#no one ever let me agree to do this again my brain is mush

[blueicequeen19]

The Rich & The Damned

Warnings: unprotected sex, implied sexy accountant, public car sex, choking

How did I get here? Men usually paid annual salaries just to get a few minutes of my time but now.. I’m in the front seat of a Rolls Royce for free. With a man who doesn’t respect what I do. Who wants me to quit my job and be his good little wife. He infuriates me. He belittles me. But fuck.. his touch turns my PHD brain into mush.

I’m good at what I do. I recognize my skill set and I know how to play powerful men. I’ve paid my bills with cash in advance for years and put myself through Ivy League schools that only care about last names. I don’t have a big name but I have loaded pockets and that speaks volumes. So why the fuck am I on this man’s lap, dying for a scrap of attention when he can no longer be bothered to come inside to see me?

“Fuck me.. please.. I need you.” I whine, tugging on his hair as he peppers kisses along my throat and collar bone, large hands palming my thong-clad ass and rock me against his erection.

“Come home with me.” He growls, taking a chunk of my flesh between his teeth and making me hiss as I shove his head away.

“I told you not to mark me.” I snap, glaring at him even as his blue eyes shine with amusement and mischief.

“And I told you if you wanted back in my bed, you had to stay off the pole.” His words sting, even with the red lipstick smeared across his mouth. If anything the smirk on his face combined with the red smear made him look even more sinister.

I pull my lips back in a snarl as his hand slides between my parted things to cup my pussy. I slap at his hand but his free hand finds my throat, pushing my back against the dash and squeezing hard.

“You’re not for them.” He growls, tucking my thong to the side before shoving two then three fingers inside me. My eyes roll back into my head, my pussy gushing in his hand as he strokes my sweet spot.

“I-I’m not yours.” I rasp, riding his hand like a desperate whore. God, I’d agree to anything right now if it meant I got to feel his fat cock inside me again. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen to my brain as he squeezes even harder.

“Don’t lie to me. You’re not very good at it.” His words light me on fire again, making me dig my nails into his chest as I try to lift off his hand. The hand around my throat drops to my chest and he yanks my bra down so my breasts spill out.

“I guess we’re both liars.” I purr, just as his hot mouth closes around my nipple and sucks hard. I was so close to my orgasm I could feel it in my toes. I throw my head back as I shamelessly ride his hand but I desperately craved his cock instead.

“Maybe if you’d stop treating me like one of your customers.” I yelp when he’s teeth sink into my nipple so hard, I know there’s blood. Or the very least, a new piercing. His fingers leave me aching and needy in their retreat.

“Stop treating me like a whore and maybe I’d treat you like someone who actually means something to me.” I bite back, shoving his chest hard as I hear the sound of his belt buckle. When his cock springs free between us it takes everything in me to keep my composure. His large hand wraps around the thick shaft as he strokes himself almost lazily. The tip leaked clear drops of precum that I desperately wanted to chase with my tongue.

“Fuck me in my bed and maybe I’ll believe you’re somebody else.”

I was so fucking weak for him. I wanted to choke on it even if it meant I didn’t get off. If he fucked my throat until it was raw, I’d say thank you like the obedient slut I was. But only for him. Only ever him. So why didn’t he get that? I’d fuck him in front of every single client I had just to show him I was his. He could lead me around on a leash if that’s what it took.

I reached back to unhook my bra and let it fall to the floor before wrapping my hand around his on his cock. I savor the way his eyes become hooded and his breathing becomes labored just from my touch. I loved that he was as weak as I was.

“You—,” I brought my other hand up to his throat, squeezing the best I could until his eyes fully dilated while I lifted myself up on his thighs, “—don’t own—,” I notched his thick cock at my entrance and sank down one excruciating inch, “—me.” I sank down the rest of the way, my body welcoming the pain and stretch of him as his breathy moans met my ears.

It was always in moments like these where it became obvious that Rafe Cameron was fucking mine.

[merakiui]

sk!manager!azul who offers to eat you out after you get very stressful from idol activities 😳😳😳😳

👁 👁 he gives you the whole "benefits of being sexually active as proven by science" spiel so you're more likely to agree. That, and it would be much harder to do this with just anyone or someone just as famous as yourself. No one has to know. This will be a secret between idol and manager. Even though you seem somewhat hesitant, he insists you'll feel better. Just let your manager soothe you. You're in capable hands. <3 he's so trustworthy! And hasn't he only ever wanted what's best for you?

Now his head is between your legs and he's lapping and suckling at your clit like an expert, working you open with two fingers. He alternates between fingers and mouth, and any reluctance you may have felt in the beginning quickly withers away. Within no time, you're burying your fingers in his hair and clamping your thighs together to keep him trapped there. He's removed his glasses so they won't get in the way, and every now and then the both of you meet each other's stare. You've never noticed just how beautiful his eyes are. So striking. So hypnotic,,, your brain is mush by your third orgasm, and you're panting and gasping, begging him to keep going. Not like he intends to stop. He's wanted this for years and now he finally has it. Of course he's going to be greedy!

You're not really listening to yourself when you ask him if he's dating or married. You never hear much about your manager's personal life even though he seems to know so much of yours. Azul hums against your slick cunt. Would you be upset if he was? Would you like to put a ring on him? Should he just propose to you now?

If only all of those loser fans of yours knew what you were getting up to right now. All of that nonsense about being a pure idol free of romantic entanglements and here you on squirting for him like the slutty idol you really are. :) you're just too cute. He wants you all to himself, and soon he'll have you. Soon the two of you will live a peaceful life in isolation. Somewhere quiet and slow by the sea. Doesn't that sound marvelous?

He's killed for you. Stalked you. Fucked into his hand while listening to the voicemails you'd leave him on his work phone: "Hi, Azul! Vil and I are thinking of doing a collab. Could you help me arrange something?" or "Azul, sorry for calling so late. I just remembered something important. Can you review my schedule with me again? I think I'm forgetting something you mentioned earlier today..." or "Would it look weird if I started studying to get my driver's license? Do you think that would get me in trouble? Actually, maybe we should just meet up and talk about it in person... Thanks anyways, Azul!"

You're just so perfect. Even these strictly professional voicemails are hailed as the sweetest songs. He's so depraved. Nothing like the composed, cordial manager he masquerades as. Would you hate him if you knew that? Would you look at him differently? Would you stop saying his name in that sweet, breathless voice of yours as he brings you to your end once more? Maybe it's best if you don't know. He's worked so hard to get to this point. It would be a shame to ruin things now.

Besides, what you don't know can't hurt you.

[archangeldyke-all]

HEYHEYHEYHEY

ovulating w sevika

RAAAAAAAHHHHHH

men and minors dni

she can tell. she claims she can smell it. she sometimes even knows before you.

"fuck, baby." she grunts against you as you press sleepy morning kisses against her lips. "'re you ovulating?" she asks.

"how the fuck do you do that?" you whisper. she just chuckles as she shoves her hand down your pants to play with your sensitive, wet cunt.

she loves when you're ovulating. it's her favorite time of the month. she loves that you're constantly soaked, that the littlest things can get you going. she loves the way she can just sink her cock into you, no prep needed. loves the way your cunt smells when you get this needy, loves the way your brain turns to mush when she's teasing you.

you'll agree to almost anything when you're ovulating and needy. sevika takes full advantage of this. she loves fucking in public, and it's usually not your thing, but one week out of the month she can convince you to fuck her almost anywhere-- in dark alleys, in public bathrooms, on one very memorable occasion, at the table on date night, her fingers splitting you open under the table cloth as the waitress refilled your glasses.

you've both got a bit of a breeding kink, and it only gets worse when you're ovulating.

"gonna fuckin' knock you up." she grunts as she shoves her strap inside you. "you want that? want my kids?" she asks. "look at your poor pussy, just beggin' for it, baby. 's okay. i'll fill you nice 'n full with my cum, fuck it into you t' make sure it takes-- 's that what you want? want me to get you pregnant?"

after enough time together, your cycles sync and sevika and you begin to ovulate at the same time. it's fucking chaos, at that point.

neither of you get much sleep those days. it's just sevika fucking you, and then you fucking sevika, and then sevika fucking you again because she got jealous watching you on top of her. it's an endless cycle.

sevika usually likes fingers or your mouth, but when she's ovulating she begs for the strap. "please, baby, please. need you to fill me up n' fuck me full."

if you ever try to flip the script and tease her about you knocking her up, she'll flip you and ride you into the mattress with a hand over your mouth to keep you from talking. (it's 'cause she knows if she lets you keep talking she'll come embarrassingly fast.)

anyways, yeah. ovulating with sev's a blast.

taglist

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

[neochan]

sam ur gonna kill me one of these days holy fuck

but also renjun making your boyfriend watch as he fucks you stupid on his cock and he’s holding your face so that your gaze stays on your boyfriend and makes you admit how much better he is than your boyfriend and calls you all sorts of names that you just dumbly nod along to while he turns your brain into mush every time he hits that sweet spot inside of you <3

[part two to this]

his voice is gruff with exertion, "say you love it when i fuck you."

renjuns hips grind into you, each thrust sharp and punctuated, "i- love it, fuck jun, it's - oh my -"

he squeezes your jaw so hard you think there may be bruises tomorrow - not like it would be the first time. "don't tell me. tell him."

he guides your head so that you were looking at your poor boyfriend gingerly sitting on the side of the bed. the look in his eyes as he watches renjun fuck into your soaked cunt is almost enough to break you - but renjun beats him to it by hitting your sweet spot so perfectly you arch back against him.

you're panting, barely able to comprehend a single word, "it's really - i love it when he f-fucks me."

renjun's other hand roughly pinches a nipple, "tell him watcha really think sweetheart." his voice lowers to a growl, "why don't you let him know who does it best."

your boyfriend, mark, just watches defeatedly, yet the bulge in his pants could have been seen from a mile away, as if watching another man fuck his girlfriend dumb, mascara running down her face, got him off

"god, he fucks so much better than you. i'm sorry -"

a harsh hand taps your cheek, "don't be sorry baby. why are you sorry? you're just a needly slut that loves cock huh? yeah, oh angel, i know it feels good."

"n-not sorry. god he just fucks me so good, mark, i-" he flinches at his name and shifts uncomfortably. "b-better than you."

no, you were right. you weren't sorry. not when you were all but crying on renjuns cock.

"mark, you need to fuck her better. then she wouldn't be acting like this with me. isn't that right angel?" his tone turns mocking, "oh baby, are you really that deprived?"

you dumbly nod your head, never breaking eye contact with mark. his hand has shifted though - instead of clutching the sheets so tight his knuckles were burning, his heavy hand now sat on the front of his pants - right overtop his aching cock.

renjuns voice is steady when he drops his pace so that he was languidly hitting your sweet spot. you hated when he did this. it made the desperation kick in - the overwhelming need for him to just push you down into the mattress and fuck you. "you ever cum in her mark?" the dark haired boy shakes his head and renjun hums, turning his focus back to you, "so you let me do something you won't even let your boyfriend do. oh baby, what a fucking pathetic whore you are."

his hand is steady on your jaw, keeping you in place so that you were forced to look mark in the eyes, "wanna get knocked up by me. not him, me."

too focused on renjuns cock, you don't register the words, just keep nodding your head and agreeing.

"'course you do sweetheart." renjun's eyes flick over to marks, "if you're wondering, she takes my cum so fucking well, ain't that right princess?"

again, you're just nodding along while feeling the euphoric band in your stomach twist tighter and tighter.

"ah, let's show him, shall we?" one of his hands dips past your waist to rub at your clit, "beg for it and i'll give it to you."

[silent-dark-entries]

This is probably one of my favorite chapters from my Draco Smut I’m writing. :))

I love the sound of the crunchy leaves under my feet. It's too bad it's been raining all day and those crunchy leaves have quickly turned into mush for slugs to hide under. I don't mind though. I love rain on Sunday mornings.

I'm on my way into the village to meet Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville. Miss.Longbottom will be out of town this Halloween and of course Neville decided to throw another party. I'm meeting them to pick out costumes. I have my mind set on just getting vampire teeth and leaving it at that.

As I approach the seasonal store I see my friends laughing together. Harry is the first to wave at me. We've grown closer to each other as the days go on, being forced to only talk to each other in swim on the days that Neville was sick.

"Maisie, what’s your opinion on Neville being a cactus for Halloween." Harry says pushing me along into the group. Neville rolls his eyes at Harry and pouts.

"Luna is going to be a Oxalis triangularis. It's a matching costume." Neville states.

"Neville for the last time: you're the only one who knows with the hell that is." Ron says. Neville turns to the store door and swings it open letting the rest of the group inside.

"You'll get it on Friday when we win best costume at school and you're stuck in your bloody rat costume." Neville snaps.

"My mums making my costume." Ron mumbles. Everyone laughs as we pour into the shop going our separate ways. Hermione and I head to the women's costumes.

"What are you thinking ‘Mione?" I say rustling through a couple of costumes. Seeing all of the different costumes makes me want to reevaluate my vampire teeth plan. But I hate to spend money, especially with application season approaching. I've decided that Trinity is the school I want to go and that's going to take most of my savings for the next five years.

"Maybe I'll be Cormac's grades, that's scary enough." She huffs. " You know Neville asked him to come Friday."

I laugh at Hermione who's so flustered her face turns crimson.

"How's it going with Malfoy? You never really talk about it." Hermione adds. I bite the inside of my lips and try not the look her in the face. When it comes to tutoring Draco it's going great. His grades in English have improved drastically compared to last years. He doesn't have one missing assignment and his book is coming along, though it's as boring as can be. But in the other sense of what happened physically between Draco and me, we both agreed to start meeting in public spaces like the library after school. We didn't really discuss the whole make out session but surely chalked up as being high. I also blame the rain and the Bauhaus album in the background.

I shrug at Hermione. " He's smarter than one might think."

Hermione picks up and pointy hat from the top shelf and places it on her head. "Maybe I'll be a witch?" She says looking into the mirror.

"I'm starving" Ron grumbles. Ron and I waiting outside the sweets shop for rest of the group while Neville ordered jelly filled brains in bulk for Friday. I swears they're the best thing he's ever eaten.

"We're going to the pub right after this Ron." I say.

"Yeah, a shit pub." He adds.

"Why does it matter. You eat off the kids menus anyway..." I mutter. Ron laughs and looks up at me again. His smile fades into a serious stare.

"I think we should talk about the last Neville party..." Ron says. "You know, after our...uh, kiss. You ran off after and I just don't want to mess anything up. We were just starting to become friends and then I asked if you wanted to go in private....it was inappropriate. I'm just really sorry."

"Ron, I'm okay. It's okay." I say smiling. Suddenly from across the way theres a familiar loud high pitched laugh. It's Pansy Parkinson alone with Draco.

Though I try not to, I see Draco in a different way now. When I see him in the halls, I stare. Just hoping he'd do the same. Sometimes he does the same. I catch him at lunch staring at me and when I do he looks away almost immediately. When we have our tutoring sessions I'll look up from my books and see him staring and not just at my breast. Sometimes he stares at my thighs and at my neck, but mostly at my lips and eyes.

Pansy let's out another annoying squeal.

"You know, he's not that funny." I say to Ron as Pansy and Draco disappears into a bakery. "You know what... I'm in the mood for a lemon sponge." Before Ron can answer I'm pulling him across the street, into the small bakery. Draco and Pansy turns to look at us and I feel my face turns hot. What the hell was I thinking...what's my next move...think dammit.

"Look Draco its Fire Crotch and big-tits-magee" pansy squeals.

"Please Parkinson your laugh is far too annoying for this small space." Draco cringes. Pansy's face drops as she rolls her eyes. Draco searches my face before finding my eyes. He softens his face a little before looking at Ron and then back at me. His face nearly becomes stone. "Is it cold in here or are you just happy to see me Maisie?"

"Don't talk to her like that." Ron says. "Have some fucking respect Malfoy"

Draco looks over at me and smiles then back at Ron. "Who are you Weasley? Her fucking bodyguard? Oh, or are you her boyfriend?" Draco quips. Ron walks up trying to size up Draco but Ron's stature doesn't stand a chance to Draco's.

"You sound a little jealous Draco..." Ron jabbed.

"Oh, trust me, Weasley I have nothing to be jealous of." Spits Draco. Pansy grabs her treat off the counter and snakes her arm with Draco's. "See you Thursday night Maisie. How about we meet at my house this time." Draco smiles at Ron before pushing passed him and exiting the bakery.

"You don't have to take that Maisie.." Ron scoffs. "We can go straight to Snape and-"

"-Please Ron leave it!" I beg.

"What can I get for you?" The boy behind the counter ask.

I dig into my pocket to pull out my wallet. "Two lemon sponges please"

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Twenty Five

“Archaeology is the search for...fact.” The sound of the chalk hitting against the chalkboard is loud in the quiet of the room, a percussive sound followed by the squeak of the letters being drawn out in big, capitalized block letters. The underline beneath it serves as emphasis before he turns back to face the class. “Not truth.”

In the back of the room, a young man sits with a New York Giants hat pulled low over his eyes. The voice coming from the front of the room is the same one that he remembers, though the scruffy undergrad that Wan Li knew all those years ago has aged like a fine wine into the talented orator in front of him. 

A suit and a bow tie is not something Wan would have ever been able to picture Indy in. The short shorn hair was another surprise. It made him look older. More professional. (The glasses, Wan remembers. Nights around the fire in India had given him a few glimpses of the man doubled over with glasses low on his nose, scribbling notes about the day’s finds. 

“If it’s truth you’re interested in, Dr. Tyree’s philosophy class is right down the hall.” There a low hum of laughter from the classroom at that, soft enough that it was obvious the sound was either polite or from people who didn’t want to detract from Dr. Jones’ words. “So forget any ideas you have about lost cities, exotic travel and digging up the world.”

