you by your back wrapping your body possessively around his. Your hands reached down for the hem of his shirt and helped him pull it off to toss it aside to the end of the room. You neared your crotch over his, paying the throbbing cock in his pants enough attention to feel it grow against your arousal.

Your legs hook around his waist, allowing his upper body to sit up back on the bed as you, in result, straddled him. The tight dress around you scrunched up on your abdomen, allowing Minghao the easiest access to your cloth covered core as he fingered up your slit, feeling the damp material up rough fingers. “Fuck.”

The pretty brown eyes looked up content at you, satisfied with himself, and steadily bounced you up and down on his lap feeling his fingers thrust into you through your panties. That was enough to get your already weak heart from pumping your heart rapidly in your chest, “Shit, Minghao.”

Your hips moved in an identical rhythm, feeling the excitement pulsing through you like a shot of burning whiskey. You were beginning to understand the feeling of breathlessness as oxygen escaped your lungs in the hottest, unbearable way that just made you want more of it. Your hands instinctively clutched his arms, your mouth opened agape with your eyes locked in his.

A hand weakly pulled up and cupped his cheek, admiring the sparkly glint in his eyes that reminded you he wasn’t completely sober, but fully aware of what he’s decided to do. His hands ran up your sides and slid down the straps of your dress out of your arms and pulled down what covered your lightly-lined, cladded breasts, and reached up to pull the material down and handled them with a hankering squeeze.

The cold metal of his rings brushed along your exposed skin, running shivers down your back, making you gasp but quickly suppressed with the bite of your lips. Both hands grasp his face and your lips press more harshly against his, his hand squeezing, rolling your erect nipples in his fingertips effortlessly. You pressed deeper, feeling the full structure of his member in his pants twitch against you, urging your hands over it, pulling his boxers over, and springing the erect cock in action.

Your hands come in contact with his shaft with a single hand and thumbed over the tip. Some pre-cum immediately released on your digits, petting them inside for your mouth for a taste. “Mmh, tastes good.”

Slipping your hand over his length, you massaged it with between your fingers, coating himself in his arousal as you traced his bulging veins. Your fingers curled around his length to rub him up and down, jerking the grip you had on him, licking your lips. You can practically feel him squirm under your touch, letting soft, but low moans slip from his lips as he twitched in your fingertips like a vibrator at its mild speed. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“You like that, baby?” You pecked the corner of his lips. “Does that make you feel good?”

His chest heaved back and forth, looking at you with this delectable look of vulnerability, something that he knew he’s never felt until now. All he could do was shake his head, giving you an incredulous gaze. “Fuck you.”

“Soon, I promise.” You kissed his cheek. “Maybe I should get back at you for all those insults towards me.”

Your pace hastened, playing with it like a joystick with the single hand you held, and looking at him with a smug glint in your eyes.

“You know what’ll happen when you do that, it’ll backfire, Y/n.” Panting like a tired dog, he still spoke with such confidence and assurance.

“Maybe, I want to see that happen. Maybe, that’s my intention.” You shrugged well-knowingly it was exactly what you were doing.

He responded with a shrug of his one equally smug smile, and took you blindsided by pushing against the bed on your side. “Well, you’re giving me no choice but to react.”

His jeans were pulled down along with his boxers and kicked them aside. He leans close to you, pressing his lips along the structure of your back, tracing shapes against your thighs before reaching the wet arousal of your core. He pushed your panties aside and aligned his digits against your slit and chuckled lowly in your ear. “Damn, even wetter than before.”

He had his stiff cock in hand and help up against the entrance of your core and entered in you with ease. His upper body hovered face up against your side, watching as you struggled to adjust to his size. His eyes met yours as he thrusted his weight against you, feeling your walls clench around him. “Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this.”

His forearms are pinned on either of your sides as he leaned up to make a quick, but messy contact with your lips. Minghao’s hips moved in a steady rhythm and then proceed to grow more rushed. Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he managed to lift a leg over his shoulder and spread you wider than before, his thrust becoming more than what you could usually handle. 

You ran a hand through your hair, pushing the loose, sweaty strands away from your face, and lifted your chest up slightly to watch him in action. “Minghao--ah--yeah, just like that.”

He grinned, fingering up your hair to wrap it around his hands, bringing low moans from you at his small tugs, accelerating the arrival of climax. You desperately grasped your breasts in your hands, feeling your vision grow bleary as you felt the urge of your orgasm happen soon than you’ve anticipated. “S-shit, you’re gonna make me c-cum. Minghao!”

“So soon, hmm. It’s okay, cum, I want to see. ” At the sound of his approval, you released against him and laid your hands for a momentary rest.

It wasn’t long before, Minghao felt himself soon about to erupt, quickly telling you lay flat against your back. He hovered his body and load-filled cock in front of your face and streamed the ribbons of milky white straight down your eager throat, catching every drop, only the small bit dribbling down yoru chin. Your chest heaved up and down, explicitly smiling as you looked up at him. His eyes showed clear pride and utter fulfillment.

He crawled back on top of you and press his lips chastely over yours, tasting sin on his tongue, feeling nothing but a blanket of warmth envelop him as you wrapped your arms around his body in the most perfect, fitting way. The man smiled, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You were amazing.” He exclaimed breathlessly.

You gazed up at him with an undying grin on your face. “I could say the say for you. You were so...incredible.”

He returned to you with a sweet smile and kissed your lips once more.

“MY EYES!”

Chan rushed downstairs, running from the rare scene in front of him, and proceeded to announce to everyone there that the injured and the person that caused his injury were upstairs frick fracking, inducing laughter from the couple themselves. A loud, but familiar voice then follows up by then shout, “Holy fuck, I knew it! Get some best friend!”

“Wait,” You stopped Minghao from going any further with kissing you, “is Seokmin talking to you or me?”

He scoffed. “Isn’t it obvious? Of course, me.”

“Well, what if it’s actually me.”

“Well, then we’ll see who is when we go downstairs after another round and ask, cool?”

You smiled this knowing grin, cupping his cheek in your palm. “Okay.”

[themoodyestj]

hello "new person" assuming you aren't yet another sock account created by walker girl because she's bored and doesn't have any friends.

for someone who claims to have a brain, you sure bought a lot of the bs walker girl admittedly made up.

just open your eyes, if you really have a brain then use it and realize that hating on Jensen is a futile waste of time.

because he doesn't even know you exist, and everyone else is busy with their own lives.

there's no point to this, you can't help him, or hurt him, and even if you do this just for funsies, because you like to trigger people.

i guarantee, no one gets their day ruined over a stupid post on tumblr, i doubt anyone even thinks about it for more than 5 minutes tops.

so why don't you find something better to do with with your life?

i promise Jensen will be fine he's a grown adult, and he can solve his own problems just fine.

