#now i know why he wears vests

[theskeletoninthegarden]

Finding out that Matthew Mercer has body dysmorphia and reacts to it in the same way that I do (avoiding mirrors, not going shirtless, choosing a specific style of clothing that tricks you into being comfortable with your body) is absolutely mind blowing.

[moeblob]

Flit (ginger) finds an injured, stray cat and is like "aw poor little guy... let's see if my sister can help you" and so he takes the injured black cat to Fleet. Who is then "I have no idea how to heal a cat" and turns him into a human, heals him, and is ready to turn him back into a cat but then he's just "WAIT IF IM HUMAN I CAN HELP YOU! LEMME BE A HUMAN! I WANNA HELP YOU!" and Fleet looks to Flit who shrugs since it's hard being the only assistance to his sister. So he proceeds to name the guy Eureka and now Eureka refers to Flit as "master" and Fleet as "mistress".

And obsessively tries to help them. But he also talks a lot at times and Fleet gets frustrated and turns him back into a cat as punishment and he sulks off to cuddle next to Flit... who is unfortunately much more patient than Fleet so he's now just stuck with this cat-guy-hybrid obsessed with him. And he doesn't regret /helping/ the cat but .... Eureka is really clingy. So he's just resigned to having either a black cat in his lap or a man looming over him asking "whatcha doing, Master?" at all times.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw (Here) | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal

Sleep like the Dead (Inherited): Nothing wakes you anymore. Leona is as "selfish" as they come, and has no regard for your schedule. He doesn't feel remorse for soaking up your time in the slightest. Why should he? Other people do it for 90% of the day. Take a load off, the bags under your eyes are unsightly. If he doesn't want to wake up in the morning? You ain't either. It's a done deal. If the building isn't up in flames then don't bother asking. Evidently, prolonged and frequent daytime siestas take their toll on your circadian rhythm. You now need just as - if not more - sleep than Leona. Napping out in public and at the rowdy Savanaclaw Dorm bestowed upon you a disturbance immunity. Ramshackle could be in the middle of a raid and you wouldn't move. Not unless something singed your skin or really did some damage. It's become an actual problem. Crewel is considering a sleep study.

"Oi, herbivore...stop squirming so much. You almost crushed my tail. Hah? Class? You don't need it. Just borrow notes from one of those little friends or make the cat go....fine. Gimmie your homework later. I can teach you a thing or two. That is, if you can handle it." <- Grim can't be trusted on his own? Not Leona's problem. You're half of a student. Half. Not full. Half. There's your loophole now go back to sleep. Yap any more and he'll roll on top of you. Good luck talking with a mouth full of hair.

Perfume (Developed): This comes about in an awkward manner. Beastmen have keen smell. It's a given. Bada bing, bada boom, Leona knows your scent. He could point out the Ramshackle Prefect from a half-mile radius. Now he's never said your scent is unpleasant. Quite the contrary, although the lion would never admit it. The issue here is that your scent acts as a calling card, and Leona is clingy. So you ask Vil for the most popular perfume, potion, cologne - whatever - and start wearing it to mask your scent. At least enough so Leona's de-buffed to a one-fourth mile radius. It doesn't work entirely. No perfume is that strong. It's also an active assault on Leona's nose...but it had to be done. Side note - this was his plan all along. He isn't keen on non-human folk sniffing you out easily. Beastmen, most Mermen, and even select Fae have keen noses. Not that his own scent isn't a deterrent, but some masking perfume is worth the occasional nose-shank if it keeps snickering busybodies off your tail when he isn't around.

"Here. Take this and throw out whatever crap it is you've got on. You want me to say it flat? You reek." <- Take the scent masking balm he's giving and don't shop retail ever again. His nose hairs are literally burning off. The balm costs more than your entire dorm to make, but Leona won't ever admit it. You have an ultimatum. It's either this, or wearing one of his old vests around Savanaclaw. Now unless you want to be twinning with him and Ruggie, do the man a favor and comply.

Hair Ties (Developed): Bless his genetics for that wonderful, silky mane - but he needs to tame it. With how smothering Leona can be, you end up with a mouthful of hair at least twice a day. Man is tall, and he loves using his prefect as a leaning post. Which is cute but he sheds. So your arm is perpetually wrapped with hair-ties 24/7 like a cased sausage, because every time you give him one it disappears. It's on purpose, of course. He also snaps them whenever you aren't paying attention. Spiteful bas-

Biting (Inherited): Biting is a common display of affection in beastfolk culture. Not that Leona ever bothered to tell you this. His little nips (in no small amount) were usually passed off as punishments for being annoying. A lie, naturally. One could say it’s the human equivalent of cute aggression? Yet it has more meaning since it’s reserved for close connections such as family and lover. Although drawing blood or leaving a mark behind is reserved for the latter. You had to learn all this from a textbook, of course. No one in Savanaclaw was going to butt into Leona’s affairs, and Ruggie found your ignorance a funny game to taunt his Housewarden with. You were on your own, on a quest to save your skin. Literally.

Regardless, it’s Leona’s way of affection. Bonus points since he can do it without you knowing why. It’s only natural that you return the favor, playing along whenever he has to hold composure. Acting as if you don’t know and relishing in his micro- reactions. It’s only a matter of time before he figures you out, but it’s so nice to have the upper hand for once.

"That's for showin' up late. Don't like it? Not my problem...yawn if is' so bad, just take my bandanna...Why do you care if it's got Savana colors? Ya spend enough time 'round here, no one's gonna say anything." <- If it really bothered you, he'd stop. King of consent and of reading body language. Otherwise it's a go-go. Also if someone did have a problem with you sporting Savanaclaw colors? He doesn't need to kick their ass. Beastfolk got better hearing than most, and if one of his overhears you getting shit for wearing their dorm's colors then the classic night raven pride will pop out.

Habits He Steals:

Vegetables (Inherited): Leona sticks to meat, cheese, bread, and more meat. Bring on the steak. Bring on the beef. Bring on the deluxe cutlet sandwiches. Savanaclaw's kitchen is the most costly of all the dorms purely for how much Beastmen eat. If Ruggie can guzzle down seven plates in a sitting yet still look like a stick? Imagine a Lion's appetite. No one knows how you managed to get this guy to eat a salad like a true herbivore, but it's a cold day in the Savanaclaw dormitory when Leona's facing down a spinach side-salad on top of his lunch. Meanwhile you're happily munching away at the table, picking random veggies off your own plate to put on his. Each instance accompanied by an agitated twitch of his tale, but the lion's eerily silent. Dire Crowley is right. The Ramshackle Prefect is a Beast Tamer indeed...

"Now I know you didn't just pick at my plate, herbivore. Your luck's running thin...Oi. That's enough. I'll sooner eat one of your limbs than another turnip" <- he, in fact, did eat the turnip. The threat scared his underclassmen so much, that seeing you come around still in one piece the next day earned you a warrior's respect.

Correspondence (Developed): Leona's used to getting a sea of letters from ministers, attendants, and a particular little menace back at the palace. Unless it was an urgent message - he'd let the letters go unchecked after skimming them. Replying always took too much effort, and he'd rather not encourage unexpected visits like during the annual Magiift tournament. That is until you start receiving them as well. Nowhere near the amount Leona deals with - but he'd rather die than have his family telling you things without the ability to intercept. Falena blackmails him into responding to Cheka's letters, or else the little furball is going to use you as a penpal for writing practice. Side Note 2.0 - regardless of Leona's 'cooperative' ways, you still write to the mini lion in 'secret'. He knows but gave up caring.

"Another one? Just toss the damn thing. No - hmph. Give me that. I'll respond, just don't start up the lecture." <- You always manage to find the letters Cheka sends over before Leona can get to them. It clicks that you're a middle-man once they start showing up at Ramshackle instead of his dorm. Leona can't wait too long to respond, otherwise you'll start harping him over how cute the kid's handwriting is or whatever picture he drew. He lets you keep them. Cheka's got his own exhibit on the Ramshackle fridge.

Accommodating (Developed): Leona’s not necessarily a ‘verbal’ communicator, despite his smart mouth that always manages to get the last word. He will not openly lend his aid without a bit of pressing before hand - his pride would never allow it. Take the three days you and Grim stayed in his dorm as an example. Inevitably you earned the right to crash in his room, but there was a roundabout to get there. Mainly for show, since in Savanaclaw things are earned not given. You also weren’t close back then. He wouldn’t go easy on anyone, even if they’re from a different dorm or stranded homeless by some octopunks.

The tides change for you, and only for you. His morals are held high, and his ability to treat a partner well is no exception. There is no glory in being above your supposed equal. Everything is shared. This means Leona’s room is now your room, just as Ramshackle is now partly his. He’s clearing some of his closet out, filling it with your stuff, and doing the same back at your place. Doesn’t even ask and doesn’t give a damn that there are dozens of open rooms. It’s the principle. Sharing a space is letting someone see your most vulnerable being. Not that he’d think you could ever do any significant damage (lies) - but considering he doesn’t want anyone within a five foot radius during his leisure time, Leona giving you open access speaks volumes.

"Hah? So what? It's not like I'm forcin' them into it. Got a problem with how I act? Enlighten me." == Talk about nonchalont. Leona is well aware of the imprint he's left on you. He sees it in the way you talk. The way you think. Not just in the chess matches he makes you sit through over and over. Round after round until you can put him into check. You're confident. You're demanding. You're ripe potential that he got to first before anyone else. You chose him, and no amount of backtalk on your end outshines that you like him enough to mimic his ways. The Ramshackle Prefect’s presence isn't something people can overlook anymore, and Leona is damn proud that he's left a mark.

Habits You Steal:

Extreme Couponing/Haggling (Inherited): If you do not think Ruggie spends his Sunday mornings going through sales ads? You are sorely mistaken. This man is an absolute menace when it comes to hitting the market and squeezing a shop-keep for everything they are worth. Sam fears no creature in all of Twisted Wonderland aside from this particular hyena. Screw fighting blot - grab some popcorn and kick back to observe the game of verbal chess those two engage in every week. It's more entertaining than any battle or show. You will become Ruggie's apprentice. Ain't no partner of his going through life without the ability to haggle. Sam stands no chance.

“Ya get this week’s ad? Good. C’mon over and we’ll get the clippings going. I think I saw somethin’ about a buy-one get-two on those candies ya like. Maybe if your nice enough, I’ll shmooze Sam for a bonus!” <- Ruggie honestly enjoys having a coupon buddy. He makes a show about how you take too long, and that if you don’t wake up early then he won’t stick around! Can’t miss the sale, so he isn’t lying there. Except he does grab what you need on the off chance you do miss the meetup. Side note - he doesn’t just take an apprentice without ulterior motives. This is all in preparation for you to handle the slum markets. If you can’t fight off a few broke students, then you won’t last a day back home.

"Shishishishi" (Inherited): There is no escaping it. For the countless times you've poked fun at his little wheezy laugh - imagine the utter mortification when it came not from him! No no. From you. It's unconscious and in the moment you don't recognize anything wrong. You were only laughing over a won victory against Sam. That new lamp you wanted for your work-desk finally within reach, and 70% off no less! Said conman looks at you with eyes blown wide, because great seven there are two of them now. It takes a moment for self-awareness to hit, but you're too late. Two fuzzy-satellites atop a mop of shaggy blonde curls perk up, and your laugh from before echoes from the original culprit's mouth.

“I heard that! You’re doin’ it wrong. Gotta put more air, Shishishi~” <- Ruggie’s a taunting little turd on a good day. Be prepared. You won’t be living this down. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? Next thing is to train ya in the art of sticky fingers - no? Ugh. Fine. Ya Goodie-Goodie.

Hands Up! (Inherited): Ruggie has a very unique way of standing. Hands behind his head, laced together to support his neck. One hip normally supports most of his weight, and he's always in a deep-slouch. Bro doesn’t need to cast ‘Laugh With Me’ for his movements to be mirrored, because you’re already following along without realizing. Leona finds the mimicry unsettling. Take that freaky shit out of his line of sight.

Habits He Steals:

Sharing Food (Developed): This is the inner hyena coming out. Just like in the slums, it's demanded to share amongst your own. He might be a sleaze to other people, but not to you. This also backfires into Ruggie thinking that what's yours is his as well - but that's not the point. He'll plop down next to you at dinner and wordlessly offer up half of his meal. You need more meat on those bones, he'll say if protested. In turn he'll then take half of your dessert. It's a sign of trust, instinctively believing that whatever's on your plate is safe to eat. Yet also shows that he's taken you as one of his - and that's a privilege no one at NRC has. No strings attached because everything you both have is shared. On a side note, you'll never be-rid of Ruggie once this comes to pass.

Shared Wardrobe (Developed): Again with the collective treasure hoard, but with a twist. Ruggie can essentially squeeze into most clothing or modify them to his needs. If it works, then it works. So he'll happily offer up any modified dregs he has for your usage, and in turn he will claim whatever clothes you aren't overly attached to. There is also the matter of scent, of course. Ruggie is the type of person to cut up one of your old pajama shirts and fashion arm-bands, making sure to have one knotted around his bicep at all times. You in turn are welcome to swipe his bandanna at your leisure in place of that tacky uniform tie.

“Hey…you seen my blaz - hah? Uh, nevermind. I’ll go grab somethin’ else. Where’d ya leave the heavier coat Gran sent over. Forget it, I’ll just go check myself” <- The first time you snag one of his oversized blazers or hoodies gets him. It gets him bad. Sharing with Leona was one thing but, c'mon. Warn a guy would ya? You're so lucky he's an opportunist on quick feet, so of course he’ll take the chance to steal something you wear often. Ruggie’s great at brushing off any taunts or quips. Being Leona’s right hand gets him stable back at Savanclaw, but that doesn’t take away years of being the underdog. Whether the other beastfolk stare at him openly brandishing your clothes means little, if anything, he enjoys it. Cause once again the underdog’s got a top prize.

