#it turned out a bit fucked but I'm posting it anyway because <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[missmolsa]

VAL siltverses the war crime/war criminal that you are <3

[jimingyue]

Cat Tumblr Dashboard Simulator

🖋️ meowful-musings Follow

🕊️ birdwatching Follow

what's wrong with dry food??? my humans feed me it all the time and i think it's fine

💀 elusivehider-deactivated948204

op wheres the natural feeding option

🌲 outdoorsy Follow

you guys are getting fed?

#im a barn cat so maybe im missing something here #meowtthew don't look

7,192 notes

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

YOU ARE NOT LESS VALID IF YOU ARE NOT A SPECIFIC PEDIGREE!!!!!

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

extra special shout out to cats who have "common" coat colors. grey tabbies and black cats i am rubbing against your head affectionately <3

🪤 m0usetrap01 Follow

as a grey tabby i really needed to hear this :"3

#i feel like i never see positivity posts for moggies even tho we're the most common type of cat....

154,688 notes

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

i cant believe there are cats ACTUALLY advocating for kittens to be separated from their mothers before 12 weeks??? kittens still need to learn how to interact with other cats before being placed into their furever home omg you guys know you're advocating for undersocialized and aggressive cats right

❤️ loving-paws284 Follow

um op some of us??? matured early??????? i was separated from my mother at 7 weeks and i turned out fine... interesting how you assume that kittens being separated from their mothers at a younger age will lead to the degeneracy of the next generation...hmm i wonder where i've heard that before...

🐈 fluffy-the-cat Follow

OP got bit too hard during a play-fight as a kitten and it shows XD

🐟 tunafeesh Follow

also op have you ever considered that just because somecat is kind of scared and unable to deal with strange cats or humans, it doesn't mean they don't deserve to be adopted?? you sound like a vet psyop honestly

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

oh meow god saying that kittens should be fully weaned before leaving their mother is NOT veterinarian rhetoric and i never said that they deserve to be euthanized!!! my mother literally died when i was 3 weeks old and it seriously messed up my development so stop putting words in my mouth, thanks

anyway friendly reminder that underweaned kittens are prone to illness and often struggle with basic cat behaviors like litterbox usage, and in some nyavinces it's even considered kitten abuse

#discourse #cant believe "kitten abuse is bad" is controversial now

32,456 notes

🍃 naturalliving Follow

BORN TO DIE

WORLD IS A FUCK

猫神 Kill Em All 1989

I am trash cat

410,757,864,530 DEAD BIRDS

#outdoorliving #outdoorcats please interact #outdoorcat friendly

48,971 notes

🎣 salmonpurina Follow

can't believe cats are uncritically reblogging that born to die world is a fuck post. i know it's funny but op is literally an outdoor cat truther

#like cmon now you just have to go to their blog #lulu speaks

34 notes

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

gentle reminder that pushing cups off the table is not cute and can cause a lot of distress in your human!!!! gentle reminder that our teeth and claws can easily hurt them more than they can hurt us!!!!

🐰 evil-tabbystripes Follow

evil reminder that the cup should always be pushed off the table. evil reminder that you should always bite and claw at your human no matter what. you can do whatever you want forever

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

make your own pawst

💀 laser-point-deactivated8574721

umm i know a tomcat who did that and his human ended up putting him down so...

👬🏻 nyasunaruenjoyer Follow

Nyaverage shelter cat behavior

#not nyaruto #re-nyab #pickles shut up

545,460 notes

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

saw two male cats sleeping together on the porch today. homeow behavior imo

💡 discourse-meows Follow

hey um what the fuck??? it's really not okay of you to go assuming other cat's sexualities, especially cats you don't even know???? as a queer cat i'm VERYY uncomfortable. real-ass cats didn't consent to your nyaoi fetish, thanks

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

1. i was making. a joak

2. i'm literally gay???

#literally what's your pawblem

7 notes

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

reblog if you've ever caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

i know you fuckers are lying

🍭 gaykittens Follow

this tom hasn't caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

shut the heull up

988,653 notes

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

grey toebeans >>>>>>>>> pink toebeans and don't let the haters make you believe otherwise

🐁 ladymouser Follow

op shut the fuck up ALL toebeans are beautiful!!! just bc you're miserable and insecure doesn't mean you can bring others down based on things they can't control

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

oh so the cat-human separationist wants to preach to us

[uncannydevotion]

“ we haven't found one lipstick that's kiss proof! ”

a/n: based on tht one art meme going around iykyk anyways happy holidays, and merry christmas if u celebrate! nd happy day to everyone else! enjoy this lil gift <3 i wanted to get it out today so it might b a little rushed, and definitely shorter than i would like but i still like it so. i'm posting it.

includes: homicidal liu, eyeless jack, jason the toymaker, nina the killer, and jeff the killer.

warnings: gn!reader but it's assumed u wear lipstick, italics my beloved, so much fluff it'll make u sick, lots of kissing. is kiss even a word anymore. it's short, with varying different lengths, and it's sweet this time for real i promise.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Perhaps a bit confused when you ask him to help find some kiss proof lipsticks, but nonetheless willing to help. He just assumes you wanted to go out to a cosmetic store or something to find some.

He's very confused when you drag him over to the couch and tell him to stay put while you gather every tube of lipstick you have.

He's oblivious guys okay you're his first relationship ever how is he supposed to know you're about to smother him to death with kisses?

Liu will be a bit caught off guard when you place the first kiss on his cheek, your lips gentle, mindful of the sensitive skin surrounding his scars.

"What was that for?" He'll ask. And maybe you'll give a cheeky smile and respond with something like, "I'm just testing out my lipstick, babe."

And oh. Oh. That's what you meant when you said you wanted his help.

Liu is nothing if not the greatest boyfriend haver, so even though he gets increasingly more flustered with each kiss you press against his skin, he stays painfully still so as to not interrupt you.

Every time you pressed a kiss against his skin, he'd let out a little sigh. It was rare for him to ever really feel at ease, but it came easy with you.

Sometimes, he wonders if you truly understood the gravity of the love he felt for you.

Each kiss makes his heart race faster and faster, so much so that when you place one last kiss against his lips, he's so overwhelmed by the amount of love he holds for you that Sully thinks he's fucking dying and takes over.

Sully is very confused when he finds that Liu was, in fact, not dying. And you're certainly no help, just smiling and telling him to wash his face off as you clean up.

What.

One look in the mirror gives him the answer he was looking for. His entire face was covered in lipstick stains. This is what had Liu's heart racing so much? Sully really thought he was dying, man.

Turns out the guy is just an idiot in love.

EYELESS JACK

One of the only ones here to really understand what you meant when you asked him for help in finding a kiss proof lipstick, already taking his mask off.

He didn't have anything better to do, and he liked how your eyes lit up when he agreed, so.

He'll sit patiently, watching as you set out all of your lipsticks, setting them out in a color-coded pattern.

Jack will take this very seriously, I think. You won't really be able to get him flustered, because he's determined to figure out if you have any kiss proof lipstick. He's a man on a mission.

Every time you kiss him, he'll pull away from you and look at himself in a mirror to study how visible the stain is. The less he can see it, the better he thinks the lipstick is.

If anything, he'll end up flustering you from the way he'll grab your cheeks and press his thumb against your lip, rubbing the lipstick gently to see how much pressure it takes for it to transfer.

He's not doing this on purpose, he just... doesn't realize the effect he has on you. But between you and me, he's 100% teasing you.

He's the one covered in kisses, and yet you're the one shying away from him and getting all embarrassed. Seems your plan to fluster him backfired.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" You would ask.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You're the one who asked for help." Would be his response.

Somehow you end up with more marks on your skin than he does?? Since you get to kiss him a bunch, he doesn't see why he can't kiss you back. And maybe he bites a lil, idk.

This will either end with you scurrying away, or with him pouncing you and abandoning the lipstick. Make your choice.

JASON THE TOYMAKER

He's busy tinkering with a new creation when you enter his workshop carrying every single lipstick you own.

He's too focused on his own work to really pay attention to you, so he just mutters a vague 'yeah' when he hears you ask a question, not really catching anything you said.

Jason's only vaguely aware that you're in the same room as him as he leans forward, brows pinched together as he focuses on stitching up a small stuffed animal.

It's not until he feels you resting your hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly and pressing a kiss against his cheek that he's brought to reality.

Just sits there, confused for the longest second, his hand coming up to his cheek where he had felt your lips. He's not against the sudden affection by any means, he's just a bit curious as to why you were suddenly giving him so many kisses.

When you explain how you're trying to find kiss proof lipstick, he lets out a small 'oh' and he goes back to his work.

Or, at least, he tries to get back to his work.

But you continue placing little kisses against his skin every few minutes, and it's making it really hard to focus, and he can feel his face getting hotter and hotter the longer this goes on.

Jason fucking loves you, okay? He tells you it multiple times a day. You are the one for him. So you smothering him with a bunch of kisses has him feeling all soft and gooey inside.

Whatever the hell he was working on before was no longer important to him, his gaze now seemingly glued to you and every little move you make as he leans back in his chair, basking in your attention.

Like hell he'll let you leave when you run out of lipstick.

You doomed yourself the moment you walked into his workshop to even start this little game.

He'll be dragging you down onto his lap and will refuse to let you go until he's had his fill of you. Which could be like... all day. Jason could never get tired of you.

NINA THE KILLER

Hell yeah!! She's been meaning to go through her lipsticks too, so she takes this as an opportunity to do that.

She definitely makes it into a game as well, I think.

You two will trade lipsticks without looking at the labels, and you'd both have to guess who was wearing what lipstick based on the shade and the feel.

The two of you trade kisses, lipstick stains covering her cheeks and your jaw and neck.

She really did just want to find a kiss proof lipstick, but each kiss had her letting out a small giggle.

And she knew you were teasing her, always leaning in for her lips before dodging and pressing another kiss against her cheek.

All that teasing had her feeling flustered, and she just wanted you to stop messing around and kiss her lips already. So when you put on a new thing of lipstick, she doesn't even give you a chance to do anything before she's pulling you closer and slamming her lips against yours.

You probably planned for this to happen, she thinks, but she didn't really care much.

You don't need an excuse to kiss her silly, you just gotta do it.

And when the two of you finally break the kiss, you're both breathless. Lipstick stains your skin, and both of your lips were smeared.

Nina didn't even care about the little game you two had been playing anymore, her hands resting on your cheeks.

She thought you looked stunning like this.

And it's not like you two had any pressing matters to attend to, so she didn't hesitate before leaning in for another kiss.

JEFF THE KILLER

When you had asked him for help with finding a 'kiss proof' lipstick, he honestly didn't understand why. Like... did you want him to put the lipstick on and kiss napkins with you? And why would you need his help doing that anyways?

He would've said no, if you hadn't asked really nicely.

Definitely grumbling about how dumb he thought this was as you get everything together.

Someone would probably assume you had a gun to his head or something from the way he looked as if he didn't want to be there, arms crossed and somehow frowning even though his scars made it look strange.

It really isn't until you place the first kiss against his cheek that he finally shuts up.

Oh. So this is what you had planned?

Truth be told, Jeff wasn't that big a fan of affection unless he was initiating it, but... he supposes he could let it slide, just this once. Especially after you press another kiss to his cheek.

You could never get this man to admit that he's enjoying this, but it's not like he was doing a good job at hiding it, either.

The frown he had was gone, replaced by a smile he was barely able to conceal. Do not point out the smile, he will leave the room if you do.

Each kiss you give him makes his heart race faster and faster, and when you're wiping off the last lipstick you have, talking about how you've yet to find a kiss proof one, Jeff is an utter mess.

He's got his face buried in his hands, cursing to himself for being so weak when it came to you.

Fuck, he really loves you.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

cause we're, y'know | k. bakugou

✮ tags ; gender neutral reader, fluff, post relationship jitters, bakugou being down bad a little bit, friends to lovers. not 18+ but minors do Not follow me.

✮ wc ; 1k

✮ a/n ; a comm for @euthymiya who gave me free reign to do whatever which i used to write corny bkg fluff... thank u for commissioning me most beloved riv <3

✮ synopsis ; bringing his friend turned lover a lunchbox is normal, alright? plenty fucking normal.

Bakugou taps his fingers along the edge of the bench he's been sitting on since evening - beating to an unsteady rhythm.

He can hear Sero's voice in the back his hand as he squeezes the wrapped bento a little closer to his torso. The shitty, sing-song teasing lilt when you and Bakugou were less then lovers but more then friends.

And now you're lovers proper, as fucking corny as he finds it. But maybe he's not finding it corny enough because he's sitting in the lobby of your office building with a bento he made by hand. There's some chatter from strangers coming in and out of your office building - the occasional ding of elevators, the passing whistle of a janitor.

The awful, loud, no good thump of his heartbeat ricocheting against his rib cage as he goes back and forth on whether or not this shit was a good idea.

He's... fucking nervous. Which is total bullshit because he doesn't have anything to be nervous about. It's not like this is the first time you and Bakugou have ever met up to eat lunch. It was just that before, he was coming to meet you as a friend.

Some part of him is thinking, so what if he's your boyfriend? Who gives a shit, anyway?

Another part of him feels so mixed about the ordeal he sort of wants to puke.

His phone buzzes from the pocket of his pants and he grabs it - your phone and contact flashing across his screen

(sent 11:12am) coming down :]

Bakugou smiles to himself, at the stupid emoticon. He thinks about just liking your reply but before he gets the chance another text follows through.

(sent 11:12am) missed you <3

He blushes almost furiously. Partially over the text but mostly from his internal reaction. Stupid. This whole thing is so stupid. He types fast.

(sent 11:14am) hurry your ass up.

That's all he can manage to say without feeling like his chest is going to collapse in on itself. He waits another minute before he hears the elevator doors ding again - a crowd of people dispersing as the doors open. He looks for you among them.

He finds you after a minute, hand waving overhead of the sea of people. He huffs, amused at how rapidly you wave your hand, and thinks about texting you again but you're close enough that he doesn't bother.

You march towards him with a renewed vigor after you aren't lost to the sea of strangers. Bakugou snorts as you hurry your way over to him, almost seeming out of breath - like you ran to see him.

"Hey,"

"Hi!" You say, chipper as always. "You're here."

"No shit."

You laugh. He's heard it before. A hundred times, a thousand maybe. It still sounds weirdly different to him.

"Did you have anywhere in mind to eat?" You ask.

Horror dawns on him at the realization you still didn't realize what's in his hand. "I'm up for anything I think. Feeling adventurous."

Your eyes are sparkling when you ask. Bakugou freezes, blue screening momentarily before taking a breath.

He holds the boxed bento out to you sheepishly, a hand scratching the back of his neck. This is way more embarrassing then he thought it'd be.

"Fuck. Whatever. Look," He says, shaking the upset off of him with a frown. " He doesn't look up at you, doesn't even want to know what he might see. Something bright enough to fucking blind him, he's sure. "Don't say shit or I'm never making you one again."

You blink owlishly before letting your eyes flicker down again at what it's in front you. There's a beat of silence between you before Bakugou sees a grin slowly creep it's way up to your face in a way that makes his chest feel tight.

You take the wrapped bento from him, assessing the weight of it in your hand as you give it a good look. You hold it up to admire it and Bakugou feels the blush crawl further down his neck.

"Stop acting like I just handed you a diamond or some shit," Bakugou says lamely, even by his own standards. Your lips form into affectionate pout.

"You made me a bento." Your lower lip trembles all too sudden and Bakugou's eyes go wide. "I love you,"

?!

Bakugou looks at you, mouth agape. You're completely serious. Nevermind the inappropriate timing or the fact this is the first time you've expressed yourself with a word so serious. He's more concerned about the almost tears at your eyes. He pulls his sleeves over his hands to wipe them from your eyes.

"Dumbass, what are you crying about? You're still in the office, get it together."

"But I love you," You say, more whine then coherent word. Bakugou feels a headache coming on.

"Yeah I got that. Am I really such a shithead me bringing you lunch is worth sobbing over?"

"You made it for me."

"Cause I ain't no punk. Anyone can pay for you you but we're," He stops himself mid way, too embarrassed to get the rest out. "Anyways whatever. It's just lunch. I just... fuckin' realized I never made it for you. Dinner and shit is one thing but we're,"

"Dating," You finish before he can. He falls victim to more blushing.

"Yeah. Whatever. This much is pretty standard, at least." He wipes another tear off your face. It's funny. Anyone else pulled some shit like this and he'd rolls his eyes. "Stop cryin' already."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't gotta say sorry either."

"But,"

"No buts. Hurry and wipe your tears before your breaks over so you don't go all puffy eyed back in the office."

You laugh through a sniffle. "They'll think my boyfriend was being mean to me, huh?"

He snorts, voice full of playful sarcasm. "Yeah exactly. I've got a great reputation to uphold and all."

"Katsuki," You say gently. He gives you a look.

"Hm?"

You lean forward, craning up just slightly to press your lips to his. Your third kiss, now. Not that he's been counting.

"Thank you and," You pull back mischievously, brows furrowing. "Revenge."

He's in so deep. Fuck.

"You're such an idiot." He says, fighting off his own feelings.

"You love me,"

Maybe he's an idiot too.

"Yeah." He says, flicking your forehead and watching you beam. "Unfortunately."

[imjustdreamingig]

Jesus, what's a girl to do?

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Robin meddles, Steve is clueless, and you're freaking out. So a regular day.

A/N: i genuinely have no idea where this came from, i legit posted the first part like 2 years ago. but I guess I want to start actually writing more? idk! we shall see. anyways, this fic stems from my (occasional) exhaustion to shy!reader and i'm basing this more on how horrifically i acted around the guys i would like even tho i consider myself an extrovert. enjoy whatever this is??? and lmk if u want a part 3! also this is not proof read so bear w me

warnings: sfw, swearing, uhhh i think that's it???

You were screwed. Absolutely, terribly, fucking screwed.

You were also very angry at your mother, giving her a glare every time she glanced your way at the dinner table. She merely gave you a wink in return, not understanding the true implications of her actions.

"So, Steve," your mom began as she cut a bit of the chicken on her plate, "you play basketball, right? Is that something you want to keep doing in university?" This time, you openly stared at your mom, trying to telepathically convey that you would literally kill her if she kept talking. You haven't made up your mind if you're joking or not.

Steve cleared his throat, "Yeah, I do, I'd say I'm pretty good at it, too. Wherever I end up going, I'll probably join their team for fun." He turned to you after taking a bite of his meal, smirking. "You like basketball too, right?"

You choked on your water, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. You looked at Steve properly for practically the first time that night, but your voice never wavered. "No, not really, why?"

He turned back to his food, amusement gracing his voice. "Well, I see you and Robin sitting together at every game, even the away ones, so I just assumed." If your face could sport a visible blush, you knew it would be a bright red, hot, mess.

"Well, I- I get dragged by Robin because she doesn't like sitting alone or going to random schools by herself like, half an hour away. Do you even watch the news? Girls by themselves are basically the perfect bait for random kidnappings and stuff, especially girls in high school, like I mean the statistics for-"

"Y/N" You're rambling is halted by your mother's voice. Steve is looking at you in bemusement. You are contemplating death. The situation is not looking good.

"Could you grab me some water from the kitchen, with ice," your mother said with a strained smile, holding out her glass. You grab it and push your chair out. "Sure, yeah," you replied. As you made your way to the kitchen, your mind replays the last hour of the events that have transpired, wondering what you could've possibly done in your past life to deserve this.

How could your own mother, the woman who birthed you, ask the hottest guy in your grade if he wanted to stay for dinner and not consult you first, all whilst knowing you had the most ridiculous crush on the guy.

Betrayed by the ones closest to you. This is probably how Julius Caesar felt.

After overcoming your initial shock, and lets face it, mortification of being paired up with Steve for your English project, you attempted to the best of your abilities to push down your feelings and remain professional in order to actually work on the project and make sure you got an A. Your grades would not suffer over a stupid crush on a stupid boy, that's where you drew the line. Unfortunately, this plan was not working out so well.

It was actually failing, horrifically at that.

It had been about a month since the semester started and the project had been assigned—a complex analysis of a classic book of your choice and how that particular novel has inspired the creation of others and advanced its genre. You had to write a collaborative essay to hand in to your teacher, as well as create an interactive presentation for your classmates explaining your chosen novel.

This was all due at the end of the semester and you'd be given no in class time to work on it since you had an ample amount time to work on it outside of school. It would also replace the need for a final exam, which was great news. When your teacher had explained the project, you were ecstatic, knowing exactly what book you wanted to do: Pride and Prejudice.

Then, you remembered who you had to do the project with, this huge, daunting, complex, project, where you would need to interact with your partner in close proximity for an extended period of time. You felt faint.

Steve, in his defence, had tried to approach you on multiple occasions to try and figure out when you two should meet to try and start the project. But, obviously, whenever you saw so much as a glimpse of him in the hallway, you would make yourself scarce.

The only time he would actually be able to talk to you was in your shared English class. Robin was beginning to go crazy at your increasingly outlandish excuses as to why you couldn't meet up with Steve after school in order to work on your project.

"Oh sorry, my mom needs my help on some stuff tonight."

"I have to take my brother to soccer practice."

"I can't today, I have an eye doctor appointment."

"My dog actually needs to go to the vet, she's sick, sorry."

"My family and I are going on a road trip this weekend, so I'm not free."

"My sister broke her leg uh— skiing, and she needs help writing stuff for school."

"Funny story, Robin has a crazy ex thats trying to get her to meet up with him again, and I have to help her slash their tires and like, do girl stuff, it's personal, so I'm not free, maybe next week though?"

That last excuse is what caused Robin to snap. She knew that Steve knew that you were making shit up, Robin has never even been in a relationship, let alone have an ex. Also, you didn't even have a sister, what gives!

You also had no clue exactly how close the pair had gotten due to working together at the video store and that she'd told Steve she was into girls. Therefore, like the great best friend she was, Robin decided it was time she intervened, for everyones sake really, but mostly yours.

"God," you sighed, "I never thought I would be so into arms, like not the huge, bulging one, you know? All veiny and red, that just scares me, hello, his are just ones that are like slightly defined, but have a very obvious outline of muscle, like I can tell he's strong, and fuck, his biceps, is it bad that I want to like, bite them? Because every time I look and him and he's fixing his hair I just keep getting this urge to—wait where are you going? Robin? Ok, OK! I'll stop, I promise! Come back!"

If Robin had to hear another anecdote about how you wanted to bite his arms, she was going to puke.

Your continuous blabbering about how good Steve's hair looked or how good those jeans looked on him and your inability to have one proper conversation with him or stay in the same room as him for longer than two minutes was making her go insane. She couldn't take it anymore.

So, Robin devised a plan, which one day she was sure you would thank her for—hopefully.

First, she inconspicuously made sure that you had nothing planned for Thursday night, already knowing you were free but wanting to double check that no random stuff had come up.

Then, she called your mom, who absolutely adored Robin. She told her about your situation and how if she did nothing, your infatuation for Steve was literally going to give her an aneurysm. Robin would tell you that she wanted to hang out Thursday night so you would get ready, but instead of her showing up, it would be Steve.

Not surprisingly, your mom agreed to Robin's crazy plan. She thought it was about time you got a boyfriend. You had already talked about Steve so much to her anyways, but any time she would tell you to just try talking to the guy, you vehemently refused.

"Mom, are you insane, I'm not going to do that," you scoffed as if literally just having a conversation with another person was the most insane idea in the world.

"Mija, how else are you supposed to get to know people if you can't speak to them? Besides, you never seem to have a problem talking back to me whenever we have an argument," you mom shrugged as she continued folding the laundry you were helping her with.

"Oh come on," you sighed exasperatedly, "that's not the same thing and you know it."

"I'm just saying, by the looks of it, I don't think I'll be a grandmother."

"Mom, what, hello!?"

Getting Steve to show up at your house was easier than Robin thought. She conveniently told him right before the beginning of their shift on Thursday that you'd told Robin that they should all get together at your house to finally get started on the project. Robin smiled a bit wider than necessary when Steve enthusiastic agreed to go.

When Robin gave Steve your address and told him that she would be over a little later because she left some stuff at her house, that no, she didn't need a ride and that no, she was fine walking, Steve was none the wiser to her actual plan.

As Robin saw Steve pull out of her driveway and making his way to your house, she gave herself a mental pat on the back and started thinking about what movie she should watch after dinner, knowing that the school day tomorrow would be very entertaining.

When Steve rang your doorbell, he was still clueless about the real intentions of Robin's plan, but when you opened the door and he saw your eyes go wide and your mouth drop slightly open, almost as if you weren't expecting to see him, something clicked in his head.

This was going to be fun.

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

exhibitionism

part III

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Ben x Fem!Reader

Summary: You agreed to his terms, but you don't really have any idea what that actually entails—not that it matters. Ben's going to show you exactly what it means to be his. Turns out the price of a drink might be a bit more than you'd originally thought.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben once again being his own warning, age gap, language, misogyny, drug consumption, smut (kissing, biting, marking, slapping, dirty talk, clitoral stimulation, overstim, forced orgasms, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus/oral, p in v, cum on face, throttling, rough sex, semi-public sex, somnophilia, sexsomnia, dub-con), mind games, manipulation, degradation, power imbalance, I may have missed some. (There's a bunch in this one, agh!)

Word Count: 7,146

A/N: I can only apologise for how long it's taken me to post this one -.- I went to the dentist today and (tw: mentions of drugs and painkillers) I had anaesthetic, then after I took strong painkillers—I really shouldn't have—and I felt like I smoked about an ounce of weed to myself for hours, so it took me a lot longer to finish this part up, edit, and then proofread. And honestly, I've probably still not done a proper job of it. The opening of this? Serious dub-con, which obviously is a big no-no... but it's this version of AU-richboy-motherfucker-Ben flaunting his fucking control. Possession. And I told y'all that this was gonna be a different breed of fic for me. I'm actively trying to make myself uncomfy (amongst other things) with this story, because it feels like good stories always leave you with a little pit in your stomach after reading. I got SO freaking excited when I got to writing about the bookstore and subsequent fucking because... bookstores are literally heaven. <3 like Reader obviously wasn't thriving in the boutiques, it wasn't her comfort-zone, but bookstores? Now that's where she can soak in the atmosphere, indulgently. I hope that comes across in my writing. Anyways, ramble over, here's part three... you know the goddamn drill: if the warnings above aren't evident yet, they certainly will be. I really hope you like this one. I really like it. All the love.

Without further ado: EXHIBITIONISM

Power is not taken. It is given.

A glance across the bar. A drink set down without a word. A hand at the small of your back, guiding you somewhere you don’t belong.

It starts small—a single indulgence, a breathless yes.

Then, suddenly, you are on display. Draped over his lap, diamonds at your throat, whiskey on your lips. A possession. A prize. A thing to be seen.

Because men like him do not love. They own.

You woke up floating.

Heavy-limbed. Warm. A deep, languid pull of pleasure threading through your veins, thick and honey-slow, drawing you up from sleep in waves. Your breath hitched, body trembling, hips shifting against something solid, something warm, the sharp, hot pleasure between your thighs sending sparks through your bloodstream, shooting up your spine like a live wire.

