#like sure maybe part of it is just. that im still not used to seeing her actually look white so she looks sickly but

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

day 4/7

summary: part 4 of my short story naive! the four of you go to the club and while the couple are still fighting, you and hamzah act on your feelings a lil more. but it can only go so well for so long…

contains: SFW content, some kissing and touchy touchy ;)

w/c: 2.5k-ish

a/n: i couldn’t let you guys go into the new year without updating this story. im the worst but tysm for the support yall are so sweet i could cry xxxx enjoy!!!<3 read the a/n at the end if u care to know more

~

The couple's bad mood was not simply slept off and it's ruining your vibe.

You and Mandy are getting ready in their en suite bathroom while Hamzah and Martin speak in hushed tones in the bedroom. The bathroom door is open, and every so often you look at the space over your shoulder in the mirror and make eye contact with Martin from the bed. He looks away immediately, not at all subtle. It's like a game at this point, seeing how many times you can catch him in the act.

"Is he gonna do this all night," you mumble, applying your mascara after yet another match of eye-tag.

"We could just close the door," Mandy offers. She pays no mind to the childish behavior behind you, straightening her hair without sparing him a single glance.

"You're so right," you say and get up to shut it yourself.

Once your makeup is pretty much done, you decide to start getting dressed. You turn the music on her speaker up and give yourself a once-over in the mirror, holding different outfits beside your body to see what you want to wear for the night.

"I don't know what to wear. Wanna match?" you ask, placing your chin on top of her head to stop her movements. She nearly clamps your neck with the straightener. "Hey!"

"Sure," she laughs. "Grab my suitcase, please."

You put your clothes back down and step out of the bathroom to bring her suitcase in. You shimmy it out of its place by the TV stand, not missing the way the boys go completely silent until you're gone.

"Top zipper, the satin blue dress," Mandy instructs.

You hand it to her and sit by your own bag of clothes to rummage through it. You find a top and skirt set in a similar baby blue color then hold it up for her to see.

"Yes, no, yes?"

"Yes, definitely."

You apply your lip combo and take a few silly photos in the mirror with Mandy, your made up faces clashing with your baggy tees. One of the better photos are posted on your Instagram story for fun. When you finally get changed—you guys had a dance break to some y2k club classics—you put your heels on and realize you need a little pregame.

When you walk into the bedroom this time, the boys are leaned against the headboard and on their phones, mindlessly scrolling. You go by Martin's side of the bed and poke him repeatedly until he looks up.

"Do you happen to have the penjamin on you?"

"That depends," he says, putting his hand in his pocket. "What's the magic word?"

You roll your eyes. "Please?"

He pulls the little device out of his pocket and presents it to you in his palm. When you go to grab it, he makes a fist and holds it above his head.

"Please who?"

"I'm not calling you Daddy," you scoff, prying his fingers open and snatching the pen from his grasp. He barely puts up a fight. "That's Hamzah's job."

At the mention of his name, Hamzah looks up and seems like he's about to say something to retaliate but freezes. His gaze drags down your figure and you blush.

"Maybe it's not his job," Martin says smugly, "since you made him speechless."

Hamzah snaps out of it and elbows his friend in the side.

“It would be your girlfriend's job if you weren't being petty right now."

You wince at the sullen expression that washes over Martin's face.

"Right."

All you can do is watch as he clambers off the bed and walks out of the room. You lean against the wall and slide the balcony door open with a sigh.

"He can't seriously be that mad," Hamzah says. "I was kidding."

"He can dish it, but he can't take it," you say, too used to his behavior. "And he's extra sensitive right now, so."

"Well, they better not ruin our night with that stuff." Hamzah crosses his arms.

"I won't let them."

"Yeah?" Hamzah snorts. "What're you gonna do about it?"

"Um." You take a hit and blow the smoke outside. "I'll think of something if I need to step in."

Hamzah laughs at your empty threat and you smile. You take another hit before offering the dab pen to him.

"I have a feeling I should be sober for tonight."

"Boring," you sing out. "It'll be fine. C'mon, feel my peer pressure."

You wiggle your fingers at him and he shakes his head, laughing lightly. When he silently puts his hand out a few seconds later, you cheer. The room fills with the loud music from Mandy's speaker as he takes his first hit.

"So," you begin, already feeling slightly heady. "What were you guys whispering about earlier?"

"I shouldn't say."

"Really?"

He nods. "It was partly about their fight. Partly the trip. And you."

"Me?" You point at yourself with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah." He shrugs. "I can't divulge the details."

"That's bullshit."

"I never ask what you guys say about me."

"Hey—I don't—what?" you stutter, unable to come up with a defense.