Oh my, my first hate mail. :D I was actually wondering why the AAs were so quiet while raging on in other platforms, and then I noticed my anon asks were off. They're bold with their words but not with their nicknames, am i right? But lets get to business, shall we? hello "new person" assuming you aren't yet another sock account created by walker girl because she's bored and doesn't have any friends. Oh, I take offense to that, delulu person. I am indeed a new person. Or... well, not that new, just started speaking up a bit more recently. I dont intend to prove anything to you, I dont give a rats ass about what you think, really, and im sure it would help your delusion to think that Im someone's double account, but I am not. Fairy Godmother turned me into a real girl, I swear. for someone who claims to have a brain, you sure bought a lot of the bs walker girl admittedly made up. Oh I do have a brain! It's not a claim, it's a fact! My mom got me tested! (Sorry, had to insert a Big Bang Theory joke here) And no, walkergirl is one of the people I read, but not the only one. Many many others share similar opinions, including people in your circle (except you club them to death like baby seals, you big bullies). Also, I have eyes. I can read. I can think. And if you dont mind me saying... dude, strong projection. Im not the one being fed up lies from the media despite a lot indicating the contrary. And I guess it's annoying to you that a lot of people start to to think the same... Fear us, because we are many. Muahahahahah (Not scared yet? Ah well.) just open your eyes, if you really have a brain then use it and realize that hating on Jensen is a futile waste of time. Ok. Read my characters. I DONT HATE JENSEN. I actually love him. And thats why i want to see him grow and be happy. I can love someone and have critical thinking. Imagine what would happen if you raised a child, which is the most love you can feel for someone, and only praise him? Youd get a Duhneel, and honey, no one wants that. One is enough, dear lord!

Besides, you don't get to tell me who I hate or not, delulu person, stop trying to force your opinion on me. Geez. because he doesn't even know you exist, and everyone else is busy with their own lives. Oh I saw that. I saw how people were getting busy with their lives, in fact, I was sent screenshot after screenshot of how people were busy living their lives. In fact, I know you didnt write this message, its your secretary, because youre busy with your life, right? You old geezers, stop trying to pull my leg like that! (LOL) It would be funny if it wasnt so tragic how one simple post from a small blog can rile you all up like that. But golly, am i happy you guys have a life to live! Go live it! there's no point to this, you can't help him, or hurt him, and even if you do this just for funsies, because you like to trigger people. Well, I do it to express my opinion, thats my point, and it so happens to trigger some very sensitive people. Although I dont go shove my truth in their faces, like you are, Im simply... expressing an opinion. Im sure the concept is familiar to you. But if I were trying to trigger anyone... You'd be playing right into my game, wouldnt you? Mindblowing, right? Maybe a teachable moment right there, just saying. i guarantee, no one gets their day ruined over a stupid post on tumblr, i doubt anyone even thinks about it for more than 5 minutes tops. Yeah, we've been over that. Im so happy my post didnt cause any imposition and people were able to live their merry lives without causing much of a fuss. And im grateful you gave me your five minutes of thinking about my post. Thank you for the attention. so why don't you find something better to do with with your life? Because... I dont want to and youre not the boss of me, neiner neiner? But hey, dont lose hope on me so fast, I do plenty of things! Do you want me to share some recipes of food I cooked for the first time this evening so you can use in your life when youre not thinking about me? I could share some! i promise Jensen will be fine he's a grown adult, and he can solve his own problems just fine. Oh, thank you for the reassurance, I was getting so worried about him! Im sure he is in great company, with you people salivating over him. He wont get dehydrated, thats for sure! Now on a more serious note... I really dont know what you expected with this message. To rile me up? To play with my insecurities? For idiotic messages, idiotic answers. You get it as you dish it. May this be a lesson. The thing is, as much as I love Jensen, I will never be so invested in him as you and your delulu friends are, because i keep a healthy mental stance when it comes to celebrities. So I would advise you to really follow your own advice and live your life, and live it well. Don't let my post ruin your day, its just words. And like you said, Jensen doesnt give a crap about any of us, so what would be the point, right? Tumblr is not my life, this is a place where i spend some time, but it doesnt really define me. If you check my blog... you wont find much there. Im not as proliferous as most bloggers, but hey, you sure gave me a run for my money this weekend! Ok, this was fun. See you never.

[xcaptain-winterx]

Welcome, sinner

officer!Bill x stripper!reader

summary: the night you met

warnings: smut 18+, 69, mention of death, murder (only mentioned), guest appearances, innocent Bill, alcohol, mention of cheating, stripper, men

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc. This is part 2, so you should probably check out part 1 first

Time to sin Masterlist

Part 1

~10 months and 13 days ago~

It often happens that he gets called to this part of town, crimes often happen here, mostly drug deals, street fights, robberies and murder. This part of town is known as red puddle, only people with bad intentions go or live here.

This night the police has been called to one of the most shadiest strip clubs in the entire country, Bloody Ice. It’s a big strip club, four floors. On the main floor is the common strip area where mostly men who are desperate for some female touch come by. The second floor includes a big area with poles and various private rooms, you only get to enter this floor if you have a ring on your finger. To say it in other words, only married men are allowed there. They have their own floor so no one sees them except the other cheating husbands. The third floor is for ‘business’ meetings, mobs for example have their meetings there. Who wouldn’t want to watch pretty woman dance and undress while having a meeting. The top floor is filled with more private rooms and showcases where the girls can dance in. Bill also heard that there’s a sort of secret basement where people can bid on girls and the man with the highest bid gets to have the girl for himself for the rest of the night. He doesn’t know if that’s true though, he just heard it from another Officer and that Officer is not to be trusted.

From afar he could already make out the red lights of the strip club and a big crowd of people in front of it. The crowd moves a bit as the police car comes closer and Bill gets out. He makes his way to the entrance of the club, walking through the big front door inside to see an Officer talking to a big man. The man is tall, about 6’4, he’s got shoulder length hair, a weird beard and he’s wearing big glasses. This man really looks like he jumped straight out off a 70’s porn movie. The man stands with crossed arms in front of the young Officer, it’s a surprise that he didn’t already run away from that man because this man looks fucking scary.

“Officer, who is this?” Bill asks, stepping closer, seeing the relief that washes over the young Officers face.

“Uhm, this is the owner of Bloody Ice, R-“

“Oh yeah, tell it another Offshitter! Can you all just do your job and get finished! I don’t know if you noticed but this is still a work place so let them finally get back to work!” the owner screams at them.

“Sir, we just need to know what happened and we-“ Bill can’t finish his sentence before the man starts talking again.

“I already told this asshole what happened” he goes while lightning up a cigarette “a man grabbed one of my girls and another man didn’t like that so they fought and he shot that bastard. Your colleagues already took care of him”

“Do you know from where he got the gun?”

The man scoffs “You know what happens in this part of town, almost everyone has a gun” blowing out a big cloud of smoke he continues “Is this all, can you go now”

“We need to ask the witnesses what happened and then we can go” to be honest they are far from finish but Bill really wants to get out off here. “Are all witnesses here, Sir?”