Caffeine Addiction (Inherited): Ruggie spends more time and effort running around than most. His *hobby* is doing part-time work. Those overpriced sugar-loaded drinks never appealed to him because why waste money when powering through is just as effective? Or chugging some ice water? Yet you seemingly always have some sort of caffeine to make it through the hell NRC dishes out, and Ruggie being a mooch is always there to steal at least 1/3 of it. Now he’s trained and gets extremely sluggish around mid-day without a dose. It’s your fault if he falls off his broom during spelldrive practice.

"Wha'cha trying to say with that tone, huh? Think I'm not good enough? 's that it? There're way worse chumps to take after. Way I see it? They're learnin' how to make it in this world, sha ha ah! So thanks!...eh, why're you still here? Shoo already." == Considering rumors never have anything good to say about Ruggie's attitude, he's not dumb enough to take the little 'compliment' as genuine. More like as a backhanded sight towards your relationship. Rugs could care less about what those nobodies have to say. Not like they've got anything he's after, just some busybodies that scurry off with their tail between their legs when things get rough. Even if you catch word of it, Ruggie ain't going to get pissy because they're right. Everything they're saying is right, he is rubbing off on you. He is actively trying to. Life isn't a peach and it's not like he's strong enough to protect you from the hardships. It'll be a big laugh if you pull that righteous crap and try to defend his honor, though. Someone better get it on camera.

Habits You Steal:

Paternal Disappointment (Inherited): There was a time, a simpler time, a Jack-less time...when you were a fool. No. You are one to this day, but it is better tamed under Jack's strict aura of perpetual disappointment. Once on the side of being scolded with Ace and Deuce, you are now the one doing the scolding. You are not fun anymore. There is a stick shoved so far up your ass, and it's now part of your internal organ system. Ace dubs you a traitor, as does Grim. You've gone to the dark side in exchange for the morally sound wolfboy to offer cuddles and the occasional snack. I'm sorry to tell you this dear prefect but you've become....*gasp* the (mom/dad) friend.

“Boring? Who said you were boring?…don’t listen to those jerks. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. They’re just upset that they can’t get away with murder anymore - Uh, not t-that I was jealous or anything! Don't get the wrong idea! . Hmph.” <- Jack doesn’t take offense when others call him names, but he doesn’t like when you’re brought into it. At all. Especially because he used to be jealous how you, Ace, Grim and Deuce were more tight-knit than with any of the other first years. Like a pack. That behavior is childish, and Jack hates that he used to think that way. As if your attention was something he had to fight over. It's not like he wanted the same bond you shared with those three either, that's friendship and he wanted more. By being with you, Jack knew that it was going to put him on a different tier than the others. That's just what happens. Part of him feels guilty that you might be losing face because of him. His reputation isn’t bad, but he does have a resting angry face. Reassure him in turn and Jack will be over the moon. Any happier and his wagging tail can become a makeshift duster for the dorm (Were he on earth, he’d definitely get the nickname ‘tails’. After the sonic character, just to clarify)

Meal Prep (Inherited): This is actually an amazing influence and is wonderful for someone on a tight-schedule. You're not going to be eating high-protein meals every night, neither wasting away in an attempt to chug down pre-workout shakes. That's on Jack and Jack alone. Helping him prep meals is a nice touch and a pleasant evening spent together once a week. You don't become strict with it, but Jack does convince you to at least prepare some of your favorite dishes as snacks/emergency meals. He also constantly shoves energy water and vitamins in your bag. No more cup-noodle or scrap sandwiches on those nights you don't reach the mess hall on time. Now you have balanced meals, and get to flaunt matching containers with your boyfriend. Very cute. Everyone hates both of you.

"Uh...are all those stickers really necessary? I know we agreed on matching boxes but this is a bit...No! I'm not embarrassed! Gah, just keep it to a minimum. Nothing that falls off or sparkles." <- He is flustered beyond compare after every track meet. At first he barely bat an eye, thinking nothing of the orange bento box with chibi-cactus stickers and his name written in bold bubble lettering on top. You decorated it just for him, and if it meant you would carry around a spare meal then that's even more incentive. Yet the smell of fresh food attracts jocks after a meet like nothing else, and the teasing was relentless. It isn't enough to stop him from enjoying his meal, though.

Lint Roller (Developed): Leona sheds, but Jack? He is like owning six full-grown huskies. He apologizes profusely for the shedding, especially since the NRC uniforms are black. You run through lint rollers like Deuce runs through eggs. It isn't Jack's fault, but man. Ramshackle collects both dust and fur bunnies these days.

Habits He Steals:

Piggy-Back(Developed):Jack carries you everywhere. He's normally very patient but when there's a place to be? Well, he wants to get there on time. Jack has a strict bedtime at 10:00pm sharp and so his free hours are scarce. Do you want enough time to enjoy the lakeside as planned? If so, hop on his back so no time is wasted. Jack also pressures you to join him for morning and evening jogs. He refuses to give up his diligence, but also is acutely aware that there is little spare time he can afford you during the week. Either you have to keep up with him, or you're getting used as a makeshift weight and being hauled across campus. Relationships need quality time to grow and this is the perfect excuse to hog your attention for two hours every day. Not that he'd admit it, but the swish of his tail while you chat is enough to tell Jack's enjoying his runs much more than before.

"Are you comfortable? Just let me know if I'm going too quick. I'll try not to jostle you around too much...if you're tired then take a nap. I'll wake you when we're back home." <- He'd prefer if you didn't sleep. It messes with your circadian rhythm, but the whole point of this is to help you relax. Just knowing you're with him is enough to make Jack happy. Rain or shine, no excuses. If it's cold he'll let you use his hair to block out the chill, although he'd never let you out in anything less than the proper gear. Even if he joins Deuce or Vil on occasion - you're his favorite running partner.

Safety (Developed): Jack asks you to text him twice a day. Once in-between class, even though you’ll be spending lunch together, and once before bed at 9:30pm. The morning isn’t needed since he’s your alarm clock. He understands that as a prefect, you don’t have a curfew like the majority of students. Yet he is communicative with concerns about you being outside of Ramshackle late after dark. Even when you were just friends, hearing the story of when A-Deuce hauled you to that abandoned mine in the middle of the night? The blot monster and how close it came to you guys not making it? Magic or not, that would worry anyone with common sense. It doesn’t help that Ramshackle has no security beyond its resident ghosts.

"- and you just went with them? Because the headmaster told you to? Are you insane!?...No. You're right. What's done is done. Just...call me if something like that ever happens again." <- Thank the seven Jack's hair is already white.

Jack never thought he’d care this much about anyone. When your partner is a walking heart-attack, in the best way possible mind you, one just wants some piece of mind.

Covering Ears (Inherited): It's a natural response to cover your ears when frightened. Like when watching a scary movie and you don't want to hear what comes next. Jack covers his ears because they're sensitive, and loud noises can cause a migraine quicker than anything else. Especially when they're sudden. His hearing is more sensitive than most, being a wolf beastman. It's almost on par with Leona's. Yet his first instinct when there is a loud noise is to cover your ears instead of his. Even though you're human, the instinct to protect them takes over. It's also his way of being within arm's reach in case of a threat. You must be scared being in a new place. Jack will never let himself forget that. Nor how brave you are for continuing on regardless.

"What a relief...huh? Nah, I didn't say anything. Isn't there a test coming up in Alchemy next week? Want to hit the books together?" == The type to divert the topic as quick as possible, on the chance that he lets too much slip. Needless to say that Jack is relieved to hear that you're mimicking him on an unconscious level. It means that you trust him. That you respect him and see him as an equal. It's the biggest compliment Jack can ever ask for. If people are automatically associating you together, then it means he's done his job. You're part of his pack - and outsiders can recognize it at first glance. He'll do a good job at hiding how happy it made him, but expect that tail to wag at torpedo speed the next time he sees you.

[bi-writes]

gIvE mE yOuR bAbY !!!!!!! (previous part, dark?reader x ghost, 18+ !!!!!)

you throw the pregnancy test angrily into the trash. you're staring at the mirror now, practically snarling at your reflection. you've been fucking your lieutenant for weeks now, and nothing.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

the fucking brute doesn't even want a baby--he's appeasing you, giving into you, but you know it won't be long until your lieutenant becomes just a little coherent and realizes he might not want this, might not need this, not as much as you.

but you're focused. it's him, god dammit, and it will be him. no matter what.

it's late, but you make your way across base anyways. there's no one around, not even the crickets, or maybe the rushing in your ears is too loud for you to hear anything but your beating heart. you fit your key into the lock, shoving his door open, and you see the sorry bastard sleeping in his cot.

he's fully clothed, the paranoid little shit. his belt is nowhere to be found, and he had the good idea to leave his tact vest on the floor by the door, but he's still wearing his cargo pants and a standard issue shirt, his mask hanging off his fingertips. he snores loudly, his nose broken too many times to offer him a night of quiet sleep, and it angers you to see him so peaceful.

you shut the door and lock it, taking the band off of your wrist and tying your hair up before shoving your pants off and tossing your shirt into the corner of the room. you reach over him, undoing the button of his pants and shoving them low. he blinks away the sleep from his eyes just as you straddle him, trying to get his pants just that much lower on his hips.

"the fuck are y'doin'?!" simon growls, his hands gripping your hips on instinct.

"i'm not pregnant," you snap. "now shut up and do what you do best. take these--" you yank on his pants again, but he's more than two hundred pounds of solid fat and muscle, and your tugs don't even budge, not even a little. "--take your fucking pants off!"

he grunts as he finally lifts his hips enough to pull them just low enough. you whine with relief, slipping a hand over him, spitting on his cock before spreading it over his thick length. he hisses, leaning his head back, chubbing up immediately.

"christ," he groans, licking his lips. "never gets old."

"yeah, daddy?" you coo, leaning down and kissing him wet. "'s too bad it hasn't taken yet..." you pout a little. "it's not working, why isn't it working?"

"'cause y'pout too much," simon scoffs. "y'r such a brat."

you whimper, pulling your panties to the side, scooting up as you sink down on his cock easily. you're positively sopping, and he breaches your cunt without much resistance. you fall over him, your hands on either side of his head, and you rock your hips gently as he gets even harder now that he's inside of you.

"simon--" you cry, leaning your head back. "i just want it so bad..." you start to bounce, your eyes rolling back as you hear the smack of your ass against his thighs. "want your baby, simon..."

"ackk..." he hisses. "i know. i know y'want it, luv. ahhh--cunt's beggin' fer it."

you nod, your eyes fluttering shut, and you keep up the pace, the squeak of his cot rattling as you throw your hips back harder.

"fuckin' hell, swee'eart..." he grits his teeth. "really workin' for it..." he chuckles breathlessly, reaching back and gripping your ass with both hands, easily supporting you to bounce a little harder with just the flex of his arms. "fucked ya just this mornin', and y'r already cryin' for me..."

you reach down and grip his jaw, licking over his bottom lip.

"need it all the time," you whisper against his lips. "n-need to be full...a-always..."

simon hums, nodding, "yeah? tha' wot it is? not fillin' y'r cunt often enough, tha' wot y'r sayin', baby?"

you kiss him hot and heavy, your hips bouncing a little more frantically as you lick into his mouth. all teeth and tongue, all wet and slobbery, positively drunk on the way his cock punches into you. you're needy and angry and so, so desperate for it, and you need all the time, need him to just, please, please, please, keep me this full all the time, please--!

"y'r such a needy little girl," he growls. "always so wet..."

"shut the fuck up, simon, and just cum--!" you gasp, cut off by the smack to your ass that he chides you with.

"y'listen t'me--" he grips where your hair is tied up, yanking on it, forcing your neck back and baring the soft skin to him. he sits up, shaking you practically, manhandling you until you're underneath him now, scratching at his biceps as you try to gain control again. it's pointless, really--he can pin you down with one burly leg, and he's got the weight of his entire body holding your hips down as he forces his cock so deep, you feel him right in your stomach. "listen t'me, little brat, you'll get wot i give ya, and you'll like it, yeah? you'll take it, and you'll say thank you, lieutenant, olright?"

you whine, pushing your hips back, feeling the heat of him, and you don't stop crying until he cums. it isn't even about getting off yourself; you just need to be full of him, all the time, always, whenever he's near.

you lose none of your enthusiasm. simon wakes up with your mouth wrapped around his thick cock, and he falls asleep with you pushing back against him as he fucks you from behind. you grab him by the vest as he passes by where you're hidden in a supply closet, and you fuck him fast and hard before sending him off to training again. you slip into his office and take him on his desk, crowd him in the corner of the room that you both are sitting in when you're out in the field. you give him no room to breathe, you just force his trousers as low as holsters will let you and fuck him until he gives you what you need.

"insatiable little girl," he always says into your ear, but you can't help it. your lieutenant is not just your certified baby daddy, he's everything you've been looking for in a man. disgusting, all brute strength, a taker, selfish, obsessed. he isn't normal, and you adore that--you fucking hate normal. you don't want someone passive and sweet, you want someone possessive and a little fucked up, and it's just a bonus that his cock matches his size and that he knows exactly how to use it to make you boneless and feral.

he's just so hot. rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, you drool at the sight of his tattoo sleeve. as he gets dressed in the morning, you catch a glimpse of his bare ass, and you have to fuck yourself on your fingers to refrain from making him any later. seeing him smirk under the mask, it drives you insane, especially when he gives you those eyes--the eyes that say fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. you especially love him making his way back after an op, his body hot under his gear and smelling like sweat and sand and smoke. you lick the ash off his fingers and make him fuck you with his mask stuffed into your mouth because you want to taste the essence of him at his most authentic--adrenaline hungry and bloodthirsty.