"C'mon," he says, tilting his head. "I'm not that oblivious."

Your eyes narrow. You've never once considered that this cupid thing Martin was pulling on you could have gone both ways. You don't know if you're relieved for him stepping in to push his friend closer to you, or annoyed that he's even meddling in this whole thing. It makes you wonder if Martin knows what happened by the time he and Mandy returned to the beach last night.

"Speaking of details." You clear your throat. "Do you even know what club we're going to?"

Your attempt at changing the topic is weak, but as per usual, Hamzah rolls with it to save you any embarrassment.

"No clue. Martin keeps his trip itinerary locked in his notes."

The conversation devolves into a bunch of what if's about the night and jokes that are only funny because you guys are high. When Mandy finally comes to join and sees the state of you two, you offer her a hit.

"What? No drinks?" She frowns.

"Hotel alcohol is like twenty bucks a pop! This is the next best thing."

"Ugh, fine. Give it."

With the three of you thoroughly blitzed, you collect Martin from the living room couch and make your way out of the hotel. He doesn't speak for a majority of the walk, and you think that's the longest you've ever heard him be quiet in a group setting.

Despite it being nearly 10 P.M., the air is pretty humid and forgiving on your exposed skin. The other thing about it being so late already, is that the club is absolutely chock-full of people when you enter. The dance floor of strangers are nearly toe to toe in proximity, and you wrap your arm with Mandy's to avoid getting separated in the crowd. The boys immediately beeline to the bar for drinks, but you don't let that stop your journey. You maneuver your way to the front of the stage and only let go of each other once you've found a bit of space to dance in.

The DJ nods at the two of you and you turn to raise your eyebrows suggestively at Mandy, who pushes your shoulder and continues dancing. You get lost in the beat, swaying and bouncing with the vibrations traveling through your limbs. The strobe lights illuminate your sweaty skin and you swear the energy in the room has you feeling higher. You begin grinding on each other and throw your heads back to laugh, trying to catch your breaths in between a multitude of bodies.

"Hey!" Mandy places her arms around your shoulders to catch your attention and you take it as a sign to grind on her. "I'm going to grab drinks.”

"No!" You turn and put your hands over hers. "Don't go!"

"I'll be right back!" She grins and squeezes you before letting go to disappear into the crowd.

Alone, you turn back to the stage and throw your hands in the air. You close your eyes for a moment, the pounding beats making a home in your brain. You're sure your ears will be ringing when you leave.

You wonder if Martin's drunk himself into a coma yet and knowing him, you know how easy that could be. You only hope this outing tonight doesn't make him do anything he regrets. Then you remember he’s a twenty-five year old man and you’re worrying about him while you’re supposed to be having fun. So, you shut your brain off and let the beat carry you.

When Mandy's back, she has two drinks in hand and Hamzah in tow. She hands you a cocktail and you graciously sip from your first alcoholic drink of the night.

"Where's Martin?" you ask.

"Bar!" she shouts over the music.

You shake your head. "Make up and make out already!"

She jabs your side and you giggle, swatting her hand away. Hamzah's doing something reminiscent of a frat flick, looking slightly out of it. You assume he's already done some shots and is way more intoxicated. So, being an empath, you finish your drink to get closer to his level. When you're done, you hand the empty cup to Mandy and wink at her. Your hand envelops Hamzah's and you pull him deeper in the crowd so you can dance together.

"I don't—I can't dance," he complains, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"C'mon, it's easy!"

You begin by swaying your hips, raising his hand in yours to guide him into a rhythm. He tries to follow along, shuffling around like a newborn deer. It's a funny sight, but you don't want him to stop if you tease him, so you bite back your amused smile. He slowly gets less self-conscious and continues on in his own way with the flow of the music, even twirling you around once or twice, laughing all the way as you narrowly avoid knocking into people. His eyes never leave you, like he's constantly thinking of his next move to impress you.

After letting him freestyle some more, you pull him close and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He falters at the change in pace and his hands fall at your hips. Your hands rest at the nape of his neck and he shivers at the way your fingertips grace his skin. The rapid strobe lights nearly blind you, but you hold eye contact.

"Was that so bad?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

"Yes," he says sarcastically. "I hate dancing."

"But I like your dancing."

You sway with him, careful not to step on his toes in your heels. Close up, you can nearly feel his breath on your face. You take a moment to admire his eyelashes and the way his eyes are slightly bloodshot, willing him to break the eye contact. He leans in closer.

"I like your dancing more."

You can't help but grin. His expression mimics yours.

"Yeah, well," you start, bringing your thumb up to trace the side of his jaw, "I like you."