Fingers.

His fingers.

Two of them, deep, slow, curling inside you with perfect precision, teasing that gummy spot that had your stomach twisting, had your thighs clenching, had you already so fucking close before you even realised you were awake. A slow, lazy drag of his thumb over your clit.

You whimpered, body arching, eyes fluttering, and then, a wet, heavy pressure at your lips.

Thick. Hot. Ben’s cock, dragging slick precome across your mouth, smearing it slow as he watched you stir, watched you come back to yourself, watched you realise.

“‘Bout fuckin' time you woke up,” he murmured, low and smug, his voice gravel-thick, still warm with sleep, but dripping in satisfaction.

Your lashes fluttered, breath stuttering, body trembling as his fingers kept working you open, kept teasing you, kept coaxing you closer.

“Wanna come, sweetheart?” He murmured, voice mocking, silky, cock dragging over your jaw, your cheek, your mouth.

You whimpered, legs shaking, already so fucking gone.

Ben grinned, teeth flashing, watching you fall apart beneath him.

“Y’know, you make some real pretty noises in your sleep,” he mused, so fucking smug, fingers thrusting deep, dragging over that perfect spot, thumb circling slow, tight, making you clench down around him. “Didn’t even have to wake you up for it, you just started takin' it.”

You shuddered, body tightening, pleasure winding sharp, so close, so on edge, so ready to snap.

Ben laughed, voice low, taunting, his free hand dragging through your hair, fingers tightening at the base of your skull.

“Told you I was gonna give you a rough wake-up call,” he murmured, voice mocking, teasing, deliberate. “This is actually real fuckin' nice for you, huh?”

You tried to answer. Tried to breathe, but then his fingers curled deep, his thumb pressed down hard, and the pleasure hit you all at once, ripping through you, your body seizing, a wrecked, wrecked sob breaking free—

And the second your mouth parted, Ben pushed inside.

Thick. Heavy. Filling your mouth all at once, dragging across your tongue, pressing deep, holding you open, groaning loud, sharp, head tipping back as your throat fluttered around him.

“Jesus fuck, doll—”

Your breath hitched, body still trembling, still tight with pleasure, your own orgasm still wracking through you as Ben fisted his hand in your hair, thrust slow, shallow, letting you adjust, letting you feel it, letting you take it.

“So fuckin' good,” he groaned, hips pressing forward, deeper, savouring, owning. “Best fuckin’ way to wake up.”

Ben groaned, deep and wrecked, hips pressing forward, cock sliding deeper, thicker, stretching your mouth wide, making your throat flutter around him.

“Jesus fuckin' Christ on a cross, fuck—”

His fist tightened in your hair, keeping you right there, keeping you open, taking everything he was giving you. Your head was still fuzzy, still floating, drunk on pleasure, drunk on him, still warm and heavy-limbed from sleep and your orgasm, body loose and pliant.

You hadn’t even had time to think—to process—that you’d only known this man for maybe twelve hours.

It didn’t matter.

Because all you could focus on was how good he felt, how perfect he tasted, how completely he was using you, how his noises, his groans, his heavy, wrecked breaths, made you feel so special, so wanted, so fucking good.

Ben laughed, low and smug, watching you blink up at him, eyes glazed, lips stretched tight around him.

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he mocked, voice gravel-thick, dripping with indulgence, dragging his thumb over your cheek. “Still all fuzzy from coming, huh?”

His hips flexed, slow, testing, watching the way your throat fluttered, the way your body trembled beneath him.

You whimpered, barely aware, just accepting it.

Ben’s grin widened, something mean, something so fucking pleased.

“Fuckin’ knew you’d be good for me,” he muttered, hips snapping forward, a sharp thrust, shallow, controlled, but enough to make your eyes water, enough to make your breath stutter.

He groaned, deep, satisfied, tilting his head back. “Shit, sweetheart, your mouth—fuck.”

A slow, deep roll of his hips, a tightening of his grip in your hair.

“You just—fuck—you want it, don't you?” He murmured, voice thick, wrecked, smug. “Bet I could do whatever I fuckin' wanted to this pretty little throat, huh?”

A mocking hum, gravel-low, his free hand dragging down your cheek, thumb swiping at the spit collecting at the corner of your mouth. His hips jerked, breath catching, and suddenly, his grin dropped, his breath hitched. A sharp, wrecked curse, his grip in your hair tugging, fisting, tighter, rougher.

And then—

“Ah, fuck it. Your face is gettin’ painted.”

A sharp groan, his hips pulling back, his cock dragging from your mouth, hot and slick and aching, his grip tight as he stroked himself, the tip brushing over your lips, your cheeks, dragging over your tongue.

He jerked, groaned deep, wrecked, as his cum spilled hot across your lips, your cheekbones, your jaw, thick ropes of it painting your skin, dripping onto your tongue, dripping down your chin.

Ben hissed, smirking, breathing hard, watching you, taking in the mess, the sight of you, his, all fucked out and ruined.

Another groan, thick and low, as he pressed back inside, feeding you more, making sure you swallowed him down, making sure you took him completely.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he muttered, gravelly, smug, satisfied. “Goddamn. You were made for this.”

Ben sank down onto the bed, pulled you up into his lap, then hummed low in his chest, fingers dragging slow over your cheek, collecting the mess he’d left there, his gaze hot, heavy, watching you.

“Made a real fuckin’ mess of you, huh?” He muttered, smirking, voice thick, wrecked with satisfaction.

You whimpered, body still boneless, still floating, still ruined from him.

Ben just grinned, dragging his cum-slick fingers down to your chin, scooping the rest from the corner of your mouth, then pressing it back against your lips.

“Open,” he murmured, mocking, fond, pressing slow, deliberate, watching your lips part for him, watching your tongue flick out, tasting him, yourself, everything.

A slow inhale, his smirk deepening as you sucked around his fingers, licking them clean, taking it all in like a good girl.

“There’s my girl,” he muttered, voice dropping low, pleased, rubbing his thumb over your tongue, feeling the way you suckled, letting him own you a little more.

Then he sighed, shaking his head, smirking like he was already thinking about how much worse he could ruin you later.

“You’re gonna have to put that dress back on,” he muttered, swiping his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, dragging it down slow, watching how your breath hitched at the touch. “But after we stop by your place, I wanna take you out.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, still floating, still coming back to yourself.

Ben grinned, amused, rubbing slow circles at your jawline.

“Wanna see what kinda shit you’d pick for yourself,” he murmured, “but I’m pickin’ some stuff too.” A pause. A knowing smirk. “Especially for when you’re here on weekends.”

You blinked up at him, then nodded, slow, hazy. But then, quietly, you murmured,  “I don’t really need you to buy me clothes, Ben.”

A tut. A slow, mocking shake of his head.

“You gonna fuckin’ accept it,” he murmured, low, smug, indulgent, rubbing his hand up your bare thigh, gripping it hard, “or I’ll just pick shit myself and not give you a damn option.”

Your lips parted, surprised, but you just nodded again, giving in.

Ben grinned. “Good girl.”

You stretched, arms raising above your head, back arching like a lazy cat, letting out a small, contented squeaky noise, your body still heavy, still warm and loose from sleep and pleasure.

Ben laughed, low and rich, his grip at your thigh tightening before he leaned in, teeth flashing.

“Get your pretty ass up,” he murmured, eyes dark, hot, voice thick with warning, “before I bury my fuckin’ face between your legs.”

Your breath caught, a shiver running down your spine, but you listened. You slid off his lap, pulling your dress back on, the fabric still crumpled, still reeking of him, the night before still lingering on your skin, your hair, your lips.

Ben watched you the entire time, smirking, shameless, before standing himself, stretching broad and tall, his body all golden skin and lean muscle, before reaching for his jeans.

The way he wore them was devastating. Thick belt, silver buckle glinting, the fabric fitting in all the right ways, low on his hips, taunting, like he knew what he was doing.

Then—

A button-up, dark, crisp, sharp, his thick watch sliding over his wrist, rings slipping back onto his fingers, the weight of them clicking together, his hands dragging through his hair, pushing it back, off his forehead.

You stared.

Ben smirked.

Then he reached for you, grabbing your wrist, tugging you toward the bathroom, flipping the light on as he grabbed a toothbrush, pressing it into your palm. His own already between his teeth, moving slow, lazily, the domestic ease of it so stark against everything he had done to you this morning.

And yet—

It felt seamless. Like this was just what you did now. Like he was already making you part of his life.

You padded out into the living room, body still warm, still loose, still tingling with the aftershocks of everything he’d done to you. The air smelled thick with whiskey, smoke, and sex, last night still lingering in the space, still woven into the fabric of the night before.

Your dress shifted around your thighs as you bent down, reaching for your underwear where it had been left in front of the sofa—where he’d stripped you down, spread you open, and made you his.

A sharp tut broke the silence.

You stilled. Then, slowly, you turned your head, glancing over your shoulder at Ben, who was standing near the door, arms crossed, head tilted, watching you.

His expression was unreadable.

“No,” he said simply.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

Ben cocked a single, thick eyebrow, eyes dark, knowing, and challenging. “You’re not puttin’ ‘em on.”

Your stomach dropped, a pulse of heat snapping down your spine.

You scoffed, straightening up, underwear still in your hand. “I can’t go out in this tiny dress without underwear on.”

Ben’s smirk was dangerous, his gaze taunting, smug, entirely too satisfied with himself. He tilted his head, that single brow lifting higher.

“You fuckin’ can,” he murmured, voice low, indulgent, a slow drag of his tongue over his bottom lip. “And you are.”

Your breath caught, thighs pressing together instinctively.

Ben grinned, catching it, seeing everything, knowing exactly what was happening in your head.

Then, sharp, commanding—

“Get over here.”

You swallowed, exhaling through your nose, and as you went to step forward. Your fingers instinctively twitched, your underwear still gripped in your fist.

Another sharp click of his tongue.

“Leave ‘em.”

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed. You dropped them back to the floor, the fabric crumpling, and walked straight to him, heart pounding in your ribs, stomach tightening.

Ben’s smirk deepened, pleased, his hand brushing over your hip, his grip warm and firm as he squeezed once, slow, deliberate.

“Good girl.”

A shiver snapped down your spine, and Ben just chuckled, pulling you toward the door, leading you out.

The morning air was crisp against your bare skin, the fabric of your dress barely covering anything, the cool breeze skating up your thighs.

Ben unlocked the car, a different one from the night before—sleek, low, expensive, a deep red, all money and power, loud and attention-grabbing. You swallowed as he slid in, the engine purring beneath his hands.

“Address,” he said, voice smooth as smoke and whiskey.

You gave it to him, and the moment he punched it into the GPS, his expression shifted—

Disgust. Absolute, unabashed disgust.

You bit your lip, fighting back laughter, because of course he’d be fucking horrified. His eyes flicked up to you, then back to the directions on the screen, then out the window as he turned onto the main road, lips pulling into a scowl.

You saw the exact moment he took in your neighbourhood, his hands tightening on the wheel, jaw tensing.

And you lost it. A loud, bright laugh escaped your lips, body shaking with it.

Ben just scowled deeper, one broad hand lifting to rub at his temple. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

You wheezed, barely able to contain yourself as he made a slow turn onto your street, eyes flicking around, pure judgment written all over his face.

Ben sighed, exasperated, glancing toward the run-down building as he pulled up to the curb.

“If some dumb pussy touches my car, I’m killin' 'em.”

You cackled, throwing the door open and stepping out, gesturing dramatically for him to follow. Ben groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but ultimately stepped out after you, grumbling under his breath, already looking like he regretted every decision that led him here.

The building was old, not terrible, but definitely not nice. You led him inside, checking your post box, then heading toward the stairs. Ben sighed again, glancing around before following, dragging a heavy hand through his hair.

“No elevator?” He muttered, already annoyed.

You just grinned over your shoulder.

“Welcome to the real world, rich boy.”

Ben’s footsteps were fast, heavy, intentional, and before you could even react, he was right behind you, a sharp swat landing against your ass, making you yelp.

You twisted your head, wide-eyed, breath catching in your throat. Ben just smirked, pawing at you, hands gripping, squeezing, claiming, voice low and mocking.

“I live in the real world, sweetheart.”

You laughed, stepping higher, looking over your shoulder, eyes shining with amusement.

“This is my version of the real world.”

Ben huffed, shaking his head, grinning. “Yeah?”

His hands slid lower, fingers skimming the hem of your dress, pushing underneath, brushing over bare skin, and your stomach flipped.

“Not anymore,” he murmured, voice thick, certain, irrevocable. “My world’s yours now.”

You shook your head, lips parting to argue—

But then you heard it. A low chuckle. The rustle of fabric. And before you could react, cool air hit the backs of your thighs. Your dress was up, pulled high, your bare ass completely exposed, and your breath caught in your throat.

You gasped, yanking it back down, twisting on the stairs, glaring at him. “Ben!”

His brows furrowed, like you were being ridiculous, like this was a non-issue, like you hadn’t just been completely exposed in the middle of your apartment stairwell.

Then he grabbed your dress again, and pulled it back up.

Your breath hitched, mortified, eyes wide, hands fisting in the fabric, trying to pull it back down again, but Ben’s grip was firm, unyielding.

“Wanna see my pretty girl’s ass while she’s walkin’ up the stairs,” he murmured, eyes dragging over you, taking his time, savouring the view.

Your stomach twisted, heat rushing up your neck, panic spiking.

“Ben, it’s a public fucking stairwell!” You hissed, scandalised, horrified, twisting around, gripping the banister for support, shoving at his hand.

Ben just bit his lip, dark eyes dragging over your naked skin, taking his time, memorising it, owning it. Then, slowly, his gaze lifted, locking onto yours.

“If anyone looks,” he murmured, calm, deadly, quiet and certain, “I’ll break their fuckin’ neck.”

Your heart stuttered, stomach dropping, throat tightening.

Ben held your gaze, firm, unflinching, before patting your ass, voice mocking, teasing, but completely serious beneath it all.

“Better hurry up, sweetheart. Unless you want some poor fuck’s blood on your hands.”

Your face burned beet-red, humiliated, embarrassed, but soaked in arousal, body buzzing, pulse roaring in your ears.

You didn’t say another word. You spun forward, dragging him up the last flight, leading him to your hallway, heart pounding, the feel of his eyes on you the entire time making you shake with nerves and heat.

When you reached your door, you yanked your clutch open, fumbling for your keys, fingers slipping against the metal as you unlocked it, heart racing, feeling Ben’s presence at your back like a physical weight.

The door clicked open, and you dragged him inside before anyone could see.

Ben stepped inside, taking exactly one second to sweep his eyes over your space before exhaling slow, one hand dragging through his hair, the other planting on his hip.

His expression was unreadable.

But his silence spoke volumes.

Your apartment was small, modest, but yours. It had been built with limited space and even more limited funds, but that hadn’t stopped you from making it your own.

A cream loveseat sat opposite a vintage-looking armchair, both covered in pastel cushions, a soft throw draped over the back. A small wooden coffee table sat between them, lightwood, matching the side table nearby. More than anything, though—there were bookshelves.

Everywhere.

Overflowing, spilling over, double-stacked, books piled onto side tables, onto the nightstand, onto the floor, and Ben’s eyes dragged over them, taking in the titles, the bindings, the absolute literary graveyard you lived in.

Your space was gentle, artsy, laced with soft nostalgia and the kind of quiet beauty that made sense for you. Tiny artsy trinkets lined the shelves, a tiny wooden table with two mismatched chairs sat near the kitchen, a vase of wilted, dying wildflowers placed in the centre.

Ben exhaled again, slowly, hands planted on his hips, his head tilting as he took it all in.

You cleared your throat, moving toward the kitchen, voice casual. “Want a drink?”

No answer.

You glanced back, watching as he took slow steps, looking around, soaking it in, lips parted slightly, like he was seeing something he didn’t quite know how to process.

Then—

His eyes landed on the window. He moved toward it, pressing a broad palm against the frame, gaze flicking outside, the sound of traffic drifting up from below.

A quiet laugh, deep in his chest.

You furrowed your brows, stepping forward. “What?”

He turned, expression half-amused, half-something else, chin tilting toward the fire escape outside your window.

“That where you sit to read?” He asked.

Your brows furrowed further, eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes,” you answered, hesitant. “That’s where I like to read.”

Ben’s lips tugged down, an almost thoughtful frown, like he was considering something. A shift. A glance back at you.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

You scoffed, shaking your head, motioning for him to follow. “Come on.”

You led him toward the small hall, into a bedroom that was more of the same—small, but soft, delicate, lived-in. A double bed, lightwood frame, bedding pastel, frilly, a tiny dresser and matching single wardrobe standing against the wall.

Books were everywhere—stacked beside the window, stacked on the nightstand, tucked into the smallest corners, just waiting to be picked up and lived in.

Ben exhaled slow, stepping inside, eyes dragging over every detail, every piece of you, before something on the bed caught his attention.

A stuffed bear.

You saw it exactly when he did—

But he was faster. He reached down, fingers closing around the bear’s plush arm, lifting it up, inspecting it.

Your eyes widened, a horrified gasp catching in your throat, and in an instant, you lunged, snatching him back.

“That’s Eugene,” you blurted, clutching the bear to your chest, heart hammering, heat flashing up your face. “I’ve had him since I was a baby.”

Silence.

Then a deep, gravel-thick chuckle, low and amused, so fucking smug.

“Eugene?”

Your stomach dropped.

Ben smirked, arms crossing, head tilting. “That’s a stupid fuckin’ name.”

Your jaw dropped. “It’s not a stupid name!”

His grin widened, delighted, eyes dragging over you, still clutching the bear like your life depended on it.

“You’re adorable,” he muttered, shaking his head, grinning like the smug bastard he was.

You huffed, pressing Eugene tighter against your chest, scowling. But Ben just laughed, deep, rich, indulgent, before turning back to your tiny dresser, hands dragging across the wood, eyes sweeping your wardrobe, taking in the limited space, the minimal amount of clothing.

He nodded to himself, once, thoughtful, like he’d already decided something, and then turned back to you, grinning.

“You really are just a cute little thing, huh?”

You exhaled, shaking your head as you placed Eugene neatly atop the dresser, turning back to your drawers to pick something out for the day.

"Are you done judging my apartment yet?" You asked, voice dry, throwing a glance over your shoulder at him.

Ben nodded, too easily, like he’d made his decision already.

Then he said it.

"You’re not livin' here anymore."

You froze. Slowly, slowly, you turned to face him, blinking, lips parting. "Excuse me?"

Ben stood there, completely set, his expression final, unchallenged, like it was a decision already made. Like his word was law.

"I’ll find you somewhere nicer," he said, flat, casual, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Not havin’ you livin’ in this shitty little space. In this—" He scowled, lips curling in absolute disgust. "—this fuckin' neighbourhood."

You laughed, loud, incredulous, because surely he was joking.

Ben’s brow lifted, his expression turning harder, sharper, annoyed.

"The fuck’s so funny?"

You shook your head, grinning, motioning vaguely around you. "I can’t just leave."

Ben’s grin dropped. His jaw ticked.

"You absolutely can."

Your stomach flipped, something tightening, something warning—

"You’re stayin’ at mine 'til tomorrow night anyway," he continued, voice even, matter-of-fact, like this was just how things were now. "Gives Butcher enough time to look into some places closer to my building."

Your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat, panic flickering in your chest. "Ben—"

He wasn’t listening.

"I’ll make sure you got a little outside space, so you can read when it rains."

Your lips parted, words catching, sticking. This was too much. This was ridiculous.

"Ben, no," you breathed, shaking your head. "Ben, this is—"

Too much. Too fast. Too real.

You barely had time to process before he moved, gripping your ass, yanking you flush against him, his presence commanding, unrelenting, his hands rough, his voice dropping to something low, dangerous, final.

"Not fuckin’ up to you anymore."

Your breath left you in a rush, a shockwave rolling through your body, heart hammering, pulse roaring.

The gall of this fucking man.

Your stomach twisted, your mind spinning, thoughts racing.

You couldn’t just up and leave. What if this arrangement didn’t work out? Where the fuck were you supposed to go?

Then—

His mouth crashed onto yours. All tongue, all bite, all fucking force, like he wanted to brand you, consume you, remind you exactly who you belonged to now. You moaned into him, helpless, his hands kneading your ass rough, possessive, fingers digging in, owning you, staking his claim. He licked into your mouth, deep and hot, smothering, like he wanted to choke you with it, take you under completely.

You whimpered, weak, knees wobbling, head swimming, body giving in. You forced yourself to pull away, gasping, breaking the kiss reluctantly, shaken, breathless, every nerve buzzing, every limb weak.

Ben just grinned, cocky, satisfied, lips red, slick. Wrecked.

You exhaled, swallowing hard, turning back to your dresser. You pulled out two different outfits, laying them out neatly on the bed, before stepping back, arms outstretched, chin tilted up.

Ben’s eyes flicked to the bed, then back to you, his smirk deepening. A slow, pleased nod.

"Good girl."

Ben’s eyes were heavy on you as you slid into the sundress he’d picked, a soft cardigan draped over your shoulders, your fingers slipping into your chucks, tying the laces with quick, practiced motions.

He was silent, but you could feel him watching, like a predator tracking its prey, eyes dark, intent, cataloging every movement, every shift, every breath.

You ran a brush through your hair, smoothing the tangles from the night before, the tension of the morning still settling in your bones, still buzzing in your chest.

Ben slapped his hands together, breaking the silence, voice gruff, expectant. “Come on.”

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you back down to the car.

The drive was quick, the city flashing by in streaks of morning sun and steel, your neighbourhood disappearing into something sleeker, something richer.

You knew where this was going before he even parked.

Boutiques.

Your stomach twisted as he led you inside the first one, racks of silk and lace and delicate materials stretching out before you, the air filled with the scent of leather and perfume. The lights were too bright, blinding, like a spotlight shining straight at you—making it evident that you had no business standing around such extravagant and lavish fabric. Ben was already moving, hands skimming through hangers, eyes narrowed in focus, decisive, ruthless, sure.

He plucked a dress from the rack, holding it up. “This?”

You bit your lip. “Ben, it’s so expensive.”

He rolled his eyes, exasperated, before grabbing another. “What about this then? Fuck, sweetheart, come on.”

You hesitated, fingers twitching, eyes dragging over the price tags, heart pounding.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t pick.

Ben sighed sharply, grabbing you by the waist, pulling you against him in the middle of the store, uncaring, unbothered, completely indifferent to who was watching. Big, warm hands splaying wide against your back and waist, holding you there, possessing you.

Then—

A bite to your jaw, sharp and teasing, followed by a slow, lingering nip to your bottom lip. His voice, low and smug, a whisper just for you.

“If you’re a good girl and you pick some clothes and things you like…” A pause. A beat. “I’ll take you to a bookstore after.”

Your breath hitched, eyes widening, something bright sparking behind your ribs, something sharp and eager, something so painfully obvious that the second Ben saw it. His grin stretched slow, sinful, victorious. He had you.

You exhaled sharply, defeated, muttering, “Fine.”

Ben’s chuckle rumbled low in his chest, his hand squeezing at your waist before he released you. “Atta girl.”

So you picked.

Hesitant at first, but then more assured, more certain, fingers brushing fabrics, grabbing soft knits, casual blouses, comfortable dresses, things that felt like you.

And Ben did the same. Only, his choices were…

Less you. More him.

Thin straps. Short hems. Deep plunging necklines. Tight and revealing and scanty. But you didn’t argue, because in the next store, it only got worse.

Shoes. Strappy little heels, sleek and minimal, elegant and dangerous.

“These,” Ben murmured, holding up a pair of barely-there stilettos, eyeing them like a fucking prize. “I want you naked in these.”

Your laugh bubbled out before you could stop it, heat flashing up your spine, face burning.

Ben just grinned, pleased, slipping the shoes into the growing pile.

Then lingerie. Tiny, lacy, barely-there sets.

Ben was relentless. Piece after piece, holding them up, grinning as your face burned hotter, making mocking little hums when he found ones he particularly liked. By the time he was satisfied, your arms were full, your head spinning, the sheer amount of money spent on you making your stomach twist.

You chewed your lip, glancing at the packed bags, overwhelmed.

Ben watched you, saw it, and before you could spiral, a sharp clap of his hands, voice gruff, certain.

“Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Where?”

Ben’s smirk turned lethal.

“The fuckin' bookstore, sweetheart.”

Your heart jumped, something soft, warm, excited spreading through you, and before you could even process it, he had you in the car, heading across the city, taking you exactly where you wanted to go.

The scent of old paper and ink swelled around you, the quiet, reverent hush of the bookstore wrapping around your bones like a second skin. Dim amber light pooled in soft halos overhead, illuminating rows upon rows of shelves that loomed like cathedral pillars, stacked high with the kind of stories that felt like home.

This was sanctuary. A temple. A place that smelled like history and longing, the weight of every story pressing down on you in the most delicious way.

And then there was him.

Ben was flush against your back, broad and burning, radiating heat like a furnace. He was impatient, hands constantly on you, gripping your waist, your hips, fingers squeezing like he wanted to leave marks even through your brand-new clothes. Clothes he had insisted on buying you. Clothes he had piled onto counters, thrown into bags, spent more money on than you’d ever let yourself consider.

And yet, here? The bookstore? Here was where you would accept indulgence without argument.

You trailed your fingertips over the spines of classics, whispering titles under your breath. Poe. Wilde. Shelley. Darker works next, running over Dostoevsky’s bleak philosophies, Dante’s infernal descent, each one pulling at you with their heavy, inescapable gravity. Then, onto the poetic, the romantic—words spun like gold thread, woven into something aching and eternal.

This was everything.

Ben made a low sound behind you, something between a sigh and a growl, burying his face against the crook of your neck. His beard scratched deliciously at your skin as he nipped at the spot just beneath your ear, exhaling against you, his voice thick with something molten.

“Fuck’s sake, doll,” he muttered, hands slipping lower, gripping your hips, pulling you back into the hard line of his body.

“I’m standin’ here about to bust in my fuckin’ jeans and you’re—” he gestured at the shelves in front of you with a short, impatient movement, “—gettin’ all dreamy over a buncha fuckin’ books.”

You bit your lip, fingers closing around a particularly battered copy of Paradise Lost, trying and failing to ignore the way his grip tightened on you, fingers digging in, desperate to ground himself. His mouth trailed down, teeth scraping along your jaw, another groan pressed into your skin.

“Y’know what I wanna do?” He rasped, low and dangerous, his voice meant for violence, his words meant for you alone. “Wanna get you back to mine, spread you out, pump you full ‘til you’re drippin'. Make you sit on my fuckin’ face ‘til I can’t breathe, get you cryin’ all over me ‘cause you can’t take anymore—”

You exhaled sharply, knees going weak, thighs squeezing together instinctively as heat coiled low in your belly. You gripped the book tighter, trying to focus, trying to remember where you were, but Ben—Ben was relentless. His hands slid up beneath your brand-new shirt, rough palms skating across your stomach, fingers spanning wide against your ribs, holding you there, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

“Ben—” you tried, your voice coming out breathy, barely above a whisper.

“Fuck it,” he cut you off, tone edged with that gruff finality, like he’d already made up his mind. “Get ‘em all.”