Without looking around the room he answers “ My sweetheart is still with a customer in the pleasure room”

“Your sweetheart?” asks Bill. Did his wife work here?

The man looks Bill dead in the eyes “Yes, my sweetheart” not getting a response from Bill he continues “She’s one of the strippers”

“Oh ok, so she’s not your wife?”

“I don’t have a fucking wife” he hisses.

“Ok, well uhm what’s the pleasure room?” Bill questions, only noticing now that the younger Officer is not next to him anymore.

A dark chuckle leaves the owners mouth “It’s a room where the girls do more than just undressing”

“And after the murder she just continued her job and went with the customer into the pleasure room to do more than just undressing?” Bill asks confused, still not getting what he means with ‘more than just undressing’. What else would they do?

“My girls know how to do their job” the owner tries not to laugh at the Officers dumbness “She and the customer are next floor, at the end of the hallway on the right, on the door is a sign which says pleasure room”

“Thanks, Sir”

“Just go ask her your dumb questions and then leave” he says as he walks away in direction of the girls changing room.

Bill just starts making his way upstairs and down the long hallway, he can’t wait for this day to be finally over. Maybe he could order some pizza tonight or perhaps go with some colleagues to a bar.

He starts to hear noises the closer he gets to the end of the hallway, the door now right in front of him. The sound of grunting, moaning, slapping and screaming are heard.

Maybe the guy is hurting you.

Without warning he crashes open the door only to see a naked back of a woman on a big bed.

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN!” only now did he notice the man under her.

Bill finally realizes what’s going on. You’re on top of the customer. You’re having sex. That’s definitely more than just undressing.

“I-I uhm” Bill turns around, his back facing them both “I need to talk to her about the murder” he manages to say, feeling so stupid for not realizing what the owner meant with ‘more than just undressing’.

“Close the door! We are going to put our clothes on!” the man screams.

Wow, people are really nice here

After a few minutes the door opens and closes again but only the man steps out. Before Bill can ask where the woman is he realizes who is in front of him. “Andy Barber?”

Andy let’s out a big breath of air, annoyed that he got caught “You are married and a lawyer. You are cheating on your wife with a stripper and ruining your carrier. Do you know what would happen if someone found out!” he met Andy before because of his job. Barber is known as the best lawyer in town and as a loving husband and father.

“I know, that’s why I’m here.” Andy begins saying “Nobody will ever find out. This place gives you the opportunity to just let yourself go, to give a shit about everyone else.” his eyes turn a shade darker “ Do you know how many of your little police friends visit this place regularly?”

This can’t be true, right? No one would risk their carrier. No one would cheat on their partner with a stripper.

Bill tries to ignore what Barber is saying “Why?”. He just can’t understand why such a man would do that.

“I was not happy with my relationship, the love was just not there anymore. No good morning and good night kisses, no work visits and no daily sex, and if we had sex it was just bad. I just wanted to get out off there but I knew that could having a divorce would risk my image. One night I got drunk and stumbled on this place, god, and now I can’t leave” Andy says, with a look that Bill can’t classify as normal “The woman here are goddesses, especially she” he points at the door behind him.

Andy glances at the door before he steps a bit closer to him and whispers “Once you start you can’t stop. It’s starts to become an addiction. At first it’s twice a month, then once a week and out of nowhere you start to come here almost everyday. You cant leave.” Bill can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Both of their heads snap to the door as it opens. Bill then sees the goddess Andy’s been talking about.

You

You’re wearing blue high heels and a pastel blue lingerie set, thrown over it is a see through blue night gown.

Andy steps away from Bill when you come out off the room.

“Here’s your money, love” reaching inside his jacket Andy pulls out a stack of money “Next time we maybe have our fun without a Officer barging in, maybe then I would also be able to finish” he says with a chuckle, kissing her temple. Bills eyes move down Andys body, seeing the massive bulge in his dress pants.

He quickly moves his gaze away from Andys boner and instead looks at the stack of money Andy gave you. It has to be at least 5000 dollars, and that was just one customer. Ok, Andy is quite prosperous but that’s not the point.

Bills moves his gaze once again when he hears a mix between moans and whimpers leave Andys mouth. Your hand cupping Andys boner while he rocks his hips against your hand. Bill tries not to stare at the scene in front of him, he can’t, it’s unprofessional. He can’t stop imagine though, how your hands would feel around his dick. The sounds that leave Andy’s mouth are definitely not making it better.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to listen to Andys moans for long because he finishes pretty quickly in his pants.

Feeling his pants getting tighter he looks down to see that he also has a small boner. He quickly covers it with hands while Andy is saying goodbye to you. He throws Bill a glare while walking past him. Bill looks back at you when your voice fills his ears.

“Good evening, Officer” you say, looking him up and down. You must admit he’s not that bad looking, you had worse looking man come to this club.

It takes Bill some seconds to answer, your voice sounds like a angle. “Good evening, miss..uhm” he realizes that he doesn’t even know your name.

“Sweetheart”

“What?”

Did you just call him sweetheart or is that your name? God, he kind of hopes you called him that.

“My name, it’s sweetheart. We don’t use our real names here, only the owner of the club knows our real names. He gives us these ‘nicknames’ after the job interview, well if Mr. Pronge thinks we are good enough to work here”

Without thinking Bill asks “What do you have to do in a job interview for a strip club?”. His cheeks start to turn red as he realizes how rude he sounded.

There are two types of jobs, the high paid ones where people get respected and accepted, and the poor paid jobs where people get looked down on and disrespected. These two types are still though, two sides of the same coin. Strippers and sex workers are not on the coin. These jobs belong to a small penny, a small penny that no one cares about. The penny that is in your wallet that you never use and want to get rid off but you still keep it. You hate it but you don’t want to get rid off it because why would you throw something away that’s yours. Why would you throw people away who are yours for a specific time. People laugh at them, talk gossip about them, change the side of the street, make fun of them and more. Acceptance is something they don’t grant them. Yet, they need them. Someone who helps them out, who will do exactly as told, who they can use and then throw away whenever they want.

The other side of the penny belongs to dealers and contract killers, also known as hitman. The overall more masculine side of the coin is the addiction that everyone needs and can’t get rid off. Once you start, you can’t stop. The first joint, first time trying ecstasy, then the first line of coke. People need it to survive, exactly like contract killers. The feeling of power people have when their problems are getting taken care of by someone professional. Only having to move a muscle for transferring money when the problem got taken care of. The small penny shows the desire and power we have and want.

That doesn’t mean though, that the society accepts them.

“Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t want to sound rude” Bill says, giving her a apologetic smile, hoping she’s not offended by it.

“It’s ok” you say “a lot of people think that we are just some sluts who want to show off our bodies and get some dirty old money” of course you know that it’s not the job you parents wanted you to have, but it’s still a job and you earn more money than most people earn in a week.

Bills smile falls when you say that.