"gonna milk me fuckin' dry," he murmurs one evening, running a thick hand over his length. you lay beside him and mewl, your knees still open from when he was just on top of you. your back arches as you feel his spend dribbling out onto the bed, and you reach down and use your fingers to stuff it back inside. as he massages himself, he grunts, the squelch of your slick making it easy for him. "twice olready, 'n y'wanna go again, tha' it?"

you give him big eyes, squirming under his gaze. you slip your fingers out, putting them into your mouth and sucking soft. when you let them go, you smile at him lazily.

"yes, daddy," you whisper, nodding. "p-please...please give me more..."

he chuckles, breathless, and he nods.

"woteva y'want, baby. turn over. give it t'me."

fuck, it makes you so wet all over again to hear him say it. to hear him tell you that you can have it all, have all that you want, that he'll give you whatever you need. it makes your head spin, it makes you dizzy and giggly. you've only ever heard him bark orders outside of this room, but when you're alone, he caters to you and only to you--he's wrapped around your finger, and he doesn't know it, and it makes you positively hungry and satiated all at the same time. hungry for more of it, satisfied knowing it's yours and only yours.

it's days later, when he has you cock-drunk (again) and utterly exhausted that he speaks to you again, really speaks. he smooths a hand over your stomach, pulling back your hips until you're nestled under his arm and pressed back to chest against him. he nuzzles his nose against your jaw, kissing under your ear.

"y'not pregnant yet?" he murmurs. "y'sure of tha'?"

you close your eyes, humming as you nestle into the warmth that he gives off. you shrug, trying to blow it off, trying to seem nonchalant and unbothered. you don't know what he'll do once he finds out. you don't know if he'll push you away, knowing he's given you what you asked for. you want to stay like this, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss of simon's incredible fucking, and you want to think of nothing else but gathering enough energy to do it all over again.

you can tell him about the positive pregnancy test later. right?

"guess not," you whisper, and you moan unexpectedly when you feel him chub up against your ass. fuck, he can go for hours--his stamina knows no bounds.

he doesn't tell you that he found that little test, in a plastic baggie stuck behind the extra toilet paper in the bathroom. instead he grins wide, knowing you've lied, and he hikes up your knee as he pushes into you.

"hmmm..." he growls in your ear. "then we won't stop. won't fuckin' stop until y'ave it. until y'r tits are fat, and 'm fuckin' sure y've got m'baby there--" he cups your pussy as he bottoms out, swirling two fingers around your puffy, abused clit. you nod, slipping his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them desperately.

you won't stop. you'll never stop. you'll never let him go.

[foolinafable]

your wildest dream, his nightmare

Five Hargreeves x Reader Synopsis: Walking into Max’s diner as a respite after you and Five are seemingly stuck you don’t think you could’ve imagined a better outcome surrounded by various versions of your lover. At the same time, for him it’s nothing more than a bad dream he hopes will end soon. Word count: 760 Tags: Fluff, Jealous Five, Crackfic Note: This small fic because it's funny to imagine jealous Five being jealous of himself

“Come on”

Five grabbed your hand as he led you out of the tube to, probably, another timeline. It must have been a few hours the two of you had been stuck in this place going station to station still with no idea how to get back. 

You turned left but instead of being greeted with the usual blankness for Five to scribble about in his notebook you instead were somewhat blinded by the light of a sign.

‘Max’s delicatessen.’ You made eye contact with Five to the side of you before tilting your head with a nod towards the building. He simply followed your lead before quickly grabbing the door to let you in first. 

You turned back to smile in thanks when you noticed his shocked expression, head quickly turned back towards the diner at a call of your name to see the whole diner was made up of your lover. Looking back to Five, your Five, in bewilderment a shocked smile on your face.

The look on your face seemed to take him out of his stupor clearing his throat before leading you into the diner- trying to find an empty table for you to sit at. He was quickly stopped by another Five, one sat on his own, and gestured for the two of you to sit opposite him. Five begrudgingly agreed as he realised the restaurant was at max capacity. No spare table in sight.

You quickly shuffled onto the brown bench when the other Five spoke 

“It’s rare to see one of you around here” he smiled happy to see you

“Maybe this is not my typical scene” you rebutted a cheeky smile on your face that the Five opposite you seemed to enjoy, dimple now showing from smiling so wide

“Maybe” he breathed out in a laugh 

Before you could continue to speak with this version of Five another one appeared in front of you, this one not wearing a suit or vest. He quickly placed down a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich in front of your Five. He then turned to you placing a very familiar drink in front of you

“Your favourite” he declared when you looked confused  

“How did you know?” You smiled at him eyebrows furrowing as his cheeks went red

“We all know your favourites” he shrugged as if it was the most normal thing in the world

“Um- Thanks” you nodded your head in gratitude 

“Anything for the missus” he mumbled before leaving to go back to the kitchen 

You took a sip of your drink when your Five spoke irritated “What was that about?” a hand possessively stroking at your thigh 

“A lot of us having seen our version of her in a long time” the other Five spoke wistfully   

“How sad” you stated before turning around in your seat you waved and greeted the Fives around you who all became quite delighted at your attention all greeting you with a similar bravado.

“Okay.” Five declared “I think we are done here” he quickly at up pulling you up with him by grabbing hold of your hand once more 

“But we just got here, can’t we stay a little longer and rest?” you asked not wanting to leave. I mean why would you, surrounded by multiple versions of the man who loved you, say no to having his attention on you?

“No, we need to get back to my family in our timeline, come on. We are wasting time.” he rebutted practically pulling you away from the diner seemingly getting even more annoyed as the other Fives shouted goodbyes towards you.

“I didn’t realise I was so annoying, that was a nightmare” Five claimed as you sat on a train hopefully taking you back home

“Sure you weren’t jealous?” you quipped staring at him mischievously

“No” he grumbled arms crossing against his chest

“Then you won’t mind if I-” you spoke moving towards the doors to go back to the diner, quickly shutting up when Five grabbed your hands pulling you back onto the seat beside him. You simply smiled at his look of false ire towards you as the train started to move. Resting your head on his shoulder as he let a smile grace his features giving a kiss to the top of your head.

You hope that at some point you will get to return to the diner- a place you have just coined akin to heaven on earth.               

[luveline]

could i request spencer x bombshell!reader where maybe spencer and the team meet reader’s ex boyfriend / a guy she used to be interested in and he’s sooo different from spencer so he assumes her flirting is a joke but really she never had a type until she met spencer n now she’s only into nerdy, sweater-vest wearing sweethearts <3

love ur work sm i only read spencer fics but i read all your characters bc the writing is so intoxicating !!

thank you for your request angel! <3 1k, fem

Spencer looks adorable today. You’re not sure if he knows, but that can be easily rectified. 

“Spencer Reid,” you say sternly. 

He’s immediately wide-eyed and sorry. “What?” he asks, pouting. 

“You have some explaining to do.” You glare, taking your compact from your pocket. You open it, check your appearance, fighting a huge smile as you flick the mirror on him accusingly. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?” 

“I don’t get it.” His eyes jump between the mirror and you. “Sorry?” 

“You should be sorry. Do you see how nice you look today?” He rolls his eyes. “Hey, don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.”

You and Spencer have known each other for years now, and you love him. You’d die for him easily in the field, and out of it too, but you’re not together and he’s bad at accepting compliments, so he shrugs you off like you’re only teasing him. 

“My handsome partner,” you say. Even if he isn’t your boyfriend, that’s your loophole. You and Spencer get paired for everything these days, because you’re best friends and Hotch has given up on separating you (though professionally there’s no need). “I could eat you.” 

“Still mildly threatening, then,” a voice says. 

You spin in your chair, shocked and a little horrified to find the last person you wanted to see here in Connecticut. “Cory!” you say, knowing he’ll believe you’re enthusiasm if nobody else. 

“Hi, beautiful. You weren’t gonna call me?” 

Your lips pop as you reply, “I was definitely going to, just as soon as we weren’t on the clock. How are you?” you ask, standing to receive the hug you know he’s going to give. 

Cory is… well, he’s gorgeous, though that hadn’t been why you had fun with him when you were here last. He’d seemed nice enough and plainly interested in you at the time, and you’d been sort of lonely, so really he was a necessity of the soul rather than a want. Plus, he was very rich. 

Gorgeous he may be, but Spencer Reid he is not. You don’t deny it to yourself —the genius behind you has completely changed your type, the kind of man you vy after, and if you’re honest, he’s the one for you. So hugging Cory and pretending you’re going to call him for drinks after the case is over isn’t easy. You lie rather than reject him.

“He seemed nice,” Spencer says in the awkward silence Cory leaves behind. 

“Sure!” you say, blowing out a hot breath. “Was I embarrassing myself? I didn’t expect to see him.” 

“You were the same as usual.” 

You tilt your head back as the door opens again, worried it’ll be Cory back for a last word. Emily smiles at you knowingly, a bag of takeout in hand. “God, did you see that?” she asks, eyebrows rising. “He was perfect.” 

“If you like the Greek god motif,” you joke. 

Spencer’s frowning at his files when you turn back to him. “Spence, what’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Mm? Nothing.”

“You sure?” you ask. 

He maintains that he’s okay as the rest of the team flood in for lunch. You pretend to believe him, not sure what you’ve done to upset him but willing to figure it out. You unwrap his food for him and place his plastic cutlery on a napkin as you know he prefers, sorting through the cup drinks to find his diet lemonade. “Here, handsome,” you say, touching his shoulder gently as you sit down next to him. 

He bristles. 

“Spencer?” you ask. 

He looks around the table. Hotch and Rossi are talking about something with shared smiles, while JJ and Morgan debate the case. Emily’s on her phone with a straw between her lips. They aren’t listening, and so he says, “It’s not a fitting nickname.” 

“What, handsome? That’s not a nickname, it’s a pet name, and it’s true. You’re one of the most handsome guys I’ve ever seen,” —you laugh and grab his elbow when he shakes his head— “are you kidding? Spencer, you could be a model. I’ve told you this a hundred times. You have amazing cheekbones, just dreamy, and your lips–”

“Oh, god, please don’t start,” he says, covering his face with both hands. He sounds like he’s smiling. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Hotch shoots you a don’t tease look. You send him a vehement I’m not back, waiting for him to look away before you prod Spencer again. “You’re so cute, Spencer, you don’t get it.” 

“I don’t wanna be cute, cute isn’t your type–”

Your eyes flare. “What would you know about my type, Spencer? Is this– is this about Cory?” 

“Of course it is,” he says, face pink as he drops his hands. 

“Spencer, he is not my type.” 

“But you dated.”

“One date. And that was before I realised I liked dorks in sweater vests,” you say. You’re both acting like this is half a joke, a skit, in case you’re overheard, but you’re also both well aware that it’s serious and vulnerable and flustering to confess certain things right here and now. Too bad it has to be done. “I miss your glasses, babe, they really added to your charm.” 

Spencer shakes his head, picking up his styrofoam boxed lunch to ignore you. 

You sidle close to him, your pinky finger rubbing the slightest hint of his bare wrist. “Wanna get drinks with me tonight? I need a cover story in case Grecian Cory tracks me down. And, you know you get that really cute blush when you drink. What do you say?” 

“No,” he says with a smile, which means yes in this instance.

You kiss his cheek, giggling at the lipgloss left behind. “You’re my type, handsome.”

[steveseddie]

jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompt: jacket | rating: t | wc: 999 | tags: post-canon, steve wears eddie’s leather jacket, they kiss about it

read on ao3

Eddie can’t find his leather jacket.

Steve is picking him up soon and he can’t find it. He turned his bedroom upside down looking for it (pun absolutely intended) and even riffled through Wayne’s clothes in case the old man grabbed it by mistake (he didn’t).

He concludes he forgot it somewhere and racks his brain for the last time he remembers wearing it. He thinks it was last week when he yelled at Wheeler for almost spilling soda on him at Steve’s house. Did Eddie take it off and leave it there by accident? Or did he have it on when he drove home?

He’s still trying to figure that out when there’s a knock on his door.

“Shit, shit,” he mutters, jumping to his feet. “Coming!”

He doesn’t want to keep Steve waiting and risk missing their movie so with a sigh, Eddie grabs a denim jacket instead.

“That’ll do,” he says, checking himself in the mirror before opening the door to reveal–

Steve in his leather jacket.

“Hi, Eds,” he says, wiggling his fingers.

Eddie tries not to swallow his tongue but Steve is wearing his jacket and he looks hot. He’s pretty sure he’s had a few fantasies that start like this.

“Uh, hey,” he says once he finally gets his brain working again. “I was looking for that.”

Steve looks down at himself like he just remembered what he’s wearing. Like he forgot he put on Eddie’s leather jacket. He shrugs. “You left it at my house the other day.” And- well, mystery solved but that doesn’t explain why he showed up wearing it.

“So, it’s yours now?” Eddie asks, narrowing his eyes even if he doesn’t care. Steve can keep it if he wants, he looks better in it anyway. “First you steal my vest and now my jacket, Harrington?”

A smirk stretches over Steve’s lips. “Maybe I just like wearing your clothes, Munson,” he says in a teasing tone. A flirting tone- Eddie has heard him use it with girls at Family Video.

“Besides,” Steve continues because Eddie is too flustered to think of a comeback, “I didn’t steal your vest. You gave it to me. Threw it, actually.”