He ducks down and captures your lips in a kiss. It takes you by surprise. You hadn't spoken a word about your kiss since last night, and you were beginning to think you made a mistake by acting on your impulses. Evidently, he doesn't seem to mind it as much as you'd worried.

The tip of his nose presses against your cheek as he shifts his head to deepen the kiss. Though the room is warm, this makes you hotter than any amount of dancing could've done. His palms squeeze your hips and your fingers rise to play with his curls. They're soft to the touch, just as you suspected. You tug lightly as the kiss gets more insatiable.

"Ouch," he mumbles against your lips, barely loud enough to hear. You snicker and tug it again, making him pull away. "I said ouch."

"I know," you laugh out. "Sorry."

"That funny?" he questions. You nod, grinning at his playful irritation. "See how you like it."

His hand trails up your back until his fingers are at your scalp and he gently pulls on your roots. Your head moves back with his action and your lips part, exhaling a shaky breath. His eyes widen. He does it again. You reach up to kiss him again.

It's hotter this time, in both senses of the word. Your skin goes alight with a blaze even the coldest shower couldn't reduce. You drape your wrists over his shoulders, your beaded bracelet pressing into him the same way his is imprinting into the sliver of bare skin below your top.

Realizing you’re standing in place in the midst of a lively dance floor, you break from the kiss and turn so your back is against his front. You pull his arms around your shoulders and sway, deliberately pressing yourself against him. You enjoy hearing the way his breath hitches next to your ear, always needing to find a new way to tease him. You know if you could have it your way without seeming too desperate too soon, you’d be doing more than just dancing.

“I like you, too,” he says, clutching you closer to him. “I forgot to say.”

You turn your head and nearly kiss his cheek because of how cute he is. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

“And I really like your dancing.”

His suggestive words spur you into grinding on him more, anything to get a reaction out of him, and it works every time. The two of you keep going this way until your thighs are burning and you’re out of breath. If it weren’t for the visual reminder, you would’ve forgotten that you came here with other people.

A couple feet away, you spot two familiar heads weeding through the crowd and slowly drawing nearer. You step away from Hamzah, who looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Before you can explain yourself, you come face-to-face with Mandy. Martin stops a bit away.

“Can we leave?” she rushes out.

Her mascara is running and her nose is red. Martin looks disgruntled, his eyes never staying in one place as he scans through the crowd. You grab her hand and nod. The four of you spot the nearest exit and leave promptly.

“What happened?” you ask once you’re out in the open. “Are you okay?”

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” Her eyes stay on the ground.

Your heart drops. “Of course.”

The walk back to the hotel is uneasy and fast-paced. The boys walk behind the two of you and you can hear Martin’s one word answers to everything Hamzah says to him. Your heels click and clack, barely providing a distraction from the hundreds of questions swarming your mind.

~

a/n: ooo we’re getting angsty. im so sorry this took so long and if u feel that it wasn’t worth the wait, the truth is ive been so sick recently like never before in my life and i haven’t felt a lick of motivation to write. ive had to rewrite these chapters so many times that its actually affecting me mentally because i wanna make u guys happy while actually enjoying writing. i promise u won’t have to wait this long ever again, but doing this story is making me realize i prefer writing short form stuff way more than stories like this because it’s simply less stress and fits my writing style more. thanks again for all the support and kind words, u guys have really warmed my heart and i hope u know that even tho this is fanfiction and it may seem silly, it’s really a labor of love and im so grateful that u actually like what i put out there. im so so so touched and i rlly love u guys, even if i don’t know u. parasocial virtual hugs to u all xoxoxo tysm. <3

[bimrwolf]

The Christmas Arrangement (Part 4)

steve harrington x fem!reader words: 3,754 warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT (i couldn't help it... they just ended up alone and it happened) 18+ minors dni :P summary: Steve Harrington thought asking his stubborn intern to play his girlfriend for the holidays would be simple. But "pretend" starts to get a little complicated when moments feel a little too real. a/n: IM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY !!! i wanted this done before christmas but due to my health that didn't happen. im not sure when part 5 will come out but it will be before or on new year's eve!!!! i have a dr appt monday to see when i'll be having surgery. thank you for your patience ! enjoy this little short filler before the final part :) Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 (coming soon)

Steve’s hands gripped your waist, his mouth on the nape of your neck, stomach pressing into your backside, hand around your throat. Your hand was on the wall, holding yourself up. You were melting as he roamed your body, whispering dirty things about your dress. 

He was still wearing the suit, well just the pants, jacket, and hat. He had ripped the beard off as soon as the door closed. His mouth was on yours immediately. But you weren’t going to complain. 

You moved your hips, allowing your ass to rub his crotch, making him dig his fingers tighter. You bit your lip, pleased as you felt him growing. 