“you are not a slut”

God, he only knows you for about 10 minutes, and most of time you were touching Andy’s dick, why does he care?

“Thanks, officer, I appreciate it.” it’s been a while since a policeman told you your not something like that. “Well” you go while biting your lip “and to answer your question, in this club we have to show Mr.Pronge how good we are”

To be honest, at this point Bill doesn’t even want to know what you mean by that. To munched already happened today. He met a 70s pornstar, walked in on a lawyer having a affair and saw the man cume in his pants. That’s enough for one evening. The only reason why he’s still feeling fine is because he just met an angle. Bill doesn’t move until your voice breaks him out of his trance.

“Aren’t you suppose to be asking me questions about the accident?” you ask him.

“Yeah, right”

He spends the next 20 minutes questioning you, all while not taking his eyes of you. After he finished questioning you, you both go downstairs. Bill wants to say something to you but before he gets the chance to, you’re already making your way over to Mr. Pronge. The owner stands up from the bar chair when he sees you coming over, glancing over to Bill before bringing his focus back on you. Bill can’t hear what you both are talking about but he sees how you show him the money, to be more specific, the money Andy gave you for fucking him.

“Officer, we are done here. Are you coming?” the younger officer, who seems to be doing better, asks him.

Bill looks back over to you only to see that you are no longer there, neither is Mr. Pronge. Thoughts of what you may be doing right now flashes through his mind. You could change into your casual outfit right now, count your money, drink a cocktail or fuck someone else.

He tries to get rid of these thoughts, he will not feel jealous or whatever he is feeling.

So, he walks out of the club, sad that he couldn’t say goodbye to you.

Bill is feeling miserable on his way home, he can’t get you out of his head.

What did Andy say? When your not happy you should drink?

Those probably weren’t his exact words but Bill couldn’t care less right now, so instead of driving home he drives to the next gas station. He quickly gets inside and goes over to the beers. Bill scans the shelfs, corona, blue moon, desperado and good old Weihenstephan Weissbier. He needs German beer right now.

Bill grabs a six pack and walks over to pay for it. The cold night air hits him when he walks out off the store, almost telling him to go back inside the warm gas station but he can’t. Neither can he just go in a bar right now, he’s still in his uniform, so he just sits in his car.

This year one officer will get a promotion and the chances are high that he’s the lucky officer who will get it. Bill is known as the good neighborhood officer, people like him. Grandmas make him cookies, little kids come up to him, wanting to sit in the police cars, mothers try to set him up with their daughters, people at the weekly market give him food for free. They just like him. That’s why he can’t understand how his only adversary is so high up on the list. This officer is the exact opposite of him.

Officer Lee Bodecker

Everybody knows that Bodecker did some shady stuff. Stuff like bribery, counterfeit money, speeding tickets and more! Out of some reasons though, people still seem to like him, well most of them come from the shady part of town.

If Bill would do something like that or if he would just be seen doing something what ‘good‘ cops aren’t suppose to do, he wouldn’t get that promotion and he could maybe even get fired. Bodecker would probably like that.

Bill just knows that Lee goes into Bloody Ice, especially after what Andy said. Thinking back, Bodecker is also the officer who told him about the basement of the club. He’s probably going there every night, drinking to get even fatter, while watching younger woman dance and then fuck them.

What if he fucked you?

No no no no no no no. He didn’t fuck you, right? You wouldn’t allow him to fuck you. But he’s a customer. Jealousy over comes him. What if Bodecker really had the chance to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his fingers.

He needs to see you again, he needs to finally touch you, he needs to know if you had something with Bodecker.

That’s how he finds himself back in front of the club. He doesn’t remember the whole drive back here or where he parked his car.

Bill goes inside with the mission to find you. Even though he’s hella drunk, he can still tell that the club is full. Men are screaming and begging to the woman on stage to take their clothes off, girls are sitting on mens laps, getting money stuffed into their bras and panties. The whole room smells like alcohol and sex, which is funny because sex only happens in the privat rooms. He can’t see you though and he definitely can’t see the big bouncer who curiously looks him up and down, while he walks by.

Bill starts to search for you, pushing men out the way, nobody seems to understand he’s from the police.

“Get Out oFf my Way” Bill growls at a man with round glasses that is standing in his way, before pushing him away and continuing his search.

He sees some men going behind the stage. Maybe his girl is also there, so he follows them. You have to be here somewhere.

The men walk down a small hallway, only dimly lighted by some neon signs. The floor is dark cement with small cracks and red spots. The hallway just looks like a nicer version to the gates of hell.

The four men start to walk downstairs. Bill realizes in that moment that Bodecker was right, there is a basement. But what happens down there? He walks a bit faster or as fast as someone can go who is slightly drunk. He needs to know if you are downstairs but he suddenly freezes when a neon sign shines on one of the men. A big man with dark hair and a almost to tight leather jacket.

“BoDecKer?” Bill whispers to himself. Is that Bodecker going downstairs? The hair and body definitely fits.

Before Bill can take another step forward, he gets yanked back, not being able to hold his balance he crashes to the floor.

“Nah man, your fucking cop ass is not going anywhere. You know what happens to people who want to know more than they should? We put a fucking bullet in their head. I’m gonna make an exception for you because we don’t need the whole fucking police station show up cause a cop is missing. NOW GET THE FUCK BACK UP!”

Bill looks back up, trying to focus. He can tell that he’s buff, got a buzz cut and a thick beard. Perhaps he’s wrong though because he sees the man twice. He shouldn’t have drank that much.

“I’m juSt lOoking for mY swEethEart” he tells the buff man, who’s face changes to an angry expression. A growl even leaves his throat. As soon as Bill is back on his feet he gets grabed again and thrown against the wall. Bills ears ring from the sudden action.

The man pulls his fist back ready to throw it when suddenly a soft voice and hand stops him. “Curtis, everything is good”

God, could that be you?

Bill turns his head, trying to focus on the person standing next to the man. He can’t hear what’s going on, his entire focus is on trying to focus again. After a few seconds he finally sees you. “Hey, sweetheart” he says with a grin on his face, leaning against the wall.

“You sure about that, he’s drunk as fuck and-“ the man starts only to be cut off by your soft hand being put on his chest.

“Don’t worry, I met him before, I’m just gonna take care of him until he’s feeling better” you answer, grabbing Bills arm, resulting in him almost leaning his whole weight on you.

There’s a minute of silence, except the soft giggling and soft hi’s of Bill, before Curtis speaks up. “Ok, but the second he’s sober again you get him out off here. I don’t want the boss to get mad again” he says in a soft but stern tone.

“Yes, Everett. Now go and throw some other drunk asses out” jokingly command with a smile, winking at him. You put Bills arm around your shoulder, trying to ignore the way he puts his face in your hair, smelling you and the intense smell of alcohol. You carefully lead him through the main club part and in direction of the stairs. With the goal of bringing him into the room where he saw you for the first time.