“And you never gave it back!” Eddie protests. “After I let you borrow it to protect your modesty!”

“Please, man,” Steve snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. His shoulders and arms are significantly bigger than Eddie’s so the movement pulls on the leather. Eddie would care more about Steve stretching his jacket if he wasn’t so busy ogling him. “You did it so you could stop staring at my chest.”

Eddie gasps, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. He knew he wasn’t subtle that night, but he thought Steve would be too busy surviving to pay attention to Eddie’s eyes drifting to his bare chest. And after that, when they became friends and Eddie started tragically crushing on Steve, he tried to be more careful.

And apparently failed.

“I– uh. It was like, right there, dude,” Eddie stammers out. “And you– you got a jungle there and I–”

“And you like it,” Steve finishes for him.

Eddie winces. It’s not what he was gonna say but it’s the truth. He could deny it, but he can already feel a blush creeping up his face, coloring his cheeks.

“Is– is that a problem?”

“Eds, my only problem is that you haven’t done anything about it,” Steve says with a low chuckle, reaching out to play with one of the pins on his denim jacket. “I actually considered showing up in just your jacket, but Robin convinced me it was too much.”

Eddie squeaks. That would’ve been too much for his heart to handle, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know if I should hate Buckley or thank her,” he says, shaking his head to wipe that visual from his brain. “I probably would’ve shut the door on your face.”

Steve laughs, shoulders scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners. Eddie is struck by how beautiful he is, and how much he wants to kiss him.

“You can, you know?” Steve says, snapping Eddie out of his thoughts and making him realize he said that out loud.

Then he realizes what Steve just said. “I– I can?”

Steve’s grin is amused but sweet. “Yeah, Eddie. I want you to.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie swallows thickly.

Then he grabs hold of the jacket and pulls Steve inside, the door swinging shut behind them. As soon as they’re out of view, Eddie pulls Steve in by the back of the neck, kissing him squarely on the lips.

With a content noise, Steve cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair, deepening the kiss, crowding him against the wall.

They kiss until they need air and even then it takes a lot to pull back from Steve’s mouth.

When he does, Steve smiles at him– his lips pink, his hair mused, his cheeks flushed.

“What?”

“You should keep it,” Eddie says, smoothing the jacket over. “It looks better on you.”

Steve purses his lips. “I happen to think you look really hot wearing it.”

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, tugging a lock of hair across his face, feeling his blush coming back at the compliment.

“But do you know where it would look better?”

“Where?”

Steve smirks at Eddie, his eyelashes fluttering coyly. “Your bedroom floor.”

Eddie’s breath hitches, something warm shooting through him. “What– what about the movie?” He asks. It’s a stupid question, but his brain might be melting out of his ears. Steve raises an eyebrow– Really? “Right, never fucking mind. Who cares? Come here, sweetheart,” he says, taking Steve’s hand and dragging him towards his room.

The leather jacket comes off first and it ends up on the floor. Eddie couldn’t care less about where. It could get sucked into the Upside Down along with all of his clothes and it wouldn’t matter to him.

Not as long as he gets to keep kissing Steve.

[whateveriwant]

what about task force 141 always admiring their s/o picture before going on field or when they’re feeling lonely and missing them

Price

Because he's old (fashioned), he carries a standard 4x6in photo of you with him during his deployment

He had the picture developed ages ago – so long, in fact, you thought he'd gotten rid of it many many tours ago (he never would, of course; he even has an extra copy of the negative stowed in a shoebox in the back of your shared closet, just in case)

Every day, he makes sure your face is the first thing he sees when he wakes up, as well as the last thing he looks at before going to sleep (just like he would if he was home with you)

When he's not admiring the photo, he keeps it in the breast pocket of his tac vest directly over his heart

He's folded and unfolded it so many times that it's starting to fade and tear at the seams, showing just how loved it is all these years later

Gaz

I can see him having a locket with a tiny picture of you inside

Just a little circular gold pendant, no bigger than the pad of first finger, which he hangs around his neck right beside his dog tags

He bought a matching one for you (which you wear all the time, regardless of whether he's home or not), the only difference is yours is heart-shaped and has a picture of him inside

Most of the time, he'll keep the locket tucked safely beneath his shirt, but will pull it out and look at it on days he's feeling particularly lonely or homesick

However, sometimes (especially when he's anxious about an upcoming mission), he doesn't even look at the picture inside – just worries the surface of the pendant with his thumb, rubbing at the thin grooves that form the looped letters of your initials

Soap

Similar to Price, he carries a larger picture of you with him – his, however, is a polaroid

You bought him the vintage style camera for his birthday a few years back, and immediately upon unwrapping it, he started snapping a bunch of candid photos of you with it

Despite how unflattering you say you look in them, he thinks you're absolutely gorgeous (after all, that's why he carries multiple with him – his favorite one always on the top of the stack)

If he can get away from the guys during the mission, he often finds himself talking out loud to the photo, speaking as if you're really there listening to him

As much as he loves to study your face, his favorite part of the polaroid is your little note scrawled across the bottom: Any more chins and I'll be using your parachute as a scarf

Ghost

This might be a little controversial but I don't think he'd carry around a physical picture of you

Pictures of you on his phone? Sure. But he's not taking his unencrypted smartphone into the middle of enemy territory, you know?

Instead, I think he carries a little trinket of yours with him – something small, seemingly inconsequential, like a hair tie or one of your favorite bookmarks

You might've noticed some things gone missing here and there, but never realized that he was nabbing them for his own little keepsake

He keeps it hidden away majority of the time, but every now and then when he starts to downward spiral, he'll pull out that token as a reminder of what (or whom) he has waiting for him back home, and it gives him the strength he needs to power through

[wistfulnightingale]

The Night That Changed an Angel (or, why does Aziraphale still wear that shabby vest?)

Mini-Meta Musing (#4)

I've been brooding for a long time about, of all things, Aziraphale's worn velvet vest and the long cream jacket he's kept in "tip top condition for over 180 years now." I love the sweet familiarity, but this is the same angel who popped across the Channel and almost lost his fluffy-topped head in 1793 for dressing like an aristocrat.

"I have standards!"

He's the height of elegance, extravagance even. A dandy. We've seen the same at the Globe Theater 1601, Edinburgh 1827, and even as a Knight of the Round Table in 527 Essex, where he's wearing a glorious pelt across his shoulders! However, sometime after Edinburgh 1827, Aziraphale's stylish extravagance ends. He adopts the dress of distinguished but modest gentility. No seamstresses strain their eyes for days hand stitching ruffles and trims for him any longer. When we next see him in 1862, his clothing is refined, simple, and serviceable. It becomes his uniform, with only minor replacements. Why? What happened to change him?

Edinburgh 1827 happened. And his encounter with tragedy ran over his sensibilities like a locomotive.

Aziraphale had, we were told, saved his earnings over time and had bought land, invested wisely, and became quite well off. He used real money, not miracles, to build the bookshop, paying the builders well and taking care of bills honestly. He built himself up to a more than comfortable lifestyle, from nearly nothing. And his clothes are real, not miracled from nothingness like Crowley's. (source: original showrunner)

Aziraphale's wealth allows him to afford luxurious tailoring and fancy shoes and ruffles and trims. He'll certainly pay the cobblers and tailors and seamstresses well for their labors. It will be a substantial expense for the era. (The linked post gives a wonderful perspective on 1793 lifestyles and costs.)

https://agoodflyting.tumblr.com/post/753227014283083776/why-aziraphales-white-satin-pumps-are-ridiculous

The angel's Edinburgh multilayered and trimmed top coat, soft leather gloves, matching scarf, jacquard vest, silk cravat, etc., look entirely out of place in the back alleys where the poor huddle. Walking the clean, gas-lit avenues with Crowley and Elspeth, Aziraphale is oblivious to the privilege he has in this world.

As he strolls along in philosophical banter with Crowley about the "blessing" of poverty, the angel spouts trite pontifications created by the rich to justify poverty. He genuinely believes Elspeth has more opportunities for goodness.  After all, look at Wee Morag.  He respects her goodness tremendously.  It proves to him his “rightness.”  And so he sabotages Elspeth’s attempt to sell the body she dug up in her attempt to support Wee Morag.  Dalrymple gets no body, Elspeth gets no money, and Aziraphale believes he’s saving her soul.

It’s a poignant moment, though, when Aziraphale cradles the jar containing a tumor from a seven year old child who died because there wasn’t enough medical knowledge to save him.  Turning point number one.  It becomes Real, not a philosophical debate.  Selling stolen bodies puts good in the world.  He’s all for it now, and goes back to encourage Elspeth.  Good heavens, he’s even willing to help this time!

But, as we know, it all goes wrong.  Wee Morag is shot by a grave gun, and dies of her injuries.  Elspeth steals laudanum, and plans suicide.  Crowley drinks the laudanum, saves her in a compassionate Scottish frenzy, and is stolen away by hell because of his kindness.   And it is All. Aziriphale’s. Fault.

Turning point number two.  Another watershed moment where Aziraphale’s world changes again.

One of Crowley’s last earthly acts, before getting plunged into hell, is to have Aziraphale give Elspeth all of his pocket money.  What is pocket money to the angel is a fortune to her, one that can set her up for a better life.  I have no doubt that in the aftermath of the traumas of that night, missing and worrying about Crowley, Aziraphale thinks about all of this.  He considers all of the money he casually spends on fine clothing and expensive tailoring.  He wonders how many lives could change if that money was better spent on helping to relieve the poverty that surrounds him.  He wants to help, and to try to make amends for the harm he caused.  What would Crowley do, if he were free to be kind? And so Aziraphale changes.

I’d love to know the story of how it all played out.  Did he sell his fine clothing and donate the proceeds?  Did he become involved in charitable foundations?  Did he buy the clothing of a simple gentleman and decide to preserve it, however worn it became, as a reminder to himself of his past blindness and vanity?  We see in Season 1 how important it is to him to preserve that coat. (Sure, it's also a fantastic opportunity to flirt and flutter those angelic eyelashes... But, nonetheless!)

By Season 2, the angel who took too long justifying a life-saving miracle for Wee Morag, and who hesitated to give Elspeth his 90 Guineas, willingly and freely gave Maggie forgiveness for thousands of pounds of debt. I'd love to know what else he's done over the last 180+ years!

Whatever happened, it began that night in a graveyard.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Blue Christmas | S.H. ⋆⁺₊❅.

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

summary: You and Steve were casual fwb in high school. You're back in town for Christmas, having just broken up with your college boyfriend. You pick up a sad Christmas movie at Family Video, and Steve refuses to let you wallow alone.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, breakups (not w/ steve), fluffff, talk of self-esteem issues, shitty exes, sweet lil marshmallow stevie, oral, p in v, praise kink, initially she's sorta using Steve to feel better (but he's 1000000% okay with it) and she ends up feeling the feelings.

The soupy heat of Family Video wafts over you when you step through the doors, the salt-covered rug squelching under foot. You lower your hood, shaking out your hair as you peer around the store. Front and center is a Christmas display loaded with movies, complete with a waving, pink-cheeked Santa Clause.

“Y/n?” A familiar, masculine voice calls over Elvis’s version of “Blue Christmas”. You squeeze your eyes shut, having prayed you’d get through Christmas in Hawkins without seeing a singular familiar face beside your mothers, and turn to the voice.

Steve Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington, is standing behind the counter, his hands braced against the edge of it. He looked more or less that same as the last time you saw him a year and a half prior. His jaw was a little squarer, his hair not quite as tall, his shoulders a bit broader. Still just as irritatingly handsome, though.

“Hey, Steve.” You waved, approaching the counter.

“I didn’t know you were coming into town,” he said, smiling as if he was genuinely happy to see you. It wasn’t that you were unhappy to see him, but your previous high school fling was the last person you wanted to see this particular holiday season.

“Yeah, well. Surprise.” You shrugged, wincing internally at the obvious melancholy in your voice.

Of course, Steve clocked it, his smile faltering. “I take it spending your Christmas in Hawkins was a surprise for you too?”

“That obvious?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I lost count of how many times you said you’d never come back once you left.”

Guilt tightened your throat. Why did he make that sound like it was so…personal? “Turns out it’s not simple.”

He hummed in response, moving out from behind the counter, his green vest looking very festive against his red crew neck. “Were you looking for anything in particular?” he asked, leaning against the counter beside you.

God, how did you forget how tall he was? You barely reached his shoulder, his chin tilted down to look at you. His cologne invaded your space, a warmer, spicier blend than you recalled him wearing. His proximity stirred butterflies in your stomach, your body remembering exactly the way felt against you, the ways he used to make you feel…the ways you hadn’t felt since despite being in a year long relationship. Well, despite having been in year long relationship.

You’d ended things when the fall semester wrapped up, effectively incinerating your plans to spend Christmas with him and his family in Chicago. Despite being the one to end things, you were still grieving. Not for him, per se, but the version of yourself you’d lost along the way. Now, you felt directionless and lonely, and being back in the town you left behind was only making you feel worse.

“It’s A Wonderful Life,” you replied, walking towards the Christmas stand to escape his magnetic aura, which somehow, you were still not immune to.

Steve grimaced. “Really? You don’t want something a little more, I dunno, lighthearted?”

“Do I look like I’m in a ‘lighthearted’ place, Harrington?” You bit.

“What’s going on?” He asked, pushing off the counter to come closer, his forehead creased with concern. “You can’t be this upset about spending a few days in Hawkins.”

“Nothing’s going on.” You turn towards the stand, pretending to peruse the options so he doesn’t see the moisture collect along your lashes.