You wondered if this would be your new normal. Him pulling you into his office, pretending to speak to you about important business stuff. In reality, the contents on the desk would be on the floor, your legs wrapped around his hips. Okay, maybe you have secretly imagined it before. 

You moaned as he pressed into you, forcing your cheek on the freezing cold wall. His hand let go of your waist, fisting the flesh of your thigh. You hissed when he slipped his finger under your dress to drag it against your sensitive area. 

He stopped, moving your head to look at him, giving you a sly smirk. “Already soaking wet. Hope it’s not ‘cause of me.” 

You rolled your eyes, facing the wall. “Shut up, Harrington.”

He used his knees to move your legs apart further. His finger pushed your underwear to the side, slipping his digit inside, and then another. “I was thinkin’ about something earlier.” 

“You, thinking? That’s dangerous.” You closed your eyes, trying not to lose control as he slid another finger inside of you. 

“The other day. I asked if you had been in a relationship before.” He said casually. 

You furrowed your brows, back arching at his touch. He was good. He knew how to make you feel good but only just enough where you wouldn’t come undone. “Mhm.”

“Well,” he nipped at your earlobe. 

“I’ve dated.” You guided his other hand to touch your chest, intertwining your fingers with his. 

“Not the same,” he mumbled. 

You sighed, a mix of pleasure and annoyance at the conversation. “Why do you care, Mr. Harrington?” 

You could hear him roll his eyes at you. Regardless, he twisted you around, getting on his knees. Swiftly, he took off your underwear, looking up at you with his big stupid dark eyes. You brushed a strand of hair out from his face, wondering if he would grow his hair back out. His hat sat lopsided on his head, the white Pom Pom dangling. “You know I care.” 

“Then show me.” 

You gasped as soon as his mouth found your core. It was different than last night. He was drinking you, his tongue warm and skilled as it flicked back and forth. You thought your legs were losing their feeling. Your hand had knocked his hat off his head, your fingers clutching his hair. “Steve…” you whimpered, leaning forward like you were about to pass out, pushing him deeper. 

You could hear him grunt, occasionally saying how good you taste, the words vibrating that sweet spot that made you feel like a rocket was in the pit of your stomach. “Holy sh…” you were unable to finish the rest of your sentence. The rocket had set off, exploding inside your entire body. 

Steve broke away, panting, standing up. His lips wet, catching yours in a heated kiss. He tapped the back of your thighs, cuing you to jump and wrap them around him. He held you, his hands on your ass, carrying you to the cushioned chair. He sat down, you straddling his lap, mouths sloppily moving together. 

“I already told Santa what I wanted for Christmas,” you teased. 

He smirked. “Yeah, but now I need you to tell me what you want.” 

You could feel the pit of your stomach swell again. “Tell me a secret.” 

Steve paused, his grip loosened, and leaned all the way back in the chair to look at you clearly. His brows furrowed. “A secret?” 

You scanned his face, wondering if now was the time to bring up what his mom had said. You pushed it to the back of your mind. “Something you’ve never told anyone before.” 

His lips twitched. “I wear contacts.” 

You leaned in closer, using your fingers to keep his eye open. You were in disbelief when you could see the light circled line around his irises. “I was hoping the secret would be a bit sexier.” You tried to recall the past few days if he made any signs that he wore contacts. But really, he had already been up before you could catch him putting them in. 

“I’m afraid I’m a bit boring. I forgot what that word even is.” He looked you up and down. “I guess until I met you that is.” 

You bucked your hips, your center rubbing against his bulge. He closed his eyes, exposing neck as he groaned from the pressure. Your mouth attacked his throat, carelessly sinking your teeth, leaving behind a mark. 

“Are you going to tell me a secret, now?” He whispered, digging his fingers into your ass. 

You thought for a moment, running your fingers over the red fibers of the suit. “Do you remember when I accidentally made the wrong copies a month ago and Sharon yelled at me for an hour until you intervened?” 

“Somewhat,” the flicker in his eyes told you he did.

You gave him a chaste kiss. “When you caught her and yelled at her for yelling at me, I went into your office to thank you.” 

“I recall.” His brow was raised, unsure where you were going with this. 

You began to shimmy from his grip, sliding off his lap, onto the floor with your knees. You saw him swallow when you looked up at him, batting your eyes. 

You smirked, tilting your head as you knelt before him. “I said something like… ‘Guess I owe you one. Let me know if you ever need me to get on my knees for you.’”

Steve’s jaw dropped, and a flush crept up his neck. “You said that?”

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress a grin. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t think you heard me, though. You didn’t even look up from your computer.”