Your brow furrowed, your dazed mind struggling to catch up. “What?”

“The books,” he said, like it was obvious, voice dripping with exasperation. “Fuckin’ get every single one of ‘em.”

You blinked, stunned, lips parting to protest, but he was already moving, reaching past you and plucking stacks from the shelves, shoving them into your arms like it was nothing. A dangerous glint sparked in his eyes, jaw ticking with impatience.

“Ben, I don’t need—”

“Don’t give a fuck what you need,” he gritted out, snatching the Paradise Lost copy from your hands and tossing it onto the growing pile. “You’ll take ‘em. Every last one.”

Before you could argue, before you could do anything other than gape at him, he grabbed you by the wrist, dragging you to the register, dumping the books onto the counter with an utterly dismissive wave of his hand. The poor cashier barely blinked, used to customers with too much money and too little patience, scanning them through as Ben shifted behind you, his hands back on you, his mouth back against your ear.

“Fuckin’ piece of work,” he muttered, voice bordering on a growl, like he couldn’t believe you. “Whole new fuckin’ wardrobe, and you get all soft-eyed over books instead.”

That broke you. You laughed—properly laughed, the sound bubbling up out of you before you could help it, head tilting back against his shoulder. And the thing was, he wasn’t even trying to be funny, wasn’t trying to make you laugh, but his delivery—the sheer frustrated disbelief in his tone—was hilarious.

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, scowling, but there was something softer behind the glare, something almost fond.

“You’re laughin’ at me,” he accused, his hold tightening, but you only laughed harder, trying to suppress the grin overtaking your face.

“A little bit,” you admitted.

Ben grumbled, but he couldn’t keep up the charade. His lips twitched like he was fighting his own smirk, like he couldn’t quite resist the way your laughter curled around him, soaked into his bones.

Still, he rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he reached into his pocket and shoved a ridiculous amount of cash into the cashier’s hands without waiting for the total.

“C’mon,” he said, voice rough as he slung an arm around you, dragging you toward the door, his grip firm and possessive. “Gotta get you back before I fuckin’ lose my mind.”

You followed, books in hand, warmth in your chest, laughter still lingering on your lips. He was impossible. A wrecking ball of impatience and rough affection, of greed and need and unrelenting, all-consuming hunger.

And you didn't think you'd have him any other way.

The ride back to his building was a blur of neon streaks and city lights, the low rumble of the car vibrating through your bones as Ben floored it through intersections, breaking speed limits like they were a personal affront.

One hand gripped the wheel in a vice, the other flexed restlessly against your thigh, fingers twitching like he was barely holding himself back. You could feel the tension radiating off him, like a storm wound tight, ready to break.

He barely even put the car in park before he was out, throwing the door shut behind him. The books, the bags—he didn’t give a single fuck about them. Someone else would handle it. He jerked his chin at one of the building’s staff.

“Get that shit upstairs.”

Didn’t even wait for a response.

You had barely unbuckled your seatbelt before he was yanking open your door, grabbing your wrist, hauling you out onto unsteady legs. The air outside was thick and humid, but it was nothing compared to the heat coming off him in waves. He didn’t even slow his stride as he dragged you toward the building, toward the private elevator that led to his penthouse. No interruptions.

The second the doors slid shut, he was on you.

A snarl ripped from his throat as he shoved you back against the mirrored wall, mouth claiming yours in a brutal, consuming kiss, all tongue and teeth and hot, growling need. His hands were everywhere—knotting in your hair, yanking your head back so he could suck bruises into your jaw, your throat. His other hand was palming your ass, gripping hard, fingers digging deep like he wanted to leave bruises, like he wanted to brand you beneath his touch.

“Gonna ride me soon as we get in,” he growled against your lips, voice raw and wrecked with hunger. “Gonna fold you in half and fuck you ‘til you don’t know your own fuckin’ name.”

Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, at the thick muscles of his back, but it only spurred him on. He wedged a thigh between yours, pressed you down against the hard muscle, grinding you against him like he needed you to feel how desperate he was.

“I could fuck you right here,” he muttered, voice thick and dark with filth. “Right against this fuckin’ wall. Spread those pretty legs and fill you up. Bet you’d love it.”

Your nails dug into his biceps, thighs clenching around his leg, and he felt it—felt the way your body responded to every word. His grin was wicked, breathless.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” His teeth scraped against your throat, tongue following the path of his bite. “Like me talkin’ about how I’m gonna wreck this tight little fuckin’ cunt. How I’m gonna stuff you so full of my cum, you won’t be able to fuckin’ walk.”

The elevator chimed. The doors slid open.

Before you could take a breath, he grabbed you, hauled you up, threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

You yelped, fists slamming against his back, but he just swatted your ass once—hard. Then again. And the third time? That one had you gasping, a sharp, stinging heat blooming across your skin. Instinctively, your hands scrambled down his back, gripping the thick muscle of his ass in retaliation.

He let out a rough bark of laughter, squeezing your thigh as he carried you through the front door to the penthouse.

“Grabby little thing,” he taunted, voice dripping with amusement. “You’re lucky I like it.”

You sank your teeth into the hard plane of his back, and he groaned, fingers digging into your thigh, pinching the tender flesh there.

Then he was moving. Fast. Determined. Possessed.

He stormed into the kitchen, sending a chair skidding across the tile in his path. He didn’t slow. Didn’t hesitate. Just reached out, knocked half the shit off the counter, and threw you down on it.

Air punched out of your lungs from the impact. 

Your new pants? Gone. Ripped down with a single motion, tossed aside like they were nothing more than an obstacle. He shoved your legs apart, pushed your knees up to your chest, spreading you wide open for him.

His pupils were blown, his chest heaving, a primal hunger carved into the sharp angles of his face.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he breathed, voice hoarse with reverence. “Look at you.”

Then he was on you.

His mouth latched onto you like a man starved, groaning so deep it vibrated through your core. His hands—massive, greedy—held you open, kept you exactly where he wanted. His tongue worked you over, hot. Wet. Obscene. Licking into you like he wanted to consume every part of you.

He growled against you, the sound muffled, vibrating straight through your cunt. He licked deep, long strokes, sucked at your clit, shaking his head slightly like he was drunk on it.

“All fuckin’ mine,” he muttered, voice wrecked, spit-slick and desperate. “This fuckin’ pussy—mine.”

His eyes rolled back, fingers flexing against your thighs. He looked like a man unhinged, lost in it, absolutely devouring you like he needed it more than air.

“Fuck, doll—fuck—tastes so good—” He groaned, the sound pure filth, his hips grinding against the counter like he couldn’t not.

“Could fuckin’ die with my face buried in this pussy.”

And then he doubled down.

Sucked harder, licked faster, fucked his tongue into you with a desperation that sent you arching, gasping, hands scrabbling at the countertop. He growled, low and threatening, holding you down, keeping you there, keeping you open, making sure you took it.

“Takin’ it so fuckin’ good, baby—shit, you were made for this.”

Your vision blurred, your legs trembling in his hold. He was relentless, obscene, groaning into you like this was all he ever wanted, like this was the only thing that mattered.

And God help you, you loved it.

The second you shattered under his tongue, Ben pulled back with a sharp breath, his beard slick, his mouth bruised and swollen, pupils blown wide as he grinned down at you.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling through his nose, and then his gaze dropped to you—twitching, breathless, sprawled out like a wreck over his pristine marble counters.

“That was fuckin’ pathetic.”

You barely had a moment to recover before he was flipping you onto your stomach, dragging you back so your hips hung off the counter’s edge. His strength was effortless, his grip bruising as he yanked you where he wanted you. He didn’t waste time, didn’t ease you into it. One second you were catching your breath, the next—

Slap.

His palm cracked against your ass, hard enough to have you gasping, gripping at the counter.

“Fall apart the second I put my mouth on you,” he sneered, fingers digging into the fresh sting of your skin, kneading before delivering another hard slap. “Get so fuckin’ needy, huh?”

You moaned, toes curling against the tile, your hips pressing back instinctively. His rough chuckle scraped down your spine, dark and mean, and then you heard the metallic clink of his belt being undone. The sound sent a violent shudder through you, anticipation tightening every muscle in your body.

Ben grunted as he freed himself, his cock heavy and aching in his fist as he lined up, dragging himself through your slick folds before slamming inside, all the way to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

You screamed, arching, nails scraping against the counter, and he just groaned, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard as he held himself deep.

“Fuck yeah,” he exhaled against your skin, thick fingers curling around your throat from behind, dragging you up, bending you back at an angle that made every thrust hit just right.

“So fuckin’ tight. Always so fuckin’ tight for me.”

You gasped, his arm unrelenting around your throat, holding you up like it was nothing, like you weighed nothing. He was using you, owning you, claiming you with every brutal snap of his hips.

The cold marble bit into your hipbones, a delicious counterpoint to the blistering heat of him. His free hand slid down, gripping at your ass, squeezing, groping, pulling you open wider so he could watch himself split you apart.

“Gonna keep you just like this,” he muttered, breath ragged, voice mean. “Bend you over every fuckin’ counter in this place—”

Slap.

“—Keep you stuffed so full of my cum you look knocked up.”

You whimpered, your body trembling under his relentless pace, every punishing thrust pushing you closer and closer to that breaking point again.

“You fuckin’ love it.” His teeth scraped against your jaw, fingers tightening around your throat, controlling the very air you breathed. “Love lettin’ me use you, huh?”

You moaned a broken yes, and he growled, the sound primal, vicious, something feral. His grip on your ass tightened, nails digging in before another sharp slap made you jolt in his hold.

“Yeah, you do.” He huffed a laugh, but there was nothing amused about it—just raw, unhinged possession. “Let me wreck this perfect little fuckin’ body. Let me have it—all of it.”

Your walls fluttered around him, that tight pull dragging a guttural groan from his chest. You were so fucking close—

Ben groaned, forehead pressing against your temple, his thrusts turning rougher. Sharper. Deeper.

“You don’t wanna take pretty clothes from me,” he gritted out, punctuating each word with another snap of his hips, “but you go all fuckin’ doe-eyed over some bullshit books.”

A sob of pleasure tore from your throat, your whole body tightening around him, and he felt it—felt the way you clenched, the way your legs shook.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he groaned, fingers squeezing around your throat as his pace turned brutal, fucking into you like he wanted to break you.

“Fuckin’ come. Come for me—now.”

Your whole body seized, pleasure consuming you like wildfire, dragging a ragged cry from your lips. You convulsed in his hold, clenching down on him so fucking tight that he snarled, hips stuttering, burying himself deep as he followed you over the edge, spilling inside you with a vicious, guttural sound.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound in the penthouse was your ragged breathing, the distant hum of city lights through the massive windows.

Ben exhaled hard, pressing a bruising kiss against the side of your face before muttering, voice still thick and wrecked with lust, “You ain’t goin’ back to that shithole.”

You barely had the energy to lift your head, still shivering, still trying to catch your breath. “Seriously?”

“You heard me.” He grunted, still buried deep inside you, his grip possessive, immovable. “You’re stayin’ here. Gettin’ you a real fuckin’ place. No more of that run-down, rat-infested shit.”

You huffed, a weak little laugh, but there was no arguing with him.

Not when he was still inside you. Not when his fingers were still bruising your hips, keeping you in place like he wasn’t done with you yet. Not when his teeth were grazing your shoulder again, voice dipping into something lower, darker.

“You’re mine, baby,” he murmured, breath ghosting against your damp skin. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @kayleighwinchester @lyarr24 @imtheworst123 @podiumackles @spxideyver <3

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Playing with fire's only gonna get you burned. Unless you're, like, into that kinda thing.

kai parker x reader

summary: things have been disappearing from your room lately, but never would you think kai is the one to blame.

tags: 1994 prison world, friends to lovers, snooping (it's very 'fuck around and find out'), mild argument, sexual tension, touch starved, kissing, touching, playful sex, teasing, fingering, vaginal sex, relatively mild smut, overstimulation, cuddling

word count: 5.5k

a/n: this fic is sponsored by wellbutrin... kidding. but that's the only reason i've actually been able to sit down and focus / write lately. this was requested eons ago, and with the greatest guilt, i'm just now posting it. also, i wrote it in a day. as in, today. i hope it's okay. <3

It started out innocently. A curious snoop in a big, almost-empty mansion, inhabited by two abandoned people left here by their families. 

He hadn’t expected her to go digging around in his stuff, and she didn’t think he’d come home early. Both were wrong. And as the thin material slips from beneath her fingertips in shock, he gives her an indescribable look. His nails rap on the wood of the doorframe and she stands, speechless. 

“Uh…”

“Hey, princess. Like what you see?”

-------------------------------------------------

The Salvatore Boarding House is where you found him. You wandered for some time before running into him and finding his company relieving. 

Of course, getting to trust Kai took some time. You found common ground in the fact that you both were hated by the Gemini Coven. Both had been sent here by them; Kai, sixteen years ago, you, only one, and both had been frowned upon by their families. But while you shared the same enemy, you were afraid for a while that Kai would be an enemy, too, considering what he did to be sent to the prison world. Apparently, as reported by his own tongue and the daily paper, he had slaughtered four of his siblings in an attempt to kill the youngest two. He didn’t feel much sorrow, nor regret, over his actions, and explained his methods of killing with a rather monotone voice. When asked if he’d kill you, he shrugged. 

“No point in doing that, really. It’s not like you can die, anyway.”

And that was that. 

For weeks, you feared him, but he got better as the days passed. Kai’s actually pretty funny and can cook well. And though you’ve never said it out loud, he’s pretty cute, too. Over time, your companionship turns into a friendship. You swap stories about your past and come to understand each other better. As cold as life has made him, you don’t think he wasn’t always that way. The more you grow to trust him, you start to see a side you’re not sure he’s even seen in himself for years. Sometimes you forget you’re all alone in a prison together, save for the fact you’re the only ones there. Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like a sentence for a punishment you both may or may not deserve. 

But lately, something’s been off.

It’s not that anything’s changed about Kai, but more so that it just feels… different. The young witch is the same playful, unserious boy you’ve known for months, but a few times, you’ve caught a glimmer in his eye you can’t quite decipher. He’s a troublemaker for sure, and though you’ve never seen malicious behavior, your head is filling with questions if he’s capable of some other kind of behavior you haven’t considered. 

Basically, things have been disappearing from your closet. Your favorite bracelets, a few lip balms, and clothes, even some you know you threw in the laundry bin. For a bit of time, you blame it on the same-day repeating thing. Maybe the gloss you stole from the department store has just been returned to its original spot to be sold. Maybe yesterday’s pair of underwear went back to the bottom of your drawer. Maybe the shirt you wore when you entered the prison world got swept through some portal back to the real world, because you hadn’t worn it here yet, so it must not be able to exist. 

One morning, ruminating thoughts swirl in your mind as you try to mentally explain the disappearances. It’s a rather new thing - within the last few weeks - and nothing like this had happened in the first couple months you were still roaming the empty earth. 

At the kitchen counter, you must seem lost in thought, because Kai shuffles a pancake off his spatula and onto your plate then nods. “What’s up?”

“My clothes are disappearing.”

“What?”

“Have you ever had that happen to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Out of my room. I’ll toss a shirt in my hamper, and it’s gone. My favorite chapstick isn’t in my nightstand drawer anymore.”

“Weird.”

“You’ve never lost anything?”

“I mean… misplaced things, yeah. But I know I just put them somewhere where I can’t remember where I put them, y’know? Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe.” You take a bite of the food and smile up at him. “Ooh, perfect! Thank you.”

He returns the smile with a wink that makes you shyly look down. You eat in a comfortable silence, omit the CD player beside you being just barely audible; Billie Joe Armstrong whispers uncharacteristically rather than shouting into your ear at nine in the morning. 

He starts to speak again while gathering the dishes. “Hey, I need to take a quick trip to the store today, want to come?”

“Wait, why? We just went?” You ask, frowning. 

“That house down the street had a cookbook I’m borrowing-” you chuckle at the word choice, “-and I’m gonna try one of the recipes in it, but we need, like, half the things in it.”

You think about it. Going grocery shopping with him is always an entertaining experience, but you were planning on flipping your room inside out to look for your stuff instead. The most recent thing to disappear was one of your favorite underwear sets, and if you don’t find it, it’ll drive you crazy. Explaining this, though, sounds ridiculous, so you make an excuse. With a shrug, “don’t really feel like being cold today.” Despite no one around to operate it, Bell’s refrigerator section stays cold. 

“You have a jacket. Or you can borrow one.”

“You always take, like, ten years in there, and the cold seeps through eventually.”

He gives you a sassy look, but it’s true, so he knows he can’t really argue. “Alright.”

“Plus if you’re trying a new recipe, it’s going to take even longer for you to find everything you need. And then the recipe won’t have enough detail, so you’ll sit there for five minutes, debating if you should use brown sugar or light brown sugar.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point!” You smile in satisfaction. “I’ll go by myself. Won’t take more than an hour.”

“Two, maybe.”

He glares at you, but you only laugh. Kai, by now, is harmless to you. You can poke and prod him all you want and know he won’t hurt you. Maybe if his family put a little trust in him, they would’ve known that, too. 

“I’m leaving in ten.”

“Okay. Be safe from any vortexes that could contain aliens coming to invade our planet.”

He stares at you, then gives a playful roll of his eyes. You laugh. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t make sense. You’ve flipped your room about a thousand times in the last hour and nothing, not a single one of your lost items have appeared. It’s actually driving you insane. On second thought, you might be going insane. You know internally that stuff doesn’t just disappear in this world. Some things might return to the way they were before - the Dookie album annoyingly starts at “Burnout” every morning that Kai presses play; the grocery store is always fully stocked, no matter how many bags of chips you take in a single day - but things don’t just get lost. The prison world has structure, in its own extremely aggravating way. If something’s missing, you lost it. 

But you’ve flipped your room three times to no avail. If something’s missing, it must not be in your room at all. You sigh, sitting in the middle of your now-messy room, and think. It is possible that they got mixed up in the laundry with Kai’s stuff and neither of you noticed. Of course, that doesn’t account for your two missing chapsticks, but maybe those were in pockets that ended up in the laundry, too. You crinkle your nose at the thought. If that’s the case, that chapstick and the hoodie it’s in are definitely ruined. 

With the new idea in your mind, you head to the laundry room to check it out. It’s a rather long walk down the hall and to your left, making you wonder, again, whose house - sorry, mansion - this is in the present day, and could they be living here now, in the real world? You and Kai have talked about it before, made bets on the residents’ identities and personalities. Kai thinks it’s the mayor’s, and that he’s some oldish rich guy with a trophy wife, who needed to live far away from his “village” to exude “dominance,” as if this were the middle ages. That, or a thousand year old witch who moved out here to never be bothered. You swear it’s vampires, but he always shakes his head, “that’s not a thing.” You think otherwise.

But regardless of who lives in the house, you can both agree it’s an insane amount of house for anyone. Though, neither can complain about the dungeon in the basement. It’s a nice touch. In fact, every house should have one. 

The laundry room checks out to be clean. There’s not a single sign of anything missing or out of place, and by this point, you just feel like giving up. Maybe the laundry ate them in the way it always seems to eat one sock. Oh well, because the constant search is only stressing you out. You stand there bored for a moment while trying to think of something to do. You could read; the library downstairs must have a thousand different books. Or, you could snoop the mansion. Kai’s shown you tons of stuff he’s found over the years: diaries, letters, secrets. Whoever lived here has quite the story to tell, but those things aren’t always easily found. The letters had been hidden in books, and between closely stacked books, and the most telling diary he’s found was in the floorboard of the furthest room on the right. Surely there’s more that Kai hasn’t discovered yet. 

You decide, then, that the best entertainment will be to snoop around the old Victorian home, because… why not? You can’t settle down enough to read, and when has anyone not had fun digging into other people’s business? After all, that’s what got you sent to the prison world in the first place. 

A part of you is most curious about the dungeon, so you decide to start there when something in the corner of your eye makes you pause. A lock, uncharacteristically on Kai’s bedroom door. It’s odd, considering the openness between you two; you’ve never felt the need to hide things from each other, and you’re not sure when he started feeling differently. You stare at it, curious and a bit hurt, before inserting your nail into the hole on the bottom. Again, you ended up here by pissing off one Parker, what’s stopping you from egging on another? And what would Kai possibly do to you that would hurt you? Like you told yourself earlier, towards you, he’s completely harmless. 

In a couple minutes’ time, you finally free the lock of its duty and push the door open. Inside, it looks normal. He’s always been clean and his room is no exception. You’ve seen it before, when he didn’t feel the need to put a suspicious lock on it, and it looks the same then as it does now. Still… that little weasel is hiding something, and you’ll be damned if you don’t at least peek. You step further inside, leaving the door wide open so you can hear if he comes back. 

To your displeasure, a five minute search yields no secrets. You’ve looked under his bed, in his drawers, and everywhere else that’s definitely invading his privacy, but hey, you were under the impression that there was no privacy in the prison world. You start your way back to the door, but then open the closet you had previously ignored, just in case. It checks as normal, but then… up high, in the corner, sits a little box out of reach. And by out of reach, you mean even for Kai, who’s rather tall, meaning even he would need a stool to retrieve it. Curiosity quickly gets the better of you and you fetch the nearest stool to grab it. Something this well hidden must be fun. And who knows, maybe it’s the residents’ mystery box, and Kai doesn’t even know it’s there? At least, that’s what you tell yourself to excuse your nosiness. 

Though, immediately upon opening it, that’s proven to definitely not be the case. 

A whiff of perfume floods your nose the moment you take off the lid. It’s familiar, and warm, and quickly, you realize it’s yours. Then, your heart drops at the first thing inside - something he should not have, and frankly, shouldn’t even exist -  which is a polaroid of you. Specifically, of you on your side, asleep, bare chested, with your comforter just barely covering your hips. Your spine is the main focus of the shot, but a little bit of your exposed breast shows. You drop it with a gasp. It flutters down and lands in a different place than where you had picked it up, revealing more. Each polaroid in the stack shows more and more of your body in every shot. Sometimes, your breasts are covered by a thin, lacy piece, but more often than not, your top is completely bare. Your comforter, luckily, stays at your hips, and the one or two times it slips further, you’re covered in your favorite floral set, but then you pause. That particular set disappeared a while ago, and now, you think you know why. 

Dropping the polaroid, you remove all the photos from the box to reveal what’s hidden underneath, and oh, does it shock you. Instantly, you eye your favorite set, causing you to swallow hard. Your perfume’s also in the box, alongside all your missing items: your chapsticks, bracelets, and three more pieces of your clothes. That rat. He’s been taking your things the whole time! Then giving no more than a shrug when you bring it up. Kai has been sneaking into your room at night, taking pictures of you and stealing your things, then acting none the wiser in the day. You try to feel angry, but you’re more shocked than anything. 

Hesitantly, you pick up a pair of your underwear, inspecting it as if you can’t believe it’s really there. You roll your eyes in disbelief as it slips off your finger, back down into the incriminating box. 

A knock raps on the doorframe. You freeze; you hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“Hey, princess,” Kai says, standing there, “like what you see?”

Your mouth falls open, a thousand words rising up your throat, but none of them coming out. You were shocked before, but then his sudden entrance and his laidback reaction makes you angry, and when he stands there, waiting for your response, you only find yourself shocked again. Surprised, that he’s found you digging through your stuff, yet doesn’t seem to care. 

That is, unless, the anger is bubbling underneath his fond smile. You know that Kai has an unpredictable edge to him. Sometimes, he’s quiet in his anger and lets it stew before exploding. You’ve only been on the receiving end of it once, ages ago, when you were still getting used to each others’ routines and you got too much in his way. You’ve seen it since then, but not directed at you: his father, mostly; his lack of magic; his misguidance about the world. But sometimes, oftentimes, he’s short in patience and snappy in reaction. He responds to disruption the same way his father does: suddenly, mercilessly. It’s all he knows, after all. 

But the Kai standing in front of you now, watching you, is neither of those things. He doesn’t seem angry or agitated. Caught off guard, certainly, but while that look is interpreted through his eyes, a small smile counters it. You stare a bit longer. Amused is more like it. He’s amused by your reaction. By you finding your clothes in his room and having no idea how to react to it. Initially, his posture held some indignation, probably because you were going through his stuff and had picked the quite secure lock to do so, but any ill feeling dissipates at the look on your face you’re sure is amusing to him. 

You try to replace your shocked look with a stern one. He only laughs. 

“Want to tell me why my stuff is in a box in your room, which was locked, by the way, not sure if you’re aware. Since when do we lock our rooms, Kai?”

He looks surprised by your sudden snap. Good. Unfortunately, he recovers quickly. 

“Want to tell me why you’re going through my stuff in the first place?”

You scoff. “I think the more pressing matter is the fact that you’ve been stealing my clothes! And- and- not only stealing, but look at this-” you toss a polaroid at him as if he hasn’t seen, taken, them himself- “how long have you been lurking in my room while I’m asleep?! Taking pictures of me sleeping? Not caring if I’m literally nude in half of them?!”

“I’d argue the nude ones are the best ones,” he says with a shrug. 

You scoff again. “What would possess you to do this? Why are you taking my stuff?”

“Y’know, princess… What’s funny to me is that your questions are just questions.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re asking questions simply to know the answers. A playful curiosity. There’s no anger in your tone, no spite in your words.”

“Oh, I’m angry, Kai. I’m pretty fucking pissed off right now.”

He only chuckles. “Still not hearing it. See, I know anger. Anger’s my father, who has a harsh bark but a nastier bite. You, my angel,” he crouches down in front of you now, “have no bite.”

“Fuck you.” You push his shoulder. He barely sways, but you were kind of hoping to knock him over. You wait a moment, then try again. 

Kai, though, easily predicts your actions and grabs your wrist as soon as it comes within his reach. He holds on with a tight grip and you almost lose your balance. 

“Let go,” you grumble, raising your other fist. It only makes it halfway before he grabs that one, too. “Kai.” You struggle in his hands. “What the fuck? Let go of me.”

“Ah, ah.” He tilts his head to the side, a look that means nothing but trouble. “You were a bad girl to go through my stuff.”

“It’s my stuff, actually.”

“It became mine the minute it crossed the threshold of this house. You became mine.”

“What the fuck does that mean? This isn’t even your house!”

“But it is my prison world. Built for me when I committed a crime so heinous, they felt the need to lock me up. But you… what are you in here for? Stealing a book?”

“It was a grimoire, you fuck. Your father’s. So clearly my crime was equally heinous and they sent me here, too. The moment I got dropped here, this no longer became just your world.”

“You raise a good point. But still, I was here first. And I’m the oldest of my siblings, so I can tell you what to do.”

“You have a twin,” you counter, “who’s probably older than you by now, considering neither of us have aged, and you’ve been here sixteen years already. She’s probably… thirty-eight by now? Probably married, has some kids, a nice house.”

“Stop talking,” he snaps, tightening his grip on your wrists. They burn, but it doesn’t bother you. Egging him on is more fun. The tight cord of his control is breaking. 

“I’m just saying. Oh, and your younger twins, the two you didn’t get to kill. They’re, uh, twenty, now, I think. I saw them, actually, when I broke into your father’s house. They’re both blonde, wherever that gene came from.”