“You think I can’t tell when you’re hurting?” He crossed his arms over his chest, giving you that stern dad look he’d mastered.

You sighed, wiping at your cheek with your scarf. “I was supposed to spend it with my boyfriend, but we broke up instead.” It all came tumbling out of you in a tearful rush. “Now I’m back in dead-end Hawkins with nothing to do by stare at the walls of my childhood bedroom, so I’m looking for a sad movie to wallow in my own misery. Is that okay with you, Officer Steve?”

He stared at you for a moment, dark eyes tracking a tear as it rolled down your cheek. “No, it’s not okay with me.” He grabbed It’s a Wonderful Life of the shelf and walked back to the counter. He rang up the film and dropped it into a bag, along with two boxes of your favorite candy, and a pack of red vines. “Your place or my apartment? My roommate’s cool, y’know, if you want a different view.”

You blinked, trying to piece together what was happening. “Steve, what—”

“Look, you can wallow all you want, but I’m not going to let you do it alone on Christmas.” He wiggled the bag at you. “You coming or not?”

“I—” Going back to Steve’s felt risky. You could still feel a thread of that physical connection with him, the vibration of your body so easily attuning to his. But, you were trying to reclaim who you were before your ex. Maybe being a little reckless was exactly what you needed. “Fuck it. Sure, let’s go to your place.”

He locked up the store and quickly led you through the frigid wind to his car, snow already accumulating on the hood and roof. He opened the door for you, having to tug hard to break the seal of ice, and gestured for you to slide in. The BMW was exactly as you remembered, with it’s dark interior and tinted windows, the smell of Steve embedded in every stitch.

You glanced at the backseat while he rounded the car, heat climbing your neck at the memories the two of you made across that bench seat.

Steve opened the door and you whipped your head forward, but you knew that he caught you, a small smile softening his face as he settled into the drivers seat. Thankfully, he didn’t rib you about it.

He cranked the heat and flipped on the windshield wipers, knocking the snow onto the ground with an umph. “Anything in particular you want to listen to?” He asked, fiddling with the tuning dial.

“Whatever CD you have in is fine,” you said, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “As long as it isn’t, like, Toto.”

He gasped, clutching his chest. “I can’t believe you think I listen to Toto.”

You snorted. “Well, you do listen to Duran Duran.”

“One time!” he argued.

“You had the CD in for a month!”

“Yeah, one month!”

You found yourself smiling, that glow of familiarity wafting over you. It was a little jarring that you felt more at home in the passenger seat of Steve’s car than you did at your actual home, but you could examine that later. For now, you just wanted to enjoy the ease of it. Steve always made everything feel so easy.

It was a trait of his you often resented, but only out of jealousy, and how much it made you miss his when he was gone.

God, you’d really missed him.

“How about this?” He asked, hitting play on the dash. “Don’t Tell Me You Love Me” by Night Ranger filtered through, the volume low.

“Acceptable choice, Harrington,” you replied, and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re worse than my friend Eddie,” he chuckled, placing his hand behind your headrest to check his blind spot before pulling out.

“Eddie? As in Eddie Munson?” You were baffled. Golden boy Steve Harrington was friends with Hawkins-reject Eddie Munson? What alternate reality had you stepped into?

“Yeah, why do you look so surprised?” He flicked your ear as he pulled his hand back to the wheel.

“Because!” You squeaked, batting his hand away. “You looked at a joint one time and nearly hurled. I just can’t see it.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a changed man,” he hummed, drumming his fingers onto he steering wheel as he navigated the empty streets, the snow falling in golden flurries from the headlights.

“I’m starting to gather.” You settled back into your seat, watching the familiar store fronts roll by and trying not to look at him.

“So, why’d you dump him?” Steve asked, never one to sit in silence for long.

“His cock was too big.”

Steve barked a laugh. “I find that hard to believe. You always were greedy—”

“Steve!” You gasped, smacking his arm as a embarrassment scorched your cheeks.

“What? We’re going to pretend that I didn’t fuck you after prom right there—”

“No, but, Christ!” You laughed, hiding your face in your scarf.

“Hey, you’re the one that brought up cocks.”

“My mistake,” you huffed, catching his eye as he glanced over at you, a cheeky grin crinkling his face.

“’Least it made you smile,” he said, turning into an apartment complex parking lot, full of potholes and poorly plowed snow. “Here we are, Chez Harrington.” He parked, hopped out of the car, and ran around the front to open the door for you.

You stuck your tongue out at him, teasing him for being so weirdly gentleman-ly. But as soon as you stepped out, your converse slid across a patch of black ice, sending you collapsing into his arms.

“Careful,” he chuckled, his face mere inches from yours. “It’s slippery.” He set you back on your feet and offered you his arm for balance. You begrudgingly accepted, not particularly keen on cracking your skull open a few days before Christmas.

“So who’s your roommate?” You asked as he lead you into the building.

“Robin Buckley,” he replied, fishing his key out of his pocket and letting you both into the heat-blasted lobby.

“Just how many new friends have you made?” You teased, still arm in arm as you walked to the elevator. You remembered Robin, you’d been in English together.

“Ah—” Steve glanced up like he was counting in his head. “A few.”

A stab of loneliness pierced through you. At one point, you’d had loads of friends too, never as many as Steve, of course, but a good group to call your own. But, in college, all of your friends had been your boyfriend’s first, and now…you’d fled to Hawkins, and had no idea if you’d have any friends to return to.

Your melancholy returned in earnest, soured further by the intrusive thought that Steve was only entertaining you because he felt bad for you, or worse, just wanted to get his dick wet. But, weren’t you using him for basically the same reasons? You thought you were, but then he’d been so Steve-like that you’d gotten caught up in your old banter, forgetting that gulf of months between you.

It hadn’t felt forced at all, and that made your heart rate quicken.

The elevator dinged open, jarring you from you reverie.

“Where’d you go?” Steve asked, nudging you inside. Christmas music played softly from the speaker, “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, of course, and tears burned behind you eyes once again.

You just wanted Christmas to be over. All the manufactured joy made your hurt feel that much more real.

“Hey, c’mere.” Steve tugged you into his chest as the doors rolled closed, the elevator lifting off the ground with a mechanical groan.

You curled your hands into his sweater, breathing in his cologne and the lingering scent of saran-wrapped video store, and fought down the wave of emotion trying to choke you.

Steve’s hands rubbed up and down your back, his cheek resting on top of your head. “I’m sorry you’re having such a hard Christmas,” he murmured into your hair. “But you’re always welcome to hide away with me whenever you need to. Or want to.”

The doors dinged and you pulled away, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “Thanks, Stevie,” you sniffed.

The look on his face was so soft, you could barely stand it, his features turned down in worry, his brows furrowed just slightly. “C’mon, we gotta get those tears out somehow.” He grabbed your hand and led you down the hall, unlocking the door to his apartment. “Buckley?” He called, flicking on the lights in the kitchen. “Robin, you home?” He called again, walking into the tidy, but cluttered living room.

There were string lights stretched across the ceiling, and a pathetic little Christmas tree on the coffee table. Posters hung on every wall, with weird art and trinkets heaped onto bookshelves and hand-me-down furniture. Steve’s shoes were in a neat row by the door, and Robin’s were scattered everywhere, mixed up and turned around.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The whole place screamed Steve, form the sports memorabilia, to the specific movie posters by the TV.

“Guess she’s out,” Steve said, coming back into the living room. “I’ll take your coat and scarf.” He extended a hand to you, and you kicked off you shoes before passing him your outerwear, suddenly remembering that you were wearing just a white turtleneck underneath, sans bra.

Steve’s seen your tits countless times. It’s fine, or so you told yourself.

To his credit, he kept his eyes firmly on your face, then walked back to what you assume is his room to set your things down. He returned a few moments later, dressed in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants.

“I set another pair of pajama pants on the bed if you wanted to, ah, get comfortable,” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his head and gesturing to your jeans.

A flurry of butterflies tickled your insides. “Sure, thanks,” you said, slipping past him and into his bedroom.

The smell of him enveloped you once again, and you loosed a long exhale after closing the door behind you. His room was less decorated than the rest of the apartment, with just a few photos and posters on the wall, with a bookshelf by the door and his unmade bed up against the window.

You were seized with the desire to climb under his covers, wrap yourself in him, but you resisted.

Unable to help yourself, you snooped around his dresser. There, stuck to the mirror with a piece of scotch tape, was a Polaroid of you and Steve kissing at a party Senior year. He has you dipped low, his hand on your lower back, and your lips tingled at the memory.

As promised, pair of flannel sweatpants waited for you at the foot of the bed, along with a folded up sweatshirt. Your heart gave a painful thump when you realized what hoodie he’d selected. It was his grey Hawkins High hoodie, a faded, roaring tiger on the front and Harrington in bold letters on the back. It had been your favorite of his, one you would steal every chance you got.

You shimmied out of your jeans and pulled on the sweatpants, the fabric soft from wear and a handful of sizes too large. Then, you tugged the hoodie over your head, pausing to bury your face in the collar, breathing in the comforting scent.

When you emerged into the living room, you found him stretched out on the couch, bowls of candy and popcorn set up on the table, the movie’s home screen on the TV. All the lights were off, save the string lights and the Christmas tree, casting the room in a sleepy, warm glow that contrasted perfectly with the flurries of white just outside the window.

You resisted the urge to flop into his arms, and instead curled up on the opposite end of the couch, tucking a blanket around your legs. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, but you pretended not to see it.

You didn’t trust yourself to touch him. If being wrapped up in his hoodie felt this magical, what would it feel like to be wrapped up in him?

“Ready?” He asked, pointing the remote.

You nodded, and he hit play.

You didn’t make it twenty minutes before you started crying again, real, hiccuping sobs that you’d been forcing down for over a week.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, gathering you and your blanket in his arms. “That’s it, y/n. You need a good cry, huh?” He laid back onto the couch and tucked you into his side, your legs tangled together, your head buried into his neck as you fell apart. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your hair, and just held you tightly, a safe harbor to crash into.

He let you cry for awhile without question or complaint, letting you soak his shirt with tears, before he cupped your face, lifting your head to look at him.

“You are one of my most favorite people in the whole world,” he said matter-of-factly, spurring renewed tears. But he held your face firm and didn’t let you bury yourself back into his shoulder. “And you deserve all of the wonderful things in life. And anyone who doesn’t give that to you is a fucking idiot.”

“But he was wonderful,” you whimper, trembling in his hands as the truth finally forced itself from you. “He was everything I should have wanted, but I just…I couldn’t love him. And I couldn’t lie to him anymore either.”

“You can’t help who you love,” he said gently, wiping your cheeks and nose with a tissue. “You did the right thing.”

“But what’s wrong with me? I should have been able to—”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Steve said firmly, sitting up slightly to look down at your tear-streaked face. “You’re—” he sighed, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “You’re everything, y/n.”

“If nothing's wrong with me, then why do I feel so alone?” you murmur, voice watery and weak.

He leaned his forehead against yours, shaky breathes mingling in the warm air. You could feel his heart racing against yours “You were never alone. I was always right where you left me,” he breathed, his nose bumping yours. “All you had to do was call.”

You sat up, shoving him off of you. “Why didn’t you call, Steve?” You felt panicked, overwhelmed by the barrage of emotions waiting for your attention. Desire, guilt for feeling desire so soon after your breakup, fear of rejection, embarrassment for how quickly you were falling for his charm once again. Ashamed that you came here in the first place, and thrilled that you still had a place to go to.

“I—” Hurt shadowed his face. “You told me you were leaving for good. That you didn't want anything to do with Hawkins.” You jumped up and he stood with you, following you as you fled to the kitchen. “That you wanted a new life!”

“I didn't mean you, Steve!” You shouted, slamming your hands on the counter. “But you had everything. Friends, prospects, a family, Nancy,” you spit. “I had nothing here but you.” The confession slipped out before you had a chance to stop yourself, like the words had been waiting on the tip of your tongue, laying just beneath the surface.

Steve stared at you, baffled. “You think I didn't need you?” He asked, voice softening.

You shook your head, turning away so he didn't see you start to cry again.

His hands gripped your shoulders and you gasped when he spun you around, his head bent low to look you in the eye. “Y/n, you and I both know that I'm probably going to die in Hawkins. I'm not one of the ones that gets out.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but he didn't stop.

“But you. You wanted to get out, you did get out.” He shook you as if to punctuate his point. “And I've missed you like crazy. Every damn day. But I couldn't hold you back. I couldn't be the reason you stayed here.”

Your heart fractured at his words, that he thought he wasn't worth being someone's reason. That he would somehow hold you back from happiness.

He was your happiness. And you'd been too blinded by fantasies of escaping to see it. You'd told him your entire relationship, or whatever the hell it was, that you would never stay. That Hawkins wasn't good enough for you. And he’d heard that he wasn't good enough for you.

You did what was supposed to be “better”, what you thought you always wanted, and you were completely miserable.

“Steve, I—” you couldn't find the words to express what you were thinking, what you were feeling.

“Don't. Don't give me hope unless you really mean it.” His jaw clenched, honey brown eyes rimmed with red. “I let you go once, I can't—I can’t do it again.” He leaned his forehead against yours, releasing a shaky exhale.

It clicked then, why you wanted so badly to escape from Hawkins. Why you always kept Steve at arms length despite the way your soul twined with his. Why you couldn't make the relationship with your ex work.

You dreamed your entire life of fleeing, so you were terrified of what staying meant.

“Steve,” you murmured, placing your hands on his chest, his heart thumping wildly beneath your palms. “I don't want to run anymore.”