Steve ran a hand over his face, groaning. “Are you kidding me? I heard you. Loud and clear. That comment haunted me for days.”

You laughed, leaning closer. “So why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was like a new figure of speech to help with paperwork or something.” He gave you a half-hearted smile. 

“Jesus, have you always been this hopeless, Steve?” You giggled when his face fell, rolling his eyes. 

His lips formed into a thin line. “I’m smooth when I need to be.” 

“Yes, because letting a comment like that slide, is smooth.” You rested your palms on his thighs. 

“I didn’t let it slide,” he countered. His hands gripped your wrists as if to prove a point. “I just… what was I supposed to say? It was the first time you had ever been nice to me and I was to immediately assume you were flirting? Was I supposed to clarify and ask if you meant to be suggestive or offering to reorganize my filing cabinet?” 

“Reorganize your filing cabinet?” Your head tilted back, laughing. “Don’t worry, I was only turned on because you stood up for me. I never really thought of it again.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Don’t believe what? That I forgot about it?”

“Exactly.” He began to move your hands higher up on his thighs.  “You can’t drop a line like that and pretend it didn’t stick with you.”

“Oh, it stuck with me alright,” you said, biting back a grin. “I distinctly remember walking out of your office, thinking, ‘Wow, he’s even more clueless than I thought.’”

Steve groaned, his head tilting back against the chair. “Clueless? You blindsided me! I was trying to decide if I should fire Sharon. I wasn’t prepared for you to say something like that.”

“Prepared?” you teased, your voice lilting. “Steve, it wasn’t that complicated. It was a compliment, sort of. Maybe a little suggestive. Okay, a lot suggestive.”

“A lot suggestive?” he repeated, mock horror flashing across his face. 

Your fingers hooked the waistband of his pants, dragging them off to expose his black dress pants underneath. “Admit it, Mr. Harrington. You wouldn’t know what to do if you knew I was being serious.”

His breath hitched, but he recovered quickly, his lips curving into that cocky grin you knew all too well. “Maybe,” he admitted, his tone almost daring. “I’m assuming the offer is back on the table?”

Your hands flexed against his thighs, the playful tension between you crackling like a live wire. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll make you beg to hear the rest of my secrets instead.”

Steve’s gaze darkened, his smirk fading into something hungrier, something heavier. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near growl. “You’re playing with fire.”

Unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his underwear was easy. You took him with your mouth, using your hand to pump him as your head bobbed up and down. His words became mumbled and you could make out small curses under his breath. 

You had never really heard a man moan before. But Steve with his wet, swollen, covered in red, lips, parted, allowing the filthy sounds escape. His hand was at the top of your head, grasping the locks of your hair. Tighter and tighter, only making you go faster. 

He finally managed to get you to break away, panting deep breaths. “Come here.” 

His eyes are dark and face smug. 

“Why?” You challenged him. 

“Because I said so.” He tugged at your wrist to stand up. 

You stayed where you were, defiant. “I like it right here.” 

Steve’s grip on your wrist tightened just enough to send a shiver up your spine, his thumb brushing slow circles over your skin. His smirk deepened, tilting his head as he let his eyes drift down to where you knelt between his legs.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, gravelly—like he already knew exactly what game you were playing. “You like it down there, huh?”

Your chin lifted stubbornly, even as heat spread across your cheeks. “I think I’ve got the better view.”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes flickering with something darker. “Trust me, sweetheart. You definitely do not have the better view. Come here.” 

You dragged your nails lightly along his thighs, feeling the way his muscles tensed. Still refusing to listen. Steve was clearly restraining himself from reacting. His jaw ticked and his grip got tighter. His eyes snapped back to yours, and for a second, the teasing flicker vanished—replaced by something hungrier, more intense. His hand slid down, catching your chin between his fingers, guiding your gaze up to his. You leaned into his touch, lips barely grazing his thumb. “Up. Now. Please.” 

“I’m enjoying you squirm,” you attempted to sound confident. However, the way he said please made the heat at the bottom of your stomach boil. You tightened your legs together, whining, trying to alleviate the pressure. You hated to admit you needed him now or you might combust. 

He must have noticed because he was no longer playing the game. He tugged you up swiftly, your body pressing flush against his as he pulled you down onto his lap, your legs straddling his. His hands found your hips, holding you there firmly as his gaze locked with yours.

“I don’t squirm,” he muttered.

“Oh, you definitely do,” you countered, grinning up at him.

“You sure about that?” His lips were so close that his breath tickled your skin, eyes burning with challenge.

You swallowed, your pulse racing in your throat, but you weren’t about to let him win that easily. “Absolutely.”