“Y/N-”

“Jo wasn’t there. Not sure where she went. Probably does have a house somewhere. Somewhere far, far, away from fucking Portland. Good for her, that place is a shithole.”

His grip tightens, his body almost shaking with anger now. “Stop. Talking.”

“Or what? Are you gonna attack me?” You put on your best puppy eyes. “Show me your bite’s worse than your bark? Because I’m just proving to you that I can bite. Don’t like it, do you? Yeah, well, I didn’t like finding my lingerie in a box in your room, but I guess we all can’t get what we want.”

Whether it was your words or the sass in your tone, he finally breaks. With a sudden force, Kai pushes your fists into your own chest, knocking you to the floor. You gasp a little as your head hits the wood, but you have no time to dwell on it as he climbs on top of you, pinning your fists now over your head. 

“You want to see me bite, is that it? Don’t think I have it in me because you’ve never seen it for yourself? I can be ruthless, Y/N, I can make you regret-” he pauses, jaw dropping as he realizes you’re giggling. 

“Regret what?” You urge. “Were you saying something?”

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N.” His eyes are dark, but not in a way that scares you. Instead, his pupils are dilated so much they look dark. He stares into you desperately, gaze fighting between your lips and your neck, as if unsure where to attack first. 

“And yet I’m just a girl, laying under a boy, asking to get burned.”

He doesn’t get the quote. It’s after his time. But the message is clear: you’re under him and you’re not fighting to get up; you provoked him enough just to send him off the edge; you were never really that mad about the pictures or the clothes. 

He pauses. Okay, maybe you were a little mad about it. He did go out of his own way to creep across your boundaries. But still… had he not, you would’ve never ended up in this position. You should probably thank him for that. 

You swallow, with difficulty because of the way you’re laying, and his eyes drop to the bob in your throat. He snaps out of a daze. 

It happens before you know it, his lips on yours. He starts soft, waiting for you to reciprocate, and the moment you do, he gets rougher, more confident, as if this is something he’s always wanted, but he’s so unfamiliar with being able to touch, that he holds back at first. 

You’re much less hesitant, though. You offer kindness to him through your words, but you’ve never touched him much, knowing how foreign it is to him. You’ve wanted to give in, to hug and hold him and kiss his cheek before you go to bed, but you were never sure how to bring it up. He’s guarded in his emotions. They’re there, but they’re locked away with a key you haven’t been able to pick. But this, maybe, is the first step. 

You’re not sure when you stood up, or if he picked you up, but in a second, you’re off the wood and plopped down on his bed. The pillow beneath you smells like your perfume and you raise an eyebrow at him. He tilts his head again - no comment. He’s kissing you again before you can say anything, effectively distracting you from the whole thing. One hand props himself up over you, while the other lightly grasps your neck. Both of your hands are tangled in his hair, scratching and pulling gently. You break the kiss, out of breath, and he trails his lips down your neck instead. Your back arches instinctively, and a giggle escapes your throat at a sweet spot. In a matter of seconds, he sucks a bruise into your skin before moving down further. Your shirt, very much in the way, is pulled up and off, followed by your shorts. You copy the action, pulling his own off him and immediately letting your hands explore his chest. It’s only fair, you think, considering all the times he’s welcomed himself to the sight of your body. 

Distracted, you miss him pulling off your underwear until they’re dangling on one finger in your face. You tilt her own head in confusion, then feel your jaw drop as he throws them in the box. 

“Mine.” He winks.

“No! Kai-”

You’re cut off by your own moan, provoked by the feeling of his touch on your bare body. He smiles, clearly pleased with himself, and touches again. 

“Those are mine,” you try to argue. 

“Are they?”

With a new bite, you lunge forward and surprise him, bringing him pause. You take control for thirty seconds, unbuckling his belt and sliding off his jeans and boxers. A gasp escapes his throat, the cold air hitting his cold, now exposed body, in addition to you seeing him for the first time. 

“These are mine then.” You toss his jeans on the floor, but keep his boxers like a prize in your hands. 

His look is unimpressed. “You wish.” He tackles you easily, prying the material out of your hands to ball up and throw, laying you back down, crawling over your body, licking his lips, eyeing you like prey. It happens too fast for you to react, and before you know it, you’re forced back into submission, him dominating easily. 

“Y’know, for someone not used to touch,” you pant, relishing in the feeling of his lips around your nipple, “you sure seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Instinct, baby.” 

“Oh, really?” 

He shuts up any further remark by meeting his body to yours, erect cock rubbing against your clit in a way that turns your brain to mush. “Yeah, really.” You don’t fight back this time. “So easy to please,” he mutters, his fingers moving to your clit at the feeling of precum rising up. 

“Stop teasing,” you whine, growing desperate. 

“Not teasing, princess. Just getting you ready.”

Pressure builds like a coil low in your stomach. You squirm, arching your back and shivering in pleasure, at the same time you mutter, “don’t stop.”

“Don’t move, then, baby.”

You try your hardest to listen, but it’s almost impossible with the way he’s touching you. The long fingers you’ve always admired rubbing in perfect circles. The lust in his eyes as he draws you closer and closer. The wetness on your thigh where his aching cock drips with its own need. 

“Kai-” you cry for a second as he stops. He spits on your clit, then laps it up with his tongue, sucking now, while his fingers open you up below. “Fuck.”

“You okay, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod weakly. 

The coil’s so close to snapping. You won’t survive much longer, not with the way his tongue works so beautifully against the sensitive spot, and especially not when he looks up at you from his position, eyes still dark with lust, yet focused, as if this is the most important thing in the world. 

“Kai-”

“Mhm?” He asks without detaching. The vibration that it causes is what finally breaks you. With an eager moan, you finally come, the force of it shaking your legs and core. Kai sucks you through it and only lets up when you start begging, “please, please, please, I can’t-”

He ceases, and immediately crashes his lips onto yours, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. 

“You okay?” He asks between wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mhm.”

“Alright, good girl. Ready?”

“Please.” 

Of course he can’t deny you when you ask so politely. 

With a deep kiss, he distracts you enough to push in. You take him well until you’re almost full, gasping into his mouth and sinking into the mattress. You squirm a bit more, body reacting to the sudden intrusion, but settle around him soon enough. 

“We’re good?”

“Good.”

“Let me know if you need to stop.”

He starts slowly, pulling out a little ways and pushing back in, kissing you sweetly as he does. But then as your body adjusts and clenches around him, he picks up the pace to an even speed. His mouth drops from your lips to your neck, sucking more bruises into your delicate skin. You keep your hands tangled in his hair, pulling, grasping, moaning more as the pressure starts to build again. 

“Y’know,” you stutter, trying to speak as he thrusts. “Making me come once isn’t going to make up for you stealing my underwear.”

You can feel his smile grow against your skin. “Oh really?” He presses a kiss to your neck. “How about twice? Three times? Four?”

The color drains from your face at the thought of coming four times in one day. You really need to learn to stop challenging him. “I-”

“Yeah, four sounds good. Let’s try for that.”

He has slowed down a little to make conversation, but as soon as his mind is made, he picks his pace back up. His troublemaking smirk stares into you, waiting to see if you’ll challenge him again, then falls back on your neck once he sees he’s won. 

In the end, Kai holds true to his promise and coaxes three more orgasms out of you before his hips stutter. He pulls out and releases on your stomach, panting hard. You lay beside each other, completely exhausted and overstimulated, until he finally drags you up and into the bathroom. In a way, you do win, because he dresses you in his own clothes - boxers and a hoodie - before pulling you downstairs with him. You’re still determined to get your clothes back somehow, but as your eyes flutter sleepily still, you decide to table that for another day. 

That evening, when you settle down for your usual nightly movie, you find yourself laying against his chest with his arm around your waist. He seems more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, and the noticeable difference makes you smile. 

“If you wanted to touch me, you could’ve just asked,” you half-tease. 

“Hm.”

“I like you, too, y’know.” He finally looks away from the tv, eyes dropping to you instead. “Way before all of this. I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Fear of losing you?” You shrug. “Not only are we the only people here, but… you’re also the only person I’ve felt ever close to in my life. I didn’t want to do something that would make you uncomfortable, or make you hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” he admits. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “And I think I’m the one who crossed the ‘uncomfortable’ boundary.”

You laugh. “Yeah, you did. You crossed a very big boundary.” You tilt your head and run your tongue across your lips. “But… it doesn’t make me uncomfortable with you. Nor angry. Maybe in the moment, but certainly not now. Actually… it’s kinda hot, now that I think about it.”

Despite his passing nervousness, he can’t help but laugh. “I did say you’d be playing with fire.”

“Guess I should’ve headed the warning.”