His heart beat impossibly faster, his muscles tensing.

“I want you. Wherever we are, whatever that means.” You stood on your toes and pressed a kiss the corner of his mouth. “Hawkins isn't my home. You are.”

Steve made a pained sound in his throat, then crashed his lips to yours, desperate and rough. You opened for him, his tongue delving between your lips to lick at your teeth, dance with your tongue, claiming every square inch of your mouth as his.

You'd shared countless kisses, but none were this fervid, this hungry. Gone was your playful, tender Stevie, and in his place stood a starving man ready to claim what was his.

Heat spilled through your body, your pussy throbbing with each stroke of his tongue. Your fingers found there way into his hair, drawing him closer, wishing you could open up your skin and let him crawl inside so you'd never be apart again.

You gasped for air, chest burning as he licked a stripe up your neck, latching onto your pulse point and sucking hard.

“Steve,” you whined, lifting your left leg and wrapping it around his waist so you could angle yourself closer. His hips immediately started grinding into yours, the hardness of him hitting your clit just right through his sweatpants.

“Goddamn, I missed you,” he groaned, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses over your neck, his hand sliding under his hoodie to feel your fevered skin.

It wasn't enough though, and he shifted to pull it over your head and tossing it across the kitchen, leaving you in your thin turtleneck.

“A turtleneck has literally never looked so sexy.” He dropped to his knees, his hot mouth finding your taut nipples through the fabric.

You moaned, head falling back as you carded your fingers through his thick hair, pulling him closer. His teeth grazed your sensitive points and you nearly collapsed onto him, the pleasure and pain rewiring your brain.

“So fucking perfect,” he hummed, biting at your outside of your left breast. His hands found the waist band of your pants, tugging them down and tossing them aside with your hoodie. “Jump up f’me,” he said, hands on your hips.

You did as you were told and he lifted you into the counter, your clothed pussy now level with his face.

“Steve,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. His eyes were on fire, wild with desire. “What if Robin comes home?”

“Lucky Robin,” he chuckled, voice raspy, and ducked out of your hold, his tongue laving a scalding stroke over your soaked panties.

“Ohh—shit, Stevie,” you loosed a pornstar-esque moan as he bathed your pussy with his tongue, sucking at the fabric and your clit. He finally pulled your panties aside, his tongue making direct contact with your puffy lips. You felt like you were vibrating out of your skin, the pleasure so intense you felt it in every pore, every follicle, every cell of your body.

He groaned, a euphoric sound, as he lapped at your entrance, his tongue delving inside the way he knew you liked.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with admiration as he pulled back to bite at the meat of your thigh. “You taste even better than I remembered.”

You pulled at his hair, urging him back between your thighs, but he resisted, seeming to have let some the urgency ebb in favor of toying with you.

“What, honey? Your ex not take good care of my pussy?” He spread your sticky lips with his pointer and middle finger, exposing your swollen clit.

My pussy. A fresh swell of arousal pulsed through you at his words.

“No, never,” you whined, the ache between your legs growing unbearable as he studied you.

“Never?” He asked, looking up at you with his eyebrows raised. “He never ate you out?”

You shook your head, glancing away in shame.

“You poor thing,” he cooed, the tip of his tongue flicking over your exposed bundle and making your body jerk. “That why you're so squirmy, love?”

You nodded, biting your lips as he continued to slowly trace his tongue over you. “Please, baby. I need you,” you whimpered, lifting your hips to chase his mouth. “Please, Stevie. Please make me cum.”

You felt him smile against you, those brown eyes watching your face pinch with desperation, chest heaving.

“Since you asked so nicely…” He flattened his tongue against you and licked upwards, and you melted onto the counter, bliss rocking through you. The urgency from earlier returned, and he feasted on your cunt like it was the most delicious meal he'd ever had.

His tongue and teeth were everywhere, ratcheting you higher and higher with every nip, flick, and suck. You were on cloud nine, loudly singing his praises as he worshiped you with his tongue.

You felt that knot of pleasure tighten to the breaking point, hovering on the edge for less than a heartbeat before he sent you careening over the edge and into euphoria.

“Fuck, Steve!” You cried, your body convulsing as the orgasm ravaged through you. He was smiling again, lapping at the fresh honey spilling from you and holding you securely to the counter so you didn't slide off.

“There’s my girl,” he praised, licking his lips as he rose to his feet. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” He peppered kisses across your exposed neck, pulse fluttering just under the skin. “I almost feel bad for the guy. What kind of idiot wouldn't want to drown in you?”

You got your bearings, blinking away the stars in your eyes. “I even gave him head,” you chuckled, sitting up with a little assistance.

“I didn't need to know that.” He rolled his eyes, kissing you lightly, the taste of you lingering on his tongue.

“Are you jealous, baby?” You hummed, kissing along the curve of his neck.

“Duh.” His grip tightened on your thighs, head tipping slightly to give you better access.

“You have nothing to be jealous of.” You palmed his cock through his pants, licking his cheek to make him smile. “He wasn't nearly as pretty as you.”

“Of course not. Who is?” He joked, but his voice was rough with desire, his hips canting forward to rub against your hand.

“C’mon, pretty boy. Let's go to your room.”

He didn't need to be told twice. He scooped you up and practically ran to his room, flopping backwards onto the mattress with you still in his arms so you straddled him.

You leaned down and captured his lips in another kiss, quickly deepening it with a drag of your teeth on his lower lip. But before he could get too into it, you broke the kiss and shifted down his body, pushing up his shirt to kiss along his torso.

He moaned, propping himself up his elbows to watch you through heavy lids. You licked along his hip bone, making his cock kick against your chest.

“Shirt off,” you ordered, and he quickly obliged, tossing it to the end of the bed. “So handsome, Stevie,” you cooed, pausing to admire his more muscular build, though he was still quite lean. You couldn't help but lean forward and press some kisses along his happy trail and the hair across his chest, loving the masculine look and feel of him.

You kissed back down his body, settling on your knees between his legs. He watched with rapt attention as you pulled his sweatpants down and freed his weeping cock. It bounced up, slapping him in the stomach and smearing pearly precum against his skin.

It was just as pretty as your remembered, more length than girth, with a rose petal flush and pronounced veins.

You licked up the mess he’d made, kissing around his shaft while it nudged at your cheek.

“Baby,” he whined, smoothing a hand over your hair. “Quit teasing me.”

You smirked and licked a long stripe up the root of him, earning a throaty cry. You let your instincts take over, remembering every sensitive place and technique that made him unravel while you worked his cock with your tongue, doing everything but taking him fully into your mouth.

“Holy fucking—baby, you're killing me.” His hips bucked up against you, desperate to be wrapped in the heat of your body. “Mmmph, that feels unreal.”

You glanced up at him, finding his head thrown back, his eyes screwed shut. A flush had spread across his chest, a dewy sheen over his skin.

Satisfied that you'd tortured him long enough, you took his cock in your mouth, swallowing him in a fluid motion. You only reached about three-quarters of the way down before your throat protested, though he acted like you swallowed him all the way to his soul.

“Fuuuuck, y/n,” he moaned, gripping you tighter as you bobbed up and down, hallowing your cheeks. “You suck him this good?” He asked, taking over your motions and lifting and lowering you on his cock.

You shook your head as best you could, drool dribbling down your chin.

“Good,” he rasped, releasing you so you could return to your own rhythm.

You reached up and wrapped one of your hands around the base, stroking him in time with your mouth. He fell back onto the mattress, throwing an arm over his face, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

“Baby, you're gonna make cum if you keep that up,” he warned, fisting the sheets with his free hand. “F-fucking shit.”

You finally eased off him, the demanding ache between your legs too much to ignore. You needed him inside you. Now.

Apparently on the same page, he wasted no time grabbing you by the waist and tossing you back onto the bed. He climbed up between your legs, his hands braced on either side of your head. His cock was nestled against your sloppy center, drooling and hot to the touch.

He leaned down and kissed you, sweet and chaste considering you were just gagging on his cock. “This what you want?” He asked, pulling back to look into your eyes.

It felt like he wasn't just asking about the sex.

“More than anything,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He smiled and kissed you again, one of his hands reaching down to line himself up with your entrance. Breaking the kiss, you buried your face into the safety of his neck as his slid into you, your thoroughly aroused pussy accepting him with ease.

“Taking me so well, baby,” he murmured into your hair pressing soothing kisses to the top of your head. “You were ready for me, huh? So wet and soft—god—fuck.” His voice broke as you rolled your hips against him, his length gliding through you.

You threw your head back, crying out when he snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. He eased out, slow and steady, before slamming home again, knocking every thought from your mind.

“I remember how you like it, honey. Want me to fuck you stupid?” He asked, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“Yes, God, yes,” you moaned, already swept up in the current of pleasure.

“I got you, pretty girl. Just relax.” He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before reaching up to grip the headboard. He doubled his pace, rutting into you at a rate that made you see stars, your body completely surrendering to him.

With Steve, you didn't have to think. You didn't have to doubt. You could just let go and trust that he would have you.

He fucked you hard, sliding his hand between you to pet your clit the way you loved, slow and soft in comparison to the brutality of his thrusts. He could play you like an instrument, and it drove you fucking wild.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you, already a wreck for me. Does that feel good, honey?” He mouthed into the skin of your neck, breath hot and panting.

You keened when he changed the angle of his hips, hitting the terrible, magical spot inside you. Your orgasm was coming on fast, your whole body trembling as it wound higher and higher.

“I wanna feel you come around my cock, that's it. Good fucking girl—fuck!” Your and Steve’s orgasms collided, sucking the air out of the room and sending you both reeling. Bodies clinging to one another as he fucked you threw it, your pussy baring down hard on his pulsing cock.

“Fuck, I love you,” he panted, collapsing on top of you, sweaty and warm and trembling. “I love you,” he repeated, like he was a little stunned the words came out of his mouth.

You wrapped your limbs around him, his softening cock notching a bit deeper, making you both gasp. “I love you too,” you whisper, hardly believing that those words were finally coming out of your mouth after so many years.

You were so full. So full of him, of love, of excitement for what this meant. Suddenly, Christmas sounded magical again.

You lay together in a tangle of limbs, just breathing and feeling one another, basking in the honeyed afterglow.

“Merry Christmas,” he hummed, sounding almost drunk.

“Merry Christmas.” You kissed his temple, feeling your eyes start to grow heavy.

Ring ring!

“Gah, fuck,” Steve huffed, reluctantly shoving off of you and pulling on some sweatpants.

Ring ring!

He padded out into the kitchen and you followed him, wrapping a quilt around your naked body and giggling at the irritated look on his face.

“Go for Steve,” he answered, and you had to cover your mouth to suppress a laugh.

“Go for Steve? Really? That's embarrassing.” A female voice drifted through the speaker. Robin, you presumed. “Have you eaten yet?”

Steve smirked at you, running his tongue over his teeth. “Not dinner, no. Why?”

“Of course dinner. Do you want pizza, or—oh God, ew. Don't ever speak to me like that again.” Robin was quiet for a beat. “Does that mean Santa brought y/n home?”

Your jaw dropped, and Steve flushed scarlet.

“Pizza sounds great! Peppers and onions, extra sauce. Thanks, Rob!” Steve slammed the phone into the receiver.

You slinked towards him, sliding your hands up his bare chest while he tried to avoid your eyes, pink staining his cheeks. “Stevie?”

“Hm?”

“Did you ask Santa for me?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I may have asked a mall Santa at the bar while I was drunk. Maybe.”

You grinned, affection melting your heart, and grabbed his face to peck his warm cheek. “And you remembered my pizza order,” you cooed, nuzzling him.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, or whatever.” He murmured, catching your lips in a smiling kiss.

“I love you too, Harrington.”

Thanks for reading!

I'm still open for holiday requests, so feel free to send your ideas my way!

[spatialwave]

pink is your colour.

➸ ask: "you're gonna get lipstick all over me" with Viktor while he and reader get ready for an event. I need some fluff right now, I’m grieving )):” — ➸ pairing: viktor x fem!reader ➸ word count: 605 ➸ tags: mdni! fluff, kissing, lipstick kisses, established relationship, drabble, s1 viktor, no mention of y/n. ➸ notes: ok this was so cute to write. going to simply die with all this fluff content you’re sending me!! tysm for asking, love! 🤍 came from this prompt!

A speech and dinner. That’s all Viktor had told you about the event he’d been invited to, alongside Jayce. Enough to understand, but too little to not fully grasp what this mysterious event could be.

You weren’t a councilman, nor were you an academy student. No, you had just been a lucky bird who ran into Viktor one late night when he’d been returning home from the academy, and you were wandering around so you could get things off your mind. It was an off-chance meeting when you stumbled right into him, the song you’d been quietly whistling ripped from your lungs when you toppled backward.

It was fate, the red string, that finally pulled you together. Or that’s what you liked to think.

“So, is this an academy thing?” Your voice rang from your bedroom, perched upon the stool in front of your vanity as you touched up the pink lipstick you’d swiped along your lips, “you’re being awfully quiet about it. What if I dress too fancy and embarrass myself? Or worse, not fancy enough!”

Viktor stepped into the bedroom, hand on his cane as his eyes flickered around the room until they landed on you. Your eyes locked in the reflection, and you turned on your stool, facing up.

You were perfect, wearing a beautiful dress that reached just above your knees. A dress your mother handmade for this occasion, a well-known seamstress in Piltover.

“You look good,” he answered earnestly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “it’s an academy gala, I think. I…” he crinkled his nose, “I don’t really know exactly what it, eh… is. I wasn’t listening when Jayce reminded me.”