His mouth was on yours before you could say anything else, capturing whatever smart remark you’d been about to make. His hands roamed slowly up your back, pulling you tighter against him. “Need you,” he groaned. 

His fingers dug into the back of your thighs right below your ass. You lifted yourself and he grabbed himself, one hand holding you steady, allowing you to slowly slide on him. A mix of pleasure came out of you, like a dirty song. You exchanged a small smile, reveling in the feeling of him inside you. He grinned wider, kissing you tenderly. 

He was literally inside of you and he still managed to make your cheeks heat up. “You’re pretty, you know? M’sorry I made you believe I didn't like you.” 

You kissed the freckle on his face. You didn’t reply, shifting forward, slowly riding him. The pleasure spread to your core, and the more you felt him inside you, making you full, the rest of your body felt electric. 

You continued your sweet, decadent pace, nuzzling your face into his neck. His arm was wrapped around you tightly, palm in your hair. You rolled your hips, biting your lip as the angle brushed your clit. You began to pick up the pace, stealing sloppy kisses in between the moans. 

You leaned back, the change in angle bringing out involuntary swear words. Then it was Steve who began to lift his hips to match your pace. He was hitting just the right spot. You gasped, a high pitch whine poured from your lips, Steve’s chin was on yours, drinking the sound into his mouth. He smirked, open mouthed. 

His thumb found your clit, grazing it gently. “Oh, fuck, Steve. “ you called out. You hadn’t meant to be so loud. 

Steve seemed surprised at your outburst. But you were caught off guard at the sudden intensity. He didn’t hesitate to continue rubbing circles. You leaned back further so he had more access. 

“Sweetheart…” he begged. 

You put a hand on his chest. “Please wait for me. I’m almost there.” 

He nodded, leaning his head back, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed like if he breathed another breath he would come undone. He took your hips, taking liberty to lead, lifting you up and down in a quick steady rhythm. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to fight himself and it was enough for your walls to tighten around him. You gripped him harder with every rock of your hips. You kissed him hard, melting into a pool as your insides cracked. 

“Oh… god,” Steve groaned on your tongue. He gave a final thrust and you felt the warmth of his climax as your limbs shook and the currents in you hit like a storm. 

Holy fucking shit. 

You collapsed on him, chests flush together. 

Holy fucking shit. 

It felt surreal. You could feel his staggered breath. You placed lazy kisses on the freckles on his neck. You felt him smile in your hair, kissing the top of your head, rubbing your back. “You think my mom and friends noticed we’ve been gone?” 

You chuckled lifting off of him. “We can just say we had a Santa suit malfunction.” 

He hummed. “I think they’ll know we’re lying. Your dress is torn on the back.” He played with fabric touching the back of your neck. 

“What!” You sat up, jumping off of him, reaching for the same spot. Sure enough. “How is that even possible?

Steve laughed. He pulled his trousers back on, picking up the red Santa pants off the ground and folding them. He stood up, taking off the rest of the costume. You started to look around the room, frowning. “Have you seen my panties?” 

Steve immediately looked guilty, not looking you in the eye. “No.” He said too quickly. 

You crossed your arms across your chest. “I don’t believe you.” 

He stood up, face still deadpan. He shrugged. “I don’t remember you wearing any.” 

You narrowed your eyes, your lips betraying you as you grinned. You strode over to him, hands attacking his pockets. 

“Woah! Careful there, you might start something I don’t think we have time to finish.” His eyes lit up mischievously. 

“Give them back, Steve,” you giggled as he started to use his arm as a shield. He rummaged in his coat pocket, bringing out the pair of underwear, letting it hang off his finger. “Hm, dunno how it got in there.” 

You took a step back, shoving him slightly. “You’re such a dork!”

He handed them back apprehensively. You wanted to put them back on until you saw the puppy dog look in his eyes. You rolled Your own and slid them in one of his back pockets, patting it gently. You shot him a glare that told him not to say anything or you’d take them back. 

Steve’s smirk deepened, and he glanced down at his back pocket, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Guess I’ll hold onto these for now. A little keepsake,” he teased, pulling his belt through the loops of his trousers.

You arched a brow, stepping closer, your fingers toying with the edge of his unbuttoned shirt. “Keepsake? I didn’t realize we were doing souvenirs now.”

He looped his arms around your waist, tugging you flush against him. “I like collecting things that remind me of you.” His lips brushed lightly over yours, slow and teasing, and it was ridiculous how easily that line made your knees weak.

“Oh,” you murmured against his mouth, pretending to consider. “Should I start stealing things from your desk then?”

Steve grinned, nipping at your bottom lip. “You already steal all my pens.”

“They’re better than mine,” you shot back, tugging lightly on his collar.