Wan is the one who snorts at that, quiet enough in the back row of the auditorium that there was no way he was at risk of being heard. Leave it to Indy (Dr. Jones, that would take some getting used to) to stand in front of a class and tell them that their job wasn’t going to be adventure or truth seeking, when Wan had spent part of his early life doing just that with Indy. 

“We do not follow maps to buried treasure, and ‘X’ never, ever marks the spot.” It was true. The map only led them to the general direction, and there was no ‘X’ when they found the stones in the abandoned halls of Pankot Palace. Just dust and time and careful consideration from the man at the front of the classroom.

“Seventy percent of all archaeology is done in the library.” Another truth, though this one didn’t have as many facets as the rest of the spiel. When he was twelve year old out on an adventure, Wan had thought that Indy was infallible, that he knew everything. But in his time in America and beyond, Wan had learned the truth. Indiana Jones was neither infallible nor all knowing. He was just a diligent, well read men. 

That didn’t do anything to get rid of the boyhood crush Wan had been carrying around since then, and seeing Indy here with elbow patches on his jacket and his bow tie wasn’t doing much to help either.

“Research. Reading. We cannot afford to take mythology at face value.”

And that’s what Wan was doing here, wasn’t it? Refusing to take the myth of Indiana Jones at face value. He wasn’t a kid anymore. There was no way the man could be as sauve and infuriatingly charming as Wan remembered. He needed to look at the facts compared to his memory and find the truth there. 

Dr. Jones looks at the clock on the wall, and the class begins to shuffle, a susurrus of sound as laptops are closed and bags are lifted for things to be put away. He was a man of routine here, that much was obvious. 

“Next week: Egyptology. Starting with the excavation of Naukratis by Blinders Petrie in 1885. I’ll be in my office if anybody’s got any problems for the next hour and a half.” One of the girls from the front row slides a piece of paper across the desk towards Dr. Jones, and Wan doesn’t have to be able to see her face to know she’s giving him the bedroom eyes. 

At least it wasn’t just him.

Indy doesn’t look up at the highest seats in the auditorium as he grabs his books and makes his way towards his office. Wan already knows what he’ll find there. A mob of students, wanting everything from genuine help with their assignments, to an easy fix for their problems. And a few like the brunette from the front of the class who wanted a little one on one attention. 

And when Dr. Jones slips out of the window to his office as an escape route into the garden outside, Wan is there waiting, hands in his pockets. 

“They don’t pay your poor assistant enough.”

Dr. Jones is dusting off the knees of his slacks when he speaks, without looking up. “They don’t pay her at all.” He stands upright, and that smug look finally falls away. It’s been twelve long years since the last time they were in the same place, but Indy’s look says it all. “Shorty?”

Wan remembers staring up at the big brownstone and the older couple waiting on the steps, their fingers clasped together. The woman was on the verge of tears before Wan was ever introduced to her, and as soon as she knew his name, she took him into her arms and whispered ‘welcome to the family’ in Chinese. 

The Kings were never the ones to make Wan feel out of place. The other kids at his boarding school took care of that. Which meant Wan spent most of his middle school and high school years taking diction classes online and after hours until his accent was wiped away. He would never sound like he was from New York, but at least he would sound like he was American when someone spoke to him. 

“Long time no see, Dr. Jones.” Of course, Indy wasn’t Dr. Jones the last time that Wan saw him. He was still an undergrad student with a dream, working on writing the thesis that would help him get his doctorate. 

“Look at you, kid!” Indy’s laughter is warm, and so is his touch as he bustles up and pulls Wan into a hug, smacking his back affectionately as he squeezed him. It was the same kind of hugs that Wan remembered from being a kid, the kind that the sweet and gentle Kings never could manage to replicate. “What brings you all the way out to Monaco?”

The facts are that Wan is here for one reason, and one reason only. To see Indiana Jones with his own two eyes to try and finally put his boyhood crush to bed so that he could move on with his life. But the truth could be less than that and a little to the left, and still be true. “I decided to take a semester abroad.”

“Yeah? What are you studying?” Indy steps back, hands still on Wan’s shoulders as they talk. It’s still weird, being so close to him in height. He was used to Indy being monolithic, and larger than life. Now he was just a guy. 

A gorgeous, charming guy who held a whole class in the palm of his hand just a few minutes ago with an ease that should be criminal. 

“What do you think?” But it’s easy to fall back into this rhythm, to be the smart alec that Indy liked so much that he couldn’t leave him on the streets of Shanghai when it was time to move on. “Do I look like I’m here to be an accountant?”

Indy laughs, warm and low and pleased and Wan feels that same burst of childish pride that he did at twelve years old. He’s twenty four now, it shouldn’t still make him feel like he’s accomplished something to make the guy laugh. “Guess not.”

Wan glances over Indy’s shoulder and sees the door to his office start to open. He grabs the man by his sport coat sleeve and starts tugging him further into the garden and away from the office building. “Hurry, Dr. Jones. Before they find you and you actually have to help your students with their assignments.”

Indy mutters ‘har har’ but he lets himself be tugged along, out of the back end of the garden and into the parking lot of the adjoining building. There wouldn’t be any of Dr. Jones’ students here, this was the arts building. It was as close to a clean getaway as they were going to get. 

But Wan doesn’t stop walking when they get to the parking lot. He keeps striding towards the far end of the parking lot, and the quaint street on the other side of it. “Come on. You’re going to buy me lunch.” Wan isn’t asking. This was just an easy way to buy more time to get to know the man behind the myth. 

This was research. It didn’t always take place inside of a library. 

“Oh I am? And why’s that? How come you’re not buying me lunch, junior?” Indy strides to keep up, his face screwed up into faux indifference. “I’m the one who took you all around the world. The least you can do is repay the favor with a patty melt.”

Wan rolls his eyes. He knows he’s being wound up, but he’s never been able to stop himself from falling right into the argument. “You make it sound like it was a vacation! It wasn’t a vacation! We got shot at in Macau!”

“Oh, that was one time!” Indy is walking right up beside him now, shrugging out of his suit jacket to throw it over his shoulder before he starts in on his bow tie. “You always bring up Macau. What about the car you stole in Shanghai, huh? Prepubescent grand theft auto is no big deal, but one little scuffle over grave robbing and you clutch your pearls!”

The conversation devolves into a petty argument, and by the time they’re stepping into the diner down the street from the campus, it’s entirely in Chinese. The bewildered waitress looks between the two of them before she clears her throat, and it’s like watching a curtain lifted over Indy. (Or dropped. Wan isn’t sure what is an act and what isn’t.)

Indy turns a charming smile on the woman, clearing his throat. “Sorry about that honey, you know how kids can be.” Wan makes a face behind Indy’s shoulder, and he knows that the man can feel it. Kids. It’s not like he was twelve years old anymore. “Table for two, please. Actually, can you make that a booth? Thanks, sweetheart.” Indy wouldn’t be able to get away with talking to women like that if he wasn’t so damn handsome.

The woman blinks at him, trying to decide if she was charmed or offended before she shakes her head, leading them over to a booth in the corner. Indy sits in the far side of the booth, so that he can watch the room at large. Still careful, even if he wanted to pretend he wasn’t. 

“So.” The sentence stops long enough for the waitress to bring them both cups of coffee, and take their order. As promised, Indy orders a patty melt and fries. Wan orders a BLT. It makes him miss the food they used to eat when it was just the two of them. Whatever the locals were having, bright and fresh flavors in everything they had. “What made you decide to come here for your semester abroad?”

Wan doesn’t have a good answer for that. At least not one that doesn’t include pointing out to Indy that he’s here for him, and him alone. “Why not? Mom and Dad were paying and the Archaeology program had an open slot here.” One that Wan has been applying to every three months for the last two years. 

Indy’s expression softens at ‘mom and dad’. Wan knows how worried he was when he left him in New York with the King family. But Dr. Jones was a good judge of character and the Kings were a kind, loving couple who couldn’t have kids of their own. They folded Wan into their life without a moment’s hesitation. 

“And then I saw your name on the website. I thought I might sit in on your class. Maybe I could get a good nap in.”

Indy rolls his eyes, and parrots Wan’s favorite old phrase back at him. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

[somnambulants]

omg i think it’s considered a little bit of a pride mont hate crime that you don’t have MORE nat fics 🥺 so hehehe how about i request some pouty jealous!nat?

Notes: omg thank u! happy pride 💛 this went super off topic BUT i hope you still like it! jealous!nat is my new favorite thing. 

Summary: Natasha may have a little bit of jealous streak. You discover you don’t mind. Word count: 3.8K

You are not a jealous person.

That’s not to say that you aren’t prone to bouts of insecurity, you definitely are, and especially at the beginning of your relationship with Natasha. For the first few months after you’d begun dating, you’d been on edge the entire time; in a constant state of wondering, agonising, for the day she’d finally realise you weren’t good enough for her and up and leave.

Through all of that, you’d never given a lot of thought to whether your girlfriend is the jealous type. Mostly because Natasha is the most beautiful person you’d ever seen but also because it’s not like she would ever have a reason to be jealous; the minute you’d met, you had never so much as wanted to look at another person.

The thought never crossed your mind. It was laughable to you.

As unbelievable of an idea as it is, you’ve been together for just a few months when it slowly begins to dawn on you that you may not be the jealous type, but Natasha most definitely is.

--

In all – although admittedly, there weren’t a lot – of her relationships, Natasha has never cared enough to worry about being jealous over a significant other. 

This is why the visceral reaction she has to watching people flirt with you comes as such a surprise to her.

The first time it happens, you’d only just begun dating and were at one of the many events the avengers were required to attend. Still wanting to stay as low-key as possible, you’d both privately agreed to not spend the night attached to one another. 

Something Natasha is now beginning to regret. Immensely.

Currently, you’re across the room, talking to a woman Natasha vaguely recognises as a reporter and all she can focus on is the way the woman is looking at you. 

It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up because Natasha knows that look; has given you that look many times over the course of your relationship – a hungry, I want you right now, kind of look.

“Nat!”

Steve suddenly materialises beside her and the fact that she didn’t see him coming is evidence of how distracted she is. It makes her scowl even harder. Taking in her expression, he all of a sudden looks like he’s trying not to laugh as he follows her gaze to where you were standing. “You feeling okay? You’re looking a little…green.”

She resists the urge to kick him in the stomach. “Bite me, Rogers.”

He snickers and starts to say something else, but whatever it is, it’s lost on her as the sound of your voice across the room acts as a honing beacon and regains her attention immediately.

She watches, grip tightening around her drink, as you throw your head back, laughing at some joke the woman must’ve made. Seeing this as a green light, the woman leans in, brushing a lone piece of hair over your shoulder. 

It doesn’t matter that Natasha can see how your spine immediately straightens up, or how you step back to widen the gap between you and your admirer.It doesn’t matter that you very clearly don’t return the attention being given to you. 

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters because all Natasha can see and feel is red. If she had the ability to burn people with her eyes, that woman would have been incinerated on the spot. There wouldn’t even be tiny little dust particles left behind.

In the midst of her rage, she doesn’t even register the glass in her hand shattering until she’s covered in glass and red wine and there’s blood running down her wrist.

The sound of the glass breaking makes a good portion of the room’s occupants turn around to stare, you included. Instantly, you’re at her side, cradling her hand between your own.

“What happened?”

In its current state, Natasha’s brain seems to be lacking its usual quick thinking, and she just stares at you dumbly for a second until she spots the reporter you’d been talking to skulking in the background, watching with a petulant look on her face, evidently irritated by the interruption and the white-hot rage comes flooding back even more ferocious than before.

God, that insipid woman is lucky this event was specified no weapons allowed because if Natasha had a gun right now, she --

“--Natasha?”

You’re looking at her with worry in your eyes and as much as she’d love to go ‘accidentally’ push that woman off the edge of this very tall building’s balcony to a very certain death, she feels her insides soften into mush as they often do when you’re around.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Accident.”

It’s a flimsy excuse and one that wouldn’t fly on a normal day, especially not with you. She watches you purse your lips, giving her a doubtful look but you seem to make the decision to let it go as you lead her out of the room with the intent to find something to clean her up with.

--

You may not be a trained spy or even the most perceptive person on your best day, but you can still sense it when something is up – especially with Natasha. After the party, you’d had an inkling that maybe your girlfriend wasn’t telling you the whole truth and that something else was actually going on but after seeing the look in her eye, you hadn’t pushed her.

In spite of her unwillingness to share, a few weeks later your inkling is confirmed.

“I’ll order this time,” you yell over the loud music at the bar you were currently at. It was not your scene at all – or Natasha’s but Carol had recommended it on her last trip back to this earth and after a long, long week, you’d both agreed you deserved a night out, away from avengers’ duties and this is where you’d ended up.

Natasha gives you a nod and you stand, only having to wait at the bar for a few seconds before the bartender makes a b-line for you, ignoring the grumbles from the patrons that had been clearly waiting a lot longer than you.

“What can I get you?”

You recite Natasha’s drink, then your own and the bartender makes them with record speed. When you try to hand her the bill to pay, she waves her hand dismissively and gives you a grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t –“

The bartender, who you now realise is quite pretty, runs a finger along the back of your hand and gives you a wink that is definitely more flirty than friendly. “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.”

You sigh in defeat, giving her a smile in thanks and turn back around, making your way back to your table in the corner of the room where your girlfriend is still sitting but now with a face like thunder. 

To anyone else, Natasha would probably look neutral but to you – well, you can see the irritated look in her eye and the slight crease between her brows and you know she’s pissed.

In the future, you’d look back and want to slap yourself for not seeing it straight away but in the present it just makes you a little worried.

“Everything okay?” you ask, setting the drinks down on the table. You think about all the possibilities of what could’ve happened in the short time you’d been gone and try not to panic. “Did something –"

“No,” Natasha says and then seems to realise the sharpness in her voice because her face softens in apology. She leans over to give you a quick kiss and it makes you relax slightly. “Everything’s fine.”

Comprehension starts to trickle in when she scoots over so she can wrap an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, and when you follow her line of sight, you realise she’s glaring over your head at the bartender, who pales immediately and doesn’t so much as look in your direction again.

Oh, you feel your eyes widen as it finally hits you: oH.

You look down into your drink and try to hide your disbelieving smile as you finally understand: she’s jealous. 

If it were anyone else, you think you probably wouldn’t feel like this – would likely be outright irritated and a little offended at the behaviour -- but with Natasha you can’t help but find it kind of … cute.

A little giddily, you lean over to press a kiss to her jaw and feel her relax a little against you. “Wanna go after this one?”

Natasha’s face doesn’t change but you see a little shift in her eyes as she nods and pulls you in for another kiss, this one a little more heated – for your benefit or the bartenders, you don’t know, and don’t particularly mind either way as you let yourself get lost in it.

--

After that night, it becomes so apparent to you and you don’t know how you’d missed it all this time. It happens all the time. All. The. Time.

On the street, if someone so much as glances your way, she’s already staring back at them with an expression that would be terrifying even to you if she directed it your way.

At work one day one of the new recruits, a kid, really, comes up to you and asks you, voice trembling if you’d let him take you out someday and the next day Natasha knocks him on his ass so hard and so many times that you’re kind of surprised – and a little impressed—that the poor kid doesn’t quit right on the spot.

Even in your apartment building, one of your maybe-slightly too friendly neighbours gets similar treatment in the elevator one night when you and Natasha are returning to the building at the same time as her. 

Just as you enter the elevator, you hear the voice of your neighbour calling out.

“Hold the door!”

Panting, your neighbour enters the small space. “Thank you so much, I have had the worst, oh –” her eyes land on Natasha beside you and she looks at her with something you can’t quite place in her eyes. “Who’s your …friend?”

“Oh!” you exclaim and you know you must sound surprised. Was it not obvious from how Natasha was always here that you were dating? “This is Natasha. My girlfriend. Nat, this is Charlotte, my neighbour.”

You can see Natasha in the reflection of the elevator walls, so you see the smug self-satisfied look she gives your neighbour as she wraps an arm around you possessively.

So, yes while you notice it all now, you still don’t say anything because a small – and by small, you mean large, massive actually – part of you kind of likes it; likes the fact that the Natasha Romanoff, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life is somehow yours and even more unbelievably, somehow she thinks you’re worth getting worked up like that over.

--

At this point, you’ve been dating for over a year and somehow it must’ve slipped the memo to let all of the avengers know because somehow every time you’re at the office, it seems like a new person is finding out about your relationship. 

It’s really hard to keep up with everyone and their individual missions, which is how you find yourself in your current predicament.

“--ah, well-well,” a familiar voice calls out and you look up from the report you’d been studying. “If it isn’t the most attractive and coincidentally my favourite honorary avenger.”

In the doorway of your office, Sam is grinning at you in that playful, flirty but also joking kind of way that’s distinctly Sam Wilson. You grin back and stand to let him pull you into a hug.

“Did you just get back?” you ask, vaguely remembering him telling you he was going on a mission at least six months ago. You think it was in Istanbul, but you can’t quite remember the specifics. 

Sam pulls back and goes to open his mouth but doesn’t get the chance to speak as Natasha appears in the doorway.

“Samuel,” she drawls his name, eyeing his arm around you. She visibly brightens up when she looks at you, though. “Y/N”

You can’t see yourself, but you know your face must light up as your eyes land on her by the sudden realisation that crosses Sam’s face. The casual kiss she drops on your cheek comes as confirmation.

His mouth drops open as he looks between you both. “Oh damn, you two?” he asks, smiling genuinely. “Damn!”

To the naked eye, Natasha doesn’t seem amused by his revelation, but you know her well enough by now to be able to spot the glimmer of humour in her eyes. 

Sam, however, doesn’t seem to be adept at reading her as you are and so when she advances a little closer, his eyes widen and he immediately backs away.

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know!” he exclaims, hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry!”

The expression on Natasha’s face turns sinister in nature. You watch and try not to laugh at her theatrics, attempting to adopt a sympathetic expression when he desperately looks to you for help.