You curl closer into him, adoring the way he responds so quickly, running a hand through your hair and dancing his fingers on your skin. It’s easier than ever to relax around him. Right now, this prison world feels like anything but a prison. 

~~~~~~~~~~

In the night, you sneak into his room, polaroid in hand. It’s rather easy, the lock is gone now and his door is cracked open, practically inviting you in. You tiptoe up to his bed, focusing the camera on Kai’s shirtless form and snap a quick photo, snickering to yourself. But then, as the old machine whirrs in action, your target opens an eye. You back up, glancing between the boy in the bed and the door. He groans, laughing on the tail end of the tired sound. 

“Whatcha doing?”

“Karma, baby.”

“Mhm, good try.” He eyes you in a way that sends a shiver up your spine. “Y’know… the way I got so many of you is because I was quiet.” 

“Uh-” You look at the door again - big mistake. The moment your eyes are off him, his arms around your waist. “Ah, Kai!” You screech, head hitting his pillow for the second time that day. 

He positions himself on top of you, practically sitting on you, and takes the camera from your hands. “Tip number one, snap the picture and leave before the camera starts to sputter.” He sets it on the nightstand. “Tip number two, stalk someone who’s a little less obsessed with you. That way, they might not be able to hear your every move.” Before you can reply, he’s kissing you again, with as much passion as he had only hours ago. 

[strangersteddierthings]

Platonic Stobin bodyswap AU idea I'll never write. This has been in my drafts for over a year (since July 2023 per the timestamp)

Post season 3; During the season 3 bathroom confession scene Robin came out to Steve, and Steve came out to her. She knows he's bi, and she's the only one who knows. Swap starts off slowly for Steve and Robin. Little moments of vertigo where the world doesn't look right for a few seconds, that progresses to black out periods of time spanning 5-15 minutes. It's them switching bodies but it's so traumatizing (they are FREAKING out) that they don't remember it. So, it's like they're just losing moments in time, which still freaks them out.

Then one day they wake up and they're... each other. And they just don't go back.

And Steve can't really pass as Robin to her parents but thankfully they just blame it on 'moody teenage angst' and "you can talk to us about anything babygirl we love you so much and we're here when you need us." Which. Yeah, Steve cries about. But it also comes with the side of GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I HAVE TO FINISH HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN??? I CAN'T PLAY THE TRUMPET ROBIN YOU HAVE TO DROP OUT OF BAND

And Robin also cannot pass as Steve at first, but she gets to see how that matters exactly 0% because the Harrington's don't even notice. They also aren't around near as much as Steve makes them out to be. But she does get to enjoy the freedom of a legal drivers license and no job currently. HOWEVER she has walked Steve's pretty face into several doors/poles/walls because cute girls keep looking at her with hunger in their eyes and she doesn't know how to handle this.

(It makes more girls interested in a suddenly shy, stumbling, nervous Steve because those girls think they're the reason Confident Sex God Steve turns into a mess but really it's just Robin not knowing how to exist in a world where woman want her and fish fear her (sorry bad joke))

Anyway, queue shenanigannary for a bit. Steve encourages Robin to go on dates because why not get some practice in while they wait to swap back again? (he's holding out hope)

Do they have the awkward discussion of 'what are the limits to what I'm allowed to do in your body????? I dunno yet.

Anyway, Robin goes on dates. ((Does she end up going on a date with Vickie? Canonically Vickie's got no problem dating older boys? How to solve this plot line for when(if?) they switch back bodies? IDK dudes, that's Future Jess's issue.))

At some point, the gang finds out. Probably Dustin realizing Steve isn't as Steve-like as usual. He'd sniff out something was wrong with his brother for sure.

But then season 4 starts. Robin taught Steve how to play the trumpet back in August/Sept and it's then they realize that they kind of share their knowledge? Like... Steve picks up how to play the trumpet EASY. At first they think it's just Robin's body using muscle memory but then Robin realizes she knows things only Steve should.

Anyway, Steve is in band with Vickie the night of the Championshipgame, chatting easily while also trying to hint that 'Hey, I think Steve Harrington is checking you out???" while trying to tell Robin with telepathy (that they don't have... yet? Decide if they end up with telepathy later) to try and subtly check out Vickie. But neither girl is subtle so they both just whip around to stare at each other and Steve is facepalming.

NO WAIT. DO I MAKE CHANGES TO THE NARRATIVE BECAUSE IF STEVE IS IN HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN, THERE IS NO WAY HE'D LET DUSTIN AND MIKE SKIP OUT ON THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME. Maybe??? Will decide on this point later. Until then, above points stay.

Anyway, Chrissy still dies (sorry) and Eddie's still on the run, but like this time in the boathouse, Robin invites Eddie to stay at 'his' big empty house 'cause the parents are gone and Robin has no hangups about Eddie like Steve did in canon (he is the first person we hear call Eddie The Freak).

The end point here is that Robin, Steve, and Eddie spend A LOT of time together at Steve's house and then the angst falls in because Steve starts to fall in love with Eddie.

So, he has a breakdown in a bathroom with Robin about it, all sad and crying like "I really fuckin' like him Robs, but I can't- there- we can't-"

"I need you to take a breath and tell me what the issue is," Robin says.

"I like him Robs, but this is your body. I can't take things from you. Like your first kiss. And I certainly can't- I won't put your body through... you know. I can't do that to you."

And it takes Robin a moment to process what he means. Romantic entanglements that Steve might want to have would have to happen with her body. And maybe Robin isn't sure what to say/do because the thought of a guy and his dick anywhere near her body immediately freaks her out but... she's not in her body. She's in Steves, and has been doing things with girls in it. It never occurred to her that Steve might want to get hot and heavy with a guy in her body and maybe she's got something to unpack there???

Anyway, no time to worry about that. Vecna's gonna kill Max so they gotta go. Also, Eddie does NOT know about the body swap.

She does tell Steve to kiss Eddie, though, in the end. When they're not sure they'll live. So, Eddie calls out to Steve. "Make him pay." So, to Eddie, it looks like Steve gives him a nod and it's Robin who marches up, grabs his face, and plants one on him. Robin(Steve) doesn't stick around long enough for Eddie to kiss back (Steve wants him to because he wants a proper kiss from Eddie, but he also doesn't want him to because Eddie thinks he's kissing Robin and if he kisses back it means he likes Robin, not Steve, so Steve doesn't lock lips long enough find out).

Something something they all survive and then Eddie, hopped up on pain meds in the hospital, demands to speak to Robin. So, Steve slinks in, afraid of what's going to happen, and Eddie's like 'Robin. I appreciate that you like me but you are unfortunately a girl and I am not into that.' And Steve is like!!! my time!! It's come!!! I HAVE to get back to my body.

And then at some point they switch back. Maybe El doing some mind fuckery? Idk.

And for fun, here's the beginning of the fic that idea written out:

"Whoa," Steve blinks rapidly as the world tilts and shifts. It's very sudden, and over just as quickly as it started, but it still leaves Steve unanchored for a moment. It was probably brought on by the concussion he's been nursing these last two days, since the whole Starcourt shit. He leans sideways to try and use the wall as an anchor until everything feel right again.

He should, probably, be more concerned about this because this has been like, the fourth time this has happened and when he told Robin about it, she confessed it was happening to her, too. That Owens guy had told them there could be unknown side effects to whatever the fuck they'd been injected with and this might just be part of that. It'll fade, Steve's sure, as the days go on. Never mind that it has been happening more lately. It's going to fade. It has to.

Except, it doesn't. The sensation of be unanchored gets worse, and now it comes accompanied with loss of time. Steve will feel the tilt and shift while standing in the doorway to his room and the next thing he knows he's got a hand on his front door, keys in his hand, and doesn't know where he was trying to go.

Ring Ring

Steve shakes his head, shakes away the feeling of wrongness and goes to answer the phone. "Harrington residence, Steve speaking."

"Steve! Steve, it's getting worse!" Robin's voice sobs at him from the other end of the phone. "I-I was in the kitchen and then I was, like, huddled in the bathroom and I don't remember going there."

"Fuck, me too. I just came to standing at my front door, about to leave but I don't remember getting there, or where I was planning to go," Steve confesses back. It's strange, how easily Robin has become a part of his life. He was expecting her to not want to be withing five miles of him ever again, after what he got her dragged into, but it seems Robin isn't scared away. Perhaps it's just that he's the only other person she knows who went through Russian torture. Even if that is the case, Steve'll take it. He likes Robin a lot.

"Should we... call Dr. Owens?" Robin sounds so small when she asks.

"I don't want to," Steve confesses but doesn't elaborate. Calling Dr. Owens means admitting that something is wrong wrong. Steve doesn't want anything to be that wrong. He wants to get back to his life. He's got to get back to job searching, too, and Dr. Owens might deny him that.

[doctor-dusk]

𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

a private session, as he said.

warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 3.4k

part 1, part 2

it took me longer than expected. ngl that i've been feeling a bit discouraged and insecure about my writing lately and i've been putting off posting. anyway, hope you like it :3

you haven't stopped talking for a minute since alex got your phone number. like, for hours, going into the early hours of the morning sometimes. 

you found out he lived a few minutes away from you and was a bartender at a night pub, so eventually he had to be absent when he was on his shift. of course you understood, but you couldn't help but miss talking to him when he was away for too long, especially at night. you found yourself looking at his profile picture, or at the photos he sent you throughout the days. 

obviously, at this point you already had a certain level of intimacy, so he didn't see a problem in sending you some kind of spicy photos, for example, after the shower. oh, these were your favorites. you loved his toned muscles glistening with water, the fluffy towel wrapping around his waist, the marked v line. and of course, you loved seeing the outline of his cock in the towel. 

a was a tuesday night. particularly rainy, the wind was not violent and the news reported that it could last until the next day, but that doesn't bother you. you were reading a book peacefully on your bed when you felt your cell phone vibrate under your pillow.

you fumbled around the bed looking for your cell phone, reaching under your pillow to grab the phone, turning on the screen and smiling when you saw that he had sent you a message.

“hi baby, just got back home.’’ he texted you.

you smiled at the nickname. it was already natural for him to call you that, but you still found yourself giggling about it whenever he called you like that.

“did something happen?” you texted him back. he should be working now, since he had said he had a shift at the pub that night.

“the power went out at the pub because of the rain,” he explained in another message after a while. “guess i'll have to go back tomorrow to make up the hours. yay.” 

you chuckled softly. it wasn't like he didn't like his job, he just found it tiring sometimes.

“what are you going to do now?” you asked him. 

“well, for starters, i’m gonna take a shower and eat something.” he answered, sending another message afterwards. “but first of all take off these clothes. i'm so fucking wet.” 

“hey, that's my line.” you joked, imagining he must have laughed when he read it. and he did.

“cheeky. later i'll make you wetter than i am now, what do you think?” he suggested. you bit your lip.

“i’ll wait for it.’’ you texted back, swaying your legs up and down like a teenager.

“good. i’ll call you in 30 minutes. wear something nice for me, love ;)” 

you thought you were dressed appropriately for him. a cotton cropped shirt and a flared mini skirt. but you thought there's something missing. it wasn't "nice" enough for him.

you opened your closet and drawers, looking for some suggestion. you didn't even know exactly what you were looking for. 

your eyes landed on your underwear drawer, remembering that you had a pair of white knee socks somewhere. you didn't know if he would like them, but knowing him well enough, you could deduce that was worth a try.

you put on the socks, the soft fabric gliding over your legs like a massage, the hem resting right above your knees. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, flexing your leg and bending your knee to see how it looked. then you turned your back, looking over your shoulder to see how it looked from this angle. it wasn't bad. it showed off your legs nicely. he might like it, but if he doesn't, he'll be polite enough to ask you to take it off.

you made sure your door was locked, turning the knob twice as a precaution. once confirmed, you jumped on your bed, grabbing your phone. as if on time, a message from him popped up on your screen.

‘’ready?’’

‘’yep.’’ you texted, settling yourself in bed, lying partially between your pillows, your back resting on the headboard, your knee bent so you could rest your phone on it.

seconds later, a video call popped up on your screen, and you answered it without delay.

oh, as always, he was handsome. unlike you, he was standing, probably walking around his apartment, the position of the camera revealed that he was holding his phone a little too low. and of course, shirtless.

‘’hey love, i- fuck, no, no! wait a minute.’’ he said before you could say anything, leaving his phone in a corner, the camera focusing on the ceiling was all you could see now. you waited for him to come back, listening for some noises and trying to figure out what it was. seconds later, he came back. ‘’sorry, i had to put the neighbor's cat out. the bastard tried to steal my last slice of pizza.’’ 

you laughed at what he said. you expected anything but that. 

‘’how did he tried to steal your pizza?’’ you asked as he was making his way to the bedroom, turning off the lights on the way.

‘’he came in through my kitchen window. can't turn my back for a bloody second.’’ he rolled his eyes, entering his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘’you look lovely, baby. new necklace?’’ he pointed out. you looked at your chest, the silver necklace resting on your collarbone. you didn't even think he would notice that. but he was very observant, especially when it came to you.

‘’yeah, i bought it yesterday when i went out to shopping with my mom.’’ you answered and he hummed, his mouth was too busy eating a piece of pizza. ‘’although this isn't the necklace i was looking for.’’

‘’which one did you want?’’ he asked, his voice a little muffled as he was finishing the slice of pizza.

‘’your hand.’’ you answered him, causing him to cough almost uncontrollably because he almost choked on the piece of pizza. you would have laughed if you weren't so worried about him. “are you okay? i'm sorry, i-”

‘’no, no, i'm fine. wasn't expecting it, you can't do this to me, jesus.” he laughed after catching his breath, his face was a little red because of it. “you can't have my hand as your necklace if you choke me to death on a piece of pizza.”

“sorry, i didn't know you'd be so surprised.” you chuckled softly, watching him wipe his mouth with a napkin, throwing the paper in the trash.

“you just caught me by surprise, hon. you're not usually this forward.” he said. he was right, sometimes you were a little shy, even though you've done things that say otherwise. “by the way, are you wearing something nice like i asked you to?”

you nodded, adjusting your posture, getting into an angle so he could see your body when you stretched out your arm holding your phone in your hand, giving him a good view. he let out a low whistle, enjoying the view.

“no way, knee socks?” he asked with raised eyebrows as his eyes landed on your legs, making himself comfortable in his bed. it wasn't in a disapproving tone, by the way.

“yeah, did you like it?” you asked a little insecurely.

“hell, a lot.” he licked his lips, taking a look at you. “i have an idea, do you want to know what it is?”

you nodded eagerly. by the tone he spoke, he was certainly going to suggest something for you to do.

“take off your clothes. i want you in nothing but those knee socks. can you do that for me, love?”

the idea made your hair stand on end. you knew that eventually you would undress for him, but you didn't know that you would be so nervous about the idea and that it would be so exciting to be naked for him, wearing only a pair of white knee socks.

“you can take your time, baby. don't worry, i've got all the time in the world for you.” he reassured you, making you even more comfortable with the idea.

“shirt?” you suggested and he hummed in agreement.

“are you wearing a bra?” he asked and you shook your head. “good. i miss those nice tits of yours.”

you giggled, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the middle of the bed, positioning your phone so that it rests on it.

“is the angle okay?” you asked him, sitting with your legs spread on the bed. he could even get a small glimpse of your panties.

“amazing, baby. keep going.” he said. he didn't really care about the angle as long as he could see you and your body on full display for him on his phone screen.

you pulled your crop top up, pulling it over your head. the mere sight of your breasts on the screen made him groan, biting his lip as he palmed himself over his sweatpants, even though you couldn't see it for now.

‘’so beautiful. one day i'm going to suck those tits, mark my words.’’

you smiled at the idea. alex seemed like the kind of hungry man who could devour you if he could. and he really was. he wanted to mark you, to sink his fingers and teeth into your flesh, so that he and everyone else could see that he was the one who did this to you. he wanted to make sure everyday that you were his, that only he could see you like that and make you feel that way. 

you touched your boobs, adding a little more anticipation to the moment, your nipples hardening with the mere stimulation on them, your eyes rarely looking at him on the screen, focused on losing your shyness as you touched your left breast while your right hand went down your belly.

“the skirt too?” you asked him, tracing your index finger along the waistband of your skirt.

“everything.” alex answered, a minimally authoritative tone was noticeable in his voice, but you didn't think it was bad. it turned you on even more.

you shifted in bed, your fingers hooked on the sides of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, letting the material slide down your legs, his eyes watching every move without blinking, as if he would never see something like that again in his life. his hand tightened his grip on his cock, feeling that sooner or later he would have to take it out, such was the pressure inside his boxers.

“you have beautiful legs, love.” he praised you as he drank the sight of your semi naked body, the only thing that kept him from seeing you naked were your panties and knee socks.

“thank you.” you smiled, you liked it when he complimented you, even when it was something simple. you felt desired, in a way.

“you're nervous, aren't you?” he asked. he had never seen you in person and never lived with you physically, but he knew you well enough to know that.

“god, yes. i'm sorry, i've never done that.” you mumbled, closing your legs a bit so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

“that's okay, baby, you're doing so good. take your time.” he said in a reassuring tone, not wanting you to feel insecure or embarrassed around him. “just remember that sooner or later i'm going to see this pretty pussy of yours. and believe me, i'm going to gorge myself on it.”

you chuckled awkwardly, still feeling a bit insecure. he pouted slightly.

“hey, look at me.” he asked you, he couldn't just hold your face and make you look at him, so he expected you to look back at the screen, which is what you did. “don't worry about it. we're just going to have some fun, i want you to enjoy yourself with me, hm?” he spoke calmly and patiently, knowing he needed to be careful with his words.

you smiled, nodding in response to him. he knew how to reassure you, how to make you feel safe. you were in this together, after all.

you tried opening your legs again, your hand running over the fabric of your underwear, testing the waters as he swallowed hard at your actions. you touched your sensitive bud, feeling it contract inside your panties with the touch of your fingertip.

‘’mhm, that’s it. doing so good, love.” he said, his voice almost in a whisper as he stuck his hand inside his sweatpants, squeezing his cock more directly over his boxers, his thumb ghosted over his sensitive tip, leaking precum and staining the fabric of his underwear. 

he felt uncomfortable with this, shifting in bed to get his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his cock, the angle he was lying at made the tip touch his stomach.

“you're making me hard as fuck.” he moaned in a somewhat anxious way.

“yeah? show me.” you instigated him.

fuck, you didn't even need to ask twice. he angled his phone so you could see his cock, his free hand grabbing it firmly by the base, massaging it deftly, working his way up until he reached the head, pulling back the foreskin so you could see his glistening tip practically taking over your screen.

you leaned against the headboard, supporting your body weight there while your hands were free. one hand hooked your panties, finally pulling to the side, showing him your most intimate area.

“beautiful. just like i imagined.” he bit his lip, watching your fingers firmly grip the fabric of your panties like a real hook while the fingers of your other hand roamed the skin of your crotch, teasing both you and him. “god, i can already imagine myself with my face buried in this pussy all day.”

you giggled, you loved how vocal he was. your index and middle finger wandered through your folds in an inverted 'v' position, sliding up and down your labia, feeling your digits getting wet.

“'wet?”

“so fucking wet.” you answered and he groaned. you also knew how to tease him with words, his dirty thoughts getting the best of him as he saw you touching yourself like this.

“yeah? think i can shove my cock inside you without needing lube?” he asked you, starting to pump his cock faster.

“oh, you have no idea.” you said in a sly tone, moving your hands away from there only to pull the panties down your legs, discarding them on the bed among the sheets. and you were just the way he asked, completely naked, except for the knee socks. oh, that made his cock throb.

“god, you're so fucking hot.” he hissed, pumping faster, his fist closed so tightly that his tip was getting redder and the veins were getting more visible. “touch yourself for me, love. please.”

you brought your index and middle fingers to your mouth, thinking about it. please. he never asked you “please”, not that you remember. he always asked, in a polite but authoritative tone, sounding like a gentle order. but never added the word please. 

it sounded like he's begging you. and you liked it.

“please?” you repeated the word, wetting your fingers, bringing them down to your sensitive bud that was aching to be touched.

“fucking please…” he said in a desperate growl, his eyes fixed on your body as you tesed him furter, circling your fingers on your clit, the contact making you hiss. “feels good?”

“mhmm, so good…” you hummed, circling your fingers counterclockwise, the way you always did when you pleased yourself alone in that bed in your room. “i wish you were touching me right now.”

“don't say that to me or i might come out in the rain and climb in through your bedroom window just to fuck you.” he panted, making you imagine the scene, a small whimper leaving your lips.

“yeah? would you fuck me good?” you asked, moving your fingers down, teasing your wet and slick entrance, your fingertips sliding in with ease.

“so good, baby. would you like it hard and deep?" he asked you, feeling the pleasure starting to get the best of him, he tried to hold on as much as he could.

you nodded eagerly, sliding two fingers inside your tight heat. he watched as you buried your own fingers inside your cunt until reached your knuckles, withdrawing them just to repeat the motion. nothing had ever turned him on as much as this. he felt like a teenager watching porn for the first time, but it was a thousand times better. it was real, and it was for him. only for him.

“so be it. gonna fuck you good, baby. the way you deserve it.” 

his words entered your mind like a virus, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers went back and forth, coating them with your arousal. you couldn't help but vividly imagine him fucking you hard, his hips snapping against yours, his cock filling you to the brim as he squeezed your neck, calling you his little slut who takes his cock so fucking well.

“oh my god, please…” you whimpered breathlessly, your legs starting to tremble involuntarily, your head tilting to the side.

“are you going to come for me, love? you're so close, i can see it.” he hummed, watching you nodding, his fist was hurting, but he didn't want to stop, not when he was so close too.

“yes, yes, oh alex…” you moaned his name, making him grunt in response, his breath ragged and his body trembled, he could barely concentrate on holding the phone anymore, even though he doesn't want to miss a single second of you fingering yourself, chasing your climax.

“fuck, i can't hold back…” he almost whined, and you let out a satisfied smile, so close that you're already seeing stars.

“yes, fuck me, alex…” you moaned, and that was the last straw for him. he moaned loudly, his head falling back into the pillow as he came, making a mess of his own belly and chest, but he didn't stop, even though his senses were overwhelmed at this point.

as you watched him fucking his own fist through his orgasm and heard his whimpers, you followed him suit, cumming on your fingers, your free hand covered your mouth so you wouldn't moan loudly as the climax hit you, your trembling legs closed automatically around your hand as your fingers pumped and curled inside you to prolong your pleasure.

in the seconds that followed, all that could be heard besides the sound of the rain outside were the panting breaths as the bodies lay completely exhausted on the respective beds. it was so intense, you couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm that good, especially when you were touching yourself.

after a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“still there?” he asked. you gave him thumbs up and he chuckled. you needed a few more seconds to recover.

“yeah, yeah…” you mumbled, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out through your mouth. then, you lifted your head, looking at him. he was as broken as you were.

“it just gets better, princess. you're amazing, really.” he said. and he was sincere, you could see it. or at least he gave you enough confidence to make you think that.

“you're amazing too. you must be even better in person.” you answered him next. it was like you were having pillow talk after sex. the difference is you hadn't had sex. not yet.

“well, baby, i'll try to impress you. i have to win you over every day.” he chuckled, groaning as he saw his own mess, knowing he would have to clean himself up. “hate this part.” 

“i wish i could lick you clean.” you pouted and he pouted too, chuckling at your boldness.

“you always get feisty after having your orgasm, huh?” he questioned and you giggled, picking up your panties to put them back on carefully, your legs felt like jelly. 

“only with you.” you winked at him, licking your fingers as he sighed at the sight of you. he was quiet for a while, just looking at you, his mind working in different ways. “what?”

“i want to see you.” he answered after a few seconds of silence.

“you’re seeing me already.” you chuckled and he shook his head after letting out a weak laugh.

“no, i want to really see you. to meet you in person.” 

oh. now that was another level.

[yuck-pfaugh]

Camilla rootled around in the medical kit that Crown had brought in, and retrieved a big needle. She removed the webbing from around it, and Pyrrha said: "Sextus, don't think I haven't thought about this. If a blood sample was going to be enough, I would've said to do it first thing. Harrowhark Nonagesimus couldn't have rolled aside that damned rock unless it was fresh out of the vat." (NtN, p. 368)

I breezed past this the first four times because we all know Harrow opened the tomb and how; but now I feel like I have to ask: how does Pyrrha know about it? Only three people are explicitly aware, in the text, that Harrow unlocked the Tomb: the perpetrator herself; Gideon, to whom she confessed during the pool scene; and John, who heard all about her sin over tea and bikkies. None of them are explicitly aware of how the deed was done. Harrow herself, both times she told the story, believed that the key was her own bloodline, that there was some kind of built-in back door for the tombkeeper.

1. John didn't even believe that she'd got in, and if he managed to put the pieces together and revise his opinion in the interval between "Hi, Not Fucking Dead, I'm Dad" and Augustine plunging the Mithraeum into the River, he didn't say so out loud. He went one way in the water (pursued by his hands and fingers) and Pyrrha went another (with Harrow's body and Gideon's soul in tow), and the text gives us no reason to suppose they met in the middle for a private chat.

2. Gideon and Pyrrha had limited time together (and all of it on the page) before drowning (anyway a less permanent version thereof) — at which point Gideon's soul was no longer in the body that was with Pyrrha, and the next time they were in the same room Kiriona played dead till after Pyrrha had passed the above remark.

3. Harrow was occupied elsewhere during the final act on the Mithraeum and missed the juicy bits. She returned to herself only at the end of NtN, and I've seen it fairly theorised that she still doesn't know she's had the blood of God's only child under her nails.

Which seems to wipe out direct transmission from any of those three, to Pyrrha. If it was passed along by an intermediary — someone in Blood of Eden, for instance — who told them?

1. Not John.

2. Not Gideon. She was corpsified the whole time she was with BoE.

3. Harrow? At Canaan House, before the Erebos arrived, she could have told them she'd got into the Tomb — but not that she did it using Gideon's blood. As far as she knew it was because she was the Ninth House's specialest little necro. If BoE personnel who were involved in the failed Ninth House Operation told her about Gideon's likely parentage, and she in turn told them about her earlier tombdiving expedition as proof of concept... The knowledge of that conversation would've been compartmentalised along with everything else about Gideon. However, I checked the chapter where she first meets John, post-Canaan House but pre-lobotomy, and the only hint I can come up with is: "At least if she failed here, she would no longer have to be beholden to anybody." Which suggests she may have an ongoing Plot or Scheme associated with a location other than the Ninth House, and it's a thought that crosses her mind before she formally accepts John's somewhat disingenuous invitation to join his necrosaints. And yet, her shock at being told how many of her fellow House heirs were dead or missing, felt genuine.

Did Harrow already have gaps in her memory during that conversation? She was with Gideon's body at the end of the previous chapter — then she came round, as if from unconsciousness, on the Erebos. What happened in between?? Did the Harrow who had just lost Gideon Nav begin working with BoE at Canaan House, speedrunning the Eightfold Path right into the Betrayal of God faster than any Lyctor before her?? Was she an unknowing double agent during her hellish months on the Mithraeum??

Or... did Tamsyn just goof here, and forget who knew what? It seems unlike her. Any thoughts? Please? In case you couldn't tell from this post, IT'S DRIVING ME ROUND THE TWIST.

[potato-lord-but-not]

For your Oscar/John content, how did they start getting along?? I'm writing a fic, but have no idea how to make them begin to tolerate eachother 😔. I'm also just curious regardless (the sillies my beloved)

*OH MY GOD I WROTE ALL THIS OUT ANF FORGOT TO POST IT I JUST SAVED IT TO MY DRAFTS GUFGH anyway sorry

!!! I know a lot of people like to make John still really dislike Oscar, howeevvveerrr I like to think most of John’s jealousy and anger has been replaced with shame and remorse. Like he Knows now what he did was fucked up and that Oscar didn’t do anything wrong and Oscar has every right to hate him. And ofc Oscar found out about John prior to holy ghosts meeting back with jarthur (in an ourthur context), and he claimed to be over it, but as soon as John was actually there and especially once we got a body, Oscar had a hard time actually trusting him.

So the rides have turned a bit, Oscar’s the one with a bit of malice and John’s trying so hard to show he’s changed and that he’s sorry. They argue, not like Arthur and John, but John cant help but say something that cuts a bit too deep whenever Oscar keeps pushing his buttons. It’s rough for a while

And all that to say,,, idk when they actually start getting along. I have this idea where Noel and Arthur need to leave for a week or two, leaving John and Oscar alone. this like forces them to cooperate more, and John gets to actually show Oscar the person he’s become. Oscar lets his guard down, and he’s finally ready to forgive.

this comic I did actually takes place during that window, they’re very gentle with eachother, because they both realized that’s what the other needs.

Sorry if that doesn’t reaaalllyyy answer your question I don’t think about that too hard with those two because <3 comfort crack ship that doesn’t make sense <333 beloved <33

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 3

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Warnings: a tiny bit suggestive content if you squint

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Sunday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 3: Happy Birthday Captain!

Chapter summary: It was the first time in 3 weeks that Law decided to surface the Polar Tang to dock at an island before heading into the New World. But as soon as he hops off the submarine, you launch your biggest and most exciting plan yet: hosting a birthday party for your dear captain Law! But for your plan to work, you need to avoid and distract him before the party!

Notes: I created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it! I flew back home today and wrote this on the plane lol. Also, this is more of a fluffy chapter hope you guys enjoy it!

PS. I also made changes to the previous chapters, now saying Law was 25 instead of 26 so that it can fit in the story lol

wc: 5.3k

Penguin and Shachi were sitting in the boiler room. They just finished patching up the damage they made from a week ago when you and the two men were playing ice water poker. It was insanely hot in the boiler room since it was below the submarine, so Penguin and Shachi had their boiler suits unzipped and tied to their waist by the sleeves. 

Shachi fell to the floor and slumped on the nearby wall. "Man, I am so tired. I'm also bored, and I hope the captain decides to surface soon to dock at an island," he complained.

Penguin looked down at him and nodded his head in agreement. "It's been 4 weeks since we surfaced. It's starting to heat up like crazy in the Tang and if we don't surface soon we'll be boiled alive here." he sighed. 

Before Shachi was going to continue the conversation, the two men heard stomping that was coming near them. Then suddenly, the door of the boiler room burst open. It was Bepo.

"Penguin! Shachi! Get up!" the Mink said with urgency.

Shachi scrambled to get up while Penguin looked at Bepo in confusion. "Why did you lug your big ass into the boiler room like that? What happened?" Penguin inquired.

The bear shamefully put his head down and muttered an apology.

Shachi pinched Penguin's butt. The poor man yelped in surprise at the unusual action of his best friend. "You shithead! What was that for?"

Shachi grunted and ignored him. "Bepo, is something the matter?" he asked.

Bepo's head suddenly perked up. "We're going to surface in an hour! And we're docking at a nearby island!"

Penguin and Shachi started jumping in glee. "Finally! I missed going to bars and hitting up ladies!" they both chanted.

However, their cheers were suddenly interrupted. "You will not be doing that," you called out behind Bepo. You suddenly stepped out and presented yourself to your crew-mates who had no idea about your presence. 

The three of them screamed in shock. Bepo screamed the loudest.

"(Y/N)-SAN!!! DON'T FRIGHTEN ME LIKE THAT!" the bear screamed.

You let out a hearty laugh and waved your hand. "Sorry sorry." you apologized. You felt a glare being sent your way. You turned your head to see that Shachi and Penguin were staring holes into you, clearly agitated that you scared them. You rolled your eyes and huffed.

"Anyways, you will not be going to bars, nor are you hitting up the ladies when we surface." you declared.

Shachi huffed in annoyance and Penguin made a sour face. "And why would we not do that? You're not our captain so don't tell us what to do!" Penguin angrily retorted.

You glared back at them. "Did you forget that the captain's birthday was tomorrow?" 

The two men stood still. "Aw shit we almost forgot! The captain is turning 26!" Penguin said in realization. 

"We're terrible friends, I've known him since he was 14 and I forgot his birthday?" Shachi sighed.

Your eyes suddenly gleamed with mischievousness. Bepo shivered at the sight. He knew your look; it meant you were up to no good. 

"Exactly, so you better help me with this huge party I'm planning to throw for our dear captain." you cheekily replied. 