“I’ve bEen sEarchIng fOr yOu all niGht, swEethearT” Bill stated with a proud smile on his face, holding on you. You try your best to hold him upright as you both go up the stairs, almost letting him accidentally fall down three times. Bill doesn’t care though, the only thing that matters right now is you being close to him and your beautiful hair. It smells like vanilla and strawberries with a touch of coconut. He already knows that it would be his new favorite smell, if there also wouldn’t be a hint of cigarettes in it.

“Really?” you question when you finally made it upstairs “why did you miss me that much?”

Bill lets out a little adorable laugh as you both go down the familiar hallway, getting closer and closer to the door. “Oh, you don’t even know”

You let him in first, when you finally reach the door before following him inside and locking the door. Rushing back over to Bill as you see him almost tripping again. You make him sit down on the couch, making sure that he stays upright and then sitting down yourself, turning to look at him only to see that he’s already looking at you.

“Did you fuck Lee Bodecker?”

That came unexpected.

“Bill” you say, while putting your hand on his cheek, softly tracing his cheekbone “why do you want to know”. His eyes move from you, he can’t look you in the eyes. Bill takes in all the details of the room, the only light that comes are from the lamps because no windows are there. “Look at me” you say, turning his head to look at you “tell me why”

Bill gulps, feeling out of nowhere totally sober “I-I uh” how is he suppose to explain that he is jealous. “Well you know I uhm- hate- don’t like Bodecker” he says, almost wanting to slap himself by how fake that sounds. Lying never been one of his strengths.

Your face shows disappointment and Bill nearly cries, he doesn’t want you to be disappointed at him. He wants to be the reason you smile. “How about this, officer, you tell me, while I make you feel good” you whisper, trailing one hand down his uniform. Bills breath hitches, is it really happening. Is he really finally going to feel you?

You unbuckle his belt

Fuck. He’s so scared but also excited. He knows your good, he knows. You got Andy to cheat on his wife.

You slowly open his zipper and get on your knees

No, he can’t. If someone finds out he’s going to get fired, that also means Bodecker will win.

You pull his pants and underwear down.

This is wrong, this is so wrong. Nobody will forget that if-

His thoughts get cut off as you lick a strip down his dick. “Fuck” Eyes roll back into his head when you lick another strip. A smirk grows on your lips, seeing his expression. Bill is in heaven, well, as far as you can be in heaven while sinning.

“I wanted you to tell me why you want to know, baby” you say, giving his dick some soft strokes.

“OK. I will tell you-just p-please don’t stop” knowing he’s gonna embarrass himself. He sucks in some breath of air “I don’t want him to touch you because-ugh fuck h-he ca-FUCK“ you take him in your mouth, making Bill stop his sentence and instead letting out soft pleases. He knows he won’t last long.

“I want to b-be” he stop again when you altered to bob your head. He’s definitely not gonna last.

Bill looks down at you and immediately regrets it. Innocent eyes look back at him and your soft red lips wrapped around his dick. Your mouth is wet and warm, taking him down your throat. It’s like your mouth is made for him. “I don’t want h-him beca-“ he can’t do it.

The moment your hand grabs his balls he explodes “FUCK! I DONT WANT HIM TO TOUCH YOU BECAUSE I WANT YOU” he screams as he cums. His cheeks turn red, embarrassed by the confession.

You swallow before before standing back up and looking him in the eyes “It’s ok”. Before smashing your lips against his. Bill moans as you start to play with his tongue, completely taking control. You taste delicious, you taste exactly how you smell. This time though with a hint of his own cum.

Bill whines as you break the kiss, trying to follow your lips. The alcohol definitely making him clingier.

The sound of your laughter makes his stomach feel like it’s filled with butterflies. “Don’t worry, I think I like you too” you whisper softly in his ear

“Welcome, sinner”

Next thing you know, he throws up over the armrest.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

it was always meant to be you.

- Lucian x Peter Vincent

❤️

I'm not sure how to make this work, but I'll try my best anyway.

Warning: for my au with vampire Peter since I tend to gravitate towards that one nowadays, Peter might have been with some people before he and Lucian became an official thing

On with the fic!

--

"I hate these sorts of places." Lucian said, voice slightly hard to hear over the loud noises of people and the dreadful music playing at this Las Vegas nightclub.

"Why's that?" Peter commented, drinking a Long Island Ice Tea. Alcohol didn't affect him like it used to when he was human, but damnit if he wasn't going to try his best to get hammered by ordering the really strong drinks here.

"Too loud, the smells, the people, it's a lot." Lucian frowned. "I don't know how you stand it, especially with your new senses."

"I'm used to it, had a life before actual vampire huntin', babe." Peter sniffed, then regretted it. "Not used to the senses thing though, lots of... lots of funk around here. For fuck's sake, shower before you decide to go clubbin'!" He shouted at someone who walked past them.

Lucian chuckled softly, shaking his head. "We didn't have to come here, you know? I know you want to include me in your interests, but if you're having trouble, we can go somewhere else."

"My other choice was this cool theater that plays classic horror movies, but they're closed for repairs this month." Peter grumbled, which Lucian was probably able to pick up because of his own enhanced hearing.

"I am sure that we will be able to attend a showing of something in due time. No werewolf films though."

"Boo! You're no fun!"

"They are tragic and make my brethren out to be mindless, blood thirsty beasts."

"Lucian." Peter gave him a look. "You told me that your brethren are like that."

He got a look in return, that quickly dissolved when someone shouted Peter's name. Peter whipped around, seeing a man in black, with long, dark hair, waving over at him. Wracking his brain for a moment to remember who this was, he winced and turned away quickly. "Fuck, fuck, let's go."

"Someone you do not wish to talk to?" Lucian asked.

"Somethin' like that, let's go!" He moved to get up from his seat, but felt a hand on his back. He groaned and turned to face the man. "Mark...! Hey!" He said, trying to smile.

"Dude, where've you been? Me and the boys were wonderin' if you'd ever come back! Not even answering our calls, what's up with that?"

"Been busy. Got a show and a life, can't always come to goth nightclubs and shit, ya know?"

"You're not busy right now, are you? Got some stuff you might be interested in, and-" Mark seemed to notice Lucian and raised an eyebrow. "Got a friend?"

Peter wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "He's... Lucian. He's my..."

"I'm his partner." Lucian spoke up, calm as anything, but his eyes showed a storm.

"Partner?" Mark snorted. "Like, for work? Cause Petey here don't do relationships! Not since his last girlfriend!"

"For fuck's sake, Mark..." Peter groaned.

"I assure you that Peter and I are in a relationship." Lucian replied, and Peter felt his shitty vampire heart skip a rare beat. It still caught him off-guard that he was actually in a relationship with this guy, even though it had started weeks ago.

"Soooo... is it, like, an open thing or...?" Peter shoved Mark away and gave him a tired look.