“Well,” Natasha says, faux-friendly. As she passes by him, she gives him what looks like a bone-shatteringly hard arm squeeze – if the pained expression on Sam’s face is any indication -- and comes to stand beside your desk. “Now you know, buddy.”

“That I do,” he says, backing up until he reaches the door. “Anyways, I gotta, uh –"

Not even finishing his sentence, he high-tails it out of the room so fast you barely see him leave. You turn to Natasha with a frown. She looks back at you innocently, but you catch the way her lip twitches a little bit before she breaks into a full blown smirk.

“You’re going to give someone have a heart attack one day, you know,” you say, half-serious. “I’m kind of surprised you haven’t already.”

Unbothered, Natasha shrugs and reaches out to tug you closer to her in order to kiss you, a little more intensely than you would normally allow at work. You melt into it with a sigh, smiling a little. 

Eventually, you have to pull away when you start to struggle to breathe and your head starts spinning. Natasha makes an unhappy sound, trying to follow, but you stand firm.

“Nope, you’ve got to go before I’m the one that has the heart attack.”

With a pout, she gives you one more kiss before she gives into your request.

--

You’ve never seen Natasha drunk before – hadn’t even thought she could get drunk but tonight she’s definitely wasted -- all thanks to Thor and whatever is in the mead he’d bought with him.

One thing you quickly realise about drunk Natasha is drunk Natasha also means confrontational Natasha.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about –”

Her and Tony are almost nose to nose at this point, about ten minutes into what was now a heated conversation, and you’re kind of wondering if either of them even knows what they’re arguing about. You don’t think so and by the looks on the other avengers faces, they seem to have as much of an idea as you do.

As Natasha and Tony continue to argue, you look to your left and the young waiter who’d been hovering by your table a little too attentively all night is immediately by your side. 

So Natasha can’t see you, you quickly mouth the word water to him and thankfully he seems to understand because he gives you a quick nod and then disappears, reappearing just as swiftly with a glass in his hand.

“Here, Miss –"

“No!” Ending her argument with Tony as abruptly as it began, Natasha jabs a finger at the waiter, who looks to you for help while she glares up at him balefully. 

The poor guy looks terrified, so you quickly intervene, touching Natasha’s knee to bring her attention back to you. It does the trick, but she seems to underestimate how close in proximity you already are and she ends up half in your lap to the delight of the other avengers in attendance, who all let out various different whistles.

“Mine,” she says childishly into the crook of your arm. You only just manage to pick it up so you know you must be the only person who heard her. With your help, she sits up a little and makes eye contact with you as she repeats herself, more seriously, as if you hadn’t understood the first time: “mine.”

“I – oh --okay,” you say, grabbing her hand as it starts to creep a little too low to be polite in your current company. “How about we get you home?”

After hurriedly saying your goodbyes, twenty minutes later you park in your driveway and begin the not-so-small feat of getting her inside.

“Damn,” you grunt a little under her weight as you help her up the stairs to your apartment. “What do they put into that Asgardian mead?”

You make a mental note to ask Thor about it and then promptly forget as you reach your front door and fumble around, looking for your keys. 

Even in her inebriated state, Natasha somehow pulls herself together enough to reach into your bag and pull them put for you so you can unlock the door.

Which she promptly falls through. You just manage to catch her before she hits the floor, and she leans against you, burying her face into your neck.

“Come on,” you order gently, softening as she groans into your skin. “Bed.”

“No.”

As if to emphasise the word, Natasha shakes her head, but to your surprise, she starts to make her way to your bedroom anyway. She’s still a little unsteady on her feet but nothing like you’d be if you’d drank as much as she had. If it were you, you would definitely have been comatose about seven shots and multiple hours ago.

“Alright, you get into bed,” you say. “And I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Natasha scowls. “No,” she says. You bite your lip to hold in your laugh at the petulance you hear in her voice, shadowing her to the bed, where she immediately sits down and attempts multiple times to take off her heels with little success.

“No?”

Finally having enough of watching her struggle, you lean down and undo the straps of her heels, gently pulling them off her feet. You watch as she flops back on the bed and then covers her face dramatically with a groan. “You don’t get it,” she says unsteadily.

“I don’t get what?”

“You’re mine,” she repeats her earlier words, uncovering her eyes to look at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “Am I now?”

You thought you’d managed to cover your amusement pretty well until you see the glare she shoots you that says she can see it loud and clear. After a beat of silence it becomes clear she’s not going to say anything else.

With difficulty, you slowly manage to get her into a sitting position and help her out of her dress, pulling the covers up around her and retrieving a glass of water that you place on her nightstand so she can drink it in the morning.

You then change yourself and go the bathroom to remove what makeup you’d had on. To your surprise, she’s still awake when you emerge, half-propped up against the headboard and looking at you with bleary, unfocused eyes. It makes your heart turn to mush immediately and you get into bed beside her as quickly as your feet allow.

She immediately curls up into you and you wrap an arm around her, pulling her as close to you as humanly possible. 

“I am yours, just so you know.”

There’s a second of silence where you start to think that maybe she’s fallen asleep, until she shifts against you to meet your gaze, looking a little more alert and coherent but still out of it.

“Good,” she says softly.

The next morning, you wake before Natasha and slip out of bed to make her coffee and to find some pain killers, having a gut feeling she’ll probably need them. Your feeling turns out to be right. When you re-enter the bedroom, she’s laying face-down but clearly awake by the muffled groaning you can hear coming from her.

“Whys’it so bright,” she mumbles into the mattress as you approach the bed, turning her head ever so slightly so she can meet your eyes. You grin down at her.

“Ah, it awakens.”

She scowls up at you and you laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek as you slide back into bed, careful not to jostle her too much. She leans her head against your leg, slowly sipping the glass of water you’d left for her last night before reaching for the coffee on the nightstand.

You fall into a comfortable silence; you running your hand through her hair as she drinks her coffee, humming contentedly.

“How are you feeling –"

“I don’t like it when people look at you,” she interrupts suddenly, staring down into her coffee mug and sounding uncharacteristically nervous. You freeze but since she’s not looking at you, she doesn’t seem to notice. “But it’s not because of anything you do. I just don’t … like it.”

“Okay?” you hedge cautiously, not really understanding.

“I’m sorry if it bothers you,” she says. “Me. Being like that. I didn’t know I was even the type to –"

“It doesn’t bother me.”

At your quick interjection, she looks at you for the first time and whatever she sees on your face makes her smile faintly. “It doesn’t?”

You bite your lip. “Not at all.”

She mirrors you, now smirking. “Oh.”

After this, it starts to become a game: one you feel like you win every time.

[donutloverxo]

How big do you think Steve is....? 👀☕

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

I've got like a lot of feelings and thots about this but I'll just summarize them with this... smut, Steve has bde and a big🍆🍆, cumplay, this is like really filthy.

"Yes... um, Captain," Stacey bit her lip, she couldn't help herself. She knew she shouldn't be checking out her friends man but she was sure you'd forgive her. This was Captain freaking America. It would be an injustice to not appreciate his beauty. "What brings you to our little corner today?"

"Um... I'm here to see L/N," blushing a deep shade of pink and rubbing the back of his neck. The bouquet of lillies in his hand, and one of chocolates in another only making him stand out more so.

Stacy chuckled at his misery. "You call her by her last name? Hm... I actually think she'd like it better if it was the other way around."

Steve quirked a brow because he didn't understand what she meant by that. Smiling when he saw you return to your seat. "What're you doing here?" with a sweet smile on your face. Leaning up on your tippy toes to give him a small peck on his lips. "It's a nice surprise."

"Just wanted to give you these," he said as he handed the flowers and the chocolates over to you, "And to ask you to maybe have dinner at my place tonight?"

You giggled as you opened the lid of the box, mouth watering at the variety of sweets to select from, "Stevie, we're in a relationship now. You don't have to ask me out every single time." As you plopped a mint one in your mouth.

"It still feels nice to," He said before kissing you goodbye to return to his floor.

You offered some of your chocolates to Stacey, who seemed to be giving you the side eye for some reason.

"Is it true?" She asked.

"Is what true?"

"Does he have a fifteen inch long cock?"

Which made you choke on the coconut that was in your third chocolate. "What the hell?!"

"You gotta tell me. I promise I'll cover any of your shifts for you while you go on getaways with him to like Europe or something. I'll do your boring paper work. Alright, I understand you wanna keep his privacy," she nodded, bringing her hands together, "Just say when," She said as her palms started drifting apart.

"Stop that!" you swatted at her palms. "I don't know how big he is. We're taking it slow." You huffed. Going slow was his idea. He was old school in that way. You had no idea how you had resisted from climbing him like a tree for so many months.

"Listen, girl, it's just that he has major BDE. When he gives those speeches, and those clips of him fighting bad guys, you just know he has a big dick."

You did believe he had big dick energy as well. At a low moment you told him your supervisor was being an ass to you, even calling you a slut once for dating Captain America. You didn't want to burden him with your problems, which seemed to insignificant in front of his, and you didn't want him to do anything brash.

The very next day he paid your boss a visit. He didn't flaunt the fact that he was Captain America or a very powerful man. He didn't need to. He naturally had a very commanding presence. He just gave a long lecture to your boss on how to respect women, after which they never bothered you again.

You'd never admit this to Steve but you literally wanted to jump his bones them. He looked so fucking hot defending your honor like that. He was your knight in shining armor and you'd let him to anything to you.

Not to mention, you could see the outline of his probably long and thick dick in his jogging pants. That one unfortunate morning you agreed to go running with him. The only good thing that came out of it was that you got to oggle his ass and his dick.

You could feel his hands squeezing your breasts over your dress, you broke the kiss to take a look at him. Glassy eyes and cheeks flushed red, his chest heaving because you took his breath away.

"I wanna go all the way, Stevie." You demanded. "I've waited long enough for you."

"You know I could never say no to you, doll. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Which he most definitely did. He must've spent like an hour between your legs, using his mouth and his fingers, worshipping evey inch of your body. You felt him rutting against the mattress but chose not to say anything.

"Wait, stop..." you pushed his head away, your pussy too sensitive after the third orgasm to be touch again as he pouted up at you. You sat up on your butt, "I wanna suck your cock," you said, making grabby hands for it.

"Um... you sure, doll? You don't have to," he was too shy to be naked in front of you. He still had his pants and underwear on. You were going to insist that he take it all off but you could barely handle a shirtless Steve, a completely naked one would probably turn your brain to mush.

"Yes I want it! Do you not want me?" your voice quivering just a little. You knew he wanted you, of course he did. But why can't he be vulnerable with you like you are with him?

"No no," he cupped your face, kissing your forehead, "Of course I want you. I want you more than anything else in the world. It's just that... I'm big. Before the serum it was pretty average and now... women get surprised a little."

"How big?" you sniffled.

"I guess you'll see," he said, pulling his briefs and his pants down at the same time.

You let out a loud gasp when you saw it. A literal monster cock. "Oh my god...." you breathed out, "I don't think that's gonna fit in me, Stevie.."

It was the biggest you've ever seen. Pink, long and thick, you could even make out a few veins on it, standing tall and proud against his hard abs, some blonde hair at the base of it. Pearly pre ejaculate oozing out of him, which made you salivate.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, angel," he stroked your hair, "That's for me to figure out. You just have to sit there and make good on your promise. Now come on, open up," he tapped his tip on your lips and you opened as wide as you could.

He wasn't even halfway in when he hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him. He softly fucked into your mouth, which some sucking and help from you. Holding onto your head lovingly as he spoke about how good you made him feel.

"You gonna swallow it for me?" he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

'I wouldn't let a drop escape.' You wanted to say but it came out all jumbled since your mouth was stuffed full.

Finally you felt ropes of his spend hit the back of your throat. You were naive to think you'd swallow it all. You could barely get half of it no matter how hard you tried, most of it spilled out of your mouth and onto your chest.

He finally pulled out, looking at his girl so proudly, so eager to please him.

"I'm sorry," you said, as you tried to gather as much of his cummies off your body as you could. It tasted salty, the aftertaste being just a little bit sweet. You wondered if that was because of the serum too. "I promise I'll get it all next time. I'll be more prepared."

"'is not your fault, doll. There's... a lot of it."

"I like that though," you whined up at him as you licked your fingers, "I like it. It means you love me so much you made like tons of goodies for me."

He chuckled at that, pecking your lips, "I do love you a lot."

He made you lie back to make sure you were comfortable, wrapping your legs around his hips, "You tell me if it hurts okay, baby?" he asked to which you gave him a meek nod.

Bracing yourself for the pain. Despite how wet and ready and relaxed you were, it still hurt initially. But you asked him to keep going because you wanted to make him feel good and take all of him.

After a few moments you asked him to move.

"Your dick is so beautiful, Stevie." You beamed up at him.

"Not as beautiful as you, doll." He groaned as he pulled his hips back before rutting back into you.

"Nooo," you whined. This man needed to learn how to take a compliment! "No, your dick is so pretty. It's yours, and I'm in love with it."

"I'll promise you one thing, honey. You'll be the only one who gets to see it again from now on. It's for your eyes only now."

"Forever?" you pouted.

"Yes, forever."

You looked down at where both your sexes were joined together, "Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on, Captain," you said as you clenched around him, making him bite the crook of your neck.

"Did you just give my dick a petname?"

"Yes, do you like it?" you asked, hopefully.

Steve would rather have you call him Captain. But you seemed so excited, "Yes, of course. You can call it whatever you like, baby."

He was trying to pull out of you to come, of course you wouldn't have that so you pulled him closer to you by wrapping your legs around him.

"I'm good..." you rasped, "got an implant and everything." Which would protect you from having any super soldier babies. "Please come in me."

"How can I say no that," his thrusts became a little more rushed and erratic. You could feel his warm cum fill you up and then ooze out of you as he pulled out.

He tched as he looked at your swollen pussy, "That won't do..." he said as he tried to push his cum inside of you but it was too much for your small cute pussy.

"I've got plugs at my home we can use to keep it in..." you moaned, extra sensitive to his touch then. "Can I have some more of it, please?"

You asked as he scoped your combined juices up with his fingers before feeding it to you.

"Just for now, doll. Next time we'll try that plug idea of yours," he said as he made sure you thoroughly sucked his fingers clean.

[hajimesh]

MONSTER

+ pairing. demon!oikawa / fem reader

+ genre. smut

+ word c. 2,209 words

+ warnings. alcohol, dom/sub, oral, praise kink, creampie

+ author n. happy halloween !! i hope everyone is having/had an amazing day 🧡

your mother often warned you about the dangers of halloween parties. she’d tell you not to trust anyone, especially those with a mask until you could see their real face. there’s a tale she always told you about:

a young woman meets a mysterious, masked man on a halloween night…

the party’s in full swing, everyone holds the distinctive red solo cup as their bodies dance to the beat. your eyes trail over the place and they're met with a drunk frankenstein grinding his hips on a witch—a sight you weren't expecting.

“you made it!”

a hand lands on your shoulder and spins you away from the weird scene.

your classmate—the one who invited you to the party—gives you a side hug and when she finally releases you, she studies your costume.

“slutty 60’s girl? i dig it.”

“shut up.”

granted, you know the costume is quite revealing. a baby blue sundress that barely reaches your mid-thigh, paired with kitten heels and the distinctive sixties makeup that would make lana del rey proud.

another classmate joins you and they start rambling about an assignment you have no interest in, not for now at least. excusing yourself, you leave to go get a drink.

there’s a variety of bottles sitting on top of the dining table but before you can pick your poison, an unknown voice gets your attention.

“there’s a secret stash in the kitchen,” a man with a demon costume stands next to you, his eyes narrowing as he scans the bottles with a disgusted look. “and with way better quality drinks.”

sharp-looking horns contrast against his brown hair, a white shirt with the first buttons undone and black dress pants make him look straight out of a hollywood film. he could give young brad pitt a run for his money.

“i don’t think the owner would appreciate a stranger in their kitchen,” you manage to answer back, pushing your flustered state aside.

“oh, he’ll survive,” he waves it off, dazzling you with a handsome smile. “he’s smashed already.”

with a tilt of his head, he points at another guy with dark, messy hair and a matching costume, lying on the couch. you can tell the guy's fighting to keep his eyes open.

“come with me.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, already walking ahead of you, so your only option is to trail behind him. he makes his way around the people easily, a few girls winking at him and boys patting him on the back which are all answered by him with a friendly smile.

once you make it to the kitchen, you notice the noise of the party has reduced considerably.

he hands you a beer—opened right before your eyes—and you give him an appreciative nod. “thanks.”

“oikawa tooru,” his charming smile is back for a second before it switches to a smirk. “you can call me master, though.”

shaking your head, you laugh at the joke and take a sip of your drink.

...he lures her to leave with him…

“on your knees.”

without thinking twice, you do as he says, ignoring the discomfort that comes with it.

two hours and a couple of drinks later, all of your inhibitions were gone and you wanted nothing more than to have oikawa fuck your brains out. lucky for you, he was hoping you’d allow him to do exactly that.

and he was very pleased when you agreed to go somewhere more private.

“what an obedient little thing,” he coos and you feel yourself getting wetter at the praise. “i want you to suck me as if your life depended on it, okay?” he says, smirking at how unaware you are of the meaning behind his words.

“yes.”

“yes, what?” he raises an eyebrow and you’re confused for a moment before you remember the words he said earlier.

gulping, you answer him with the most submissive tone you can muster. “yes, master.”

oikawa nods and takes his cock out of his pants, slapping the head on your cheek twice—your cue to open up your mouth. he quickly places it inside, your lips wrapping around the tip and giving it a harsh suck.

“mhm, you’ve been craving this all night. right, sweetheart?” his hand grips the back of your head, setting a comfortable pace for you.

“yes, i needed your cock,” you say after releasing him from your mouth, but a harsh tug on your hair acts as a reminder to be careful with your words. “master.”