Bepo looked at the two men in front of him, and they both returned eye contact. It seemed like they were silently coordinating their answers. Then Bepo suddenly turned around and glanced down to face you. 

"Okay (Y/n)-san, we're in. What do you need us to do?" Bepo asked.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Heart Pirates were gathered at the dock of the Polar Tang. They were rapidly approaching the land of destination, which was apparently, according to Bepo who was the navigator of the crew, a tropical island. Law was displeased since he hailed from the North Blue where it was constantly cold and snowing, but for the sake of restocking supplies, he decided that it was best for the crew to settle for the night before heading into the New World. 

Law stood near the bow of the submarine dock. He was donning his signature spotted hat that was shaped like a cap. He discarded his usual floor-long black coat and opted for a white wifebeater with spotted blue jeans, along with his usual black shoes. He had his arms folded while he was instructing the crew on what needed to be done. 

"Alright everyone, we are docking here and staying for the night. It's been 3 weeks since we last surfaced and we need to restock on supplies. Ikkaku and Bepo, restock on medical supplies because SOMEBODY," Law quickly glared at you before continuing, "ran our month's worth of medical gauzes dry."

The crew broke out in a small fit of laughter. You rolled your eyes as you muttered; "Whatever."

"Shachi, assist (Y/N)-ya in gathering food and ingredients. And please, try not to buy flour or bread," he asked. 

Shachi, who was standing next to you, elbowed you mischievously. You winced in fake pain and attempted to snatch his orca-shaped hat from his head, but he stuck out his hand to shove your face away. 

Law witnessed the quarrel and shook his head. He sighed and continued to speak to the crew. "Hakugan and Penguin, I need you two to take the rest of the crew minus Jean Bart into the nearby city and search for other supplies. No pillaging and attacking civilians unless there are Marines. Jean Bart, you're coming with me, we have some other business to attend to."

"What other business do you have?" Hakugan pipped up.

"I will be searching if there's a log pose I can take or a Poneglyph I can find." the captain answered.

You were puzzled. This was just some random small island, so there was no way the captain could find a Poneglyph nearby and he should know that. But you brushed it aside because he probably knew something that you didn't know. 

Law turned away and waved his hand. "You are all dismissed," he announced. 

"Yes, captain!" you and the rest of the crew said. The whole crew dispersed, continuing their activities. You started walking inside the Polar Tang with Ikkaku.

"Now Ikkaku, did you make sure the captain doesn't know about this plan?" you whispered to her.

Your crewmate and close friend gave you a thumbs up. "No one has said a single word about it to the captain!" she confirmed.

Bepo caught up to your pace and lowered his head to talk to you. "(Y/n)-san, the rest of the crew is gathered in the dining hall," he said.

You turned to your right and gave the polar bear a thumbs up. The three of you made your way into the dining hall where the rest of the crew was standing. They were all excitedly talking about what they were planning to do once they set foot on the island. You walked to the centre and the chatter started to die down as you started to speak.

"Everyone! As you know, tomorrow is the captain's birthday," you announced.

The crew started to cheer loudly, but you quickly hushed them. "Quiet you guys! This is going to be a surprise party! Now, we're going to check out the local pub and see if we can hold a celebration there. What I need everyone to do is help me the captain. Now I know he said he was going somewhere else but for some reason, I have a gut feeling that he's not telling the truth." you preached.

The crew grunted and nodded in response. You continued. "Now the main objective is to keep the captain away from us as we run our errands! I'll give everyone a heads-up of which tavern we're going to be meeting at. Also, don't forget to buy a gift for our dear captain! We want to make sure he has an awesome day for his birthday." You said.

Hakugan raised his hand. "But (Y/n), why are we celebrating tonight instead of tomorrow on his actual birthday?" he inquired.

"Think about it, you know the captain hates celebrations like this right? Usually, if we hold his birthday in the Polar Tang, he will go to his room and not come out. However, if we hold his birthday party outside the Polar Tang, he has no choice but to attend the party!" you explained.

Ikkaku piqued up as well. "But he can also just 'ROOM' himself back to the ship, no?" she argued.

The crew started muttering amongst themselves. "That's true," you thought. "How are we going to make the captain stay if he's just going to teleport back?"

Bepo slowly raised his paw and spoke up. "What if we used sea prism cuffs on the captain?" he asked.

The room suddenly fell silent. Shuffles can be heard as the entire crew turns around to face Bepo. The poor mink would've turned red from embarrassment if he had any skin. He muttered out a soft sorry and lowered his head.

However, you thought it wasn't a bad idea, and Ikkaku seemed to agree. "Wait! Bepo is right," she called out, breaking the silence. "Let's find one and cuff our captain so he doesn't escape."

The crew broke out into conversation again and seemed like the people were divided regarding the proposed solution. 

"That seems like a reasonable idea."

"Cuffing our own captain?! That sounds crazy!"

"How else are we going to prevent him from using his powers?"

"He's going to throw us out of the crew!"

You stepped up on a nearby table. "Everyone quiet!" you shouted. The room fell silent once again, and everyone turned to face you in the centre of the dining room. "I know that it may seem like a ridiculous idea to cuff our beloved captain on his birthday. But I believe this to be for his own good! Let's celebrate our captain tonight!" you said with enthusiasm. 

Penguin suddenly stepped up on a chair, "Yeah, let's party tonight for the captain!" he cheered.

"For the captain!" everyone cheered.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was now 3 pm and it was sweltering hot on the island. You and the crew arrived two hours prior and proceeded to carry on with the errands that Law ordered. Shachi, who was assisting you, left to find Penguin. You just finished buying some mochi powder for the captain's cake. He may hate cakes, but you weren't going to pass up on an opportunity to bake him a cake for his special day so you opted for a mochi substitute, hoping he would like it. With a sack full of food ingredients over your shoulder, you proceeded to make your way back to the Polar Tang. However, a small shop to your right caught your eye. The sign on top of its door read "Books and Toys".

You hummed in curiosity. "They might have some copies of Sora here. I know the captain is looking for the first edition copy of volume one. If it's here it would be the perfect birthday gift!" you thought. You and Law were reading Sora, Warrior of the Sea together (as punishment). But you found yourself liking the time you spend with Law, and you swear he used it as an excuse to hang out with you (he would rather die than admit that). 

The bell on top of the door rang as you pushed it open. A teenage boy with tanned skin and blond hair greeted you on the counter. "Hello! How can I help you?" he asked. 

You quickly walked up to the counter. "I'm looking for a limited edition of Sora, Warrior of the Sea volume one. Do you have one in stock?" you inquired. 

The boy quickly looked around, making sure no one else was in the store. Then he leaned in to whisper; "I got one in stock. You really want it?"

Your eyes started to gleam in excitement and you nodded at the boy. "Yes, please! How much are you selling it for?"

He leaned back and crossed his arms with a smirk. He eyed you up and down. "For a pirate like you? Two thousand berries," he said.

"Shit," you thought "I forgot to take off this stupid boiler suit before I stepped foot out here."

"Well, since now you know I'm a pirate I can easily rob your store hm? Unless you want to lower that price for me, yeah?' you teased. Your left hand lightly hovered over your pistol, signalling to the boy that you were not bluffing. But you were, the captain would be very mad if he found out you robbed a toy and book store out of all places. 

The teenager started back up. "H-hey now, I was just kidding! I'll sell it to you for 500 berries! How does that sound? Just please don't kill me!" he stuttered in fear.

You put your hands on your hips and pretended to think. "Hmmm, alright kid. It's a deal! And make sure it has one of those plastic sleeves, I want it in mint condition!" you said.

The poor boy whimpered as he bowed and rushed to the back to fulfill your request. In two minutes he came back out with the book, wrapped in a box.

"H-here you go, ma'am! It-it was nice doing business with you!" he fearfully said while handing the box to you.

You cheekily grinned at the boy and handed him 500 berries in a bag. "Thank you! Have a good day!" You proceeded to walk out of the store with the sack of food and the box in your hand.

Satisfied, you broke out in a grin and made your way back to the Polar Tang. As you were walking, Bepo suddenly rushed up in front of you.

"(Y/n)-san! (Y/n)-san over here!" He called out to you. The bear halted to a stop to catch his breath.

"What's the hurry Bepo?" you asked as the mink in front of you was catching his breath.

"Captain is back!" he exclaimed. "He's coming into the town and we need to distract him!"

Sweat started to form on your forehead. "Okay, this is what we do! I have to head to the Tang to make the captain's birthday cake! Find Penguin and Shachi and lure him into this store called 'Books and Toys.' Try to keep him there for at least an hour."

Bepo rapidly whipped his big head around to make sure that no one was listening. Then he lowered his head to your level. "But (Y/n)-san, he's looking for you! I overheard him say to Jean Bart that he was going to discuss something with you urgently!" he whispered. 

You groaned in frustration. "That can wait! Distract him as long as you can! We cannot let this surprise be ruined!" you hissed.

The bear looked up and saw that Jean Bart was entering the town. That meant that Law was there too. "(Y/n)-san! You need to leave now! Captain is already here!" he exclaimed.

You quickly gathered the stuff that you were holding and wasted no time. You ran into the alleyway on your right and swerved around as fast as you could to head back to the submarine. 

A few minutes later, Jean Bart and Law saw Bepo in the nearby distance and walked up to him. 

"Bepo-ya, where is (Y/n)-ya? I need to talk to her," he questioned the mink.

The bear started to fidget. "Captain! Good to see that you're back! I haven't seen her in a while." he said nervously.

The doctor squinted in suspicion. "Alright, I will head back to the Polar Tang then." he declared.

"NO! I mean no captain! The Tang is off-limits for now! The- uh- shipwrights are fixing something in there- yeah! They're fixing the boiler room because Shachi and Penguin couldn't fix it entirely!" Bepo lied. He attempted to put his paw out as a way to prevent Law from passing by him.

"Bepo-ya, you should not block your captain." the tattooed doctor said darkly.

The poor bear started to shake in nervousness. "I'm sorry I can't-"

"CAPTAIN!" Penguin suddenly called out behind Jean Bart and Law. "Captain wait for us!"

"Yeah, captain! We have something to show you" Shachi hollered. 

The two crew-mates ran in between Law and Bepo. The mink's face relaxed in relief. The captain looked at the two men and started pestering them with the same questions. "Do you know where (Y/n)-ya is?" he asked. 

The orange-haired man shrugged. "I have no clue, I haven't seen her all day. But we found a comic book store!" Shachi proclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah!" Penguin agreed. "Let's head there right now!"

Law raised his eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, it doesn't seem a bad idea to visit there after I talk with (Y/n)-ya," he said.

Penguin shook his head. "You better visit now captain. The stores close by 6 pm and after that, only bars and pubs are open," he suggested. 

"I agree with Shachi and Penguin captain. You work so hard for the crew that it won't hurt to visit a comic book store here." Jean Bart added on. 

Law sighed. He had a feeling that you were avoiding him, and it seemed like the crew was helping you avoid him. You were probably up to no good again and he was honestly tired of it.

"Alright fine, let's visit this comic store." he finally agreed. 

Jean Bart, Penguin and Shachi started grinning and quickly ushered their captain to the comic book store. While Law had a neutral face, he couldn't help but wonder what you were up to.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was now 6 pm and you finished the mochi cake. You carefully placed the cake inside of the box and closed it. Sighing deeply, you wiped your sweat off your brow with your forearm. Shachi told you that the crew found a local bar where they could celebrate. You knew that by now most of the crew was there finishing preparations. 

Gathering the cake and gift for Law, you set out to head back to the town. You opened up the Polar Tang’s exit only to find your captain standing right in front of you. You yelped in surprise and quickly hid the two items behind your back. 

“Captain! What a surprise! What are you doing here!” you said, trying not to sound suspicious. 

Law warily looked down at you. “What am I doing here? This is my submarine if I remember correctly,”  he said. 

You let out a nervous laugh. “Of course of course! But what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Shachi and Penguin?” you nervously asked. 

The doctor raised his eyebrow. “I have been looking for you since this afternoon. Also, how did you know I was with those two?” he inquired. He stepped towards you and you took a step back. 

You started to sweat bullets out of nervousness. Looking to the side and pouting your lips, you let out a loose-lipped lie, “Oh you know, you always hang out with them so I guessed that you were with them.”

“Is that so? Well (Y/n)-ya, it’s really obvious that you’re lying, you have a terrible poker face,” he said smirking. 

“Shit, he got me,” you thought. 

“Why have you been avoiding me all day, (Y/n)-ya? What are you hiding this time,” he asked. He lowered his face near yours and looked into your eyes. You started turning red from the contact and started fidgeting with the items in your hand. 

“I wasn’t avoiding you… it was just we were both busy that’s all!” you nervously explained. You refused to meet with Law's eyes in an attempt to hide the secret if there was any left. 

The tattooed doctor peaked over your left shoulder. “What are you holding there on your back?” he curiously inquired. 

You attempted to step away from your captain but he halted you by grabbing your right arm. Trying to break free from his grasp, Law only tightened his grip on you. He attempted to get a full view of what you were holding behind your back, but you stepped to your right to prevent him from doing so. 

“Captain, I’m afraid that I cannot let you see what I’m holding,” you affirmed. 

“Nonsense, as your captain I command you to show me.” Law shot back at you. 

“That’s an abuse of power.” you retorted. 

“We’re pirates (Y/n)-ya. Normal laws don’t apply in pirate life. You’re lucky you have me as your captain.” he argued. 

The struggle to be free from his grasp continued. Then you suddenly remembered that you managed to get ahold of some sea prism cuffs thanks to Ikkaku. They were just sitting in your left back pocket. 

You patted your left back pocket and attempted to fish out the cuffs. You successfully pulled it out with your right hand, all while you were holding the gift in the same hand. 

The doctor started to get agitated. With his right hand occupied with holding your forearm, he attempted to use his left hand to snag whatever you were holding with your right hand. However, instead of grabbing the item, his hand was automatically shackled and he felt his energy drain rapidly. 

“What- What did you just put on my wrist!?” he exclaimed in surprise.

You grinned as you pulled up his hand that was now bound to the cuff you were holding onto. Law’s face colour drained as he saw that he was cuffed with sea prism stone. 

“(Y/n)-ya! What’s the meaning of this?!” he angrily yelled at you. 

You giggled. “Sorry captain, you are my hostage tonight,” you teased. 

The two of you suddenly went silent, processing what you just said. The captain turned completely red for the first time, realizing what it meant. You also turned red once you realized the suggestive nature of what you just said. 

“N-not like that! I mean like not that I wouldn’t mind that but this is for a surprise! From the crew! Yes, the crew and I have a surprise for you!” you tried to explain. 

The captain’s eyes narrowed at you. “Not that you wouldn’t mind?” he repeated. 

Your eyes widened and your face turned even more red. Then you proceeded to stomp your feet in frustration. 

“Argh! Never-mind! You are coming with me right now and you have no choice because your powers are neutralized.” you spat. 

“Now wait a minute, where are you taking me?” Law questioned as you pulled him out of the Polar Tang and off the submarine. You ignored his question and continued to direct him into the town. 

Five minutes later, the two of you arrived at the bar. Glancing back at the captain, you saw that he warily looked at the sign above the door. 

“You dragged me into a bar (Y/n)-ya? You could’ve done this without the sea prism cuffs.” he sighed. 

“No, I don’t think so. You would try to escape once you find out why,” you muttered. 

You pushed the door open and went inside with Law. The entire room suddenly burst out in a cheer. Law’s gaze softened to find out that the crew and you threw a surprise for him. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAPTAIN LAW!” The crew cheered. 

You excitedly let go of the cuff and placed the items on the nearby table. You opened up the box and took out the black and white mochi cake you created. It was shaped like Law’s fluffy cap, and the words on the bottom read the number ‘26’ with a candle on top of each number. Holding the cake, you walked up to the captain and presented it to him. He glanced down at you and although his face was still neutral, his eyes were expressing gratitude and another emotion that you couldn’t pinpoint. 

“Happy 26th birthday Captain Law. Thank you for being our captain, and for accepting me into the crew” you said, beaming up a smile. 

Penguin and Shachi suddenly popped up beside their captain and wrapped their arm around his shoulders. “Let’s celebrate!” Penguin shouted with glee.

“Let’s drink and make a toast to our awesome captain!” Shachi agreed. 

The whole room burst out in laughter and cheers and Law, seeing how much effort he was put into celebrating him, couldn’t help but smile. 

—————————————————————------------------------------------------------------------

The party went on late in the evening. Everyone was starting to pass out either because they drank too much or from partying too much. Penguin and Hakugan were trying to out-drink each other, while Bepo tended to a sleeping and drunk Ikkaku. On the other side of the room, Shachi was trying to hit up the hostess of the bar, while Jean Bart was talking with the bar owner. 

The captain of the Heart Pirates looked around and decided he was going to head outside for fresh air. He discreetly walked out of the bar and leaned up against the wall of the establishment. Taking a deep breath, he looked up to the clear skies of the night and pondered on the day’s events. He heard the entrance to the bar open and turned to see you walking out with a package in your hand. 

“Hey captain, fancy seeing you out here.” you greeted him. 

Law nodded at you. Over the past two weeks, he has gotten closer to you, from reading Sora with him to your ridiculous behaviour on his submarine. He couldn’t help but grow fond of you. Of course, there was no way he would admit it since having biases amongst his crew would create rifts but alas he couldn’t help but notice how you reminded him so much of his father figure in the past. 

You placed yourself in front of your captain and sighed. “I just wanted to apologize to you captain. I didn’t mean to hide from you the whole day and to take you hostage.” you apologized, laughing at the same time. 

The man in front of you chuckled. “I can only accept this behaviour from you (Y/n)-ya. At this point, I think I’ve grown immune from it.”

The two of you broke out into a small laugh. It was the only thing that could be heard in the small town, along with the crickets that were chirping into the night. 

You fiddled with the package’s string nervously, then presented it to Law. “I wanted to give you this for your birthday captain. I wanted to give it to you tomorrow on your actual birthday, but I think now’s the best time to give it to you.” you shyly said. 

The tattooed doctor’s eyes slightly widened in surprise. “You already made a cake for me, which was by the way, really delicious. You have another gift for me?” he asked. 

You pouted and shoved the package into his tattooed hands. “Just accept it damn it. I went through some trouble trying to get this for you,” you muttered. 

Law chuckled and started to unwrap the gift. He found himself holding onto a limited edition first copy of Sora, Warrior of the Sea volume 1. He caressed the front cover and looked at you with surprise in his eyes. 

“Y-you…?” he couldn’t find the words to speak. 

“Yeah, I managed to find one this afternoon while I was running errands. I know you have been looking for this for a while, I hope you like it.” you quietly said. You were scratching your cheek in slight embarrassment. 

However when you finally met his eyes, your cheeks flushed into a light pink colour. He was genuinely smiling at you, and his eyes gleamed with appreciation. The bright moon shone on both of you as you and Law shared the touching moment. 

“Thank you (Y/n)-ya, this was very thoughtful of you,” he said with sincerity. “I also have something for you too.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “But it’s not my birthday,” you argued. 

The captain pushed himself off the wall and dug into his back right pocket, fishing out a small white item. You looked closer and saw it was a kitchen timer shaped like a white polar bear. 

You gasped and Law glanced up and held out the gift. “I found this a while ago while walking around the town. I lied to all of you when I said that I was looking for Poneglyphs because my true intention was to find you a gift,” he admitted. 

Taking your left hand with his tattooed ones,   he looked down and gently placed the kitchen timer on your hand. “I saw this… and it reminded me of you. I just wanted to thank you for being the cook on my ship and for tolerating my ridiculous food requests. And you even made a mochi cake for my birthday, knowing that I hated regular cake. Just know that the crew-“ he suddenly paused and looked up at your eyes. “I really appreciate you (Y/n)-ya.”

His cheeks tinged a light very faint pink once he finished with his confession. Your mouth gaped open as you stared at the gift in your hand. The pulse in your heart started to quickly pace as your eyes started to well up with tears. Overjoyed by your captain’s words, you suddenly threw yourself at him, wrapping him in a hug against his chest. 

Law was stunned. He didn’t expect you to react the way you did. He looked down at you and felt his ears starting to heat up. Hesitantly, he patted your back with his left hand. 

“Captain, this was the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me! Thank you so much!” you cried out. 

The doctor let out a nervous chuckle. “Not at all, I was just showing appreciation for a valued crew member such as yourself,” he said, trying to convince himself. What he really felt was the appreciation of you as a person. 

With your arms wrapped around the man, you glanced up gave him a big grin and pierced his heart with your next sentence:

“I really appreciate you, for everything that you are. Happy Birthday, Captain Law.” 

Trafalgar Law, one of the notorious Seven Warlords of the Sea, was completely taken aback. Both of his ears were suddenly cherry red and he struggled to speak. His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. 

Suddenly, he remembered his father figure‘s last words to him. “I love you Law!” 

The once isolated and lonely heart that beat in Law’s chest suddenly swelled. Dropping the last of his stoic facade, he bore his eyes into yours with softness and affection. He put his hand on top of your head and gently patted it. 

Corazón was the first to notice the pain in his heart, but you were the one who was slowly opening it up again. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was enough for him to know that he could start to trust you with his once-damaged heart. 

—————————————————————-----------------------

Bonus Scene:

“Shhh! They’re talking right now!” Hakugan hissed as he peeked through the window. You and Law were talking outside, and the entire crew was crammed into the tiny window of the bar. 

Ikkaku pushed Hakugan’s head down in an attempt to get a better view. She gasped when she saw that you suddenly hugged the captain. “Oh my god!” she squealed. 

Seeing that you were hugging the captain, the rest of the crew broke out into wolf whistles and small cheers. Penguin groaned as Shachi said something along the lines of “cough up that 100 berries.” 

It was a joyous night for the Heart Pirates. Pirates filled the bar with rowdy laughter. The night sky was clear and two growing hearts were sitting side by side with one another. It was one more celebration before they headed into the New World to further pursue their dreams and adventures.

[tsumtsumrry]

Favorite Holiday

this follows harry and a cutie (you) through some of your favorite holidays as you guys navigate a little fun friends with benefits/situationship stitch. i feel like this took forever so sorry for my near disappearance but i hope you enjoy!! <3

**disclaimer** i'm american so i have the dates (e.g. 11/24/23) month/day/year format. just to avoid any confusion!! <3

WC: 12k.

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, multiple instances of smut (fingering, phone sex, f receiving oral use of a vibrator, unprotected don't do it p in v), barely proofread cause i was too excited to finally post it, and a bit of angst.

March 20th, First day of Spring.

The holidays were always your favorite time of year. Every single one for that matter. Every holiday has its own special place in your heart. New Years, Easter, Christmas, etc. You loved them all the same. But you looked forward to them even more so this year. Because this year you had Harry. 

Harry, who was sitting across from you right now, laughing as he animatedly tells one of his horrible but adorable jokes. You have the stupidest grin on your face, with your eyes set on how his lips form the words coming out of his mouth. You can’t seem to look away. It doesn’t help that he keeps sneaking glances at you, those suggestive eyes that only you know burning into your face. 

He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet. 

The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips. 

He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you bite your lip, fighting hard to hide the smile that threatens to overtake your face. You know exactly who it is. 

You pull your phone out and smirk when you read it. 

H 11:34PM

Need you tonight, baby.

It’s been too long since he’s touched you, you missed it so much and he couldn’t go another day without you. You look around a little, trying to make sure no one is looking at your phone (only making yourself look more suspicious in the process) and then begin typing back. 

You 11:36PM

And what do you suppose I do about that?

You look up at him when you know he’s seen the message. You smirk at him and he gives you a look that says ‘you know damn well’ but he texts back anyways. 

H 11:37PM

Come to mine tonight. Let me fuck you.

As soon as you read the text your stomach erupts with butterflies, you always have an instant reaction to his words. You press your thighs together and try your best not to squirm. 

He doesn’t need to know that though, so you answer with a simple, 

You 11:40 PM

Ok.

You push your phone right back into your pocket and try your best to continue with the conversation that’s getting passed around the table. But thoughts of him keep creeping in. Thoughts of his voice in your ear, the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you, his hands gripping you roughly or gently, depending on how you feel, all you can think about is him. 

“It’s getting late, you guys. I’m exhausted. Loved seeing you all.” you finally say, not being able to take much more of wanting something when it’s literally right in front of you and not being able to just take it. 

“Me too. Got an early morning. See you.” Harry says after you, looking at you not-so-discreetly as he gets his stuff. 

When you’re both outside he instantly pulls you away from the windows and kisses you. It’s hard and passionate and needy and it’s almost like he―

“Missed you.” he says in between kisses, his hands going to grip your waist tightly, like he’s yearning for the skin to skin contact. 

“Yeah?” you whisper, tugging on his bottom lip which earns you a pained groan. 

“Fuck. Mhm. Missed you so much. You smell good.” 

You giggle at his admission about your scent and decide to spur him on even more. 

“Show me. Take me home, H.” 

Waking up next to Harry is something you simultaneously love and wish you never got to experience. Because when this little arrangement is over, you know you’ll miss it too much. 

When he wakes up, he doesn’t treat you like his fuck buddy, he treats you like some sort of girlfriend. And you haven’t let it detrimentally affect you yet, but you know it will. And the day it does is when you’ll know you need to end this. End it before someone, scratch that, you get hurt. 

“Mornin’, angel. Want some breakfast?” he says, his voice gravelly but also smooth like toffee and it sounds weird but you want to taste it. 

“Mhm. Whad’ya making?” you mumble, eyeing his lips. 

“Whatever you want. Kiss?” 

You smile and lean up to kiss him, taken by surprise when he deepens it and pulls you over his lap. You giggle into the kiss and he smiles with a short chuckle. 

“Want anything before I go make it?” he says, obviously trying to start something. 

“Harry…” 

“Just asking, sweetheart. You know I always want you.” he says with a kiss to your collarbone, “only you” he says softly as if it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Stop trying to sweet talk me. Go make breakfast.” You push yourself off him and he whines, but obliges, going to make that lovely french toast he knows you want.

You sit up to look through some emails when you hear it, his phone buzzing incessantly on his counter. 

You know it shouldn’t bother you, you’re just friends who happen to enjoy each other's sexual company. The idea of him having someone else that he whispers sweet nothing to in his ear just doesn't feel right to you. 

You pick up the phone, keeping it face down, (not wanting to see something you know you don’t want to) and walk to the kitchen where Harry is mixing some yummy smelling batter. 

“Think someone is trying to reach you.” you try to come off as cool and collected, and you almost convince yourself that you are, but you know you’re not. You curse your sensitivity and watch as he picks up the phone but puts it back down, face down, just as quickly. 

“Makin’ your favorite.” He rasps out, turning around to smirk at you. He frowns when your expression isn’t one of your usual excitement. 

“You okay, baby?” he inquires, setting the bowl of batter down on the counter and walking over to you. He takes your hands in his and playfully looks into your eyes with faux intensity, “tell me.” 

“I’m okay, yeah. Just tired.” It’s only now that you actually wonder how many times you’ve told that lie. 

“Worked you over good last night, hmm?” He smirks and you roll your eyes and smile despite yourself, “you sounded like you were having a good time.” he adds cheekily and before you can stop it a giggle breaks from your lips. 

“I was.” His ability to make you feel like everything is okay with just a cheeky smile and a couple of words breaks you and mends you at the same time. 

“Good girl.” he whispers against your lips, kissing you slowly and softly. 

“Back to the food!” he exclaims, breaking away from you to saunter back over to the counter-top. 

“Wanna be my sous chef?” 

April 1st, April fools.

You never understood the fixation with men’s hands until you started sleeping with Harry. 

“Fuck.” he drags out the vowel sound as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, stroking your g-spot in a way you can only describe as affectionately rough, “look at you princess, taking my fingers so fucking well.” 

“H..fuck I—” you’re cut off by your own loud moan, praying that no one can hear you two. Your friend group planned a little get together given the fact that it’s april fools and you guys have nothing better to do. You all decided to host it at Harry’s place and he lasted about ten minutes trying to be a good host before he dragged you into the bathroom with a phony excuse that you’re almost sure nobody believed. 

When you reach up to cover your mouth, he tuts softly and reaches up to tap three fingers against your hand, signaling he wants it off, “s’my fucking house we can be as loud as we want. You know how much I love your pretty sounds, why’re you trying to keep ‘em from me, huh? Being bad?” he says in that condescending tone that you simultaneously love and hate.

“N-no, please H. M’not being bad jus-just please.” 

“Love it when you beg. Soaking me like this and I’ve only given you two fuckin’ fingers–” 

“Gonna cum.” you interrupt him with your frantic moan, he’s always very adamant about you asking for permission. He needs to be in control like that. He needs to have that control over your body and your pleasure. He thrives on it. “Can I please, please cum?” 

“Fuck. You’re sqeezin’ me so fucking tight. Gonna make a mess all over my fingers, baby? Give it to me.” 

“Yes, yes yes” you feel that white hot pleasure building in what feels like every nerve in your body and your muscles start to jerk as you cope with all the pleasure overriding your system. You ramble out a couple praises mixed in with Harry’s name and your hand tangles in his hair which he groans at. You pray to every god that you can think of that nobody downstairs can hear the way he’s ruining you. 

“There you go, baby.” he doesn’t stop with his fingers, keeping a rhythm that only intensifies your release. When you choke on a moan that sounds more like a sob, he kisses your temple gently and soothes you with his voice, “I know, I know. Feels too good, doesn’t it?” 

You’re not sure if he expects a response, but even if he did you’re not in any state to give one. His fingers have turned your brain into a mushy mess.

“You’re okay darling. Always making me so proud.” He whispers as you come down, slowly pulsing his fingers inside you still to help you ride it out. 

“Jesus christ.” you sigh and he chuckles softly. 

“What was our excuse again?” he asks before leaning down to your lips to kiss you, his kiss full of the lust that’s swimming in his forest eyes. 

“Dunno, something about getting the movies that we were gonna watch,” you giggle softly against his lips and he smiles. 

You get some movies from his bedroom so that you don’t seem too suspicious and go back downstairs to your friends. The heat of embarrassment makes itself known every time someone asks you or Harry what took so long or what distracted you up there. 

“What could you guys possibly have been doing for eight whole minutes?” a friend of yours asks incredulously with a joking tone. 

“We couldn’t find the movie we wanted. Duh.” Harry shoots back with a quickness, smirking softly when he looks over to you. And he can read your body like a book. He knows you’re a little embarrassed at the idea of people finding out that you guys have been fooling around. 

You’re playing with the lobe of your ear as everyone takes in Harry’s response and laughs. Someone tells another joke that just amplifies the laughter but Harry’s only looking at you. Playing with the lobe of your ear is one of your many obvious tells with your anxiety. He makes  a mental note to check on you later. 

During the movie he plops himself right in between you and one of your friends, making both of you giggle. He swings his arm around your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear. The heat and tickle of his whisper sends a shiver down your spine and you know that the position you guys are in is less than discreet but you can’t really find it in yourself to care when he’s close like this. “You okay?” he asks in an earnest tone, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder for good measure. You nod softly and he smiles, softly tugging you closer. 

April 9th, Easter.

Easter was always a fun holiday, especially for your god children, you always loved to see the little kids run around in search of the little painted eggs. It reminded you of a time when you were in their position, blissful and young. You often refer to those as the ‘good old days’, but you can’t quite complain about how you ended up.

You’re talking to your sister’s baby boy when your phone rings, you pull it out to see a picture of Harry sleeping in bed and you smile, you remember when you took that picture. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, pretty. Where are you?” he sounds kind of breathless, like he’s been running a mile.

“At an Easter egg hunt. You?”

He chuckles darkly before speaking. “Dunno. Just missin’ you.” he says. You squint your eyes in suspicion.

“Missing me?” you say with the same suspicion laced in your voice. You’re starting to understand what he’s playing at. 

“Missing your sweet cunt. God, the way you taste. Need you on my tongue.” he spews out in what seems like one breath. 

“Jesus Christ, Harry. What has gotten into you?” you hiss, quickly getting up out of your seat and away from prying eyes and ears. 

“God, I can almost imagine it.” you hear his whisper and the neediness radiating off of his voice makes you press your thighs together. He’s touching himself. He’s fucking his hand to the thought of your taste and it’s driving you mad. “Want you to sit on my face next time, have your thighs shaking around my head, your pussy drenchin’ me―fuck!” he whimpers. 

“Harry…” you say, it’s supposed to be some type of warning but the arousal starting to pool in your underwear has your voice coming out shaky and unstable. 

“Love it when you say my name like that. Again. Say it again, please baby.” he begs, shamelessly. You can tell he’s close, the strain in his voice, the crackly over-the-phone sound of the wetness of his strokes.

“Harry I―”

“Fuck fuck fuck, I fuckin’ need you. Please, please.” he keeps whispering the word “please” under his breath, gasping out moans and whines, “gonna cum, gonna cum.” 