“I swear you do it just to watch me get frustrated during meetings.” His breath was warm against your cheek, his voice dropping to that husky tone that always made you shiver.

Before you could respond, there was a soft knock on the door, followed by Robin’s unmistakable voice.

“Hey, your mom has been looking for you two. So before she files a missing persons report I’d wrap up.. Whatever it is,” she called, the smirk in her voice painfully obvious.

You pulled back quickly, smoothing down your dress as if you could somehow fix the tear Steve had pointed out earlier. Steve’s hand lingered on your lower back as he opened the door just a crack, peeking out. “Sorry, we lost track of time talking.”

Robin’s eyes immediately narrowed. “You two are way too sweaty for only talking.” 

Steve didn’t miss a beat. “The heating in here’s brutal,” he deadpanned.

Robin snorted, crossing her arms. “Sure. Well, get your ass downstairs, your mom wants to take pictures.” Her gaze flickered to you with a knowing grin. 

Steve shrugged off his suit coat, and you felt the warmth between your legs again. There were many times you had “accidentally” turned up the air in the office to see him take off his jackets. The way his dress shirts hugged his biceps just right. 

He draped the coat over your shoulders, smirking as you continued to stare at his arms. 

Steve leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You know,” he murmured, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of his coat on your back, “if you really want to get back at me for the pens… maybe we keep the coat on all night. No dress underneath.”

Your breath hitched at the suggestion, heat blooming low in your stomach. The way his voice dipped, low and deliberate, sent shivers up your spine, and for a moment, you forgot Robin was even standing there, arms crossed and watching the two of you like a hawk.

Steve’s fingertips skimmed over the bare skin of your back, just under the edge of the coat, and your eyes flickered down to his forearms again. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to the elbows, exposing the smooth line of his veins and the faint freckles scattered across his tanned skin. His muscles flexed subtly with every movement, and the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt strained just enough to remind you why office meetings were sometimes unbearable.

You swallowed, the room suddenly feeling too warm. “I think your mom might notice if I’m standing there half-naked in front of the Christmas tree,” you whispered back, though the teasing lilt in your voice betrayed how tempting the idea was.

Steve grinned, his thumb grazing slow, lazy circles into your lower back. “She’ll just think you’re cold,” he said, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll play innocent.”

Robin cleared her throat loudly, and you both jumped, Steve pulling back just enough to look sheepishly at her. “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” she said, waving a hand dismissively.

Your face burned as Steve chuckled, slipping his hand into yours as he guided you toward the door. “Alright, alright. We’re coming,” he said, shooting Robin a half-hearted glare. 

She grinned, pleased with herself, her eyes glanced at Steve's coat draped over you. “Nice touch. Really subtle.”

You tugged the coat tighter around yourself, shooting her a glare. “It’s cold.”

“Sure,” Robin said with a wink before disappearing down the hall.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, watching her retreat with an amused glint in his eyes. “I think she likes you more than me,” he mused, slipping his hands into his pockets.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the coat as you stepped into the hall beside him. “That’s not a high bar.”

He laughed, his shoulder bumping against yours as you walked. “You wound me.”

“You’ll survive,” you teased, though you let yourself lean into him a little as you descended the stairs. He laughed at your words and you felt butterflies in your stomach. 

You wondered if he’d be this carefree back at work. Your face dropped, immediately remembering what his mom had told you. As Steve guided you toward the refreshment table, his hand warm against the small of your back, the weight of his mom’s words settled heavily in your chest. He's thinking about walking away. The easy way he laughed with guests, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, it was hard to reconcile that with the idea of him leaving the company. Leaving you.

[marklikely]

can i share a secret with you guys the one and only reason why i don't want to see wicked is because i hate how ariana looks in the movie so much that it makes me angry every time i see her in character

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[christakisbang]

not the prayer type but currently praying to anything that can hear that those images in the pre-order preview are just placeholders ❤️

[quarklynx]

Casually flirting with the idea of fucking around and getting a master's degree. The time will pass anyway, right?