“you’re such a cute, little whore. choking on your master’s cock,” his words are like an aphrodisiac, encouraging you to take him deeper. “fuck– i can feel your throat contracting around me.”

a mewl leaves your mouth but it’s muffled by the gurgling sounds of your throat being fucked by oikawa’s long cock. a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum drips from the corners of your mouth, and oikawa swears has never seen something so divine yet so lascivious.

...he shows his true form…

“you'll ride my face until cum drips out of you.”

your body shudders at the thought of his mouth on your most sensitive place. as he places himself down on the bed, you indulge a bit in your fantasy, wondering how his lips will feel, his tongue lapping at—

“are you making your master wait?” he snaps, a hint of irritation radiating out of him.

“n-no,” you’re about to climb up on the bed when the pointy horns catch your attention. “uhm… could you take those off, please?”

“hm? oh,” his fingers wrap around the horns, a playful look taking over his features. “i don’t think that’ll be possible.”

you notice his dark eyes flashing with a red gleam but it’s gone before you can blink again. blaming it on the alcohol, you ignore it and move until you’re straddling his face, your pussy right above his mouth.

“c’mere, baby. let me ravish you.”

his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you down to his mouth and you shudder when his breath hits your pussy.

oikawa doesn’t give you time to adjust to the feeling, going straight to slurping like a starved man. his lips latch on you while his tongue laps up your juices, drinking them with a greediness he’s never experienced before.

your soft moans echo in the room as his nose rubs against you, inhaling your scent and sending him to a different state of bliss. it’s as if he could get high by your scent alone.

“master,” you breathe out, your hands going to his hair—gripping it—while you rub your pussy on his face.

he hums, the vibrations making your pleasure heighten considerably. opening his mouth, he lets his tongue wander until it pokes right on your slit, he feels your legs tremble and the harsh grip on his hair tells him you’re on the brink of your orgasm. his tongue glides in and out until he’s practically fucking you with it, his nose rubbing on your swollen clit.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” your hips grind against his face, not caring if he’s even able to breathe and only focusing on your release. “m’gonna cum, i’m gonna–” and with a loud cry, your orgasm ripples through your body, the familiar warmth taking over your senses.

your hips stop moving, but oikawa keeps lapping up at your pussy, savoring the creamy juices coming out of it.

“s-stop, too sensitive.”

oikawa takes a deep breath one last time and finally lets go of you, your body falling limply on the bed right away. he relishes the sight of you sprawled out, still riding off your high while he pumps himself a couple of times.

“are you ready for me, baby? i can’t wait any longer, i need to feel your sweet little pussy around my cock,” his tone is soft yet demanding.

if he had to be honest with himself, he is getting needy. and he has the flushed tip of his cock, wanting nothing else but your cunt to milk him dry, as proof of it.

“yes, master. please, fuck me.”

and that’s all he needs to place himself on top of you. you open your legs for him, your pussy in full display, and ready to take him in.

he rubs his length between your folds a couple of times, teasing you both, but once he starts sinking in he can’t help but close his eyes.

“shit,” your warmth sends his mind into a state of bliss, your tight hole stretching and creaming all over him. “baby girl, you feel divine.”

oikawa would’ve laughed at the irony if he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed by the sensation. he has known hell all of his life and he doesn’t remember it ever being this delicious.

you must be his piece of heaven.

once he’s all in, he exhales and opens his eyes to look down at you. your face is contorted in ecstasy, your mind turning into mush at how good it feels to have him pulsing inside of you.

oikawa starts a languid pace, one hand groping your tit and tweaking the nipple between his fingers while he drives his cock in and out of you. he can’t remember the last time he had a pussy so tight, so exquisite, and desperate for him that it's making him feel so close to shooting his load inside of you.

“master,” your tiny voice takes him out of his daydream. “faster, please?”

he hooks your leg over his shoulder, driving his cock even deeper making his balls smack against your ass. his eyes trail down to where you two are connected, watching his cock ram into your abused cunt relentlessly.

“so needy for me, huh? don’t worry, baby. i’ll fuck another orgasm out of you.”

your walls flutter around him, his words going straight to your pussy and making it clamp around his cock. you can feel it pulsating inside of you, the head reaching so deep it rubs on both your sweet spot and your cervix.

“i’m close,” your hand goes to his forearm, trying to get a grip on something, anything, that can keep you from passing out.

he collects a bit of your arousal with his finger and then starts circling your clit with it. “you can cum, baby. i want to see you gushing all over my cock.”

the constant feeling of his dick stretching you plus his touch on your clit, end up sending you to your second orgasm. your walls spasm around his cock, the snug grip making him see stars.

with one last thrust, he finally cums. his cock pumps three long spurts inside of your cunt and his hips involuntarily jerk forward when it keeps tightening around him. after a minute, he kisses your leg that’s still draped over his shoulder and pulls out.

you’re about to close your legs when his firm grip on your thigh stops you.

“not yet, let me see.”

your pussy clenches around nothing when his predatory stare lands between your legs, his eyes focused on the way his cum starts oozing out of your hole.

the last few moments feel like a haze. his voice seems far, sweet nothings coming out of his mouth, and the last thing you feel is his finger gliding over your slit before you pass out.

...by the next morning, she realizes how close to death she was.

“miss, miss. wake up.”

you fight to open your eyes—which takes you around a minute since they feel unusually heavy—and when you finally do, you see a man, not older than sixty, staring at you in concern.

“man, this always happens.”

you hear him murmur but you pay no mind. scanning your surroundings, it finally dawns on you that you’re not in your home. in fact, you’re in the last place you would’ve expected: the cemetery.

the sun is barely up, the atmosphere looking a bit somber and the crisp air making the hairs on your arms stand up.

“why am i here?” you turn to the old man—who must be the night shift guard—with panic rapidly flooding your heart. “what’s going on!?”

“did you meet a man last night?”

your heart rate spikes up at the odd question.

the guard sighs, visibly finding the situation tiring. “immortal creatures and spirits wander between us during halloween nights, you should be more careful.”

flashbacks of last night run through your mind. there wasn’t anything suspicious about oikawa, right? but then you remember how he never took off his horns and his pupils turning red every once in a while.

“every year, girls—boys, sometimes—appear here the morning after. most of them run with just a case of amnesia but there are others who don’t make it.”

you gulp, fear taking over your body as you realize how you let something—because apparently the man you met last night wasn’t human—have their way with you.

“i-i have to go.”

you basically run out of there, feeling as if someone is watching you but there’s no one else—apart from the guard.

there’s an odd sense of hurt in your chest, your heart sinking to the pits of your stomach, and you don’t know if it’s out of fear or because of the thought of oikawa doing this, every year, with someone else.

[restapesta]

🍺

Mickey was tipsy when they stumbled through the door into their apartment, Ian two beers in and drunk off his ass as he clung to him, arm thrown around his neck in a loose headlock.

Ian was on the verge of face-planting the floor, his feet crisscrossing over one another, ankles twisting as he headed towards the couch, giggles escaping past his lips.

Mickey, for one, wasn't that drunk that he couldn't comprehend what the fuck was happening—that Ian drinking two beers—and maybe sneaking one shot when he thought nobody was looking—resulted in said man clutching his stomach in their living room as he laughed about something. As gasping noises rolled past his lips, back arching as he bowed down in happy pain.

Mickey was still tipsy, though, his brain slightly mushed and thoughts in disarray. He couldn't really think straight—not that he ever did—and his husband laughing did nothing to sober him up. Instead, Mickey was right there with him, small chuckles turning into loud snorts as they laughed over nothing in the darkness of their Westside place.

"What the fuck is so funny?" Mickey managed to get out as he plopped down next to Ian, arm going around his shoulders, prompting him to lay his head down on Mickey's chest. He was still out of breath, his inhales loud in the two am silence.

Their eyes locked, Ian's shiny and glazed over. He smiled softly. "I was thinking about you and me back in the day." He chuckled again. "How stupid we were."

And they had been. Mickey could agree with that, at least. The push and pull, the hiding—the hurting and love. He felt a slight cold numb his body. It sobered him up, the four beers feeling more like water.

"We were so fucking stupid."

Ian giggled, the cute sound making Mickey's heart leap. His tall-as-fuck ginger, letting out a high-pitched squeal, unbelievably drunk. It was adorable.

Suddenly, Ian pushed himself off of Mickey, energetic even at that time of night, and Mickey eyed him warily.

"What's happening?" He asked as Ian made his way towards the kitchen, flicking the light on.

A white glow illuminated the clean space—Ian had scrubbed it all down before they had left for drinks, right after they'd scarfed down lunch they had made together. Another one of those small joys in Mickey's life, unexpected yet welcome.

Mickey watched as Ian rummaged through cabinets, easily reaching the highest shelves, back going down in a wide arch to reach the lowest.

When he pulled out the bag of flour, eyes wide, still fucking giggling, Mickey understood what was happening.

"No! You're not cooking anything at this time of night, Ian!" He whisper-shouted, somehow aware of the calmness of the night. The Westside was always like that, in contrast to the Southside with its blaring guns and loud screams. It irked Mickey, but he learned to adapt, finally leaning into the silence rather than pushing it out.

Ian had bought him those white-noise plugs for their anniversary, adapting it so the loud crashes and dog barks reverberated through Mickey's brain on a constant loop.

Ian giggled, "Yes, we are."

As he watched his husband pull out eggs and crack one messily on the pristine counter, Mickey admired the way he was, attentive and caring. Loving and sweet.

Drunk as fuck too, but okay.

"Okay, soooo," Ian slurred. "Let's make those chocolate creme donuts you, uh," He seemed to be racking his brain for a word. "Uh, get from, uh, Sweet Susans for me." Ian nodded, eyes hooded, mind obviously going a mile per minute in its inebriated state.

"Ian, it's the middle of the fucking night. You're drunk."

"No, no. Come here."

Mickey didn't move.

Ian gave him a look. "Come here, pleaseee?"

Conceding, Mickey approached him. The cracked egg was abandoned in a small plastic bowl.

Did donuts even need eggs?

As soon as he came into reach, arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him in. He glanced at Ian, his eyes so green in the light, the freckles finally out of hiding and at Mickey's disposal.

He ran a finger lightly across them. Ian sighed contently, eyes dropping and closing on their own accord.

"Come on, big guy" Mickey huffed out a laugh. "Let's get you to bed."

"But the donuts," Ian mumbled.

"Tomorrow, Red, tomorrow."

Mickey tried to move, but Ian held him tight, head dropping straight onto Mickey's chest. "No, baby, don't go."

His chest swelled. He ran fingers through Ian's hair, the red locks soft. "I'm not going anywhere, we're just gonna go to bed together."

His arms tightened. "Together? You promise?"

"I promise."

"I can't sleep when you're not there." He said, voice distorted. "I rarely could after prison."

Mickey paused. "What?"

"That night at the apartment, I couldn't sleep at all. I was so sad you hated it here. I hated myself for it."

"Ian..."

"You like it now, don't you?" Ian looked up. "Right?"

Mickey answered sincerely. "I love anywhere with you. I loved prison with you. This is perfect."

And it was. It truly was.

"Good. If it isn't, just say the word. I'd do anything for you. I love you so, so much."

"So, so much?"

"Mhmm... So, so much."

He pressed a kiss to the top of Ian's head.

He then grabbed Ian's arms, unfurled them from around his waist, and steered them towards their bedroom, careful not to knock anything over as they made the short trip.

He watched as Ian stripped and then doused a butt-load of mouthwash, gurgling it while laughing, then choking and spitting it out, going red in the cheeks, making Mickey have to stifle a laugh.

He crawled into bed as Mickey did the same, too tired to even consider brushing his teeth.

He heard a faint, "Come to bed, my love," It was whispered, soft, so unlike and like Ian that it made Mickey's breath catch in his throat.

He crawled into bed and let himself get enveloped again. The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was the fuzzy sound of Ian's drunk laughter as he once again remembered something from some long time ago.

He didn't even need the white noise, that sound alone just enough.

[letsdiscoverkitty]

Short Update

12.03.22//

I'm really sorry that I have been so pants at writing the update that I promised...truth be told, Im finding it hard to know what to say/where to start and my brain is complete mush/fog right now. Not only that but I am also feeling incredibly embarrassed/ashamed of my current situation.

Things were going so well with my degree apprenticeship. I was making great progress at work, getting great feedback and becoming more confident/settled in the role. Uni side was going fine, I wasn't enjoying the study blocks social aspects but the units were interesting and I was enjoying seeing how it could be applied to my every day job.

However underneath/amongst it all, anorexia has been raging and screaming, holding full control of the reins for longer than I care to admit. Looking back, the whole of my last admission (a top up to help me get out of a relapse after the previous admission before I started work) was dictated and controlled by anorexia. (It was also incredibly unhelpful on the ward and the support I got was just....a shambles but that's a whole other story). Upon reflection, I don't think that I have ever been willing enough or strong enough (or 'whatever' enough) to let it go of the eating disorder, it's rules, behaviours etc. And so the cycles have continued to playing out on repeat. I am beyond tired/exhausted/frustrated/lost for words at myself, and so is everyone else tbh. There really is nothing more/new to say anymore. It's just really shit/sad.

I keep on failing and messing up just when there seems to be a little ray of 'hope' (Uni/travelling/work etc) and it's probably down to the illness getting so engrained and stuck and rigid and me never really willing to let it go or move forwards from it....

My therapist felt at a bit of a loss too, we were working well with SCHEMA and made some important progress, however the sessions then got overruled by the need to focus on my physical health as it became the priority. We then somehow started touching on some trauma work and it brought more to the surface than we realised it would...

But yes, I digress, and I forgot that this was meant to be "short"...

Over the past few months things have deteriorated and I was signed off from work 2 months ago as I was unable to make changes whilst working and studying. The hope was I could turn things around after an urgent review and being given a timeline/ultimatum...but no amount of desire to get back to work or study could unlatch the tight grip that anorexia has had on me. Being signed off from work unfortunately also fed right into the depression slump and I've found myself floating and sinking (whilst simultaneously sticking my head in the sand in the attempt to avoid reality) far more/further than I want to admit.

Sadly time was not on my side and my body hasnt been coping so well and so the my team felt I couldn't be left in the community any longer. So after trying to turn down numerous bed offers for SEDUs (because the last place I wanted to end up was on a EDU and genuinely wanting to do it from home), I agreed to be admitted to a completely different unit on Wednesday (9th March). I feel utterly horrendous and like the biggest failure in the world. Work have been beyond amazing/supportive/kind/understanding but my inner self critic is raging louder and louder. It is so hard to describe the paralysis of wanting and knowing so badly what you need and want to do but being utterly frozen to the spot and unable to move.

It is very early days and I am currently trying to find my feet on the ward - Im terrified for what the next few weeks hold as the refeeding process progresses and I don't know how long I am going to be here but I am determined to make this admission different and make it the last one I ever have to have again. The unit seems to be very different to all my past admissions so I am hoping that might help in elements but I know deep down that it has to come from me. And I am sick and tired of these cycles replaying in my life. It's the same old boring noise coming out of anorexia again and again and again. and Im done. I can't keep doing this to myself or my family. Im done.

I feel sad because there was such a huge part of me that wanted (and still does want) to be doing this in the community, I knew what I needed to do and I wanted to be doing it for myself. However right now I am having to accept that I need a little more help and support, which is hard. I am trying to tell myself that there is nothing to be ashamed of but it is so much easier said than done. Anorexia is so fucking complicated and messy. I genuinely don't think there is one cause or thing and it feels so overwhelming when I try to understand all its roots and twists and turns....it's insidious.

It has been controlling my whole entire life, and the lives of the people around me. I have been its puppet. And it's made me feel like I don't know how to live/move without it. Well this has gone on for far too long. Far too long.

So yes, I suppose that is my "short" update for now. I'm sorry.

[engie-ivy]

Another story for my candy heart fix from @goodboylupin and the Candy Hearts Challenge! Humour, lots of shameless flirting and a fed up Regulus.

Candy heart message: CRUSHIN'

Regulus has agreed to tutor a classmate in statistics, but quickly comes to regret his life choices when the only chance the guy seems interested in, is the chance of getting to snog Regulus’ older brother.

“You want to snog my brother!” Regulus points his pen accusingly in Remus’ direction.

Remus huffs and straightens his back. “In my defence, your brother is very snogable!”

Part one: Crushin'

Part two: Fallin'

What chance do I have? Part one: Crushin'

REGULUS BLACK: You can come over. My parents aren’t home.

REMUS LUPIN: ??

REGULUS BLACK: Oh my god. That sounded wrong.

REGULUS BLACK: I meant for the tutoring session.

REGULUS BLACK: I know my parents’ reputation. I thought you’d feel more comfortable coming here knowing they aren’t home.

REGULUS BLACK: I am NOT trying to hook up with you.

REMUS LUPIN: Oh thank god.

REMUS LUPIN: Not that you’re not an attractive guy.

REMUS LUPIN: I just don’t see you like that.

REMUS LUPIN: And I mean, you’re probably a bit young for me.

REGULUS BLACK: Lupin.

REGULUS BLACK: Please shut up.

Remus drops his phone on his bed with a shudder.

He’s not a bad student. He knows all about history and writes killer political essays. He’s just terrible with numbers, but he needs to pass his statistics course.

Regulus is a quiet guy, but he’s nice enough. Rumour has it that his parents are these excessively pushy and high-demanding lot, who bully their children to do nothing but study and threaten the school into letting them skip grades. Apparently, they want their eldest son to become the youngest doctor in town, and their youngest son the youngest lawyer, just so they can brag about their advanced children to their posh friends. They’re lucky both their sons are actually very intelligent. Regulus is in Remus’ class, despite being much younger, and they say his older brother, who should be somewhere around Remus’ age, is already in college.