You decide there's no harm in spurring him on a bit, “come for me, Harry.” 

You hear a broken “fuck” before a series of his beautiful sounds fill your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught of stimulation, butterflies swarming around in your tummy. 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah fuck.” you whisper and you hear his laugh on the other end. 

“Sorry―Sorry I um― called you like that. I just, fuck, really needed you. Was so fuckin’ hard. Y’have no idea.” he breathes out. 

“I…um. I missed you too.” you don’t know why you cringed at yourself after saying it, but it’s almost like Harry can read your mind because he chuckles and speaks in a reassuring tone, “that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. When will I see you again missy?” 

“Dunno. I’ve been a little busy with work and…stuff. I’ll have my people call your people to see when I can fit you into my schedule.” you joke, biting your lip softly and toying with your necklace as you wait for his response. 

When you hear a soft laugh a smile is immediately brought to your face. That laugh could melt you. His voice is like velvet when he speaks, “I’ll have you soon. We both know you can’t stay away. You need me for my slutty waist and washboard abs as you usually say.” 

You try your best to hold in your laugh so as to not inflate his ego, but it slips out before you have permission and both of you are laughing before you feel a delicate tap on your leg. You’re met with your nephew when you turn around and look down to find the source of the touch. 

“Can we pway more bunnies?” your nephew says to you and you nod softly, “just give me one second honey.” He nods and walks back to the place you guys were sitting and you smile as you watch him. 

“I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you, alright?” 

“See you soon, petal.” 

May 31st, Memorial Day.

“That kiss the cook apron is really working for you, Harry I’ve got to say.” you giggle at your friend Jamal’s shout at Harry. 

It’s another one of your favorite holidays and you and your friends are all at the beach. The sun is beaming on your skin and warming you in the best way while the breeze balances it out, cooling you in the places needed. “Take it off! Take it off!” you join the chant, having trouble even speaking in between laughs. 

“You guys are fucking ridiculous” Harry chuckles. He smirks and reaches behind him to pretend to take the apron off, laughing when everybody’s cheers get louder. 

When the food is done and everyone is full, the girls lay on the sand while the guys are across from you guys making sandcastles like children. You look over at Harry and feel your stomach twist in a way that it’s been doing recently that you can’t stand. He just looks so good. You don’t know how else to explain it. Especially in this light, the warm sunset creating a golden glow against him. The soft amber tones kissed his skin and the sunshine he usually radiated with his personality seemed to radiate physically, as if he was being infused with the sun’s very essence.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up to go and talk to him. He looked up at you in the position he was in on his knees and smiled, his eyes squinted from the direct sunlight.

“Hey. Fancy going for a walk?” the way he says it seems like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to do so. The sun shifts and his expression softens as he awaits your response. 

You nod and put your hand out for him to take it, and he rolls his eyes playfully but takes your hand anyway. You try not to think about what the rest of the group might think as you walk away with him, hand in hand. It’s not lost on you that you guys look like a couple, but Harry has always been touchy with his friends, some might say too touchy, so you pray that they’ll just attribute it to that. 

He swings your hands as you guys walk, and constantly rakes his fingers through his damp hair with his free hand. You kind of wish he wouldn’t because you love the way his curls fall over his face. 

“I feel like we’ve both been so busy. I haven’t gotten to see you as much as I want to.” You stop walking, you guys are a bit of a good distance away from everyone else and he’s starting to get more affectionate with you. His hands trail up to your arm to cradle your neck and he rubs your jaw affectionately. He leans down to ghost his lips against your neck and whispers, “I’ve missed you.” 

There’s something so poetic about the way his voice carries with the wind and the distant sound of the waves crashing around you guys. You melt into his hands when his lips finally make actual contact with your skin and you have to fight hard to suppress the whimper that threatens to leave your mouth. 

“Tell me you’ll come home with me tonight. Please.” He suckles on your neck gently, causing the moan you were suppressing to finally force its way out. 

“I will. Anything you want.” you pant out, tangling your hands into his hair. You sigh when he pulls away from you but you can’t complain when you get the view of the sun reflecting in his eyes. It feels like you’re frozen in time as you look at him. The sun has set a bit more and the atmosphere is colored a fiery orange that bleeds more into a red. His eyes mimic the water in the way they glisten and his pink lips almost make you weak just looking at them. Especially considering the way those lips were just all over you. 

Harry’s staring at you in awe, the way the deep colored rays dance against your skin made it seem like a thousand stars fell from the sky just to adorn you. You’ve always been beautiful, but in this very moment, you’re transcendent. To him it’s like you constantly exceed any expectation for beauty he could possibly have. Everything about you is like a masterpiece to him. He wonders why it took him so long to grasp just how weak the sight of you makes him. He gives you one soft kiss and then pulls back too quickly. He takes your hand and starts walking with you back to the rest of the group. 

Looking at him now, you wonder why it took you so long to grasp just how deep you are in this. Having thoughts of freezing time and staying in this moment so you can look at him forever are dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that almost make it seem like you’re in love. 

Dangerous. 

October 31st, Halloween.

“Jesus, babe.” Harry brings his finger up and moves it in a circular motion, “do a spin for me.” 

You giggle and spin around, making sure to do it slowly so he can really take in the way this dress hugs your figure in all the right ways. He whistles and you can’t stop the laugh from leaving your lips. 

Ever since your realization at the beach, things have been so simple between you two. You thought it would complicate things, but everything has been perfect. So incredibly perfect. It’s almost like he knew that you were starting to feel something more, the way he’s been treating you these past couple months is so different. Different in a good way. The amount of attention and care that he’s devoted to you makes your stomach with more butterflies than you can handle. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you tell him, walking up closer to him, having to look up at him. Your confidence wanes the slightest bit at his intense eye contact when he looks down at you with an amused smirk on his face. 

“Yeah? I look good enough for you?” he quips, dangerously close to your lips as he speaks, “I was worried you know? S’hard to measure up to you.” 

Ever the flirt, he is. 

“You’re overdoing it now.” you deadpan and back away from him, making him throw his head back in a cackle. It was Harry’s idea to go to the Halloween party in matching costumes. You were a little shocked at first but you’d never turn down an opportunity to match with the most fashionable man you know. 

“Our ride is gonna be here in about….” he looks down at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “fifteen minutes. Whadya say we sneak a quickie in?” he smirks at you and chuckles when you roll your eyes.

“It’s this fucking outfit,” he practically growls, his hands palm at your ass, “driving me insane, baby.” 

“And whose idea was it?” you tilt your head as you speak, making a point to move his hands from your ass to your waist. “I’m not gonna be late because of you again, Harry. Keep your hands at appropriate places at all times.” you scold him. 

“Yes it was my idea,” he sighs. “A very good but painful idea that I take full credit fo—” a car beeping outside interrupts his sentence and his brow furrows while you smirk at him. 

Right…fifteen minutes.

Getting in the car and seeing all your friends dressed in all their Halloween outfits already has you excited for the rest of the night. Harry was very adamant about your seating arrangement when the car got too cramped, eagerly offering up his lap as a seat replacement for you. You of course took it, and you’ve spent the whole ride fighting your body’s natural reaction to his little teasing touches. 

You want to kill him by the time you finally arrive at the party. He knew exactly what he was doing in that car, he knows the effect his touches have on you and you know he’s doing this as “payback” for how you’re torturing him in your outfit. 

It’s not hard to make your rounds and do all the socializing that you’ve equipped yourself for before Harry is immediately stealing you away from people.

“Wanna dance with you.” is all he says, dragging you to the dancefloor. You look around as you guys settle, the vibe around is nothing short of raunchy. Looking at all of the other couples around you, you can tell that they all want to take each other home and tear each other’s clothes off. After cooling off with a couple drinks and conversations, you weren’t exactly in that mindset anymore, but you have a feeling that Harry is about to take you right back there. 

His hands smooth down your waist, boldly cupping your ass and he slowly grinds against him to the rhythm of the song, you feel his gentle breath before you hear his voice. “You’re killing me, petal. Been picturing tearing this dress off of you all. Fucking. Night.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and you let his hands lead you as you push your head further into his neck, “M’not doing anything though. What’s got you this worked up?” You pout at him condescendingly. He knows feigning innocence when he’s needy like this is your favorite thing to do. It makes you feel a sort of power that you usually don’t get with him to hear him say that you make him into a mess. 

“You fucking know, baby. You know what you’re doing to me.” he’s whining out his words at this point, and you thank god that the music is as loud as it is so everyone else can’t hear how this man is falling apart in your hands. 

“Can’t think of anything else. The only thought in my mind is watching you come on my cock. God it’d be so easy to just fuck you right here. Know you’ve already made a mess of yourself. It’d be so easy to give you what I know you need right now.” 

You’re panting at this point, delirious with pleasure. It should be illegal the way he can talk you into almost anything with that voice. You don’t care about anything or anyone else around you, all you can think about is how desperately you need him to quell that ache that’s building inside you.

“Fuck. Take me home. Take me home right now, H.” 

As soon as he hears you he’s moving. He doesn’t even bother to let your friends know where you’re going. He just drags you outside and starts tapping on his phone to get you guys an uber.

The ride to his house is tortuous. He sits you in his lap almost immediately and his hands find a home on your hips, making a point to drag you slowly back and forth across his thigh. 

Every roll against his thigh drives you further and further into oblivion and you don’t think you can wait any longer to get what you so desperately need. You suppose you’ll let him have his fun though, his little taste of “payback” for how bad he’s been aching this whole night. 

The second the driver stops, it’s like Harry couldn’t get you off of his lap fast enough (something you never thought you’d say) and he’s dragging you up to the house. He wanted to kiss you as soon as you got out of the car but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate doing that in front of the driver. No matter how turned on you are. 

As soon as you guys step into the house, he closes the door behind him and his lips are already on you. Your mind is instantly turned into mush with the way he claims your lips. It’s like he can’t even wait long enough to get you upstairs. He’s immediately getting down on his knees and kissing and sucking his way up your thighs, “so fucking beautiful and soft. You feel like a fucking dream. Dreamy girl.” 

He trails his hands slowly upwards and takes a hold of your thin lace panties. Although he pulls them down gently, you can see the impatience in his eyes and feel it in his grip. He’s beginning to lose his resolve and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your skirt is pushed up and resting on your hips before you can blink. The way you’ve been pressing your thighs together since you got in the house has been deemed useless when he forcefully pushes them apart, his hands gripping the flesh so hard you fear it might leave marks.  

“Wanna feel you come on my tongue. Missed it so much. Will you let me?” he sucks marks that only the two of you will be able to see in your inner thighs. You can barely find it in you to answer his question. Everything about the way he’s touching you, to his voice, to the smell of his cologne and your arousal mixed together is heightening all of your senses and making your brain short circuit. 

You nod hoping that would be enough, but you should’ve known better. “Words. You know better, baby.” he tsks, continuing his kisses along your sensitive skin. 

“Yes, yes. Please.” Is all you can manage to get out. The second the first yes leaves your lips, his mouth is exactly where you need it the most. He’s not wasting any time tonight, getting straight to the point of making you lose yourself on his tongue. Usually he drags it out, edges you or teases you with his tongue, but he’s aching so bad. He needs to be inside you before he loses his mind. 

His tongue swirls messily against your clit and you’re so sensitive that you tense with almost every stroke. He’s moaning against you in a way that you would find obnoxious if it wasn’t him, but because it is him, it just adds to your pleasure. He’s behaving as if he’s a man starved. As if he’s been a dessert and you’re that stream of water that he’s been yearning for. 

You tangle your hand into his hair and let your head tip back against the door. You can’t be bothered to worry about the volume of the moans you’re letting out and how they travel through the empty house. You’re too consumed in how good he’s making you feel. That’s the good thing about having a sexual partner like this. You’ve had so much time together and he’s made the most diligent effort to learn your body. He knows every signal, every tick, every indication. And he uses it all to his advantage. 

You sob lowly when he slides his fingers into your heat, immediately curling them up to hit that spot that makes you shake. You pull your head off of the door to look down at him, only to find his eyes already on you. His intense green eyes bore into yours and it’s almost as if they’re communicating with your eyes. He urges you to let go for him with that unspoken language that you’re now fluent in. 

He fucks you deep with his fingers while his tongue continues it’s very skillful ministrations. Every time he moans into your cunt the vibrations just push you further and further into bliss and you’re almost embarrassed with how close you are so quickly. The sounds you’re making are bordering on pornagraphic when you start clenching down hard on his fingers you know you’re a goner. 

He pulls away to egg you on with his voice, “there you go, baby. Getting so fucking tight for me.” you moan at his words and nod. As much as you love the way his tongue was working magic on you, the one thing that will always get you to fall over the edge is his voice. 

He’s evil, you decide. He’s evil for the way he toys with your body like he owns it. And at this point, he does own it. 

His tongue is back on your clit to offer you that final push off of the edge, he flicks his tongue and sucks with a pressure that you can only describe as mind numbing. Every movement he makes just makes the release that’s brewing even stronger. 

A complete mess of syllables leaves your bitten lips as the white hot pleasure consumes you. It feels like a tidal wave swallows you up in its strength and you see no way of coming up for air. You choke out a series of moans that Harry only groans at while he continues to softly lick at your clit and thrust his fingers inside you, like he intends to keep you under. 

The hands that were in his hair tug hard as the soft licks start to become a little too much for you to handle. A slightly higher pitched sound leaves him and he relents reluctantly, “can never get enough of your cunt, petal. Never.” He leaves wet kisses all over your thighs in between more praises that you barely register with all the pleasure swimming in your mind. 

One thing you can register though, is how bad you need him inside you, “take me upstairs, Harry.” 

He stands up almost immediately at that, and he smirks before leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You giggle at his antics and he only chuckles, kissing your cheek as he leads you two up the stairs.

November 23, Thanksgiving.  

Thanksgiving is by far your favorite holiday. The way you get to spend time with your family, the (amazing) food, just the atmosphere of being happy and thankful with people you love, you look forward to it every year. You’re chilling next to your sister on the couch at your parents house, laughing at one of your dad’s jokes. 

You guys have already eaten and you're completely full and sated as you enjoy the company of your family. 

The amount of times you’ve checked your phone should be considered embarrassing, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop. You invited Harry over for dinner. And it’s really no big deal, he’s been your friend for a while, long before the whole arrangement started. And he’s met your family so many times that they wouldn’t even bat an eye. His family lives in London and he’s in the U.S. for work so he’s come over for Thanksgiving plenty of times. 

You feel a nudge on your shoulder and you look over at your sister who has a soft knowing smirk on her face. 

Uh oh. You know that expression. 

You give her a deadpanned look, “what?” 

Her smile grows at the way you can read her so well and you urge her with your eyes to tell you what’s on her mind. 

“So…what’s going with you and Harry?” her eyes are squinted in that specific way that tells you that she knows exactly what’s going on with you and Harry, she just wants to hear you say it. “It’s just…you guys have been posting each other a lot, tagging each other in posts and all that. And the last time I saw you guys, you seemed super domestic.” 

You don’t doubt that. Even though you and Harry still place yourselves under the “friends with benefits” label, you guys have gotten way closer emotionally. You’re always together now. You sleep over at his house almost every night, sometimes without even sleeping together. You guys have been glued at the hip ever since Halloween. And it’s great, honestly. It feels great. 

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders and a sheepish look graces your face, “I think I sort of…like him”

  Your sister can barely register what you said before your head is snapping to the sound of the doorbell ringing. You look back at your sister and she smirks at you softly with a soft raise of her eyebrow. 

Your mom gets up to open it and immediately shrieks in surprise, “Harry! I had no idea you were coming!” you smile at the genuine joy in her voice and then at Harry’s voice when he speaks, “she didn’t tell you I was coming?” You can hear the smile in his voice and it immediately brings the one you were trying to hide back on your face. 

“And you brought a date!” your mom exclaims. 

Your smile drops. 

Your heart follows your smile and you immediately feel a pit deep in your stomach that twists and twists until you can’t take it anymore. 

A hot wave of embarrassment comes next when your sister tenses next to you. You had just told her that you actually might like someone, that you actually might like Harry. And here he is with a date. 

Your mom steps aside to let them in and your stomach twists even tighter. She’s beautiful. And you’re sure she’s kind and charismatic and perfect and everything Harry would want and deserve in a woman. 

You don’t even wanna see the look on your sister’s face, you don’t want to see the pity in her eyes when she realizes that you’re completely hopeless. 

You feel tears gathering in your waterline and you blink them away. You almost want to feel angry. He brought her here? At your parents house? You know that technically you two don’t owe each other anything but there’s a level of respect that you figure one is supposed to have when sleeping with someone. 

You suddenly feel scared to see his face. You wonder if he’ll look guilty, or completely indifferent. You honestly don’t know which one is worse. 

You’re even more nervous that he’ll see your face and realize how much this is hurting you. How much it’s hurting you to realize that, although you two are friends, he never felt for you what you felt for him. That you were just a warm body he used when he needed it, and you happily offered it to him. Over and over. 

A plethora of emotions hit you at once, and after you cycle through confusion, sadness, and anger, you just feel stupid.

Your mom says your name and you’re very harshly snapped out of your thoughts, “figured you’d surprise us for the holiday, huh?” your mom has the most gentle smile on your face and it almost makes you crumble more. You look over to your mom and you immediately feel his intense gaze on you. That same intense gaze that used to make you melt only makes all of your muscles seize in the worst way at this very moment. You refuse to meet his eyes cause you know that if you do, you’ll break. 

You force a smile and pray that it’s not too obvious how you’re not even acknowledging him, “guess so, mom.” 

You and your sister share a look and you communicate without words that she’ll cover for you if you have to leave. She nods at you with a knowing look and you return the look, mentally preparing yourself to lie to everyone here and say you have to go. 

You pick your stuff up and get up to walk towards the door. “Harry,”  you address him for the first time since he came, “thank you so much for coming. I didn’t think you’d actually make it.” 

He furrows his brows and leans towards you, extending his arm out to pull you into an awkward side hug, “of course I’d make it.” you feel yourself tense as you feel his touch and you hope he doesn’t notice. You nod against his shoulder and sigh. His cologne envelopes your senses and you bask in the comfort of his warm hug. You’re utterly torn between the two feelings it offers you, a feeling of discomfort conflicting with a feeling of home. 

“How are you? You look lovely.” he kisses your cheek and the all too familiar feeling of his stubble rubbing against your skin threatens to bring a new wave of tears to your eyes. 

“I’m fine–” you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you. A huge smile graces his face and he looks down at the girl he’s got his arm around, squeezing her shoulder gently before he speaks and you already know what he’s going to say. 

“I want you to meet—” 

You can’t do it. 

“I’d love to talk but I’ve got a work emergency and I really need to go.” you watch his face drop. His eyebrows furrow tightly together and a frown graces his face. You can tell he’s confused, he knows that you would never leave Thanksgiving early for any work emergency and you would never leave as soon as he shows up. 

You go to walk but his hand leaves his date like he’s been burned by her skin and he reaches out for you, grabbing your arm tight. His eyes are swimming with an expression you can’t quite place and he squeezes your arm with a quick pulse, “where’re you going? I just got here.” his voice dips and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s hurt by you leaving. Right now you can’t even begin to worry about him being hurt with the pain radiating in your chest right now. 

“S’work, H. I’m really sorry,” you turn to address the girl next to him, “it’s really nice to meet you. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more.” and with that you’re out of there before anyone can say anything else. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you take a deep, shaky breath and bring your hand up to your neck to soothe the ache that’s developing in your jaw from holding in your tears. 

You decide then and there that you need to get it together. Harry doesn’t owe you anything, you guys are strictly friends with benefits. You weren’t supposed to get attached and caught up in the strings. You’ll try your absolute best to be a mature adult about this and not take your pain out on him cause as much as this hurts you, he doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you treat people when you’re hurt. 

And with that decision, you come to another. You need some time apart from Harry. 

December 24, Christmas Eve. 

Christmas Eve. Another one of your favorites. The anticipation and festive energy in the air felt palpable and everywhere you looked there was joy. The land outside was covered in white and the air felt crisp and cold. You loved the kind of air where it gave you little goosebumps as soon as you stepped outside. 

You’re watching a cheesy romantic Christmas movie, simultaneously loving and hating it. Loving it because it’s adorable and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, hating it because you definitely wish that the leads were you and Harry and it’s making you want to die. 

Just as the male lead tells the female lead how much he’s really been crushing on her the whole time they’ve been trying to save her mom’s restaurant, your phone begins to buzz. Unfortunately for you, it’s been buzzing all day. 

Harry. 

Over and over again. 

He’s been texting and calling and truthfully, he actually sounds really concerned.

Harry 11/28/23

Hey petal. Been trying to reach you for a bit. Is everything okay? We good? 

Harry 12/1/23

Miss you. Text me. 

Harry 12/3/23

Answer meeee please? 

Harry 12/7/23

Feel like you’re avoiding me. 

Harry 12/7/23

Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did. 

Harry 12/14/23

Just please let me know you’re alright. I’m getting worried. 

Harry 12/17/23 Starting to think that you’re dead. 

Harry 12/22/23

I’m gonna stop bothering you now. But I miss you. Please text me back. 

Harry 12/24/23

Okay I lied about the bothering thing. I need to see you and I’m really worried and if you’re dead I’m gonna ask the police to do a wellness check. So answer me. 

The sheer desperation in his texts almost broke you, but for all you know he just misses the sex, and the thought of that breaks you even more. 

You grab the pillow on your couch and thrust it up to your face to scream into it. The second you get done screaming you hear your doorbell and you jump. You wonder who in their right mind would be out in this weather but you pause your movie and  go to open it nonetheless. 

What you didn’t expect was a Harry Styles covered in snow at your door. 

“Hey...can I come in? S’snowing like really hard.” It breaks your heart a little the way he added that last bit in, like you would refuse him otherwise.

“Of course. Do you want any tea?” you ask, trying to avoid the elephant in the room in case that’s not why he came here. 

“No I’m― I came here to um…talk.”

Fuck. 

“Okay.” You giggle, trying to lighten the mood but his sullen expression stays put. 

“I’m still gonna start the kettle in case you want any―” 

“Why’re you pulling away from me?” he blurts out.

“Wha―”

“I literally haven’t spoken to you in weeks. Have I done something wrong? I―I” he pauses to compose himself and your frown deepens, “I miss you. Miss you so much and I just wanted to make sure we were okay.” 

You push yourself away from the couch and walk up to him, making sure to keep eye contact knowing how important it is to him,”of course we are, H.” 

“You haven’t spoken to me in like a mo―” 

“Shh, shh. Was just swamped with work. You know how I get all in my head.” You know you shouldn’t be lying to him, you really shouldn’t. But the way he’s talking like the idea of you purposely ignoring him breaks him, you don’t have it in you to let him suffer any longer.

He nods and you smile at him, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair, “we’re okay. I promise.” 

“Promise?” he whispers and your heart flutters. 

“Yeah.” You hate lying to his face. 

You start your steps to go to the kitchen but his grip on your wrist pulls you back, nearly crashing into his chest. 

“Want a kiss, please.” his voice never leaves that soft whisper. You lean in to give him a soft kiss, suddenly feeling a pit in your stomach that only deepens the closer you get to him. You’ve always had a bad habit of putting someone’s comfort over yours. 

“Do you want tea?” you whisper against his lips. 

“Always want some fuckin’ tea.” he says with a smirk and a quiet chuckle, that joyful inflection back in his voice and that familiar sparkle back in his eyes. 

When you step out of the kitchen with the tea he’s sitting on the couch in a relaxed manner, picking at the loose strings in your pillows and watching the movie you have on. His lips stretch in a gentle smile when he sees you and you force yourself to return it. 

You sit down next to him and he places his hand softly on your thigh, leaning over to you to place a soft kiss on your jaw. He trails more and more down to your neck and you feel your stomach twist. Your hand shoots to his chest to halt any further movement and you rush out words in a short breath, “We can’t.” There’s a beat of silence. He backs away quickly to not make you uncomfortable and you sigh and whisper, “...I can’t” 

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze and you can tell that without an explanation your rejection stings him a little. 

“Don’t you have like…a thing? With that girl you brought to Thanksgiving?” you watch his face twist tightly in confusion and you can’t bear to hear him make excuses or lie to you so you just continue to ramble, “does she even know that you’re sleeping with other people? With me? Like if I was your girlfriend I’d be pretty fucking pissed that you’re over here and touching me after bringing her to Thanksgiving of all places—” 

“Shut up.” He cuts off your ramble sharply. You suck in a breath at his tone (and after speaking all those words without a break) and your chest tightens at his stern expression. 

“W-what?” you fumble through the word. Never in your life have you seen him this angry. He’s looking at you with a gaze that can only be described as absolutely vexed. 

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” If there’s one thing Harry is, it’s smart. He’s absolutely not an idiot. But you absolutely are for not realizing just how well he knows you, “you’ve barely spoken to me for a month. Didn’t answer my calls, texts, not going out when you know I’d be there because you thought I’d betray your trust like that and just pop up one day with a fucking girlfriend!?” You can tell that he’s trying to control his volume and anger. The way his fist and jaw is clenched is an obvious indication. 

“Well what was I supposed to think, Harry? You brought her and she was beautiful and you had your hand on her wai–” 

“And you weren’t gonna let me explain myself!? I’d never do that to you. It was—We–we had a deal!” he exclaims incredulously, ducking down to meet your eyes when you try and look away. 

“I know we had a deal, H. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions—” He interrupts you again and you sigh deeply. 

“And I can’t believe that you would think…I thought it was different…I thought you…” he trails off, his voice getting softer as his speaking slows.

“You thought I what?” you ask urgently. He looks down at his hands and picks at the nail on his thumb. You frown softly, “you thought I what, H?”

His expression almost looks tortured as he trains his gaze on his fingers. You suddenly feel terrible. You ignored him for so long all over a simple misunderstanding. You think back to the moment that it all happened and figure you might have avoided all of this if you just let him properly introduce her like he was trying to. Your lip trembles softly at the idea of hurting him and he sighs. 

“I thought you felt the same way as I did. I thought it wasn’t just a deal to you.” he admisses so very quietly. So quiet that if the TV was any louder you wouldn’t have heard it. His brows are tightly knit together and his lips are turned down into a deep pout. 

Harry almost regretted it when he said it. He knows that if you truly don’t feel the same, it’ll never go back to the way it was, and he’ll lose the person he cares about the most. He’ll lose the person he loves the most. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest and he avoids looking up at your expression in fear that your expression will be less than kind. 

He speaks before you can even process what he just said, “Ellie’s my cousin.” he breathes out a humorless laugh, “the girl I brought to Thanksgiving. I thought you’d love her.” the soft tone and volume of his voice remains constant.

You feel like your brain just short circuited. Harry just told you that he actually has feelings for you. That all this time he’s been thinking about you in the same way that you’ve been thinking about him. All this time. 

And you’re sitting here like an idiot letting him stew in confusion and not saying a word. 

“Oh my god.” you gasp like you’ve suddenly been slapped back into reality. Your hands rush over to him like they have a mind of their own with thoughts that tell them that they need to be close to him. You grasp his face in your hands and pull his head up so you can look into his eyes. 

“H.” you sigh. He watches your mouth form around the word and he decides right then and there that no matter what you’re going to say next, no matter if you reject him and tell him you could never see him that way, you will always make him weak. Looking into your eyes will always break and mend him at the same time, the sound of you saying his name will always make him crumble.

“Of course I feel the same way. Are you kidding? I thought that you didn’t.” you finally, finally admit. It immediately feels like a giant weight has been lifted off of your chest and you almost wanna cry at how freeing it feels. 

“Are you serious?” he laughs, although you can see that his eyes are a bit glossy. You pout softly, nodding and leaning down to envelop his lips in yours. 

“I’ve always needed you, petal. Even before the sex. I need you to know that.” he speaks with conviction. He needs you to know that it’s not just the sex muddling his brain and making him attached. He really truly loves you. Everything about you. 

“I know, I know H.” you nod again. 

“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how much I missed you, petal. No clue.” His voice is thick with emotion, but also filled with that familiar lust that you missed so much. 

You scoot closer to him on the couch and throw your legs around his lap to straddle him, “feel like showing me?” 

He chuckles darkly, his hands quickly landing on your waist. His mouth closes to form into a smirk when you blatantly offer your body up for him like this. A soft noise leaves you in reaction to the tight grip he has on your waist. 

Your hips take on a mind of their own when they start to shift against him. A soft hiss followed by a groan leaves his lips. It’s like your lips are magnets the way you can’t keep them away from each other. He leans up to kiss you and the movement of your hips intensifies. 

You can see it in his eyes that he’s thinking of some sort of punishment to sort out your behavior of the past month. The intensity in his expression makes you feel a sort of anxiousness that throws you for a loop. You feel a little scared, but all the excitement and anticipation just overrides that tiny bit of fear. 

He leans closer to you to leave open mouthed kisses all over the exposed skin of your chest, he kisses until he reaches the fabric of your shirt and his hand falls to your ass, gripping it tightly while urging you to continue the movement of your hips against him. 

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson it seems.” His voice is husky and deep when he speaks, you know that he has the capacity to absolutely ruin you tonight, and you know that he will. 

He taps your hip with his fingers, his usual signal that he needs you to stand up. Your brows furrow in confusion briefly, but the confusion is gone as soon as it came when he speaks. 

“Do me a favor, honey?” 

You nod eagerly. 

“Get out that vibrator you’ve got in your dresser, clothes off and wait for me in your room.” His voice held a velvety, sensual tone, and combined with what he said, you’re nearly weak in the knees. When you stand there for a moment, having a bit of trouble getting your body to move as fast as your brain, he urges you with a raise of his eyebrow and you immediately spring into action. 

You hear his quiet murmur of “good girl” as you start to walk to your room. Every nerve in your body is buzzing with anticipation. Harry is already amazing in the bedroom with just him, imagining the pleasure you’ll feel with him and the toy is making you squeeze your thighs together and your eyes shut as you dwell in your thoughts. 

You sat down on your bed (very submissively, you hope it’ll get you some brownie points) with your vibrator laying next to you. Just when you’re starting to get impatient, the door opens with Harry on the other side of it. There’s a very distinct hunger in his eyes as he looks at you, as his gaze travels the length of your body. You can tell he appreciates the way you’re sitting. 

He doesn’t waste any time walking towards you and kneeling until his knees touch the floor and he’s level with where you need him the most. His hands find purchase on your thighs, immediately squeezing and prodding at them like he’s playing with his favorite toy (which he technically is), “you’re so good for me, petal. Doing as I asked.” 

His eyes flick up to yours after he speaks, and the eye contact, especially when he’s got that look going, makes you melt. You’re hyper aware of the tortuous way his hands are trailing upwards. He knows the way his touch works you up no matter where it is, and he’s using it to his advantage. 

A sharp gasp rips from your throat when he spreads your thighs apart. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten from just the anticipation and thought of what he’s going to do to you. The groan that he let out once he saw what a mess you’ve made is an indication that he was pleased. 