[philosophicallie]

ok time to try to blame someone else instead of me

[killjoy-prince]

Ray's After Ending is so funny because for a good chunk of it, most of the RFA members are knocked out by V's sleeping gas (Saeran is immune, Saeyoung isn't present bc he was kidnapped by his agency under his father's orders and MC wakes up in like an hour) but the game has a call feature where you can call the characters and it would be a waste if you couldn't use it bc the characters were unavailable so instead they have other people pick up the call (Jumin's driver picks up Jumin's phone, Jumin's father picks up Zen's phone, Yoosung's friends and mom pick up Yoosung's phone and Jaehee's coworkers pick up Jaehee's phone) and we do get to learn about the characters from outsider's point of view but it's so funny to me that these people are visiting their loved ones and suddenly the phone rings and they decide to just. answer it. and start talking to this stranger they've never met

[brltpop]

And speaking of kevin bacon, i read a recent interview of his where he said he wanted to experience living "like normal people do" so he asked a special effects artist to change his appearance to go to a crowded venue and said he absolutely hated the experience because no one recognised him, people pushed him and were rude, no one asked for a photo or gave him a shout out, he had to wait in line to get a simple coffee AND he didn't get any sort of benefit/discount at the venue and legit said he just wanted to go back home to get rid of the disguise and be famous again and like........ the layers of this whole thing 😵‍💫

[ame-to-ame]

there are things that you don't do for a year or more and pick up just right where you left off and these days i fear loving you might be one of them

[strawbebemilk]

Was just having a conversation with my friends the other day about how difficult it is to be a fan of things nowadays and actually avoid spoilers and so in preparation I blocked/muted literally every jjk tag I could think of across sites and somehow I still immediately open tiktok to spoilers (which is not too surprising as tiktok has literally the WORST filtering system I've seen, like even tumblr has their shit together better than that). But anyway it just kinda makes me sad that it's almost impossible to be online now and actually enjoy things at your own pace? It makes me think of when Netflix drops whole seasons and suddenly it's a race to binge everything so you don't get spoiled and I do think it's actively killing our enjoyment of things. Obviously this case is a lil different, the leaks still come out on a weekly basis but I think there's really something to be said about reading a finished product rather than seeing 25 blurry images of the same panel with iffy translations

[moshieee]

Ew, essays :[

I miss the old days of kindergarten when we attempted to color butterflies and ate erasers and glue

-🎁

I hated kindergarten

Essays may suck but at least now I'm not the weird kid in the corner wishing I had friends

However yes I absolutely despise essays with all my being... in fact!

Achievement unlocked: you somehow found a topic moshie hates enough and on a bad day to start them ranting in the tags...

Warning there are curse words, poor spelling, and caps locks

Sorry in advance

[benanazauce]

my spidey ‼️‼️‼️

can’t BELIEVE I haven’t posted this yet I’m still proud of it

she lives in a vaporwave inspired universe and she’s somewhat in the style of the archie comics I hope you like her

character sheet under the cut!! I posted it before but it’s buried

the art’s a bit old so she’s not in her actual style here

by the way she does wear glasses she just can’t wear them under her mask but the lenses of her mask have prescription degrees so she can see just not without it

no idea what she’s looking at here probably a bug on a floor to the side

also disregard the 3 points below “bitten by a cat that ate the radioactive spider” those are irrelevant now but I will make an updated character sheet when I’m free!! hopefully a better one too

[carcarrot]

alright we're okay. it's all going to work out and happen. ive got my short film idea. i just have to make it absolutely perfect and then we're good to go

[malkaviian]

i have a headache but also i dont want to go to sleep just yet dkjnfjds i want me-time

(warning: as i was writing the tags of this post this turned into another kinda-heavy rant about the situation my group of friends and i are. so keep that in mind)

[8bitgarden-sys]

Op be like

so once me and my wife were watching a documentary where a snake ate like a million eggs. that snake just went to fucking town on eggs. and the snake made the eggs look so good that i kept thinking about it, and thinking about it, and thinking about it, and eventually it was 11pm and i ran out of willpower and decided to eat one (1) singular raw egg just to prove to myself that the snake was surely a liar.

the snake was not a liar. texture is like, super important to me and raw eggs are very Texture so i had another one, and then another one, and then another one, and eventually i ran out of eggs.

i had like, fifteen raw eggs.

i didnt really know how to explain this momentary madness to my wife, so my Plan was to put all the eggshells into a grocey bag, and then throw that grocery bag in the dumpster, and if she never noticed that would be Excellent and if she noticed immediately i could lie and say that the eggs went bad.

except i cant lie very good, and of course with murphys law being such, i got salmonella.

so i threw up a lot and my wife asked me what poisoned me so and i tried very hard to dodge the question but i was oozing shame like oil from a room temperature cheese and eventaully i gave in and told her everything and to her enormous credit she was more flabbergasted than actually upset. she did make me promise to not eat any more raw eggs, which i have stuck to, and she gives me weird looks during nature documentaries now as if desire was the only thing keeping me from eating thousands of pounds of krill anyway i made a joke earlier about being able to eat my age in eggs and my sister in law in law made a drawing to comemorate the moment and also because it was my birthday. she's excellent. thank you 10000000% @cintailed. you should all visit her page and admire her work.