In any case, Regulus won’t pass up the opportunity to earn some extra credit by tutoring Remus in statistics over the summer.

The house of the Black family is exactly like Remus would’ve pictured it. Very old-fashioned, with weird, old objects everywhere, but while some houses packed with old stuff seem warm and cosy, the Blacks’ house just seems cold and dark.

Remus is sitting at the kitchen table watching Regulus flip through textbooks, talking about how they’ll start with refreshing his knowledge on basic chance calculation before moving on to z-scores and significance tests.

Remus is already bored.

Suddenly, a tall, muscular, slightly sweaty guy barges into the kitchen. He’s wearing running shoes, shorts and a t-shirt that clings to his form and shows off his broad shoulders. As good as the shirt looks on him, Remus isn’t complaining when he takes it off, revealing his well-trained torso.

“Jesus, it’s warm outside,” the guy says, dropping the shirt on the floor while pulling the hair tie out of his hair and letting it fall in dark waves across his shoulders. He grabs a water bottle out of the fridge, and throws his head back to drink, spilling some water that drips down over his chest.

As Remus not very subtly ogles the guy, he wonders whether statistics was so boring that he zoned out and is now in some sort of hormonal teenage fantasy. Well, he hopes that if that were the case, he would’ve at least not fantasized Regulus sitting there, glaring from the guy, to Remus, and back to the guy.

“Sirius!” Regulus eventually snaps. “We have a guest.” He gestures at Remus.

The guy, Sirius, who must be the older brother, turns his head and only now spots Remus sitting there. He smiles sheepishly at him. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hello,” Remus says, and they just look and smile at each other for a while.

Then, Remus leans his head on his hands, giving the guy a sweet smile. “So, do you come here often?”

Sirius blinks at him. “Eh, yeah. Yeah, I do. I kind of live here.” He quickly recovers himself. “What about you? You’re a classmate of Reggie? You must be new. I don’t recall seeing you when I went to school there, and I definitely would’ve remembered a face like yours.”

Remus grins. “Yes, my parents moved around a lot, so I went to a lot of different schools.”

Sirius raises his water bottle. “Well, here’s to hoping you’ll stick around this time.” He takes a swig and then grins. “And hoping you’re so bad at... statistics, was it? That you’ll be coming around here more often.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Remus says, looking up at Sirius through his lashes. “I’m bad. I’m very, very bad.”

A slight flush appears in Sirius’ neck, but the grin stays in place. “Good. Then I guess I’ll be seeing you. I’ll try to keep my shirt on next time.”

“Don’t trouble yourself on my account!” Remus calls after Sirius as he leaves the kitchen.

As he stares through the window at other side of the house into the backyard, where Sirius has gone to stretch, Remus can feel Regulus’ eyes burning on him.

“What?”

“You want to snog my brother!” Regulus points his pen accusingly in Remus’ direction.

Remus huffs and straightens his back. “In my defence, your brother is very snogable!”

Regulus shakes his head. “What is it that people see in him?”

Remus points towards the backyard, where Sirius is just bending over to stretch the back of his legs. He doesn’t think he needs any more explanation.

Regulus groans.

The second tutoring session, Sirius walks into the kitchen in low-hanging sweatpants, clearly just out of the shower, with damp hair and a towel around his neck, again shirtless.

He smiles as he sees Remus. “How is it every time I see you I’m not wearing a shirt?”

“I guess I’m just lucky?” Remus suggests.

“I know chance calculation isn’t your strong suit,” Regulus says without looking up from his book. “But considering the fact that Sirius walks around shirtless ninety percent of the time, you don’t need much luck. In fact, it would’ve been more impressive if you saw Sirius with his shirt on.”

Remus lets his eyes wander over Sirius’ muscular chest and abs. “I highly doubt it.”

Regulus’ eyes snap up as Sirius sits down on the kitchen counter. “No. You. Out. Now.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “You’re kicking me out of my own kitchen in my own house? I’m not disturbing you.”

“Lupin has enough trouble learning anything as it is, without you sitting there making eyes at him, turning his brain to mush.”

Sirius glances at Remus, who just shrugs. Regulus isn’t wrong.

The third tutoring session is, to Remus’ disappointment, at his house. He’d wanted to protest, but Mr and Mrs Black are apparently back from their business trip, and shamelessly flirting with Regulus’ hot, older brother in front of their strict, high-society parents seemed a little awkward anyway.

When Remus opens the door, a disgruntled looking Regulus immediately pushes past him and strides into the house, leaving Remus looking at a brightly smiling Sirius.

“Hi! Regulus wanted to ride his bike here, but you know, it’s probably going to rain, so I thought it better to give him a ride in my car instead.”

Remus looks up at the clear blue sky with the sun shining brightly, not a cloud to be seen anywhere.

“I see,” Remus says. “And I suppose you have to give him a ride home as well?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“And it’ll be a lot of trouble if you have to drive all the way up and down again.”

“So much trouble indeed.”

“The best thing is probably for you to just stay here.”

“That sure seems like the best solution to me.”

For the fourth tutoring session, Remus has lost track of time sitting at the kitchen table at the Black family home, drinking tea and chatting with Sirius. Remus is telling him about all the different places he has lived, and Sirius is telling him what it’s like to be in college at his age.

REGULUS BLACK: What’s keeping you?

REMUS LUPIN: ?

REMUS LUPIN: I’ve been at your house for like more than an hour, waiting for you to come down from your room?

“You said you’d let me know when Lupin got here!” Regulus points a finger at Sirius.

Sirius blinks innocently at him. “It slipped my mind. I have such a bad memory.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “You know the Latin name for each part of the human body by heart!”

“Did you know Remus wants to study history?” Sirius says, not very subtly changing the subject. “Won’t he just make the cutest professor?”

“Not so much as you’ll make the hottest doctor!” Remus replies.

“Yes,” Regulus says, while placing his books on the table. “I’m sure the scientific community and the world of medicine will be greatly benefitted from your good looks.”

Remus sighs.

Sirius has just gone upstairs after Regulus threw a book at his head when he interrupted his explanation for the fifth time, distracting a very willingly-distracted Remus with cute dog videos.

Remus sighs again.

Undeterred, Regulus keeps on talking about some jar of marbles out of which Remus for some reason only wants to take the red ones.

Remus sighs again.

“Is there any chance you’re going to stop doing that if I keep ignoring you?”

Remus shakes his head, and Regulus drops his pen and looks up at him. “Okay, what is it?”

“I don’t think I want to snog your brother anymore,” Remus says.

He had expected Regulus to be relieved, but instead something fiercely protective flashes over his face. “I swear to god, Lupin, if you were just leading him on all this time...”

“What? No!” Remus quickly says. “I just mean that I don’t want to just snog your brother anymore. I think I actually like him! Like, like like him! I think I have a crush on your brother! You know, the massive, won’t-go-away-on-his-own kind.”

Regulus just stares at him.

“I mean, at first I just thought he was incredibly hot, funny and charming,” Remus continues. “But now I found out he’s also clever, sweet and caring!” Remus’ tone makes it sound like it’s the worst betrayal he’s ever experienced.

“And this is a problem how?” Regulus asks.

“He’s in college!” Remus exclaims. “He’s probably just looking for a fun summer flirt to pass his time before school starts again, and now he has ruined me for other men forever!”

Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lupin, I know you’re terrible at chance calculation, so I’m going to put this in words even you can understand. The chance of my brother being into you is one hundred percent.”

“Really?” Remus’ face brightens.

Now it’s Regulus’ turn to sigh. “I never thought I’d ever be saying this, but I’ve had enough. Lupin, will you please go upstairs and snog my brother?”

Remus knocks once and then steps into Sirius’ bedroom. He’s immediately backed up0 against the door by Sirius’ body pressing against him. Sirius’ arms wrap around his waist and Remus’ arms almost automatically wrap around his neck, so he’ll soon be able to finally run his fingers through that perfect hair.

Their faces are so close together Remus can feel Sirius’ breath as he speaks. “Took you long enough.”

Part two

[yikesharringrove]

Billy closed the front door behind him, the pine wreath jiggling as the door swung shut.

He took of his boots, leaving them next to Steve’s wet snow boots, smiling down and rolling his eyes fondly at the fancy fur-lined things.

He could hear Steve in the kitchen, no doubt on the phone. .

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. No, I don’t mind. Yeah. Mom, seriously, it’s alright. Just, uh, enjoy the trip. I’ll-yes. Yeah. I’m good! Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yep. Alright, love you too. Yep. Bye now. Of course. Yeah. Okay. Talk soon.”

He was leaned against the wall next to the mounted phone, his back to the entry way.

He was twisting the chord around his wrist.

Billy liked to imagine Steve doing that whenever they spoke on the phone. Liked to imagine him twirling the chord around and blushing and getting all gooey.

Mostly because Steve was always so damn rigid when he spoke with his parents. So anxious and stiff.

He shook his hand free, placing the phone back on the hook and sighing deeply.

And then he sniffed.

Billy wrapped his arms around him from behind, and Steve didn’t waste a moment before leaning back against him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What was your mom talking about?”

“It’s nothing.” Steve took a deep breath, turning in his arms to wrap his own arms around Billy’s shoulders, giving him his best attempt at a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

Steve leaned forward, ready to press his lips to Billy’s, only to have Billy lean back, avoiding him completely. He pouted at Billy.

“Tell me what’s up. Then you get a kiss.”

Steve’s pout just went deeper. Billy liked to pretend he was immune to those goddamn doe eyes. He absolutely was not.

“It’s nothing. Really.”

“Nah, your parents are being shitty again, and I wanna know about it so I can make you feel better.”

And Steve melted, just a little bit at that.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Billy gasped dramatically.

“I would never.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“It’s just, my mom and I have this tradition. Around Christmastime. We, you know. We go to the city, and do dinner, just the two of us. And we. God, it sounds so lame.” Billy pinched his side. Steve pulled his hair in retaliation. “And, wegototheballet.” Steve let his head flop onto Billy’s shoulder.

“Stevie, you got mush mouth there at the end.”

“We go to the freakin’ ballet, okay? We go to the ballet!” And Steve was pulling away, his face beet red, his arms wrapped around himself. “We do it every year, and have since I could sit through the fucking thing, and she’s not coming this year. And she said why don’t you take your girlfriend, Nancy? And I don’t know how many times I’ve told her that Nancy and I broke up, but she still just-” he cut himself off shaking his head. “It’s like, I know it’s fucking lame, but it’s my favorite part of Christmas. I look forward to it all damn year and we’re not going.”

And the thing on the tip of Billy’s tongue was Jesus, the fucking ballet, Harrington? Could you be anymore of a princess?

But this is, like, effecting Steve. This is actually taking a fucking toll on him.

And, well, Billy said he’d try to make him feel better.

“So, when is it?”

“When’s what?”

“The fucking ballet.”

And Steve stared at him.

“Never, apparently. Because she’s having too much fun in Saint-Tropez, and anyway aren’t you getting a little old for it, Steven?” He put on a breathy voice when he imitated his mother, sticking his nose in the air.

“I mean when is it running, numb nuts.”

“All this month. It’s like, Christmas themed. They do it every year.”

“Then you’re in charge of getting tickets.”

And Steve was giving him a look, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you, suggesting, that you, Billy ‘I’m rough and tough and dangerous’ Hargrove, are going to take me to the ballet?”

“I’m not suggesting it, shithead. I’m telling you to get fucking tickets, and let me know the date so I can get a nice fucking shirt.”

“You’re serious? You’re going to drive with me to the city, and sit there for nearly three hours, and watch the ballet with me.”

“Jesus fuck-three hours? God, the shit I do for you.” He scrubbed a hand down his face as Steve, Steve’s face split into a wide smile, the one that makes his nose scrunch up, and he began hopping from foot to foot, bobbing his head.

“Okay. Okay! I’m gonna, I think I can buy them over the phone. I’ll, I’m gonna do it before you have a chance to back out.” He took a step closer to Billy, grabbing his face in one hand, making his cheeks pout, planting a kiss to his lips before zooming off to dig the phone book out of the hall closet.

He was humming away to himself, probably the music from the fucking ballet Billy had resigned himself to seeing, while he pawed through the heavy book, searching for the number of the theater in Indianapolis.

Billy rolled his eyes at Steve’s little outbursts of excitement, tossing himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“You fucking owe me. Just, like, by the way. I’m talking blowjobs every day. I’m talking cigarettes. I’m talking homemade dinners.”

“Oh, you mean the shit that I already do because I l-love you, or whatever.” Steve’s face went bright red, and he turned away from Billy, standing in a stunned silence, jamming the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, hi, I’d like to purchase some tickets please.” His voice sounded strained, and he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head.

Billy was stuck fucking dumb.

He’s never, fucking never had someone tell him that they love him. He thinks maybe his mom did back in the day, but it’s been a long fucking time since he’s felt the slow spread of warmth down his spine that comes with hearing it.

Steve loves him.

Steve was rambling away on the phone, tugging on the phone cord, and tapping his foot maniacally.

Billy doesn’t think he could move.

And eventually he hear the person on the other end of the line hang up. He registered Steve placing the phone quietly on the hook once again. 

He stayed with his back towards Billy.

“Steve.”

He took a deep breath, turning around to face Billy with a big fake smile.

“I got tickets! We’re going on Saturday. So, uh, yeah. If you need to borrow some clothes, it’s, it’s pretty fancy. So, like, uh, yes.” Steve was babbling, his eyes darting between Billy’s left ear and the wall behind him.

“Steve.”

“I got mezzanine seats. That’s where I like to sit, uh, you can see the stage better that way, and they’re usually cheaper. I mean, not that that’s, like, the thing, but, it’s a bonus.”

“Steve.”

Steve rolled his lips into his mouth, his leg shaking.

“Can we, like, not talk about it?”

“I feel like we should, though.”

“I don’t, wanna.”

Billy fought the urge to roll his eyes. He should be, like, sweet for this conversation. Or something. Adjacent to it.

“At least, did you mean it? What you said?”

Steve bit his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I mean. I liked, liked hearing it. And, uh, me too. You know. Uno reverse.” Billy gestured like he was putting a card down between them. Steve gave him a blank stare.

“Did you just, Uno reverse my confession of love? Is that seriously what just happened?”

“Well, like-” the thing is, it’s a big fucking word. And he doesn’t think he can actually, like, say it to Steve. But, he feels it. He definitely feels it. Like, fuck, he’s going to the goddamn ballet for this fucker. Obviously, there’s some big fucking feelings there. “What you feel. Is also. What I feel.”

“Oh. Good, then. Yeah. Good.” Steve looked around the room. “Should we, like, shake on it?”

“Shake on it? Steve, fucking Hell. Just come here.” He reached out, looping his fingers through Steve’s belt loops, tugging him into his arms. And Steve stumbled forward, crashing with very little grace into Billy.

He sighed as Billy kissed him, a sloppy, desperate kiss. A kiss that Billy tried to shove every word he couldn’t say into Steve’s brain the same way he shoved his tongue into Steve’s mouth. 

And when they broke apart, Steve began humming, grinning wildly.

And Billy figured the song was from the fucking ballet he had agreed to see with Steve. Which he can’t stress enough, the fact that he is going to see a goddamn, motherfucking ballet just to make his favorite person happy, that’s as close as Billy can possibly come to a declaration of devotion at this point in his life.

But Steve pulled out a brightly decorated record from his family’s collection, explaining that the ballet had many different iterations, but all choreographed to the same compilation of music, and apparently, this was enough for him.

To have Billy hold him while he talked for hours about the story of the ballet, the history of it, the music the costumes he likes, everything, maybe it was okay that Billy couldn’t say the words. Maybe it was okay that he was there, that he did the things Steve liked just to see him smile.

Billy’s never been enough for anyone.

But then again, neither has Steve.

(And when they finally see the show, it’s the most beautiful thing Billy’s ever seen in his life. They go once more before the run is closed and establish a new tradition together.)

[tobesobri]

When the Lights Go Out (Halloween fic; 8k)

𝖆/𝖓: first off, happy Halloween yall! This is my second favorite holiday and so I really wanted to get something up in celebration of it! I’ve talked a lot on here about having trouble with writing recently and so I do what I normally do with writer’s block and I just leave what I’m stuck on and go off to write something random, which is what this ended up being. So, my writing style is definitely different and maybe not great, but this is just for fun so I don’t care! I still hope you enjoy! There’s spookiness (not too much), enemies (frenemies) to lovers, pumpkin carving, smut, alcohol consumption, and giant skeletons 💀 (oh and Harry dressed as Tarzan 🥵)

my masterlist  🎃 my askbox

𝕸ost people’s Halloween traditions weren’t too complicated; usually involving cult-favorite scary movies—ranging from Halloweentown to Nightmare on Elm Street—handing out Snickers and Kit-Kats to tiny trick-or-treaters, or just getting wasted at a friend’s haunted house party down the street. Their friend group, on the other hand, opted for a pumpkin carving contest every year on Halloween at Jason Hallow’s house, and, yes, his favorite holiday is Halloween because of his last name. And so, a few years ago when they were all undergrads together, he began hosting the annual carving contest at his house, in which they all paired up and, at the end of the night, whichever pair’s pumpkin came out the best—as judged by Jason, the resident Jack O’ Lantern expert—won whatever candy was leftover. That and marathons of R-rated horror flicks as well as occasional breaks to go out in the neighborhood and scare some of the kids while dressed in terrifying monster masks and slightly drunk off their asses from too much Tennessee whiskey.

Jason’s house was, hands down, the place to be in their neighborhood. Everyone who came by always wanted to join in on their festivities, and one year, they’d been just drunk enough to let a few of-age neighbors join in. This year, though, it was different. The stakes were higher. They were competing not only for the candy, but also for the much envied twelve-foot tall skeleton Jason had found at Home Depot which currently sat in his front yard amongst his other outrageous decorations. The skeleton was definitely the most noteworthy and had been the center of plenty group photos from just about every one of his neighbors since he had brought it home and especially tonight. In fact, every time the doorbell rang and he greeted another group of kids in his gory doctor costume—because Jason was in med school after all—every one of them squealed about how much they liked his skeleton. And so it almost pained him to have to give it to one of his friends after tonight, but if he’s being honest, he has nowhere to store it—he’d purchased it completely on a whim—and next year they will compete for it all over again anyway.