“Jesus, petal. Look what you’ve done…” he stares at your center with an expression of deep desire as he reaches out a hand to trail two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, “messing up your sheets, baby. This all for me?” 

You can’t help but obediently nod, meeting his eyes with a pleading look, “only for you, promise. Please?” 

His face is painted with an expression of faux confusion, that condescending look that makes you clench around nothing and tip your head up to the ceiling in frustration. You know from that look this is going to be harder than you thought. He’s in the mood to tease. He’s going to break you.

“Please? Please what, baby. What do you need from me?” You’re impressed by the way he’s looking at you like he’s actually concerned and wondering what you want, and although you know it’s an act and he’s not asking because he truly plans on giving it to you, you still give in.

“Touch me, Harry. Need it.” You should be embarrassed at the whiny inflection in your voice as you beg him, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel shame when you’re aching as bad as you are. 

“You need it?” He teases and you know even he’s getting tired of this waiting game because his expression has melted down into a lazy grin, enjoying the way he’s torturing you. 

You can tell that he isn’t exactly mad any more, which you’re grateful for. He’s just enjoying toying with the body that he knows so well. 

You scoff and roll your eyes, pushing your hips towards him needily. It earns you a dark chuckle and a sigh, “alright, alright.” 

Without leaving his position on his knees, he reaches for the vibrator. Before you can beg any more, he’s switching it on and bringing it down to where you need it the most. He doesn’t even offer up a warning before he’s placing it directly on your clit, ripping a shocked moan from your throat. 

“Yeah?” His voice is taunting and low, and if the vibrator was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear him, but it still hits you right in the gut like his voice usually does when he talks to you like this, “is that good? Right here?” 

“Fuck, yes. Stay right there.” you stutter through your words in a way that you know he’ll tease you for later, but you don’t have the brain capacity to care right now. All you can think about and feel is him, that vibrator on your clit, the way he’s talking. 

When he presses it harder against you, you breathe in deeply, exhaling in a whiney moan. He’s making you unravel at a quick and embarrassing pace and the sensations are overwhelming you. Your hips start to shift in tandem with the way he’s slowly rubbing the head of the vibrator back and forth against your clit, the sounds that leave your throat travel straight to his cock that’s still confined in his pants. He growls lowly when he notices your thighs start to shake and leans closer to suck kisses into them, “close already? Fuck look at that, honey…” he’s referring to the way your arousal is coating the toy. He almost feels tempted to bring it to his lips and clean it off, “this dreamy cunt needed it so bad, hm?”

You couldn’t respond even if you tried, your brain a mess of syllables and sounds that you’re meant to put together. All you can manage is a string of whimpers as you get closer and closer to your peak.

Harry watches your every move, so in tune with every twitch of your body and every sound you make. He moans along with you as you come undone, making sure to keep the toy right where it’s been to help you ride it out, anything to keep making his girl feel good. 

You reach for his hand to ground you and he quickly gives you what you need, interlocking your fingers and groaning when you squeeze tightly, “there you go…fuck.” 

You push yourself away from the toy when it becomes too much as best as you can, desperate to escape the onslaught of overstimulation and he chuckles, pulling the toy off of you. You can barely grip your bearings as he brings the toy to his lips to clean off with his tongue, he moans needily when he tastes you and squeezes your hand as if to say he’s proud of you. 

He puts the toy down next to you and starts to kiss his way up your body. Mumbling little words of encouragement and praise on his journey to your lips. 

“Did such a good job.” 

“M’so proud of you.” 

“You come so pretty.” 

“So beautiful.”  

When you guys are face to face he pinches your lips with his fingers before he leans down to kiss you, moaning into the kiss since he was deprived of them in the short time that he was making you come. 

“Hi.” You breathe out in a chuckle, your mind still muddled from the post climactic haze. He returns your greeting, his voice soft and tender with an adoration filled expression on his face. 

“Aren’t you like–” you motion your head downwards to refer to the way he’s straining in his pants and a chuckle leaves his lips. He nods gently, still staring at you with that fond look in his eye. 

“Mhm.” he mumbles. He repositions himself so he can take off his clothes and after he teases you for nearly drooling over his abs, comes back down to rest against you so that your chests are touching, “you wanna keep going?”

You know he’s asking to be respectful, but you can also tell that if you say no he’d probably cry. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh and see the strain in his expression. He subtly shifts his hips every so often against your skin and you have to fight back a smirk at how needy he is. 

You nod before you remember his thing about verbal consent and you mumble out a soft yes. As soon as he has your permission, he’s connecting your lips and lining up his tip with your entrance. He drags his tip back and forth against you, your body twitching in sensitivity every time he passes over your clit. 

A guttural groan leaves him as he finally fills you, a groan that melts into a whine as you clench down around him tightly, forcing yourself to adjust to the burning stretch that you’ve missed so much. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” The sound of his voice and the sounds he’s making just make you clench down tighter around him, “how do you always feel this fucking good? Squeezing me like a vice, pretty.”  

He sets a rhythm that has him hitting that spot inside you that makes you melt every time, somehow even though he’s been aching in his pants for so long his focus still remains solely on bringing you pleasure, making you feel good, “s’that okay, sweet girl. S’it good for you? Am I giving this needy cunt what it needs?” 

You know he doesn’t expect you to respond but he speaks anyway. He’s well aware of the effect his voice has on you.His deliberate thrusts gain more momentum with every reaction you give him. He truly feeds on your pleasure. It’s as if he suddenly remembers the emotional turmoil you forced the both of you to go through the past month, because his thrusts begin to get more purposeful. Rougher, more pointed motions of his hips rip noises from you that you’re sure is gonna give you a sore throat later. 

His hand wraps around your throat in a firm grip, leaning down to grit words out into your ear, “you’re mine, understand that? You’re mine. And I’m yours. No one else’s. I belong to you, petal. Just you.” 

He fights the strong pull in his chest that tells him to tell you how he really feels, how in love he is with you. How you consume his every thought and how your touch is unlike any other touch he’s ever felt. From the first time he was already addicted. You’re unlike anyone else that he’s ever met, you feel like home. 

The force of his thrusts knock all of the air out of your lungs, and all you can do is nod and mumble out an agreement. You need to be his. There might not be anything that you want more right now. Hearing him confess his feelings for you right now as he’s fucking you into oblivion do all the right things for you, and like clockwork, he immediately recognizes what you need and switches back on the vibrator, bringing it right back down to your clit. 

“Fuck that’s it, baby. Am I fucking you right, petal? Yeah? Fucking show me then. Come for me.” He presses the toy harder against you and rolls his hips in just the perfect way that makes him rub against that perfect spot inside you and you realize now that he made good on his word of teaching you a lesson. You are sufficiently taught.

He whines loudly at the feeling of you coming around him, mumbling out praises and thank you’s as you milk him for everything he’s worth, “shit, m’gonna fucking come. Fuck keep cumming, baby. Keep fucking squeezing me like that–” his words are cut off with a series of noises that you know is going replay in your head on loop. 

He rides out his pleasure with slow, lazy thrusts, hiding his face in your neck as he tries to cope with all the pleasure that’s wracking through his body. You tangle your hands in his hair to offer him some comfort, both of you breathing heavily. He continues to mumble praises into your damp skin, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling that transcends anything you’ve ever felt before. 

When he catches his breath he turns his head to rest it on your shoulder and speaks, “you know I meant it right?” 

“Meant what?” 

“I’m yours. And you’re mine.” 

December 31st, New Years Eve. 

Your friend’s makeshift bar is bustling and you chuckle as the poor untrained bartender is trying to grapple with it all. You’re sipping slowly at a glass of champagne when you feel a strong arm link around your waist. 

“Mm hi baby.” his deep voice reverberates through your entire body as he speaks directly into your ear. You melt into his grasp and your lips break into a smile that you couldn’t stop even if you tried. 

“Harry.” you say cheekily as your hands fall to hold onto his arm. He had just come back from an absolute killer karaoke performance next to your friend’s TV. The whole entire house was cheering for him as he belted out an incredible rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted to You”. Ever the performer, your boyfriend is, “you were amazing. As always.” you giggle and he presses a messy, wet kiss to your cheeks. 

He is absolutely glowing tonight. Surrounded by his family, friends, and you. He’s beyond ready to spend the next year being annoyingly in love with you and attached to your hip. In fact, that’s the thing he’s looking forward to the most about the new year, going through every milestone, change, and holiday with the love of his life. 

“Always strokin’ m’ego, petal. Looove you.” you laugh loudly at how inebriated he is and lean your head back against his shoulder to get closer to him. 

“I love you too, H. I think you’re cut off though.” you chuckle and you can hear the pout in his voice when he speaks. 

“Wha’? Wha’s wrong with you? M’not even that drunk m’love.” The irony of his words slurring while he’s trying to convince you that he isn’t drunk isn’t lost on you. You turn around to face him and it��s like his expression melts into a smile when he looks at you. 

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way he looks at you. He stares at you with so much awe, so much reverence. Ever since you’ve noticed it the first time, it’s the first thing that catches your attention when you guys are together. That damn look. 

“Y’so pretty.” He brings his hand up to stroke your face with his thumb. 

You turn your face to kiss his palm and he giggles childishly, mumbling something about it tickling.

It’s not long before the countdown starts. Harry and you look at each other in anticipation, wanting to commemorate the first time you guys expressed the affection for each other that’s only increased ten fold. 

9

8

“I think New Years is m’favorite holiday.” he mumbles out, looking down at you with that familiar fond look. 

6

“Yeah?” you giggle at his admission, “why’s that, H?” 

4

“S’cause it’s the day that I finally got you.” You can barely register the cheers of happy new year before his lips are on yours, claiming them and making you his. You pull away reluctantly to breathe and smile at him when you speak.

“I think it’s my new favorite too, baby.”

[testosteroneb0y]

NSFW alphabet - HABIT emH

-Cross posted on ao3-

CW: explicit/18+ content below the cut, A lot of kinks are implied but not directly mentioned and there is probably things I could add in here but I'm too lazy, just know it's kinky and smutty and all that jazz

Author's Note: this is the first thing I've written in a while and most of it is just me yapping. I tried to go over it and fix any mistakes but I've been too tired to properly proofread it. I also tried to keep it mostly in character but Habit is just such a questionable character it's rather hard to make it not end up being ooc. Gender neutral but made with afab body parts in mind.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I would like to think there would be a little bit but tbh it seems like a no. He'd probably make you see stars and then go straight back to murdering people or something <3

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His : hands. This fella probably has hands that would be on the larger side (which is shocking) and he just loves that, he can do so much more whether it's wrapping a hand around your wrists to hold them together or something else (that I can't think of rn😔 I'm too tired) he just loves the fact that it gives him more control

Partner : thighs, hips. I don't really have a good reason for this, he just seems like the type of guy to love leaving handprints from grabbing too hard on thighs 😇 similar to the thighs part, he probably just loves gripping onto them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he cums inside, there's no denying it. He'll say things like "'gonna fill you up so good, m'kay, rabbit?" I don't even think he would be that big on breeding but my god does that man love seeing his seed dripping out of you

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jerked off and came into a pair of your underwear and put it back into your drawer. He would be soossososoooo obsessed with the fact that you'd end up not realising and wearing them will they were still dirty

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Habit knows his stuff and I stand by that. Evan, not so much. From being in so many different people's bodies he has to have gotten some action. He was probably pissed off when he realised Evan's body couldn't take as much as he would like to.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Literally any as long as he can grab at your ass, or thighs, or hips. Also doggy style occasionally because he just loves absolutely pounding down into you, shoving your face into a pillow and going to town.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

(This is more my Evan hcs bcuz yk its his body n stuff !!)

Naturally doesn't have much hair down there besides a little happy trail

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

honestly, canon habit probably would not give a fuck, as long as he gets to cum then he is fine but I'm a fanboy and dont care, i like that anyway :3

on the more ooc side, I think if he was truly inlove with you he would try to be more romantic but it's hard for him considering his violent nature

He would always try his best to make sure you have a nice (well...as nice as getting your brain fucked out of you can be) time.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he is shameless. He will leave a room and go to the bathroom or something and have a wank, he doesn't care if people in the other room hear him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

CHOKING. He fucking loves choking people because he likes the way they try to grasp for air. The light leaving their eyes is enough to get this man GOING.🥰 he loves pain, inflicting it mainly. I think it would be kinda obvious considering his...occupation, if you will. He is big on corruption. He just loves turning a little innocent "rabbit" into the freakiest person :3

I could go on and on about his kinks but I'm trying to contain myself.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Despite popular belief, I think he probably prefers being in his own house, but he would do it anywhere in the house.

If he is reeeally horny then he might pull you into an alley or something for a quickie

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything and everything you do will turn him on. I'm leaving it at that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Im a strong believer that tbis man likes everything no matter how weird but maaaybe like scat n stuff, I can just see him not really being the biggest fan of things like that, he probably thinks it's too gross (and will say that while being covered in like 6 different peoples blood)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves receiving, Face fucking is one of his favourite things. Everything from how you look in the aftermath of it, to (going back to the choking thing) Your eyes rolling back as he just shoves his cock down into your throat.

Although he likes receiving, I think he would be pretty good at giving. It's almost like a wasted talent of his.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I don't even know why I have to say this but he definitely is rough ASSSSFFFFF. He will plow into you like there's no tomorrow. If he is feeling really cruel he will go super slow at first, only moving very slightly, making it almost like new form of torture.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he is even slightly pent up he most definitely will let it out. He seems like the typa guy that hates being sexually frustrated and he HAS to have some sort of release to calm him down or he is just rougher later on in the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is down to try everything and if I'm being honest he probably has already tried everything, and I genuinely mean every single thing a person could like. This isn't to say he likes everything, but he does probably enjoys mostly everything being the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 he is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He could and would go all day, all night. Unfortunately, he has other business to attend to. (Brutally murdering people 😍)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

oh brother, he has toys, TOO many toys. Mainly to use on other people but I can see him using a vibrator on himself on occasion. He also would own everything that could he used for bondage, which also happens to come in handy when he gets a bit silly and kidnaps people ! This is kind of random but I can see him loving nip clamps.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

So much, too much. I personally would not be able to stand the amount that he would tease, and I can put up with more than the average person. He is just a cruel motherfucker.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I can't imagine him being very loud. Evan whimpers, Habit himself wouldn't WANT to but that's the price that he has to pay when he uses other people's bodies.

He will talk and whisper dirty stuff into your ears most of the time but sometimes if he has had a bad day and is just really angry he will just shut up and get it over with.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves putting you in your place, even the slightest little bit of back chat and you are done for.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I think he would be pretty average in size, maybe even slightly smaller considering Evan's height, but he would make up for it in other ways.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It doesn't take much to get him going so even just the simple act of bending down infront of him, whether it was purposely or not, and he will have you bent over.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Habit himself wouldn't be tired because of the whole being an entity but he would realise "oh shit this body is so tired" and he would just force himself to go to sleep.

[luvsturniolo]

hey girl i love ur stuff, do u think u could do a Matt imagine where the triplets are filming a baking video or smthn with the reader. There's a lot of speculation of whether Matt and reader are dating (idm if they're together yet or not) and reader minorly burns their hand or smthn and Matt makes a b-line to reader to comfort them? thanks ily<3

— ★ !! speculation

pairing : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis : desc is explained in the req !!

a/n : girl i'm SO sorry that this took forever. my inbox is literally so confusing & it stresses me out so bad to look at ; i need to organize it asap ! anyway im sorry this took so long, ur req got burried under a ton of others

anyway , i hope u like this bc u deserve it after waiting so long 😭 also, i'm trying a slighty different format for my posts (its so subtle idek if u guys will notice but i love it so wtv 🤞🤞)

wc : 1.8k

for the past few months, you and matt have been acting a bit differently on camera. normally, the two of you make an effort to stay decently apart so none of the his fans will notice that you're dating.

you've been friends with the triplets since middle school and you show up in their videos all the time. but last summer, matt finally asked you to be his girlfriend. you guys agreed to keep your relationship off the internet and since then, you two have been trying your absolute best to avoid eachother while on camera.

but it's harder than it sounds to keep a distance from the one you love. all you want to do it hold his hand, rest your head on his shoudler, or hug him. but you can't. and it drives you fucking crazy.

this morning, nick texted you and asked if you wanted to come over to film a baking video with them. seeing as you had nothing better to do, you happily agreed.

nick explained that you would be the one blindfolded. he and his brothers would be normal — able to speak, see, and hear freely. you were a bit nervous at first, knowing how horrible you are at baking. but you still agreed to film the video because you know their fans have been begging for you to participate in one of their cooking videos for years.

you're currently in the kitchen with matt as he sets out all the ingredients that will be used. across the room, nick is setting up the camera so you guys can film in a few minutes. chris is in his bedroom, searching for the bandana he set out for you.

"got it!" chris shouts excitedly as he rushes into the kitchen, waving the hot pink bandana around in the air.

you laugh at the sight of its bright colors before asking, "why the hell did you casually had that laying around your room?"

"don't worry about it." he responds, trying to be mysterious and dramatic.

he hands the bandana to you and you place it over your eyes. you wrap it around your head and end up fumbling with the ends of it, unable to tie it blindly. you sigh with annoyance but continue to struggle, too determined to ask for help.

suddenly you feel someone place their hands on top of yours. you immediately recognize them to be matt's. his fingertips are cold but his palms are warm, causing chills to wash over your skin like an ocean wave.

"you don't need to be so independent all the time," he tells you softly. "it's okay to ask for help every once in a while."

you feel his hands leave yours — meaning the bandana is tied. you turn around and blindly reach your hands up to find his face. you feel your hands graze his jaw and you smile, feeling the stubble of his beard brush against your skin.

you tip your head up and reach to kiss him. however, seeing as you can't see, you end up missing his mouth and kissing the corner of his lips. you feel his mouth pull upward with a smile before he moves his head to the side so you can kiss him correctly.

"i need to make this worth it." he says against your mouth. he pulls away to speak, but you lean forward to chase his lips. "i won't be able to kiss you until after the video is finished."

"then quit wasting your time talking and kiss me." you say. you feel his chest shake with an airy chuckle before he places his hands on your hips and pulls you closer against him, reconnecting your mouths to kiss you again.

"guys, what the fuck?" you hear nick's voice call out from across the kitchen. "you've been making out for the past three minutes."

"yeah," chris's voice agrees. it sounds like he's standing in the doorway. "we were trying to be nice and let you have your moment, but you just won't stop kissing."

matt lets go of your hips with a sigh. "whatever, let's get this over with."

"woah, kid!" chris exclaims dramatically. you can hear his voice move and his footsteps get louder as he makes his way over to where you and matt are standing in front of the counter. "don't sound too excited."

as unbelievable as this sounds, matt doesn't actually hate filming. he actually loves making videos for his channel. if he didn't, he would not be doing it as a job. what he hates is being away from you.

he's the literal definition of clingy. and you're like the exhausted mom who has to put up with his tantrums whenever you're torn apart.

"okay, the camera is set up." nick announces. "i'm gonna start recording, so get your coupley-ness over with so we can film."

it's kind of crazy how casual it's become for everyone to work around yours and matt's secret relationship. his brothers respect your guys' decision to stay private and they help you guys hide it from the media. it genuinely means a lot to you to know how supportive chrtis and nick are — even though they like to make jokes and tease matt for his clinginess.

"hey guys!" nick says to the camera. “today, y/n is going to be blind baking some santa-shaped cookies since it’s almost christmas!”

you can hear nick walk over to where everyone else is standing. he continues to talk to the camera when you feel matt’s knuckles brush against the small of your back — where the camera can’t see.

you smile, enjoying the physical touch. but you know how risky it is for him to do things like that. if you start blushing or acting weird on camera, the fans will easily put the pieces together and realize what it means. so you shift a little, causing matt’s hand to fall off your back and back to his side.

"okay," you hear nick's voice say. you jump at how close he is now.

"oh my fuck, nick!" you shout, turning to glare at him — hoping you're looking in the right direction. "you scared the absolute shit out of me!"

"i'm not nick." chris says.

you turn in the opposite direction and tilt your head dramatically, waiting for nick to apologize for scaring you. but instead of an apology, you hear matt say "i'm not nick either. sorry."

you huff out a scoff and turn to the last remaining direction where nick could be. this time you were finally glaring at the correct triplet.

you hear matt laugh from beside you and your stomach twists into a knot.

since you can't see, the rest of your senses have been heightened — meaning you're hyperaware of the sound of your boyfriend's laugh. everything in you is tempted to kiss and hold him and tell him how much you love him.

but. you. cant.

"as i was saying," nick continues, "matt set out all the ingredients before we started recording. so, everything is on the counter in front of you, y/n."

you nod in response, happily beginning your task. the first portion of the video is calm and kind of relaxing. you listen to the triplets' commands as you grab and pour random things into random bowls. honestly, you've lost track of what step you're on. it feels like you're just going through the movements of baking cookies rather than actually cooking a meal.

chris and nick have no problem with holding your hands or wrists to point you in the right direction. but matt? he hasn't touched you at all. he still talks to you and helps out when it's needed, but you both know better than to touch.

due to matt's intense clinginess, it's safest to stay apart. if not, nick will end up cutting out a large portion of the video where matt has to be pried off of you (it's happened before).

"now, you need to put the cookie tray in the oven." nick tells you. from the sound of his voice, you can tell that he's reading instructions off the back of the cookie box. you hear him set the box on the counter before he continues. "while you do that, i'll put the dirty dishes in the sink; chris will clean the counters so you can decorate the cookies when they're done; and matt can make sure you don't catch the house on fire."

"alright." you agree with the plan. you reach forward to grab the tray of cookies. you pat thepalm of your hands on the countertop, trying to find the metal board. but you can't find it. "what the fuck?" you mutter, knowing it was just right here.

"right here," matt's voice murmers against the shell of your ear. he reaches over you, his chest pressed against your back. you hear the cookies slide agianst the counter before you feel the cool material of the tray touch your hands.

you clear your throat awkwardly, trying not to think about him too much. "thanks."

"mhm," he hums. as he stands up straight, the warmth of his chest leaves your back and you're left feeling cold and empty without his presence.

you mimick his actions by standing up straight. you then carry the tray in your hands as you walk around the island to where you know the stove is. you're about to set the tray down to open the oven, but you hear someone come up behind you. matt tells you to just hold still and he'll open it for you.

you do as he says and wait for him to open the oven door. when you hear it unlatch, you reach down to slide the tray onto the rack.

apparently, you miscalculated the distance between you and the oven. because just as you were going to set the tray down, you felt a sharp pain in the knuckles of your pinky finger.

"fuck!" you shout in pained breath before dropping the tray to the ground.

"what happened? are you okay? are you hurt?" matt rushes out a string of questions, immediately taking your hand into his. he twists and turns it, examining the injury.

"yeah, i'm fine." you tell him. "i shouldn't have dropped the tray like that, it was kinda dramatic."

you hear him sigh, "what did i tell you? it's okay to ask for help."

"i didn't think i needed it." you tell him, dropping your voice to a whisper as you tell him your next concern. "plus, you might wanna get away from me. we're still filming."

"fuck the video, y/n." he says, pulling you into a hug. he holds you against him, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "you mean way more to me than a bit of speculation."

tags : @kasqnxx @lvrsparadise @prettysturniolo @strniolo @urmyslxt @cupidsturniolo @opheliaofficial07 @thetriplets3 @sturn1olo-ffics @uhnanix @deadxrx @kitaysworld @slaysturniolo @wilmalovegood @ladylokilaufeyson5 @sturniolopepsi @strnilolo @knowingnothingnoel @its-jennarose @lea0518

[scififettuccine]

A Wild Fix: Part 1.5?

Pairing: Platonic!Butcher x Supe!Reader

Summary: 3 weeks into your alliance with The Boys, you and Butcher go through the Vought Database. Butcher being curious about a Supe he's never heard of leads him to put together a plan that's less than safe. But does he listen to your warnings? Of course not.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Exposition, mentions of casinos, mention of suicide

Notes: Hey ya'll! Long time no see! You're probably wondering what the fuck this is. As you may have noticed I haven't posted anything in a few days. This is because when I got into writing Part 2, it became A LOT more complex and involved than I intended, including new characters and a sharp left turn in the story line that I didn't plan. Considering the results from the pole, I figured no one would really be mad if I did this. Part 1.5 is A LOT of exposition, setting up the actual second installment of the series. I could have made Part 2 longer, but it was way past how many words I wanted to have in each installment. I didn't want to call this an actual part two, because this alone isn't long enough to qualify as its own part, so...✨1.5✨ As you can most likely tell, I'm not following the canon plot exactly, I find that to be EXTREMELY boring. I know it's something that some people don't love, but at the end of the day it's creative writing and I enjoy doing it. Here is a link to Part 1 if you missed it! The official part 2 of A Wild Fix will be out very soon, but for now, enjoy this expositional interlude from our good lad, William Butcher.

It was safe to say that, since your first meeting? You and Frenchie didn’t get along very well. You had been running with The Boys for almost a month now, yet the two of you couldn’t agree on a single thing. But honestly? That didn't really matter to you. He didn't seem like the kind of person you wanted to be close with, anyway.

You had adjusted pretty well to this double standard of life, working for Vought, and working with The Boys. You were very careful, and there hadn’t been any close calls…yet. As for adjusting to the basement hideout? That didn't necessarily get any easier. You had carved out a little spot for yourself in one of the less occupied corners, just big enough to set your computer down, and maybe put a cup of coffee off to the side. And at the moment, that's where you sat. Working out time to help out wasn’t very hard. You were a member of The Seven, yes, but due to your powers, you were more of an alternate. You still went to meetings, and you still lived in the tower, you just weren't sent out as much. Butcher had requested that you dig into a few things for him in the Vought database. The Vought database had become available to you since you signed the contract with the company. It didn’t contain anything majorly world shattering, just some more detailed info on every Supe that had ever been involved with the company, including deceased, and currently active Supes. The info pages almost reminded you of trading cards, you laughed to yourself at the thought. It almost made you wonder why Vought hadn’t cashed in on some sort of trading card game.

“Something funny, love?” Butcher asked. You could see him approaching from behind in the reflection of your laptop screen.

“Yeah, actually…” You said, beckoning him over. Butcher crouched down next to your chair, looking at the computer screen. “Don’t those stats kinda look like trading cards? I mean, even the way it’s set up. Surprised Vought hasn’t cashed in on that yet.” Butcher raised a brow and leaned a bit closer to the screen, letting out a small ‘hmph’ sound. 

“You’re not wrong.” He examined the screen for a moment. “So you can see every Supe that's ever been involved with the company?” You nodded.

“For the most part, yes. But usually if there's anything they need to hide, the Supe goes to whoever runs the database and asks for that piece of information to be taken off of it. It’s actually in the contract somewhere, in the fine print, if I remember.” Butcher gave a small hum of acknowledgement.

“So if I had to guess, Homelander doesn't even have a file?” He asked. You narrowed your eyes towards the screen as you clicked out of the file you were on, and searched Homelander’s name in the top bar. When the file came up, you clicked it. Low and behold…? Not much. Just his in-company stats, The Seven logo, showing his affiliation with the group, and the year he had been signed onto the company. 

“Yeah…nothing much. Most of The Seven are like this, actually. If I remember correctly…” You clicked out of Homelander’s file, and clicked on the search bar again. You went to type in ‘Maeve,’ but Butcher stopped you, placing his finger over one of the file cards on the screen.

“Who’s that bloke?” He asked. You raised a brow and moved his finger out of the way. He had been pointing to a file card for the Supe named Mixer, who belonged to a new Vought owned Supe team that had been gaining steam recently…Residency. Vought had always sort of branded it as the new age Payback, but it was more of a marketing thing. The Supes on the team were legit, powerful, and some of them popular…But it definitely wasn't anything close to Payback. Mixer, admittedly, was one of the more known Supe’s on the team. He had been a musician first, gaining popularity from his young start in the industry. And as soon as Vought could get its bloodstained hands on the poor guy? He was signed on. Now? He had a residency at Planet Vought Casino & Resort in Las Vegas, and a spot in Residency.

“That's Mixer. He’s around my age, I think…Super popular in the music industry.” You explained, clicking on his file card.

“You know’im?” He asked. You shook your head as you scrolled through his file. 

“I met him at a convention a few years back, around this time of year actually…He seemed kinda full of himself. He has a residency now, though, kinda ironic, at Vought’s casino in Las Vegas.” You explained. Butcher nodded, clearly thinking.

“How is it ironic?” He asked.

“Mixer is part of a Supe team too, but the team is called Residency. So I thought it was kinda funny that he had an actual residency-” Butcher cut you off.

“Another Supe team? Owned by Vought?” You nodded.

“Yeah. It's him, Klepto, Bloodshot, Laugh Track, Void-” Butcher cut you off again, before you could even finish naming the members.

“The convention you met him at…Was it a Supe convention?” 

“Yeah. But not like the crazy fan ones. It's by invite only. All of Voughts Supes go, it’s a huge event. They invite new, upcoming Supes, and Vought investors. It’s a 3 day affair. They usually hold it at the Casino location that's here in the city, though, not the one in Vegas.” You turned your head to look at him, narrowing your eyes. What was he thinking?

“You said it was around this time of year?” He asked, turning the laptop towards himself so he could scroll.

“Yeah, usually towards the middle of fall…Why do you ask?” You raised a brow.

“I’m assuming you're invited?” He asked, the smirk on his face growing.

“Yeah, like I said, most contracted Supes are there. Annie is going too, we kinda have to…You’re not thinking what I think you are…right?” You asked, narrowing your eyes once again.

“That's exactly what I’m thinking, love.” He chuckled and stood up. “A whole casino full of Supes and Vought officials? That's practically an information gold mine. And with your connections? We’re bound to uncover something. Do you get a plus one or anythin like’at?”

“I’m pretty sure contracted Supes get two guest passes, but this is out of the question, Butcher. Digging at a Vought run Supe convention? It’s suicide for anyone involved.” You said, closing your computer. This wasn't a good idea, not even in the slightest.

“So if both you and Hughie’s girl go, that's four guest passes between the two of you?” He asked.

“Yes but-” Butcher cut you off before you could protest.

“Just enough passes for Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and meself. It’s settled, then, love.” Butcher gave a smug smile and patted your shoulder. You cringed internally. Butcher wouldn’t take no for an answer…and you didn’t favor the idea of being on his bad side.

 If you were caught, no, if any of you were caught snooping around at this convention? You’d be dead before you could leave the building…or worse.

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And that's the end of my exposition bomb. Again, Part 2 is coming very soon, and I'm sorry that I had to break it up like this. This series became more involved than intended, as you can probably see. More information regarding Residency and its significance is to come👀 Stay tuned to get back to your regularly scheduled Frenchie x Reader content <3 Adieu!

teeny tiny taglist: @llynx7 @stinkysam