“And you didn’t think to ask?” You stood up after packing away your belongings, smoothing down your dress with fingers that had been delicately painted to match the colour of your clothing.

“It’s a fancy Piltover event, they’re all the same. It isn’t a big deal,” Viktor mumbled, looking down and noticing that he’d buttoned up his vest incorrectly, one side lower than the other.

With a sigh, you waltzed over to your lover, hands beating him to the button as you undid them. You were meticulous with your movements, adjusting the clothing along his slender frame once it was rightly fitted.

“Then why do you look so nervous?” Your eyes glanced up to meet his, a smirk pulling one side of your lips up.

“Not nervous,” Viktor rolled his eyes, attempting to pull away, but you were on him too quickly.

“You look good, too. I know you’re worried about it,” you grinned as your lips pressed to his chin, and you peppered a slurry of kisses against his smooth skin. It was enough to bring a smile to his lips, to let his nerves rest.

This was his first event, after all. He had simply withheld the information.

Viktor tried to pull away from your kisses that attacked his cheeks now, grinning like a fool in love, “You’re going to get lipstick all over me,” he groaned, hands grabbing at your jaw so he was able to tear your loving lips from his skin.

He stared down at you, still smiling as giggles erupted from you.

“It’s fine. The colour suits you,” you hummed, knowing very well that your freshly applied lipstick had completely smudged from your lips because there were streaks of pink over his skin.

“You are troublesome, you know that?” he mumbled, trying so hard to be annoyed, but how could he when you looked at him so lovingly.

“Just a little,” you smiled, closing the distance between your lips.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Be Mine [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A morning meeting has an unexpected twist. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smutty. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Questionable flirting techniques. (w/c 2.8k)

The muscle at the side of Loki’s jaw flexed. He swallowed; an achingly glacial bob of his Adam’s apple making you want to claw your eyes out.

For some inexplicable reason he had opted to wear full leathers to today’s briefing.

It was seven nineteen in the AM. Thor was sporting a muscle vest boasting not one but three stains of varying complexity and a pair of shorts which left little to the imagination. Scott was wearing his dressing gown.

The rest of the team hung off chairs and flopped on the table in various states of undress. Steve stood at the head of the room as usual; prim and fresh in a crisp button-down and perfectly creased chinos.

“So what we’re seeing here,” Steve said, turning to the group from the Powerpoint, “is an up-tick in biological experiments-”

His eyes narrowed while they roamed over the doodling, distracted and hungover band sprawled around the table. “Lang.” he snapped. “Close your legs; there are ladies present.’

Scott shuffled up his seat, drawing the dressing gown down over his knees while mumbling apologies. A low rumble of mirth circled the room, but Loki’s gaze never left the Captain’s.

The curve of his dark lashes swept upward, features set in performative rapture. Loki's facial expression hadn’t changed as the scene unfolded, but for a miniscule twitch of his lip. Usually the two of you would exchange a few eye rolls; a few knowing smiles during a particularly turgid monologue about shoe storage post-mission...but not today. Today he hadn't even looked at you.

Steve sighed. He extended a finger and pushed his retractable pointer down to a stub. Pacing to the table, he dropped his head, laying his palms flat. When he looked up, disappointed-dad energy was thick in his eyes. “Folks, this just won’t do.” he said.

Natasha’s sunglasses slid down her nose. Scott crossed his legs making the swivel chair knock into Wilson and waking him up. The Falcon’s arms flew wide on instinct, whacking Tony in the chest. “Jesus Christmas-” Tony snorted, blinking wildly. “It was a party.” Natasha drawled, pushing the sunglasses back in place with disdain. “Maybe if you’d stayed after the cake you’d have those tight panties of yours in less of a spick, Rogers.”

“That’s Captain Rogers.” he snapped. “We’re on the clock.” “Calm down, Rogers.” Tony said, cresting his fingers. He was remarkably chipper for a man with whipped cream crusted in his hairline. “You’re all sitting on my clock. Remember that.”

Steve flushed scarlet. His eyes narrowed as Tony’s smirk grew.

“All I’m saying is it’s a sorry day when Laufeyson is the star pupil. Look at him!” Steve said, gesturing incredulously at Loki who remained in position; back straight, chin up. But now, one eyebrow arched. “All of you lot in your skivvies and Laufeyson’s in full dress?” Steve shook his head. “I fail to see the humour, Rogers.” Loki said. “Why is it so surprising that I come to our daily summons dressed thus? Certainly I have never presented myself in a tragic towelling monstrosity like Lang here.” “There was that one time with the silk nightie.” Sam whispered to Scott. Scott covered his mouth.

“A silk robe.” Loki snapped.

“Usually you only bring out the Asgardian shit when you’re brown-nosing. Or when you’ve done something shifty.” Natasha said, propping her chin up with a fist. You bet her eyes are closed. Wanda nodded behind her Starbucks.

“Or trying to impress someone,” the witch said. Natasha waved a finger in agreement. “Sexually.” Wanda added.

Loki released a scandalised snort. “How dare you.” he said. Leather creaked against his biceps as he folded his arms.

Beneath the table, your thighs squeezed together. The only thing hotter than Loki in leather, was an indignant Loki in leather. You suddenly became very aware of your quickened breaths making the buttons of your blouse strain. The god’s eyes darted to the side, meeting yours. “What?” he snarled. “Nothing.” you squeaked, swallowing. An awkward silence hung in the room. The scent of stale vodka suddenly seemed very strong. Steve sighed.

“Let’s call it for this morning-” he said, immediately met with muted hisses of celebration around the table. He patted down the air. “Rescheduled for this afternoon. Thirteen-hundred sharp. Wear clothes.” Approval turned to whines and hushed curses as chairs were swivelled and aching bodies shifted. “Unbelievable.” Loki snarled under his breath.

You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood; the flat of his iron stomach inches from your face. The scent of rich leather filled your nostrils while Loki’s fingers nipped beneath the hem of his tunic, tugging it down. He flipped the length of his cape with a sniff. You saw it swirl around his boots briefly as he stepped towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

Taking your time, you picked up each piece of carefully laid stationary at your seat. One by one, the rest of the team left the room. Steve was last, his hand hovering on the door handle while he shot you a wary look. As a parting gift, he opened the door wider. “You didn’t stay late?” Loki’s voice was a thick hum in the growing silence. His tone, inscrutable. “Huh?” “At the party.” he said. “You didn’t stay late.”

This time it wasn’t a question. “I usually head off when Thor starts making passes at everyone. I didn’t see you. Were you there?” “He did that?” Loki bristled. “To you?” There was a pause. “To everyone.” you repeated quietly. Loki’s shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched, thumb digging into one exposed palm behind his back. He was still staring out the window.

“I’ll see you later.” you said, nerves fluttering in your belly. The god’s hair shortened as his chin dipped. You wondered how it would feel to wind those dark strands through your fingers as you rode him. Wondered how the grunts and signs and pretty curses from his lips would sound wet in your ear.

“No.” Loki said. “Excuse me?” “No,” he repeated.

You steadied against the table-top with the pads of your fingertips. Small stars began to burst in your field of vision. “I think the leather looks goo-good,” you stammered. And you didn’t know why.

The thought of him barring the exit of enemies in far flung realms using only that voice barged through the doors of your imagination with the force of a horny caveman. If that was the last sarcastic quip they heard, by god, you imagined they may just have died happy. And hard.

“It looks good.” you repeated, no more than a whisper. Loki turned his head. The sharp profile came into view at a glacial pace. First the peaked tip of his chin, then the slant of his regal nose, then the harsh peak of his cheekbone, then his eyes. Your ass met the table-top with a stumble. There was a small crease between his eyebrows. “Bold of you to make another jest without your compatriots around you, Agent.” he said. Across the short distance between you, venom dripped from his tongue; his hackles raised. “I wasn’t joking,” you said quietly as his gaze fell to your feet with a sneer. The quick breaths that made your buttons strain were back. Loki’s rising stare lingered on your breasts, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his mouth. Words tripped from your lips, forcing their way from behind your teeth. “I like it.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. He turned fully with a ceremonial flourish, the hands clasped behind his back moving to the front and rippling his leather and silken cloak. It fluttered.

“Is that so?” he purred darkly. He didn’t believe you.

You imagined how this is how a rabbit felt in the eyeline of a fox. To look away was to admit weakness, vulnerability. It meant death. And yet – it was the only chance to escape. But did you want to escape? Not really. You wanted to feel the sharp of his teeth fasten to your neck as he sucked and bit and made violent love to every inch of you.

You nodded, not breaking eye-contact. Loki inhaled sharply, chin tilting up as he did so.

His eyes wandered over grim foam tiles as though an enemy lurked beyond the suspended ceiling. They narrowed, darting back and forth. With a thundering heart, you noted one of his heavy boots rise from the floor. He paced forwards slowly, ceremonially, stopping inches from you. Your fingers curled tight around the table’s edge, the messy in your panties beneath the skirt becoming intolerable. Loki cleared his throat. “Am I to understand, contrary to common rhetoric, that you find my Asgardian leathers enticing; Agent?” “I think ‘enticing’ is a little grandiose, is it not?” you laughed, cringing at the way you so easily mirrored his speech. Loki noticed it too. He tilted his head. “I am nothing if not grandiose, Agent.” Loki said. “Am I not impressive? Am I not imposing?”

He trailed a long finger down your bicep, his touch light as a feather. “So often, you mortals use such words as insult.” he mused.

“It is merely a reflection on your own feelings of inferiority. This morning is a perfect example. An attempt at ridicule to deflect from their own pathetic presentation. Each one more bedraggled and an abject embarrassment to their purpose than the last.” Heat began to rise in your cheeks as his finger drifted along your collarbone. There was a pause, his eyes dropping to your lips before the finger brushed the skin at the hollow of your neck. It graced upwards, tracing the curve and stopping beneath the tip of your chin. “But not you.” he said.

The god’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheekbones hollowed under fluorescent lights, mischief glowing from the depths of his irises and painted in every light wrinkle on his brow.

“What else do you like, Agent?” he goaded softly. “Do you like the idea of what lies beneath these leathers?” You swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Loki-” you said, glancing towards the open door. He followed your eyes, rolling his own. With a flick of his hand the door slammed shut. “I want you,” he breathed, leaning closer so that the heat of his cheek warmed your own, “to tell me what else you like.”

You bit your lip, watching his beautiful face come back into view. With a prang, the thought occurred that perhaps you were not the rabbit after all. Perhaps you were the fox. Loki’s gaze lingered on your face, searching it.

Emboldened, you found the words. “Why should I?”

His brows peaked softly. He released a muted sigh, pursing his lips. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Romanoff was right.” he said. The hand tilting your chin upwards returned to its mate, clasped against the leather tunic. “I was trying to impress someone, but not that insufferable Rogers.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Excitement blossomed deep in your belly; rising like shaken soda and fizzing around your chest. Loki bit his bottom lip.

“You see, Agent, I like you very much. And I’m afraid that now it has reached the juncture where I must know if you like anything about me...beyond my exquisite taste in battle armour.”

The change in his demeanour was so dramatic that you could only gape. But when it came to Loki, could you expect anything less? Without thinking you reached forward and grasped the belt slung over his chest, pulling him forward.

Loki’s mouth clashed with yours, the heat of his lips giving way to the thrust of his tongue. Your hands slid over his metal epaulettes, tangling in ebony waves that cascaded around his shoulders. He tasted like heaven, the scent of him deep and dangerously delicious in a way you’d never known. A scent a girl could lose herself in forever; gladly.

In seconds your back was flat against the table, its cool wood harsh against the heat of your skin through the blouse. Loki’s ravenous kiss consumed you, licking and dancing inside your mouth like a man possessed. His shallow moans ricocheted between slurps of his lips, wetness coating them.

“Tell me, you infuriating woman,” he panted as a thick forearm landed on the wood beside your head. The metal vambrace clanged against cheap wood. Saliva hung between your mouths as he stared deep into your soul; blue eyes darkening. “Tell me what you like.”

“About you?” you panted. Loki didn’t nod, only lowered his chin.

His nose nudged at your lips, dragging upwards, tongue tracing around the bottom one. He had begun to smile. One of his legs nudged your thighs wider. The god straightened and you felt a thrill run from your scalp to the tips of your dangling toes. He towered above like a monolith, leather tight to his rectangular body. Hair fell around his jaw, perfectly imperfectly wolfish curls flirting against his skin. His cape brushed against your bare calves as he shifted his stance, palms sliding up your thighs and pushing your skirt higher. “Yes; I like the idea of what’s beneath all this,” you whined as you pawed at his leather-clad stomach. It was so hard. Loki smirked, watching beneath half-lidded eyes. “I think about fucking you in the showers after training,” you whispered bashfully as your hips thrust up against your will. Loki raised an eyebrow. “More...” he rumbled. “I think about you all the time. All the awful things I want to do to you, y-you do to me- Loki, uhh-”

His hands crept higher as you spoke, fingers hooking around the hips of your panties. “If I pull these down, darling” he said with an air of reprimand, “will they be wet?” You let out a gasping moan, back arching against the table.

“Excellent.” Loki snickered, pulling the panties down the length of your legs before stepping back between them.

A hand flew to your mouth as you watched one long finger dip between your thighs, running lightly between your folds. He brought it to his lips, sucking gently. His cheekbones hollowed, finger slipping out. He swallowed with a groan of appreciation.

Loki settled himself between your legs, pushing them wider. The height of the table pressed your dripping centre against his crotch. You thought you might explode. His palms slid up your waist, exploring the curves of your body while your legs wrapped around his hips. The god’s cock pressed eagerly against the leather, strong and thick up the centre. His forearms came down at either side of your head, metal wrist-guards clinking.