Tonight is also different because Harry and Y/N are not getting along. They all knew this beforehand, but simply brushed it off until they realized it was much worse than anyone had imagined. They had a horrible friendship—if one could even call it that—ever since they’d met as freshmen pre-law students six years ago. Sometimes they got along, but mostly, they bickered non-stop at each other, which all their friends took as misguided flirting. They got along for about six months once, after a drunken hookup, until, of course, Y/N hooked up with someone else and set off the volcano that was their relationship all over again. It had been calm recently with both of them needing each other’s help through their vigorous law school studies. So, a truce had been made and they tolerated each other at best. Tonight, though, the monsters had truly been unleashed and neither one of them had stopped picking at each other since they’d arrived.

It began on the street, when Harry took the spot Y/N had wanted to park in. Then at the door, when he asked her how her midterms were going and she felt like stepping on his toes until she crushed them. Which was perfectly logical since his was barefoot and mostly naked in his stupid Tarzan costume he’d recycled about four times now since they’d all known each other. He only wore it when the weather was warm, as he claimed, but they all had a suspicion he wore it so that he could watch Y/N drooling over him all night.

She wasn’t innocent either, in his defense, at least not this year when she came dressed in a sexy Beetlejuice costume, something none of them ever thought was possible. But she made it happen. She wore a too-short black and white vertical striped t-shirt dress—which had rips in all the right places, particularly across her chest—and a pair of neon green boots that were Doc Marten knock-offs she had found online. Other than that, she had spray painted the front bits of her hair a grey-green color and did her makeup to match the theme, dark purple smokey eyes and a green color used as contour. It looked good, she looked good, not that Harry would ever say that out loud.

Jason’s entire living room and dining room floors were covered with plastic tarps. He’d set up the usual fold-away tables and chairs for everyone. It was an easy clean-up job that wouldn’t leave pumpkin guts smudged into his hardwood floors or, even worse, the beige carpet in his living room. And, as always, he had a line up of various pumpkins on his kitchen counter—and the necessary kit of carving tools—ready to go. They usually didn’t start until nine-thirty or ten, once everyone arrived and had a few drinks in them and they had all agreed on what movies to watch. This year was a marathon of The Conjuring franchise, because Jason had spent way too much money on a box set and he would not be wasting them. Nobody objected anyway because the movies held a sentimental value to all of them. Every year since the beginning when a new movie came out, they all managed to go see it together, and also cause a horrible ruckus in the theater. Although they’d almost been kicked out a couple times, it was still some of the best memories together they’d ever had.

There was also that one year, when Annabelle Creation came out and Y/N and Harry were getting along on account of the LSATs, that they’d secretly gone home together. And then, of course, pretended it never happened.

That had been the second time they slept together, the second time she’d woken in his bed, with Harry’s annoyingly toned arm wrapped all the way around her, and the last as well because Harry got into a serious relationship their first year of law school and that had been the end of things.

Well… not completely the end. At least not until tonight.

“Okay we’re getting started!” Jason announced over both the music and the television, which someone turned down before Jason continued. He stood, wobbling, on one of the foldable chairs, for no other reason than the bottle of vodka in his hand. He was teetering on the edge sobriety and really didn’t give a fuck if he fell off. “Y’all know the drill! Isa’s handing out the cards. No whining. No trading. Or you’ll be disqualified.”

The cards in question were riddles that they had to match up with the answer. Half of them got the riddle card, the other half an answer card and that would determine who their partner was.

Y/N both wanted Harry as her partner and detested the idea at the same time. She was all for it because, well, he was hot dressed in nothing but his small piece of brown loincloth fabric hanging loosely on his hips. But at the same time, she knew they wouldn’t win together and she really wanted that skeleton.

The riddles were all hand-made by Jason on his computer and then laminated in his girlfriend’s school’s teacher lounge however many years ago. They all knew every answer to every riddle by now, but it was still a much more fun way to pair up than picking names out of a hat.

Y/N read her riddle twice, having absolutely no recollection of the answer to it, however—which was probably due to the alcohol she’d consumed herself within the past hour. She wasn’t all to blame, though, Harry had a lot to do with it too. She was still mad at him, for what she wasn’t sure, but she also could not stop herself from stealing glances at him and the only way to stop feeling so many confusing things about Harry was to drown it all away.

She read her riddle one last time: The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?

Her brain felt like mush after the third read and she hoped someone would find her first and give her the answer. She peeked around at people’s cards as they all tried to find their pair, some of them meeting up immediately and getting the prime pick of the pumpkins. It had dwindled down to just a few of them and she finally waltzed herself up to Harry, grabbed his card from his hand without his permission and read it.

In bold, 16-point Helvetica font, it read: A coffin.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes, shoving his card against his stupid bare chest and groaning audibly. “Figures I’m stuck with you.”

When she finally looked up at him, though, she wasn’t all that upset about her odds as she pretended to be. Not with the way his face set into a devilish, wicked, up-to-no-good look that made her want to rip him from the room and rip his useless Tarzan costume off too while she was at it.

He had also been drinking, which was made even more clear when he opened his mouth. “You’ll always be stuck with me.” And then he leaned in a little bit, his smirk widening and his eyes darkening and the sweet smell of vodka on his tongue strengthening, “Forever.”

She hated the buzzing in her stomach he caused, and hated that she liked knowing they probably would, at the very least, know each other for the rest of their lives. It had already been six years since they met and she still hadn’t managed to shake him off. And now they were finishing up law school together and getting offers to work at the same firm together. There would be no escaping him, not that she really wanted to.

The only time she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him was when he had a girlfriend. She hated seeing him in her classes, in her study groups, her circles, at her internship. He was always there, though, rubbing it in her face as she had once done to him. Hers was just a dumb hookup, partially just to spite him, and his was… well he dated the girl for entire year before they broke up and he seemed genuinely heartbroken over it. It had been serious, and Y/N had been seriously miserable the entire time. Even more so when she found out they’d split up and she just about threw a party while Harry moped around campus. She couldn’t help it, though, she’d liked him ever since they met, but then they just sort of… didn’t get along all the time.

She knew he liked her too, at least a little bit, or he’d never have slept with her twice. How much he actually liked her though was still up for debate, and so she chose keeping their weird hate-love relationship over ruining all of it by admitting her feelings for him. Plus, she liked working with him and getting his help on exams and papers too much to ruin that as well.

Y/N grabbed the third to last pumpkin, an unopened carving kit, and led the way to two lonesome chairs. They sat closest to the door, and farthest from the dining room and Jason, in their own little corner where they had enough room to stretch out given that no else had laid any claim on the other side of their table yet.

“So,” Harry began once they were settled and Y/N began opening the kit of tools, “what are we making?”

Before giving him an answer, she laid out all the tools on the table in front of them, next to their poor misshapen pumpkin, and then reached down into the side of her boot and pulled out a black sharpie; she’d learned a couple years back to start brining one. It might have been cheating, sketching her design beforehand, but Jason never outlawed it.

“I’m making Jason’s favorite Tim Burton character and you’re in charge of the guts.” She dictated confidently, slapping the sawing tool and the large orange plastic spoon in front of him so he could get started right away.

He eyed the tools for a moment, then the pumpkin, and then finally her. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing all the shit work while you do the fun stuff.”

“Thought you’d be used to that.” She half-mumbled, but he still heard her over the rest of the noise in the house. And, frankly, she was right. When they had interned together last year, she always handed off the demeaning tasks to him, like getting the coffee or making copies, while she did the much more interesting parts of the job. What she didn’t know was that she didn’t make him do anything. He always did it so she didn’t have to.  

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, arms that her eyes—which were completely out of her control at that point—glued to immediately. He’d been working out ever since the break up and finally filled out the Tarzan costume a lot better. He’d always had a nice body, she knew that, but now… now he made her dizzy.

“I’m not doing it. Least not all by myself.”

She gave up then, mostly because she lost her will to argue against the pout of his lips and the flexing of his biceps—which weren’t ridiculously big, but they were subtle and modest and very much bigger than they had been this time last year when he’d dressed up as a shirtless baseball player. Most all of Harry’s costumes involved some level of nakedness and not much sense, but she didn’t complain too loudly. And his arms were definitely bigger now than they had been the last time she was in his bed and he was over her.

“Fine.” She groaned, grabbing the mini saw tool and then standing to begin carving a hole at the top of their pumpkin, around the stem. She made it big enough for them to be able to stick their hands inside, and then once she was finished, pulled the stem piece off and set it aside for later, chopping off some loose bits of pumpkin shreds first.

Despite his earlier protests, he was the first to dig into the pumpkin, standing as well and going hands first into the thing where he pulled out fistfuls and dumped it into a pile on the table. They went back and forth digging out the insides of the pumpkin until finally, Harry grabbed the spoon and really went in. And she didn’t even bother offering to help, and instead stared, again, at his stupid biceps and especially at his hands, which were slick from the pumpkin juice. She shuddered remembering where his hands had once been, and then pulled herself together remembering how long ago it had been and how very little interest he’d shown in picking up where they’d left off pre-girlfriend.

Once the pumpkin was fully gutted, they both sat again, and cleaned their hands off on the paper towels Jason had set up on each table.

She was the first to begin the process, sketching out the design with her sharpie of Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She’d carved the character before, but still needed a reference picture on her phone to get all the details right. And Harry watched her the entire time, memorizing her face for the millionth time while she concentrated, and sometimes he stared at her hands, too, hands he also found himself reminiscing over, to the point of needing to cross his legs so it wasn’t made visibly clear what he was thinking about. He was starting to regret recycling the Tarzan costume.

While they all worked, Jason answered the door and handed out candy about once every five minutes. The best part of their tradition wasn’t the pumpkin carving itself, but rather, the atmosphere. They loved the feeling, the adrenaline rush of it all. How messy everything would eventually get, how loud they all were. The anguished shouting when someone messed something up. The sounds of Thriller playing in the background mixed with the loud jump scares from the horror movies played all night long. It was heaven to any lover of Halloween (and they all loved Halloween).

She’d let Harry start the carving of the design, informing him what parts were staying and what parts needed to be cut away, before she ventured into the kitchen to grab them both a drink. On her way back, she paused for a moment, just watching Harry work over in their corner. The sight of him almost made her want to finally admit how she felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he rejected her, at least then she’d know.

But then Zoe plopped down into her empty chair next to Harry and crushed everything back down like an aluminum can being recycled. She tossed back about half of her Smirnoff after Zoe had scooted closer to Harry and grazed her fingertips across his arm—the one he wasn’t using the carve the pumpkin. And at first, he ignored it, but then he set down the tool, pushed his hair back with his clean wrist and offered Zoe one of his annoying little smirks that Y/N always thought he saved just for her. But now, seeing him use it to flirt with Zoe, she felt stupid and betrayed. And stupid again for feeling betrayed.

She had no claim to him. She just had her memories, as inconvenient as they were at times. But that was nothing and it’d been so long that he showed any interest in her, in anybody, that for her to be jealous now was just pure selfishness. As much as she hated Harry sometimes, she still wanted to see him happy again.

Y/N made her way back slowly, eying what others were doing, until finally joining Harry again just as Zoe went back to her own pumpkin.

She was quiet for a moment, sipping on her drink, watching him as he got back to carving, before cleaning her throat as she finally said something, “What did Zoe want?” And she tried not to sound anything other than curious, but the way Harry glanced at her, with a raised brow, she knew she needed to be so much more subtle.

He took the other cup from her that she hadn’t drunk from and replenished his blood alcohol level. “She just asked me what I was doing after this.”

Instead of opening her mouth and being obvious, she just set her drink down and grabbed both the carving tool and the pumpkin from Harry to take over. He’d already done way more work than she had, so it was about time they switched anyway.

He eyed her curiously still, even though he allowed her to continue where he left off as he leaned back in his chair and took a break, downing what was left in his cup as she worked.

“You’re not jealous are you?” He finally asked, after a few moments to let his brain marinate in the alcohol in order to brave that question in the first place.

“No.” It was sharp. A piercing rejection he felt dig its claws deep into his heart. He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but if not, it hurt. More than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He wanted her to be jealous. He always did. That was part of the reason he’d gotten a girlfriend. And of course she was also part of the reason they broke up, if not all of it.

He nodded, “So it wouldn’t bother you if I went home with Zoe?”

He noticed her brief hesitation, when her hand stopped moving and she took in a breath of air, but then she settled again. “Doesn’t bother me what you do, Harry.”

Again, he nodded, still watching her just to get a sense of her reactions. Of course he had no plans on going home with Zoe. He just wanted to know. Where they stood. How Y/N felt about him. Whether she thought about their nights together as often as he did. When they were studying together and she’d shift her hair behind her shoulder and he’d get a whiff of her shampoo and be taken right back to one of those nights, and the nights that came after that when he got lost in that scent on his pillows until it eventually dissipated and left him craving more.

He tried again. One last time. If he still didn’t get the response he was hoping for, then he’d give it up and leave her alone. So, he sat forward, crossing his arms on top of the table, close enough to her now that the buzzing in her stomach reappeared even though she never braved a single glance at him. He was close enough that the smell of his cologne overtook the odor from the pumpkin. Close enough that she felt his breath on the side of her face when he spoke.

“So, I’ve just been imagining the way you’ve been looking at me all night then?” His voice was just above a whisper, and soft, caressing her ears as the sound crept its way inside of her. As it seeped into all the places the alcohol had been, although Harry was always something way more potent than whiskey or tequila. He made her head spin, made her feel everything and nothing at the same time. Made her heart flutter so much at times it hurt.

His words sunk in and all her motions stopped as she froze in place. She stopped carving their pumpkin, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Staring blankly at their half-finished design until he was wrung out from her system completely. That never really happened, though, because he was staring at her, watching her with those glinting, impatient eyes, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t even the familiar hint of a smirk or a bit of amusement on his face anymore, either, that might have calmed her nerves. Because at least if he seemed to just be messing with her, she could play that game with him, but this was different.

He leaned forward a bit, trying to get her to look at him, to say something, anything, really. He’d be satisfied enough with her lies at this point. But he also knew the absence of an answer alone was all he really needed. He didn’t feel like he was getting ahead of himself, seeing the way her body reacted to him, by assuming that she felt, at least somewhat, the same way he did about her. Because if she’d been the one to ask if she was imagining how he’d been staring at her all night, he wouldn’t deny it.

Just as she opened her mouth, just as she had gathered enough words to form a coherent sentence, the room went dark. Pitch black, actually. The lights all around them flickering off, the television going blank, the music cutting out. And once the startled gasps and dramatic, drunken yelling had subsided, they were left in a ringing silence, so completely opposite to what they had been moments ago that it was painful for their ears to adjust to.

“What the fuck?” They heard Jason’s voice in the darkness and then, finally, a bit of light as he turned his phone’s flashlight on.

“Did the power go out everywhere?” Someone else asked.

And while everyone panicked, all Harry cared and thought about was Y/N’s hand wrapped tightly around his own on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d grabbed for him, but once he realized she was there, he didn’t really care too much about the lights anymore. What he did care about still, however, was whether she’d ever answer his question now. If he’d ever get to hear what she was about to say just before the darkness cut her off.

A few of them stumbled about, making plans to go outside and check on things while everyone else stayed inside and waited. The room went dark for a few more moments as Jason left, but then someone else turned their flashlight on, and shined them at the ceiling so that there was at least enough light so that they didn’t have to sit in complete darkness.

If it wasn’t Halloween, the power going out wouldn’t have bothered her so much. Outages happened happened all the time. But now, in the middle of the second Annabelle movie with all sorts of other spooky shit around them, she couldn’t help but be terrified and imagine the worst. Like… what if there was a killer on the loose who had cut their power. What if the killer was chopping up Jason and the others and then eventually heading inside to do the same to all of them?

“Hey,” Harry mumbled beside her, inching closer and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, realizing she’d grown tense when her grip on him had tightened. “You alright?”

Hearing his voice again, she let out a breath of air and tried to relax. She watched way too many scary movies and this was most definitely not one of them. Just a power outage, possibly due to everyone being home and using lots of extra electricity on their lights and decorations. She had no reason to panic. Although it could be blamed on Harry as well, if he hadn’t made her an astronomical amount of nervous just before.

She nodded until she realized Harry couldn’t even see her very well. “I’m fine.” She finally affirmed, and, to his dismay, took her hand away from his.

They sat in their own silence for a while, listening to the quiet conversations around them, particularly to Zoe and Julie who were trying to look up any information they could even though their phones were slow from the lack of Wi-Fi and service.

After a little while, she found his hand again in the dark, and this time, she wasn’t afraid from the power going out, but rather what she was about to say. Because if there was ever an opportunity to spill your guts to Harry Styles, it was in a dark room where his grassy green eyes weren’t all over you, sucking every ounce of courage from your bones.

Her voice was in a whisper, and she finally looked at him, or rather in his direction. To the outlines of his face, of his nose and his cheekbones. Even though she couldn’t find the green, she knew he was there, waiting, listening.

“You haven’t been imagining anything.”

She couldn’t quite see it, but his eyebrows had hit the ceiling and before he could question her further, she continued.

“I was miserable when you were seeing Liv and so fucking happy when you broke up.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t let that stop her, “And then miserable again because you didn’t want me. And maybe you still don’t, but it would really bother me if you went home with someone else.”

The quiet almost ate her alive for the next few seconds when he said nothing and she didn’t have his features to go off of. But then, she felt him getting closer until, finally, his lips were at her ear.

“I’ve always wanted you.”  