"Mark, dude, you and the boys were fun, but I'm not doin' the fuck buddy thing anymore. Got myself a mate, ya know? Come on, babe, let's get the hell outta here." Peter snatched Lucian's arm, pushing him towards the door, ignoring Mark's shouts that faded with the background noise of the club.

They stepped outside and Peter groaned, slapping his hands over his face. "Fuck you, past me, you absolute idiot."

"What was that all about?" Lucian asked.

"Me being an idiot who really, really needs to learn to cope with things better than with sex, drugs, and beer."

He looked at Lucian, who was looking at him curiously, as if asking for him to continue without voicing it. Peter sighed loudly and started to walk down the streets, heading for wherever the hell they parked his car.

"Met the guy a while back, him and his little group of gothy friends. I was... look, I kept lookin' at him and his friends and saw things I wanted and I was sad and tired and dealin' with all this vampire shit. And somethin' else. So, I took 'em up on their offer and went home with them and then did it a few more times afterwards until I realized I wasn't really gettin' anything from it."

"And what was it you wanted?" Lucian asked, walking alongside him.

Peter stopped under the light of a streetlight, looking at that forever young face, those impossible eyes. Fuck, Lucian was beautiful and scary and so much more. Peter was too sober for this. "I went with them because of how they dressed, all leather coats and gloves and combat boots. Two of the guys had beards like yours, one of them had hazel eyes, and Mark's got the same kinda hair."

"You slept with those men because you saw me in them?"

"Physically, yeah." Peter was looking at his shoes now. "But it wasn't what I wanted, who I wanted. It was always meant to be you, who I laid in bed with, chatted with, slept with. Fuck, Lucian, I really like you, a whole lot. Lot more than just wantin' a good lay and maybe someone to tell me I'm pretty.

I like you, Lucian. And I didn't want to tell you for the longest time cause I thought it was stupid to get my hopes up, cause I thought you would dip out and forget about me. Why bother with anything other than a casual friendship with a pathetic excuse for a vampire and an even bigger excuse of an actor?"

Lucian stepped closer, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I was prepared to throw that Mark person across the room, if that makes you feel better."

Peter blinked, then snorted, laughed, and shook his head. "Holy shit, babe. It... yeah, it does, the mental image, but we'd get into a lot of trouble, so I'm glad you didn't."

"I'm sorry I made you wait."

"It's okay. I'm glad I was dumb enough to snog you in that parking garage."

"While we were covered in blood and gore."

"I told you, dumb enough."

Lucian smiled. "Yes, and I suppose that I Can't blame you for taking advantage of the moment. Come, let's return to the penthouse, I think we both need a night in."

"Can we get drunk?"

"We can try. Or you can, you still seem determined to."

--

Peter would sleep with guys that remind him of Lucian and still know it's not what he wants. He wants the real deal!

[hattafan2593]

Helluva Boss: The Circus - Alternate Ending

So I noticed that a lot of people really don't like the way Stella is characterized in Season 2. I personally have no problem with her characterization - sometimes people are just assholes. No tragic backstory. No motive. And honestly, she's just so cartoonishly evil that I can't help but love to hate her. That said, I do see where people are coming from, and it does kind of downplay some of Stolas' flaws and portrays him more sympathetically than he actually is. While I do believe Stolas is sympathetic, and I want him to improve and grow as a person, it doesn't change the fact that his relationship with Blitzo is still mega toxic, that Stolas is a member of a privileged class with little knowledge or empathy for those below him, or that he spent the entire first season doing as he pleased with little to no regard for how his actions affected those around him, including his own family.

So, without further ado, here's my attempt at a more nuanced look at Stella and Stolas' relationship, via an alternate ending to Season 2, Episode 1 - The Circus. Enjoy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

STELLA: The fuck are you doing?

STOLAS: Reflecting.

STELLA: Well, keep it down. Via's in her room, and I suspect she's trying to sleep. (Turns to walk back inside)

STOLAS: ...Why are you still here?

STELLA: (Stops, irritated) What?

STOLAS: Why are you still here? You leave with Via on weekends but then stay around the house despite everything.

STELLA: I live here, too, Stolas, last I checked. And unlike some people, I don't run away from my responsibilities.

STOLAS: Oh yes, I can see just how busy you've been. Between the shopping trips and gossiping with your girlfriends. Truly, how do you find the time to even breathe?

(Stella stomps over to Stolas, shoving a finger in his face)

STELLA: You have some fucking gall, speaking to me like that! After what you did-

STOLAS: I KNOW WHAT I DID!

(Stella steps back, stunned. Stolas runs a hand over his face.)

STOLAS: I would feel bad if I had hurt you, but we both know I didn't do that!

STELLA: You dare-

STOLAS: Oh, come on, Stella! There was never any love between us! You and I were arranged for one reason - to birth a precautionary heir to the Goetia family, nothing more!

STELLA: Yes, Stolas. I am perfectly aware of my status as a brood mare, thank you for reminding me.

STOLAS: (sighs) I tried, Stella. I know I was and am far from perfect but I did try, for so many years. To make things comfortable for us, to have this family, but it was never enough.

(Stella rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Stolas continues.)

STOLAS: The only reason I have endured your constant insults and cruelty is so that girl can have a normal life!

(Stella starts cackling)

STOLAS: What is so funny?

STELLA: Cruelty? You think what I've done is cruelty?

(Stolas puffs up in indignation, but starts backing away as Stella stomps up to him, getting in his face.)

STELLA: You spoiled, overgrown child! You don't know what cruelty is! And what's this tripe about "a normal life?" Normal? By Satan, have you always been this delusional?!

(Stella steps back, throws out her arms for emphasis.)

STELLA: Newsflash, husband! Octavia is a Goetia! She is never going to have a normal life! No matter how she acts or how she dresses, she will always have royal blood in her veins! Nothing you or I do will ever change that, and the denizens of Hell are certainly not going to let her forget it! Especially not after this latest spectacle of yours!

(Stolas' face becomes horrified - his eyes turn to pinpricks)

STOLAS: ...what?

STELLA: (exasperated) You were seen publicly, Stolas! In a goddamned sex club, with an imp! Did you really think word wouldn't spread?! (puts her hands on her hips) And who do you think has had to deal with the fallout of your little dalliances? Who do you think has to deal with the gossip, the rumors, the contempt? Here's a hint - it's not you!

(Stolas flinches back slightly.)

STELLA: (shaking her head, bitterly) Men like you and my brother are all the same. You do as you please with no thought or care to how your actions affect others. And meanwhile, women like me have to deal with fake sympathy and speculation from the masses over how we are such failures as wives that our husband find the company of peasants more appealing.

(Stolas is stunned silent. Stella turns away from him, her arms folded.)

STELLA: I don't expect you to love me, Stolas. Or even like me. But whether you like it or not, we are married. And at the bare minimum, I expect some modicum of respect as your wife.