The buzzing was back but this time it was debilitating. Especially when he faced her and cupped his free hand along her jaw. And especially when he tilted her head back slightly to meet his lips, which had pretty good aim given their predicament. She missed the way he felt, she realized, once he was kissing her. Once he had scooted closer and released his hand from her grip on his lap. Once he grabbed up the other side of her face and pulled her closer. And then her hand was left to fend for itself on his thigh, and she, almost unconsciously, drifted her touch closer and closer and closer…

He moaned softly into her mouth when she toyed with the flimsy piece of fabric tied around his waist with her fingertips. And finally, she pulled apart from him, catching her breath before whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we left?”

He shook his head, “Don’t think I care if they did.”

And so they were off. Trying not to draw too much attention to themselves even though she slightly tripped over the leg of the chair and he tried not to giggle too loudly while helping her. His hand fell into hers again as he led the way out of the living room, down the hall and into Jason’s guest room, closing them both off from any light source completely, not that they really cared too much about seeing each other; they just wanted to feel each other again.

And as soon as Harry had closed the door behind her, that’s exactly what they did. As she wrapped her arms around his neck; as he felt his way around her waist, he kissed her like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Like he was a dry, cracking desert and she was a vast river flowing through him.

He took brave steps towards the bed blindly, backing her up further into the dark room and managing to not trip over anything when he finally made it to the bed. They’d both, on separate occasions, spent the night in Jason’s guest room before, which helped when maneuvering around in the dark. For instance, Harry knew that Jason kept his secret stash of condoms in the bedside drawer. Harry had no idea why, but he was thankful for it right now, when, after laying her back on the bed, Y/N had already begun undoing his costume—with such quickness, he was sure she’d studied how the thing was connected to his body so that she knew exactly how to get if off if need be—and, within the next few seconds, tossed the flimsy Tarzan loincloth out of sight.

Which left him in just the black thong he wore underneath. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have even bothered with it. But, when he had first gotten the costume and tried it on without anything, he imagined all the wardrobe slips and potential boners might not be in everyone’s best interests. So, he went out and bought the smallest pair of underwear he’d ever owned, tucked himself inside of them, and called it a day.

Those, too, were stripped from his body in a matter of seconds, or at least pushed down his thighs to where they no longer covered what they were intended to cover. But then she flipped them around, so that Harry was on his back this time, splayed across the bed and she was finally ridding him of the thong all together and not wasting any time getting her hands on him and he wondered, with how quick she was to get to this point, if she had been thinking about this all night. And if she had, then he would definitely have to whip out the Tarzan costume more often.

He seemed to sink into the mattress once he felt her mouth close on him, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth hanging open involuntarily when he hit the back of her throat. He had no idea how he’d gone so long without her, or why either. Why had he been so stupid? Why did he let her think he didn’t want her? Why did he deprive the both of them of this? Of the way she felt circling her tongue around the tip of his cock, the way he knew she was looking at him even though he could physically not open his eyes or come down off his cloud long enough to tell her how good she felt. How much he missed it. How much he was probably in love with her, even if that might have been crossing some sort of line.

“Forgot how big you were,” she whispered, giggling almost shamefully after wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and giving him a break to actually breathe properly again.

“Think we both know that’s a lie.” He was out of breath already and he was right, although she wouldn’t feed his ego no matter what he said. Although she remembered his cock perfectly fine, she wasn’t exactly used to it. And maybe she had momentarily forgotten what he had hidden under his costume. It’d been two years since they slept together, and the first time it happened they’d been drunk.

She didn’t say anything else, just tried to hide the blush on her face—even though he couldn’t’ see it anyway—by taking a mouthful of him again. She didn’t let him come, though, of course, and he didn’t expect her to either. She never had before. She always led him get right to the edge, to where he was panting and writhing and digging his fingers into her hair, on the verge of screaming her name into the dark, and then she’d stop. Pull him from the back of her throat and leave him a sopping, moaning mess.

He’d somewhat recovered when she crawled on top of him and and sat on either side of his hips with her hands planted on his chest. And now that their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the curve of his lips as he smiled up at her and even the sinister little twist of his mouth just before he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and ripped it off over her head, letting it fall onto the bed next to him. He wished they had just a little bit more light, but at the same time, it turned him on having to see with his hands instead. Having to reach up and cup her breasts in his palms and rely on his memories for a better visual than the one he currently had. And as she came down to kiss him again, there was one thing for sure he didn’t need any light or anything but his fingers to do.

He tossed her bra into the same vicinity as her dress and within seconds had his hands all over her again, and his tongue as well, wishing she was on her back so he could worship her in all the ways he desperately wanted to, but also aware that the power could flick on at any moment and he really didn’t have the time.

Not that she had asked, and maybe she just hadn’t thought of it yet, but he still, while continuing to make out with her, reached over, pulled the drawer open on the nightstand and reached inside to locate the box of condoms.

However, once he did, and he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sat up and pulled apart from her, twisting himself a bit in order to see inside the drawer. His other hand held onto her hips so she didn’t fall off of him as he searched the drawer. But, soon enough, he was laying back again, groaning as if he was in physical pain.

“There’s no condoms.” He muttered between his teeth and just that one little sentence ruined his entire night.

“It’s okay.” She assured, continuing to whisper just as he did so that no one would hear them through the thin walls. “I mean… we’re clean right? And I’m on birth control…”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at her and trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. She was right, of course, but even so there was always a possibility. Even with condoms there was always that same possibility too. He knew one thing for certain. If he remembered correctly. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d be able to pull out, so that really wouldn’t even be an option either.

“If you don’t want to though, that’s fine.” She spoke again amongst his silence. It’s not like he would hate the potential consequences, and of course he would not hate feeling her without a stitch of anything in between them, he just needed to be reassured that’s what she wanted, truly.

“I do, just um… are you sure you’re okay with that?”

She nodded first and then, confidently, “Yes.” As she fell back into place over him, her lips came to his ear this time, “I want to feel you coming inside of me.”

His whole body shuddered, needing her more than he quite possibly ever had. And as she tucked her panties to the side and guided herself onto him, he would most definitely go outside and cut the lines himself if the power decided to come back on before they were finished.

“Forgot how wet you are…” He whispered, heart fluttering at the way she laughed while fucking him. He never forgot either, not quite. But feeling her again now, pooling around him, warm and snug, he again wondered why in the living hell he kept himself from her for so long. Sure, they didn’t like each other most of the time, but their first time together had been hot, drunk hate sex and ever since then he’d chased that feeling with other people, none of them ever quite adding up to her. He wondered if she thought the same. No one ever making her feel the way he did either. If, when she was with someone else, she thought of him instead.

He knew he wouldn’t last long the second she put her greedy hands on him, and so her being in control now was slightly dangerous. He wasn’t ready for it to be over, even if he was racing the clock, even if he could just take her home from here and do it all over again, properly. He didn’t want it to end as quickly as it started.

So, he flipped them back over, getting her on her back like he’d wanted to earlier. Slipping a pillow under her backside to get a better angle and letting her sink all the way through the mattress this time. He remained inside her the entire time, only making quick, shallow movements to avoid the sounds of their skin slapping against each other. But he gave up being careful about their noise level after she begged him to go faster, after he reached between them and rubbed his fingers over her clit to catch her up with him.

She tugged at his hair while he kissed her, breathlessly and without much of a second thought this time about how loud they were being. He assumed all their friends knew about them anyway, even if she chose to be ignorant to it. They all speculated about the secret hookups and the mindless flirting that was disguised as harmless bickering. So, he just stopped caring the closer and closer he got.

That was until he buried himself as far as he could inside of her, his hand wrapped around her throat the way he remembered her liking, and he felt the scream building beneath her skin, beneath his palm. Quickly, before her noises led to everyone barreling into the room to find out what was going on, he clasped his hand from her throat to her mouth instead. Holding tightly as she let it out, his eyes pouring into hers like a lake of shining emerald waters getting her to stay there in the room with him. So that she didn’t close her eyes and float away like he had before.

He titled her head to the side, kissed up her jaw to her ear. “Mm, I missed the way you sound.” He wanted to tell her how he thought about her pleads and her moans and her yells late at night when he was feeling particularly alone. When he wanted nothing but her, to either be inside of her, or to just have her there next to him. But all of that got caught in his throat, and instead, as he continued burying himself into her, he whispered like a growl in her ear, “Missed how well you take me.”

And although it made her moan, made her eyes cross and her fingernails scrape across his shoulder blades, he wanted to tell her that he missed how they fit together. How where he ended she began so seamlessly no one else could hardly compare. There had always been a seam with everyone else, with Liv, a visible divide between him and them, soldered together haphazardly. But with Y/N, it was smooth, flowing together as if they were the same person.

His hand slipped from her mouth as he began losing control, and soon she was the one having to cover the noises. Though, this time, she just simply pulled his lips to her own and felt all the vibrations escape from his throat against her skin, her teeth, her tongue. She breathed in nothing but the air from his lungs, and held onto his tightly as she began to unravel.

His moans quickened and quickened until she felt his release, warm and deep inside of her, just as her own gave way, until his body began to give out, until he was panting and no longer able to hold himself up over her. And so once they both descended from their cloud, once their wave had crashed onto the shore, he planted himself beside her, their chests in rhythm as they cough their breath.

And before either of them even managed to open their eyes or breathe steadily again, the surge of the power coming back on dimmed the haze. Their room was still dark, but light seeped under the door and the rest of their friends cheered from the other room as the music began again. And for a brief, stupid moment, Harry thought about fucking her again and letting her scream all she wanted, but that fantasy was cut short when he remembered their friends would soon realize they were missing.

“We should get back.” She mumbled. Although she made no sudden movements to get up. She even closed her eyes again, still off in another world.

And so Harry risked it, just for a few more moments, anyway, where he rolled closer to her and slid his hand up her jaw softly, pulling her attention toward him again as her eyes fluttered open, waiting.

“I was miserable when I was with Liv too. And we broke up because she knew I spent all my time thinking about someone else.” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, realizing for the first time that he’d probably royally fucked up all her makeup and then hoping she wouldn’t come to her senses and kill him for it.

“And who might that be?”

He smiled, sweetly this time unlike all his asshole smiles, and just as he glanced at her lips, ready to kiss her again, he was cut short.

“Yo, where are Harry and Y/N?” It was Jason, loud and clear and possibly headed their way to investigate his missing party guests who had snuck off together in the dark. Jason didn’t know that yet though, and as much as Harry would like none of their friends to find out, it wouldn’t exactly look great the two of them waltzing out of the guest room together. Harry’s curls in shambles, fresh scratches all across his back, and Y/N’s makeup smudged. There was simply no use in hiding what they’d been up to, it was written all over them.

Harry grabbed her clothes and handed them off while he went on a search for his own tiny pieces of costume. And just as they got decent again, there was a knock on the door.

“You guys in there? You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” Jason warned and Harry and Y/n looked at each other for a moment before busting out laughing.

Harry got to the door first, throwing it open to a very surprised Jason, who then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N come up behind Harry.

“God, not in my guest room!” He whined as Harry pushed pass Jason, a looking Y/N following shortly behind, “Now I have to clean the sheets again! I just did them yesterday.”

“Sorry, mate!” Harry called over his shoulder, glancing down at Y/N quickly to give her one of his cocky little winks. And once they had reached the main room again, as he fell back into his chair, she realized just how many scratch marks she’d left on him, and wished he’d worn a costume with a shirt to cover it up.

She drowned out all the whistling and the comments about how everyone knew she and Harry were up to something, about the bets won and lost. All she heard was Harry’s voice in her ear, telling her how much he missed her and she wondered if it was real. If he really did miss her, or he just missed fucking her. If, when it was no longer October 31st, they’d just go back to normal. Like the horse-drawn carriage turning back into a lumpy, ugly pumpkin.

Harry noticed this, of course, because he’s a law student and notices everything, but just as he leaned in to ask if she was okay, she pulled away.

“I just, uh, need some air.” And then she was gone before he could do or say anything. She used through the front door, abandoning their poor pumpkin and headed toward her car. She’d left the keys and her purse inside, but it didn’t matter. She just leaned against the passenger door and gazed up at the stars, thankful for the clear night and warm weather.  

And, of course, he was beside her not too long afterwards. She’d heard his footsteps against the pavement, knew he’d probably follow her out anyway.

He cleared his throat, half watching the same stars she was and half glancing at her. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s um…” she faltered, her eyes falling to her feet. “Think I just had too much to drink.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I—” she cut him off before he got too far in the wrong direction.

“No, I mean…” she pushed off her car then and faced him, “Are we just going to go back to how we always are after tonight? Because I don’t know if I can do that. But I never know what you’re thinking, Harry. Do you even like me or do you just like sleeping with me sometimes and arguing with me all the rest of the time?”

He continued to watch her for a moment, almost waiting for her to tell him she was kidding. But when she just ran a nervous hand through her colored hair, he realized she wasn’t.

He waited for a group of kids all dressed in various Star Wars outfits to pass by them before he began. “I guess I thought I was clear, but obviously not enough… I don’t just want to sleep with you every couple of years and pretend we don’t like each other in between. I think we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you?”

She nodded once his words sunk in.

“Can we go finish our pumpkin now? And win the stupid skeleton. So I can take both it and you home with me?”

Again, she nodded, but this time it was matched with a smile. “Who says I want to go home with you?”

He rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close enough to kiss the top of her head as he steered them back toward the front door. “Guess it’ll just be me and the skeleton then.”

They both glanced over at the giant thing stuck in the middle of Jason’s front yard, still attracting every young person like it was a princess at Disneyland, and then she looked up at him again. “On second thought, I might like to see that.”

He shook his head, opening the front door for them, “M’sure you would.”

[bibbawrites]

Can’t Keep My Hands Off You - Owen Joyner x Reader

Request:  there’s not enough owen content on this site so i’m begging u to go write for him!! fluff, smut, angst whatever you want! i’ll take any crumb! 

Word Count: 1527 words

Summary: you had never been a terribly touchy feely person, until you fell in love with Owen and everything changed...

Warnings: swearing

A/N: couldn’t help myself i had to give you guys another fic tonight lol, i’m smashing these out!  not much else to say other than enjoy! 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @molinaroberts​ @joynersgoatblog​ @courageous-she​ @littlemissaddict​ @gloomybrieyxb​ @itsyagorlemmalyn @jatpxmultifan​ @moneybagmgk​ @emeliii1​ @mybradforddream​ (the strike through means it wont let me tag you)

“Can you stop playing with my hair, I’m trying to concentrate.” You sighed, removing your hands from your boyfriend’s hair. You were sat in a hotel room, on a JATP cast trip to New York, Owen’s head in your lap, watching some musical on the TV. Owen had been chattering non stop about the musical being shown, so the two of you had turned down an offer from Kenny for a cast dinner and instead ordered Uber Eats to the hotel and had curled up to watch the musical.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was being annoying.” You responded after a moment of silence. Normally Owen loved having his hair played with when you were relaxing.

“I’m just trying to concentrate and I can’t do that with you braiding or whatever you were attempting to do.” Owen sighed, sitting up. “It wasn’t that you were being annoying baby.”

You nodded, ignoring the look that your boyfriend gave you. A look that made you feel like you were a child who had been reprimanded and Owen was your parent who was feeling slightly guilty for being harsh. But then again, he should feel guilty. You weren’t doing anything wrong.

You picked up your phone as Owen laid back against the headboard. You had a missed text from Savannah, asking you if you wanted to meet up, so you sent a quick text back to say maybe later, before turning your phone off and lying down.

“You tired?” Owen asked. You made a noise in response. You weren’t really, but all you wanted to do was sulk in peace. Owen rolled his eyes, knowing how you could be.

“Hey, I love you.” He said, reaching out and rubbing your back. After a moment of silence you sighed.

“I love you too O.”

And with that you shut your eyes, forcing yourself to fall asleep.

-

A few days later you encountered an issue again. You and Owen had been sitting in the lobby of the hotel along with Charlie, Jeremy and Carolynn. You and Owen were curled up on a chair, and you were absentmindedly playing with Owen’s hair with one hand and his fingers with the other.

You were completely tuned out of the conversation, and didn’t focus until Owen announced he was going to get a drink. The remaining four watched as he walked away, before Charlie spoke.

“You know you don’t have to touch him all the time Y/N, we’re not gonna try and steal him.” He teased, turning to face you. You rolled your eyes.

“You of all people can’t be commenting on being clingy, Gillespie. Besides, I don’t touch him that much.”

Jeremy and Charlie laughed.

“You sure about that?” Jeremy said between laughs. You didn’t respond.

“Come on Y/N, you’re basically attached to him at all times. If you’re not holding his hand, you’re touching his arm or playing with his hair. He’s not gonna run away if you let him go.”

“Oh hush, I think it’s cute how touchy the two of them are.” Carolynn defended.

You glanced across the room to where Owen was stood, waiting for his drink.

“Do I really touch him that much?” You asked, turning your attention back to the group. They nodded.

“He asked me to stop touching his hair the other night, said it was because he couldn’t concentrate. What if he thinks I touch him too much too?” You could feel your brain beginning to explode with thoughts. Were you being too clingy? Maybe Owen didn’t like being touched... Had you ever asked him that? Were you just invading Owen’s personal space constantly and making him uncomfortable and you hadn’t even asked permission?

You zoned back in when you heard your name.

“Huh?” You asked, noticing Owen had returned.

“I said, do you want to go to the pool now?” Owen repeated.

“Yeah sure.” You stood up, grabbing your water bottle. “You guys coming?” Jeremy, Carolynn and Charlie shook their heads.

“Looks like it’s just you and me then babe.” Owen smiled, reaching out to grab your hand. You pulled your hand away, ignoring the confusion and hurt that appeared on Owen’s face. Clearly you were too hands on, and you needed to take a step back. And if that meant no touching, then so be it.

-

The indoor pool was empty as you walked into the room, the smell of chlorine filling your nostrils.

“Where should we put our stuff? The place is packed.” Owen joked. You bit your lip, ignoring him. Owen frowned, muttering something under his breath.

You put your stuff down on the nearest chair, pulling your shirt and shorts off and jumping straight into the pool. You let yourself be submerged in the water, before kicking up and glancing at your boyfriend, who was still standing next to the chairs.

“You coming in or are you going to stand there all day?” You asked, treading water.

“Oh so you do know I exist, that’s good to know.” Owen spat, throwing his bag down. You frowned.

“Did I do something wrong?”  Owen rolled his eyes.

“The fact that you have to ask that clearly speaks for itself.” He spoke, sitting down on the edge of the pool.

“Okay so tell me then.” You said, trying not to get agitated. Fighting wouldn’t solve anything. Owen was silent. You sighed.

“Or don’t.” You muttered. There was a moment of quiet.

“Why didn’t you hold my hand?” Owen asked, his voice barely loud enough to hear. You paused.

“Because I’m too touchy.” You mumbled.

Owen looked up, frowning. “What?”

You climbed out of the pool and sat down next to your boyfriend.

“It’s because I’m too touchy. Everyone knows it, I can’t keep my hands off you. You said yourself the other night that you didn’t want me touching your hair, and then Charlie told me that I touch you too much and Jeremy and Care agreed, so I decided that I would back off.” You said. Owen rolled his eyes and grabbed your wet hand.

“Y/N, I love you but god you can be a huge fucking dumbass sometimes.” You looked up at him, frowning. Owen smiled.

“I love it when you touch me. When we’re out somewhere and you grab my hand. Or at a meal and you put your hand on my thigh. Or if we’re chilling and you play with my hair or my fingers. I love every minute of it. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression the other night, I just really wanted to concentrate, and when you’ve got your hands in my hair my brain goes to mush.” He lent closer to you. “All I can think of is how much I love you, and how much I want to do this.”

He pressed his lips to yours gently, before pulling away.

“So what I’m hearing is keep touching you?” You whispered softly. Owen nodded.

“Never stop.” You moved away, smiling.

“Can we go in the pool now?” You asked. Owen didn’t respond, he just stood up and pulled his shirt off, tossing it in the direction of the chair, and jumped into the pool. When he resurfaced he looked up at you.

“You coming in or are you going to sit there all day?” He grinned, repeating your words from 5 minutes earlier. You laughed, sliding into the pool and swimming over to Owen, who had moved into the shallower section of the pool where you could stand up with the water reaching your shoulders.

“I love you.” He whispered once you arrived.

“I love you too O.” You replied, leaning in and kissing Owen again. Your bodies pressed together under the warm water, hands roaming each other’s backs.

“God can you not have sex in the pool, other people have to use this thing.” A Canadian voice broke you apart. You looked up to see Charlie, Jeremy and Carolynn standing there, smirks on both of the boys faces.

“Okay, first of all fuck off.” Owen said, his tone sounding annoyed but the glint in his eye giving him away.

“And second of all, clearly you don’t know what sex is if you say this is sex. This was barely first base.” Charlie jumped into the pool with a splash, Jeremy not far behind, leaving Carolynn to curl up on one of the lounge chairs, not wanting to swim just yet.

“Keep telling yourself that bro, but there were tongues in mouths that they do not belong in.” Charlie joked back.

“Oh yeah?” Owen asked, before splashing water at Charlie. The Canadian gasped playfully.

“Fuck that’s it, you’ve started a war Joyner.”

“Bring it Gillespie, you don’t scare me.” The two began splashing again, Jeremy now getting involved in the fight.

You swam over to the shallow end, before climbing out and sitting on the lounger next to Carolynn.

“Do you think they’ll ever grow up?” You asked, as the three boys began wrestling, trying to shove each other under the water.

“No, I don’t.” Carolynn laughed. “But that’s why we love them, right?”

You nodded.

That was why you loved them

[universalistotalis]

The Fifth Date

Bokuto Koutarou (Timeskip!!!) x Female Reader

credits to the owner of the picture :)

3k words

kinda long but it's worth it i guess

Masterlist!!!

You can’t believe this. You just can’t!

-

“Hey, are you alright?” Bokuto Koutarou looked at you with utmost sincerity in his eyes. You looked up and wondered if he really was worried or just being polite but either way, you stared right at his pupils.

“I am.” You agreed, letting go of his gaze and wanting to end the conversation.

This was your fifth date with him but there were no sparks since the first. You just didn’t feel his vibes and he could be so noisy at times which you hated. There was selfishness underneath his skin and it reeked in your nostrils. You hated egotistic people and you weren’t going to tolerate this much longer.

What your friends saw in Bokuto, you had no idea! They were all swooning over him when they set you up on a date together. They kept saying that he was perfect so you, being the hopeless romantic that you are, expected a prince who would be a gentleman, who would listen to you talk for hours on end, who would be so loving and caring… But instead, you were presented with boastfulness and chaos all wrapped up into one big muscle of a man! He did look like a prince but that was it!

“You know you can tell me right? I’ll listen.” You didn’t mistake the softness in his voice as he continued to stare at you lovingly.

You didn’t know if it was the beautiful place that he brought you to or if it was his kindness that made your brain turn into mush. But for the first time in five dates, your heart was hammering, its beats already like drums in your ears.

“I-I’m fine.” You stuttered and kept your eyes on the horizon.

You heard him sigh beside you on the railing you were both leaning on. The place you both drove to was divine as it overlooked the city. The twinkling lights below were mimicking the stars above and there were lanterns that hung overhead as well, casting the whole place in a lazy glow. You took a deep breath of the fresh air as you calmed yourself from the most stressful day of your life and from your whirlwind of a date.

A little rustling was heard and before you knew it, you were enveloped in warmth and his scent. Bokuto wrapped his jacket around you, letting you face him, so that he could pull the zipper up to your chest.

“There, so you won’t have to worry.” He smiled sweetly.

So he did notice the large coffee stain on your shirt and not once did he show that he was irked by it. You tried your best to cover it but of course you can't. Everyone at work gave you the side glance or the 'what-the-fuck-happened-to-you' look but he didn’t!

-

This can’t be happening. Were you reminiscing all those moments with Koutarou? AND NOW YOU’RE CALLING HIM KOUTAROU?!

You rolled around on your bed, a pillow tucked underneath your arms. A muffled scream was released as you felt an intense tingling sensation all over your body. You were supposed to end that fifth date! You were supposed to tell him that you both should see other people!

But the way he acted that night… it was as if he’s… perfect.

-

“Don’t hide from me.” He whispered in your ear as you cried in his arms. As his scent and warmth put your senses to overdrive with the jacket, you couldn’t help but sob. It was like the world was against you today. Even the document from work that you were so ready to pass, crashed on you. Even the coffee that you made this morning with care, splashed your white collared shirt. Even your ID lace that seemed so insignificant, decided to get caught on the doorknob and almost snapped your neck in two! And to spice things up, your evil boss humiliated you in the inter-department presentation even when the CEO of the company congratulated you on a job well done!

It was the little depressing and annoying moments that accumulated in your chest.

“Today has been s-so hard.” You cried in his shirt. “I keep on trying my best but it’s like I’m not doing enough. I'm not enough.”

The gentle rocking of your body stopped as he heard the words fall out of your mouth.

“Hey, don’t say that.” He cooed and trying to hold you at arm’s length. “You’re more than enough.”

You shook your head and tried to avoid his eyes again as he searched for yours. Fingers gripped on your chin to steady you and you melt for the nth time tonight.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. Alright? This day may have been difficult for you and maybe there are more days that would be the same but you shouldn’t doubt your efforts. The fact that you made it through, that’s already something to be grateful about.” He said while wiping your tears away. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t cry about them once in a while. Let yourself feel but then get back up again, yeah?”

You nodded but you felt another round of sobs escape your mouth. He pouted as he saw your wounded state and again, you were held close to his broad chest, away from the hurt, the pain, the stress…

-

This was dangerous. Are you actually falling for him? You’re actually falling for the loud guy that you swore you hated?!

‘Hey, hey, hey!’

His voice reverberated inside your skull and with that sound came the print of his smile on your brain. He had the nicest set of teeth and the nicest golden eyes you’ve ever seen. His skin was flawless too and under any light, you swore he was shining.

You couldn’t help but grin at the—

Yes…

This is bad. Really bad.

-

“You wanna dance?” He offered his hand out to you, smiling shyly. You were surprised at his somehow timid expression as you were so used to him being his confident self.

“I don’t know how.” You said breathlessly as you stared at his gorgeous face.

He let out a chuckle and reached out for your hand under the table. “Let’s figure it out, c’mon.”

The platform was small and there were four couples slowly dancing to the romantic song that was being played by a live band.

He led your hands to encircle his neck while his rested on your waist. All the motions, even the slightest graze of his skin on yours, were making your mind hazy. Everything seemed to blur and the only thing that made sense were the two of you in each other’s embrace.

“You’re so tall.” You whispered mindlessly which made him chuckle. He noticed that you could barely wrap your arms around his neck and that your arms were getting floppy due to fatigue. He then guided you to hug him around his waist instead so he could pull you closer.

“I’ve never danced like this before.” He confessed, swaying stiffly at the music.

“I can tell.” You giggle and look up at him in time to see him pout.

He poked your side, deliberately tickling you for a while. “That’s mean.”

“But it’s my first time too. And I kinda like it.” You said shyly, feeling your cheeks warm even with the cold night air.

“You think you could get used to it?” He asked, hope laced in his question.

“Of course.” You smiled up at him.

He smiled back and his eyes twinkled as he stared. He scooped your right hand and brought it to his lips for a quiet kiss then slowly intertwined your fingers with his, all while maintaining eye contact.

-

“AHHHHHHHHH!” You screamed into your pillow again as your head played that scene.

Sleep was so far away now that your adrenaline was so high because of him! You swore you could still feel his lips on your skin. It was as if he imprinted it there and nothing on earth can take that away now.

“Bokuto, stop haunting me! Let me sleep!”

-

“Now, listen here, missy.” The owner of the restaurant pointed to you sternly as she stood behind the counter. “Tell this boyfriend of yours to stop going here and actually get some much deserved rest! Athletes shouldn’t be tiring themselves!”

You chuckled at her actions and stole a glance at Bokuto who’s pouting excessively at the older woman with his hair seemingly deflating at her ministrations.

“But I like your food!” He whined.

The woman clicked her tongue, as if annoyed. “You can have better food from where you live. Now, stop pestering me!”

“I will come back here more often if you say that!” He smirked and leaned on the counter.

“As if! I know you’ll come back no matter what happens.” She rolls her eyes then turned to you. “We can’t get rid of him even if we wanted to!”

They kept bickering back and forth as you waited for the fruit shakes and other snacks that Bokuto ordered for takeout. It was a long drive back home and he said didn’t want you to get thirsty or hungry. You just listened to their banters and even though they were dissing each other out, you can’t miss the loving and motherly look the owner had for Bokuto.

“You’re a regular here?” You asked him as you settled on the carseat.

“I’m a fan of the view. And as you saw, I’m quite close with the owners and the workers. This is my safe space.” He replied and started the engine.

“When was the last time you went here?” You inquired, suddenly curious of his whereabouts.

“Yesterday.” He shrugged. “And the day before that. And maybe the whole of last week.”

Your eyes widened at his answer. “This is like two or three hours away! How?!”

“I needed some place to relax. And think.” He smiled sadly as maneuvered the car to begin the journey back home.

“Are you alright?” You blinked at your question. His voice seemed low and so sad in contrast to his usual loud and noisy screeches that you were so damn used to. This Bokuto in front of you was so hard to read!

He turned to you for a split second before averting his eyes on the road. “I am. I guess.”

“Don’t hide from me.” You bit your lip hard as you repeated his words to you. You wanted to know him more, to understand his feelings, and to make him feel better.

“Hey, you can’t use my lines against me.” He laughed lightly as he looked at you. Your eyes were begging him to tell you how he is and who was he to resist? “I’m just nervous about the incoming games, that’s all.”

“You still get nervous?” You turned to him, a little surprised.

“Why are you so shocked? Of course, I do! Some less nerve- wrecking than the others but I do always get tension at every game.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair while thinking. “But the upcoming match is a qualifying game for the Olympics so everyone is anxious.”

“Who are you against with?” You asked.

“See, now that’s another one of my worries. The competitors have still not been announced so we have to wait for a month. A whole month! What am I supposed to do?!” He said exasperatedly. “And just last week, one of our teammates got injured so they gave us time off. You know, to rest and shit. But I am restless and—"

“So that’s why you come all the way here?” You concluded.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “The drive gets my mind off of the anxiety and their food just makes me feel like I’m home.”

‘So he is human after all.’ You said to yourself. It was the simplest realization but it did so many wonders for your feelings and understanding towards him.

The drive home was filled with stories of sadness and laughter. You both sipped at your drinks and munched at the chips he bought. And as you both neared your home, it dawned on you that this was the best date you’ve ever had in your life! Bokuto’s so laid back and chill, kind and generous. He listened so intently and patiently to all your life stories and he had a good memory too, remembering the things you’ve told him about yourself in the past dates.

-

You sighed while sitting up. There’s no question that you were falling in deep for this guy. During the drive, he became his noisy self, acting all the spikes he did at the games comically but instead of being annoyed, you had tears in your eyes because you had laughed so much at his acting. You loved listening to him talk and you realized he wasn’t selfish at all!

Go figure.

Maybe you just mistook his confidence for selfishness and egocentricity.

-

You can’t believe that you were itching to lengthen the time you had with him. The car was now parked in front of where you lived and it was time to say goodbye.

Your eyes met and there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes which surprised you.

“Look.” He turned to the passenger seat and leaned closer. “I know that I’m not the best date there is and you may have been agreeing to these just because of obligation from your friends but… I’d like you to know that I—“

Closing his eyes, he exhaled. “I really like you.”

As the words were uttered, your body visibly tenses under his gaze.

Panic rises in his gut as he realized what he did. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“N-no!” You tried to swallow. “You didn’t scare me.”

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen ghost?” He chuckled lightly not giving up his stares.

Your shoulders slumped as you sighed. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

He nodded, still looking. “I guess this will be our last, huh?”

“What?”

“I know you don’t like me and you hate my company. I just really like you so I tried to drag it out for so long.” He said sheepishly as he deflated back into his seat. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and I’m so sorry if I did.”

This was not how you imagined ending your date. You were supposed to be the one saying that this will be the last. You were supposed to be excited about not seeing him again. You were supposed to go now! But the universe really did pull a reverse card on you today.

“Bokuto…” You started, feeling the guilt consume you to the bones. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that I didn’t like you.”

He was fiddling with his fingers now.

“It's just that your first impressions lasted so bad that it blinded me to who you really were.” Be honest. Just be fuckin’ honest! “I did think I didn’t like you but after tonight, you proved me wrong.”

His face looked at you in a flash, eyes finding the meaning behind your words.

“I didn’t know you could be like this!” You gestured to him, a little frustrated because your heart was pounding so bad and it became so difficult to breathe.

“Like what?” A smirk was beginning to form at his lips.

“This!” You laughed. “You’re fun to be with. You’re calm and reliable when needed. And just… yeah.” You’re just perfect.

You stared at each other’s eyes for a while longer, trying to read and drown in each other.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to give it another try?” You asked, hoping to god he’ll say yes to your request.

His eyes widened for a moment and his gray hair perked up a little bit.

“I told you I like you.” He smiled. “Why would I say no to that?”

-

Your phone beeped beside you. And if you weren’t so red enough from the memory, you knew that you were flaming red now.

It was a text from Bokuto.

Can’t sleep :(

You sighed at what he said. His anxiety about the game catches onto him so much that he often gets insomnia. The poor baby. You were about to reply when another text popped out.

I may or may not be outside your home.

“What?!” You panicked while swiftly looking for a hoodie to put on. Why is he here and why were you feeling excited at the thought of seeing him?

You asleep, little owl?

You bolted towards the doors and true enough, he was there, leaning on his car and dazzling in all his six feet and three inches glory. He looked unreal in this light even in his simple hoodie and joggers.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” His husky voice greeted you as you walked closer.

“No. Can’t sleep too.” You smiled. “What brings you here?”

He shrugged. He didn’t know what came over him when he closed your distance and hugged you tight. To him, you looked like an angel sent to earth only for his eyes to see! You were in an oversized hoodie, hair a little tousled, and your face was so calm under the moonlight. Something inside him prickled at the thought of being domestic with you.

Slowly your arms wrapped around his waist and you surrendered your weight to him. In that moment, he felt like he would burst! Never did he expect for this to happen, for you to give him a chance, but here you were. He deeply breathed in your scent and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” Your voice was a mere whisper when you looked up at him.

“Like a date?” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“Yeah?” You nodded.

He wondered if you had any idea about how you're making him feel crazier by the minute. If you don’t, then that’s much worse. “What am I gonna do with you?” He chuckled, arranging stray locks of your hair.

“You can go on a date with me.” You laughed and he was sure, so sure, that you felt his heart do a cartwheel when you were resting your head on his chest.

“I’d like that.” He replied hugging you tighter.

It was funny to you that you planned that fifth date to be the last. It turned out to be the first. The first real date where you felt like a princess in a fairytale. It was the first out of a never- ending series of romantic dates because Bokuto Koutarou had no plans of letting you go. Ever.

--

Okay, wait, hear me out. Have you seen that scene where Bokuto and Akaashi were just outside the hotel and they were just talking all calm and casual? MA'AM THAT'S WHERE I DIED SEEING BOKUTO AHHHH HE'S JUST SO PRECIOUS AND I DO BELIEVE HE CAN BE SERIOUS AND MATURE IF GIVEN THE CHANCE. I AM SIMPING HARD HELP

Masterlist!!!

Reblogs, replies are appreciated! <3