(Stolas turns aways, gripping his arm. His face is full of guilt. But then he turns back, his face becoming blank.)

STOLAS: Respect goes both ways, Stella. And you'll have to forgive me if I can't respect someone who publically shames my performance in bed, or tries to have me assassinated, right in front of our child.

STELLA: Oh please, she had her headphones on. And it's not like it even worked. You're still here aren't you?

STOLAS: (bitterly) Sorry to disappoint you.

(Bitter silence.)

STOLAS: (sigh) ...Look, this...this isn't working. I cannot do this anymore.

STELLA: Meaning what?

STOLAS: I want a divorce. I do not want to be married to you anymore. I want out.

STELLA: (laughs bitterly) Of course. You realize that the Goetia family will not take this lying down? Andrealphus especially-

STOLAS: I don't care what your arrogant brother thinks.

STELLA: That much is obvious.

STOLAS: And as far as the Goetia are concerned, the only thing they care about is already 17.

STELLA: ...So that's it. We're done.

STOLAS: Yes. We're done.

STELLA: (deep breath) Fine. It's late. I will sleep in the guest room, and then we will both explain things to Octavia in the morning.

STOLAS: (nodding) That's fair.

(Stella turns to leave)

STOLAS: Stella...for what it's worth-

STELLA: Save it. The words of a traitorous embarrassment are worth nothing. You've fallen from what little grace you had. And I know you'll pay for it. You and that little plaything of yours.

STOLAS: Leave him out of this!

(Stella keeps walking.)

STOLAS: Stella! I mean it! Hate me if you must, but I will not let you threaten-

STELLA: It's not a threat, it's a fact. (turns around) You have made him part of this little game of yours. You have dragged him into the spotlight, Stolas. And sooner or later, he will be eaten alive.

(Stolas staggers back, his face a mask of rage and shock.)

STELLA: (suddenly very tired) I don't pretend to understand your feelings for that imp, but if you truly care for him at all...you will let him go.

(As Stella goes inside, Stolas' fist shake with rage and become sheathed in his magic. He turns, roaring, and slams his magic covered fist down on the balcony railing, causing it to crack and crumble slightly. Stolas then collapses on the ground, weeping.)

(Cut to Stella walking down a hallway. Her eyes are in shadow as her mouth contorts, a single tear forming and threatening to fall. Stella furiously scrubs it away, then straightens, her face a mask of cold regality. She continues down the hall.)

(End.)

[thislovintime]

Peter Tork, early 1980s (photo 2 taken in Japan).

“In addition to the [Studio 19] club shows, Tork and his band will play Sunday night [March 21, 1982] at Peaches Records in Clearwater at 6:30, 7:30 and 8:30 p.m. The Peaches shows were added because many of Tork’s fans are too young to be admitted into the club, said a spokesman for Studio 19.” - The Tampa Tribune, March 19, 1982

“Last weekend in Clearwater, Tork and his new band, The New Monks, broke up. Until then, his latest comeback attempt had been rolling along smoothly during the last 18 months. […] The breakup resulted from poor attendance at two Studio 19 concerts, an abruptly canceled canceled gig last Sunday and a flare-up resulting from an on-going friction between band and management, Tork said earlier this week. ‘It was the culmination of a long, slow descent,’ he explained. ‘It’s been a struggle. I thought things had been getting better.’ However, drummer Vince Barranco recently said that the band’s split-up is not final, just in limbo, pending working out problems with management. ‘Oh, it’s further out than limbo,’ Tork said. ‘The band is not intact, and not functioning.’ Calling from a pay phone at a YMCA in New York City, where he works out regularly, Tork said his trip to Florida, which coincided with the annual Monkees Fan Club Convention last week in Largo, has left him in less-than-enviable financial shape.
 He said the band members claim they did not get paid for the Clearwater concerts. ‘I’m broke,’ he said flatly. ‘I cannot buy a sandwich. Well, I can, but it’ll stop me from eating for two days.’ Tork said only bass player Paul Ill has served official notice of quitting the band. The rest are ‘not too anxious to get back to work,’ he said. Barranco, pianist Tom Myers and guitarist Phil Simon remained in Clearwater last week waiting to get paid for last weekend’s concerts from the promoter, Barranco said, adding that the break-up is not based on personal hostilities. ‘Peter’s a nice guy and all,’ Barranco said. ‘It’s strictly business. ‘I’m game (to rejoin) if everything’s comfortable,’ he said, noting relations between management and band members would first have to be cleared up. […] ‘When I left the Monkees, I found that I was not grounded,’ [Tork] said, referring to his lack of dues-paying and basic music industry know-how. ‘I wanted to learn the trade from the bottom to the top. In California, you can’t do that — there’s no middle ground.’ The small turnout at the Clearwater shows made him question his career direction. ‘I asked myself, “Do I not draw?” Maybe I overplayed my own value,’ he mused, ‘or maybe it’s Reaganomics.’ Due to cost of traveling, The New Monks have been giving small, well-received performances only in Boston, New Jersey and New York, shows featuring Tork on banjo and guitar. […] ‘Some reviews said “don’t do any Monkees material,“ some said “do only Monkees material,”’ Tork said. ‘We decided to call our own shots, but we don’t have enough consistency or experience.’’ […] [During Monkeemania] separating the musicians from the characters on the show was almost impossible. Cast as the dunce, Tork’s character undermined his formidable musical talent. ‘The Peter Tork character reached a lot of people,‘ he said. ‘He was an outcast — he lurched around, not getting hurt by his own bumbling idiocy.’ The character had a built-in protection system — that dumbfounded, naive look — that appealed to everyone, he said. One of Tork’s fondest Monkee memories came during a break in the filming for the pilot of their first TV episode, in which they had been pretending to play instruments. ‘We got them to give us power in the amps and we just started playing,’ he recalled, ‘and everybody started dancing.’ However, Tork is most proud of the second stage [of Monkees history], circa 1967. On ‘Headquarters,’ their third album, the group, for the first time, played almost all of the instruments. Other personal favorites from that period include ‘Pleasant Valley Sunday’ and ‘Goin’ Down,’ a one-take jam released only on the flip side of ‘Daydream Believer.
’ […] [I]n 1978, Tork started easing back into show business, circulating his picture in hopes of landing a spot on a sit-com but drawing few offers. 
After a brief stint as a strictly oldies act, he founded The New Monks, ‘and now here I am, broke in New York City,’ he said. But the 38-year-old [sic] singer is far from calling it quits. ‘I’m going to keep plugging,‘ he vowed. ‘I’m not done — this is my craft, my trade.’” - The Tampa Tribune, March 27, 1982

[mysteriawrites]

hello!! could i please request a romantic matchup with a honkai star rail men

my pronouns are they/them, my mbti is intp-t, my zodiac is virgo.

personality: im really shy and kind of awkward when socializing others bcos im not really good interacting with them so i just stay in the sideline where i observe people and their behavior and thats the reason why people depict me as intimidating and hard to approach and also bcos of my stoic expression too but when im with my close friends, im really bubbly and more comfortable with them. im really quite moody sometimes and i also tend to overthink things. i always listen to my friends whenever they're having a problem and just be there for them sometimes pitching in some advice now and then. im also the type of person to run away from their problems and tend to push people away bcos i dont want to burden them, i also laugh at small things, im also the type of person to read a body language very well bcos of my observant nature. i also get insecure with my appearance too. im also blunt with my words i do not sugarcoat things.

my hobbies/likes:writing stories and reading books, poetry composition, learning about stars and outer space, watching horror videos on yt, staying up all night writing down my ideas about my next stories, sleeping, i also have a fascination to ocean and i tend to stare at it, dark academia, i also like abandoned places especially if its haunted, i also love matcha green tea, i really love a meadow full of lavenders.

my dislikes: loud people including loud places too, vegetables (depends on my mood), cheaters and playboys, worms, hot weather, arrogant people.

what i like in a person: someone who's very loyal and someone who can be my safe haven when everything's overwhelming.

- 🦋 anon

Hello hello and danke danke for the request. Sorry for this taking so long, I really appreciate gettting so many in the short time this blog has been around. Now enough rambling this match was easy...CUE THAT DRUMROLL!!!

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

DAN HENG!!!

Congratulations! You've been matched with the ever elusive but very caring Dan Heng (lowkey jealous, but I must adhere to my duties as matchmaker).

So, because this game still doesn't have a lot characters, Dan Heng was kind of the only match that made sense. You're both so similar it's kind of what drew you two together.

You both can be rather quiet and reserved people. You prefer to keep to yourselves and mind your own business, but kind of for different reasons. You're more shy and awkward while Dan Heng is aloof and just overall preferring to keep to himself more than he's shy. I think because of this you two may need a bit more of a push to get to know each other.

After you both have been part of the Astral Express for while Welt will have started a book club as a sort of team bonding activity (encouraged by Himeko). Whenever it comes to you or Dan Heng's turn to choose a book you start to notice that you have as similar taste in literature. After that (and some nagging from march because she also likes to play matchmaker) Dan Heng approaches you about some other books you like.

From there the conversation will spiral to other topics such as your own writing and if he can take a look at it some time, the vast universe you guys are traveling through and theories on how it works, what your next destination will be, and so much more. In time you two will come to a mutual comfort with each other.

Now as time goes on and you start to get closer to him and the rest of the express crew, Dan Heng starts to see the real you come out. The happier, sillier, bubblier version of you that reminds him a lot of March. However, unlike with March he finds that part of you rather cute, and that's when he's realized that he's slowly falling for you.

Now even though he doesn't want to admit it, we've all seen that Dan Heng is the type to run away from his problems. Once he realizes his feelings for you, he may start to distance himself from you for a little while to sort out his feelings, but don't worry it won't be for too long because despite his introverted nature he does begin to miss your presence. However, it may take a little push from the others (and maybe a minor life or death situation on another planet and him realizing his fear of losing you-) for him to come around.

Once you two finally get together I imagine some of the dates you guys will go on will be calm and quiet things like tea dates, exploring the libraries and bookstores of different planets, walking through nature, and some may just be simply sitting in silence and enjoying some music or watching a movie. (I would add going star gazing but you guys kinda see the stars regularly so)

Dan Heng is rather private so I don't think he would be into too much PDA, but on missions he would slowly hold your hand and intertwine your fingers. It gives him comfort to know you're right next to him safe and sound and so he can be ready to protect you at a moment's notice if he senses any danger.

Dan Heng is more of a listener than a talker, so he'll always be there to listen to your troubles when you mind starts to spiral and his calming voice will reassure you to quell those voices in your head. However, he is also more of a man of actions than words so he will do whatever he can to disprove any negative thoughts and stress you may have.

All in all, I think you two are so similar it makes your relationship easier because you understand each other so well. You are both running from something whether that be from your pasts or your problems, but together you'll give each other the strength to face and overcome them.

This one was actually pretty hard because like I said there are few characters right now and we still don't know a whole lot about the ones we have. Man did it get long though, but I hope you still like the matchup.

Runners Up: Welt Yang, Gepard Landau, Loucha

[nekoannie-chan]

Not another lonely Christmas

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Word count: 489 words.

Summary: Steve feel lonely in Christmas until he found you.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, feelings of loneliness.

A/N: This is my entry to @sstan-hoe’s Vee’s Holly Jolly Challenge with the prompts:

"I’m not a lot of people’s favourite person..."

"Therapist."

"Steve Rogers."

"(Fear of) Spending Christmas alone."

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighsss @marvelatthisonee @caplanbuckybarness @sapphire-rogerss @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot5555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard

As the Christmas season approached, Steve began to feel a knot in his stomach. Ever since he woke up from the ice, his Christmases had been spent alone. For several years, he had tried to spend them with others, but there was always some excuse, and now he found himself tormented by the thought of spending the holidays alone.

Steve looked at the calendar; he was still going to the therapist, as the adjustment process was more difficult than it seemed, and yet Steve felt he didn't belong anywhere... Steve, his voice trembling, confessed his fear of spending Christmas alone.

Steve left the office feeling a little more relieved but still worried about how he would spend the holidays.

While walking through the busy streets of New York, Steve stopped at a small bookstore to take shelter from the cold. That's when he ran into you, as you were browsing through a book in one of the aisles. Steve recognized you immediately; there were a few times they had crossed words, although basically it had been on missions.

Maybe it was a good time to meet you and distract him from his thoughts. So, it was time to take the first step. He approached you.

“Are you all right?" Steve asked gently.

You looked up, surprised. Since no one knew that this was your secret place, you were stunned for a few seconds to see that Steve Rogers was the one who was in front of you.

“I'm just looking for something to read during the vacations. I'm not a lot of people's favourite person… So I don't usually have plans for Christmas," you answered sheepishly, not even understanding why he was talking to you.

“I don't have many plans for Christmas either, so how about spending Christmas Eve together? We can share stories and make the night a little more special."

You were dumbfounded; you had never expected such a proposal, but you could tell it was different. Probably what Steve needed was a friend or someone to talk to. Many times, you had heard what others said about him, but deep down you thought he was lonely, so you accepted.

Christmas Eve came, and the two of you met in a cozy little cafe. You spent hours chatting, sharing laughs, and telling each other stories about your lives. As the evening progressed, you and Steve discovered that you had a lot in common and enjoyed each other's company.

At midnight, you two decided to take a walk through the city illuminated by Christmas lights. You stopped in front of a brightly decorated Christmas tree and held hands.

“You know, I really like Christmas, but I never usually say it. I decorated my house with a huge tree and lots of bows. I have the best Christmas village in the whole city." You boasted proudly.

“Next year we could decorate together," Steve proposed.

“Is that a promise?"

“It's a promise.“