“I will show you what it is to be mine,” he murmured in your ear.

Loki’s cock settled against your sex, rubbing in perfect gyration. “Oh...god,” you gasped as the weight of his body pressed against your own.

Fingers combed up from the base of his neck, tangling in his hair. The next moment, they grasped around his back, pulling him closer, catching in the folds of his cloak which draped across your bodies. The god grunted filthy praises in your ear as his bound manhood sent electric currents of pleasure deeper than you’d ever known. His searching lips found their way to your neck, your jaw. Every utterance from his throat more disgustingly sensual than the last. Hot leather filled your nostrils, the scent of him strong and intoxicating. Mounting orgasm bubbled in waves, a dream-like trance broken only with whispered groans of pleasure from your throats. Loki Laufeyson was about to make you cum. The thought was unbelievable. And yet, your pussy being tugged and massaged and owned by his leather-bound cock into the throes of heaven knew it to be true. Dry-humped like a teenager in the back of a pick-up.

“Be mine...” Loki mumbled breathlessly, a strangled choke gasping from deep in his chest. He immediately dove for a perishing kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a wet suck. He smouldered down.

Against the bright lights, his dark halo shone; tendrils curling against your cheek and brushing with every calculated roll of his hips. Every muscle in your body tensed. Your legs tightened against his hips.

“Be mine,” he echoed. His face was twisted, and you suddenly wondered how close he was to cumming in those beautiful leather pants. “Loki-” you gasped, clutching at his cape. Back arching, the last thing you heard as climax stormed your brain were the matching pants of the god. The last thing you saw were his peaked brows above dilated pupils so deep you could drown in them.

In the afterglow, all you could manage were garbled phrases as your forearm draped over your eyes. “That was...unexpected.” you panted when the god’s weight lifted from your chest. “Perhaps for you.” Loki winked. “It was very carefully calculated on my part,” You watched in dazed disbelief as Loki sank to his knees, leather creaking, and hoisted your hips higher. He lapped at your soaking pussy, muffled moans seeping from his throat as he buried himself in your fresh pleasure. The flat of his tongue licked a thick stripe from the base to your swollen clit, placing a gentle suck on the tip. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours.

“Immaculate, as expected.” he breathed. His chin glistened.

You groaned as he withdrew; grasping at the air as he went. That small caress of him against your sex was everything you could ever have dreamed. Loki let you reluctantly arrange yourself before offering his hand for the short hop off the table. “Not exactly how I imagined our first time,” you said with a sheepish smile. Loki scanned your face.

“Agent don’t be insulting. That was merely a sample,” he scoffed. “It barely counts.” He stepped forward, pulling you flush against him with a flat palm at the base of your spine. “We must ensure you have eaten something before more intimate activities are indulged in; lest you faint. Or worse.” “Or worse?” “You are only mortal, after all.” Loki smiled slyly. “And this,” he gestured to his cock; hard and straining against the leather, “can be rather a handful. As well can his Master.” You slapped him on the shoulder. Loki smirked. Remembering the unexpected schedule change, you frowned. “You think we have time before the meeting later?”

Loki snorted. “We’re not attending. The two of us fulfilled our obligations, unlike the more cretinous members of our party.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to get me in trouble, I can tell.” Loki’s fingers danced up your back, a light thrust of his hips making your body keen. His dirty exhale flooded your ear, the warm scent of him overloading your senses.

“Oh Agent,” he purred against the skin; his eyes darting covertly to the pair of panties discarded on the floor. “As if you expected anything less.”

Taglist (continued in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog

[yzzyhee]

flamin’ hot lemon — lhs

bf!heeseung x gf!reader

warnings: established relationship, suggestive (blowjob— minors dni), kissing/making out?, petnames (baby), lowcases written

wc: 3.8k~

synopsis: you know how the saying goes… save a horse, ride a cowboy… or do something about it as long as it’s saving the horse…

now listen to: flamin’ hot lemon — jaehyun

a/n: now. this song was on repeat ever since the release so obviously, it had to happen as i remembered the sweet venom stage— also ! first time writing smth that’s like not fluff / small suggestive and actually going almost all the way in but well, this was heavily saved by my beloved precious @ja3yun — a big round of applause cause without her this fic would’ve never seen the daylight 🙂‍↕️ anyway, feedbacks & constructive criticism is appreciated ✌🏻

ps. my wife said to make it clear there won’t be a part two so i’m saying it — there won’t be a part too.

you blink. and then you blink again, and again, and again as if each time you won’t be met with the same view, thinking it must be your eyes playing tricks with you.

“baby? you okay?” heeseung asks, a slight hint of worry in his eyes though his tone gives him away. he knows. of course, he knows why you’re suddenly speechless, staring at him as if he came out of your shared bedroom completely naked.

your mouth parts, forming an “o” as you try to wrap your mind around the view before you. and what a beautiful view… there he stands, your boyfriend, in all his denim-clad cowboy glory.

the fitted jacket hugs his frame in all the right places, highlighting his broad shoulders and the way the jeans cling to his legs is almost unfair. a silver belt attached to his jeans that accentuates his pretty tiny waist. and of course, the most important part of it all, the cowboy-denim hat that sits low on his head, casting a shadow over his mischievous eyes.

you knew you were going to match — a cowboy always has to have his cowgirl after all. you have the perfect blend of casual and playful; a fitted, deep red plaid button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just above your elbows, high-waisted denim shorts that hug your hips perfectly, a fringed brown suede vest that you wear over your shirt, and a pair of scuffed-up cowboy boots completing your whole look.

“yn?” he smirks, his voice low as he takes a slow step toward you. “cat got your tongue?”

you blink again, the heat rising in your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up. your mind isn’t cooperating with you, struggling to string together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. you try to focus, but the way heeseung is standing there — all cocky and confident in that ridiculously attractive cowboy outfit — has your nerves completely scrambled.

“i- what… what is this?” you finally manage to stutter, gesturing vaguely toward his outfit. the words feel clumsy on your tongue, your heart pounding a little too loudly in your chest.

heeseung chuckles softly, his hands casually resting on his hips, the gesture making you even more aware of how well the denim clings to his figure.

“it’s for the party tonight. you like it?” his voice is low, teasing, and you know now that he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on you.

right, the party. your friends thought it was a brilliant idea to throw a random halloween party even though it wasn’t even remotely close to 31st october, yet, you still agreed without much thought. but now, standing here, facing heeseung like this, it’s hard to focus on anything except how your pulse seems to be dancing under your skin, and how your throat has gone dry.

you try to clear your head, but every time you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach only get worse. heeseung’s eyes don’t leave yours, the playful spark in them making your pulse race even more. his presence feels overwhelming, like the air between you two is thick with electricity.

“i-yeah,” you breathe, swallowing hard. “i just wasn’t expecting… this.”

his smirk deepens, and you catch the slight shift in his expression, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something else—something darker, more intense. “i wanted to surprise you,” he says, his voice soft now, like he’s not just talking about the costume.

and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of how close he’s standing, the warmth radiating off him, the way his fingers brush against your waist as he steps in even closer. you can smell his cologne, something warm and familiar, but tonight it feels different, headier and spicier somehow.

“so, are you surprised?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now, as he gently tilts your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline.

you nod, your breath hitching in your throat. you’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the way his thumb continues to brush against your skin, but you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest. everything feels so intense — like the whole room has shrunk to just the two of you.

heeseung leans in, his lips hovering just above yours, and you feel like time slows down. your heart is racing, your entire body tingling with anticipation as his breath mingles with yours. you close your eyes, waiting, wanting.

then, he closes the distance, his lips finally meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it’s gentle at first, like he’s testing the waters, but when you respond — when you kiss him back with equal intensity — something shifts. the kiss deepens, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.

your mind blanks, the only thing you can focus on is the warmth of his lips against yours, the way his hands grip your waist, the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. it’s slow but deliberate, filled with a tenderness that has your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

when he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath is slightly uneven, and his lips are curved into a soft smile.

“i think we should head out for the party now…” you say, your voice just slightly louder than a whisper.

humming in response, heeseung’s lips brush your forehead in a featherlight kiss before he straightens, his hands reluctantly sliding from your waist. “right,” he says, his voice hushed and warm, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “wouldn’t want to keep the party waiting.”

by the time you reach your friend’s hourse, it’s buzzing with life. you can hear the thumping bass of music before you even reach the front door, the muffled sound of laughter and voices spilling out onto the porch. the house is decked out in full halloween glory — orange and purple lights drape across the front yard, casting an eerie glow over the hay bales and fake tombstones scattered across the lawn. a giant inflatable skeleton waves ominously from the roof, its eyes flickering red.

the inside of the house is even more chaotic. there are people everywhere, dressed in every kind of costume imaginable — witches, zombies, vampires, superheroes — filling the space with laughter and energy. the smell of caramel apples and popcorn mingles with the unmistakable scent of candy and punch, and the air is thick with excitement.

heeseung’s hand tightens slightly around yours as you weave through the crowd, his thumb still brushing against your skin in that comforting way you love so much. you catch glimpses of familiar faces as you move deeper into the house, waving at people you know from classes as you pass. everyone seems to be caught up in the pre-halloween spirit, and the atmosphere is electric, a blend of fun chaos and easygoing joy.

you suddenly spot jay, his cowboy hat cocked at a ridiculous angle, standing with his girlfriend, aejay, by the snack table. jay is in a flannel shirt and boots, looking like he stepped straight out of a western, while aejay rocks a sleek, edgy vampire costume — her dark lips and red contacts making her look both elegant and slightly dangerous. they’re laughing about something, jay’s arm slung casually around her shoulders.

when jay catches sight of you and heeseung, his grin widens. “well, well, look who finally decided to show up!” he calls, raising his red solo cup in greeting. “and look at you, heeseung, pulling off that cowboy look like you were born for it.”

heeseung grins back, tugging you closer as you approach. you laugh, shaking your head. “is this some kind of cowboy reunion?” you ask when you reach the couple and eye jay more intently in his flannel and boots.

jay smiles and nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “we thought it’d be funny. jake should be around here somewhere too, dressed as that cowboy character from toy story.

heeseung immediately perks up, avid fan of the toy story movies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you mean woody?”

jay snickers, already sensing where this is going.

“well,” heeseung says, glancing at you with a mischievous grin, “looks like jake’s the only one buzzing with excitement tonight.” he leans closer to you, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “but don’t worry, baby — i’m no toy. you don’t have to pull my string to get me talking. however, you can pull on something else…”

you roll your eyes, groaning at the cheesy, suggestive line, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “heeseung,” you laugh, nudging him in the side, “let’s just hope jake doesn’t take the woody too seriously tonight.”

jay bursts out laughing at that, and even heeseung’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

the four of you chat for a while, catching up amidst the hum of the party. aejay, always the life of any gathering, starts telling a dramatic story about how she had to battle three different costume stores to get the perfect set of vampire fangs. jay interrupts her every few seconds, adding his own exaggerated spin to the tale, making you laugh until your stomach hurts.

the lights are dim, casting everyone in a soft, warm glow, and the air is filled with the scent of sugar and cinnamon, along with the occasional burst of cold air from the open back door.

it’s a perfect kind of chaos—the kind where time seems to slow down and you’re acutely aware of every moment, every laugh, every smile. but most of all, you’re aware of heeseung’s presence beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his arm wrapping around your waist every so often, like he can’t bear to be too far away from you.

you keep stealing glances at him, your eyes tracing over the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his denim jacket fits perfectly across his broad shoulders.

you bite your bottom lip, unable to comprehend how this ridiculously handsome man is yours. every time you look at him, an involuntary expression of satisfaction and adoration spreads across your face. that’s right, he is yours.

sensing your stare, heeseung leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear in that soft, teasing way that always makes your heart race. “having fun?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, like a secret meant only for you.

you look up at him, your heart fluttering in your chest as you meet his gaze. his eyes are dark, full of warmth, and something else — something that sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. you nod, feeling your breath hitch slightly. “yeah,” you whisper, smiling softly. “i’m having a lot of fun.”

heeseung grins at your response, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. the heat between you feels tangible, like the rest of the crowded room has melted away, leaving just the two of you. “good,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

then, he leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his fingers grazing your chin. with a gentle touch, he tilts your head up towards him, his thumb brushing across your skin as he smiles, his voice dipping even lower. “wanna have even more fun?”

the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker with mischief, makes your pulse quicken. you can feel the air between you both shift, thick with anticipation, and all you can think about is how close his lips are to yours, how effortlessly he seems to set your whole world spinning with just a look.

heeseung’s grin deepens as he holds your gaze, his fingers still resting gently under your chin. you feel the tension change between the two of you. his face has written trouble all over it and, without another word, he gently grabs your hand, forgetting about your friends and starts tugging you through the crowd with that easy confidence you love so much.

“where are we going?” you ask, your heart racing in your chest, excitement swirling inside you as you follow him down the dimly lit hallway.

heeseung glances back at you, that signature playful smirk tugging at his lips. “wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, his voice teasing.

before you can ask another question, he stops in front of the bathroom door, pushing it open slightly and pulling you inside with him. the moment the door clicks shut, the noise of the party fades into a distant hum, leaving just the two of you together in the small space.

your back presses gently against the bathroom counter and heeseung leans in, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you in, his eyes dark with a playful intensity. he doesn't say anything for a moment — just looks at you, his gaze roving over your face like he's taking his time, savouring the way you're biting your bottom lip, the way your breath catches every time he gets a little closer.

"you’ve been staring at me all night," he murmurs, his lips brushing just barely against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "got something on your mind, baby?"

your cheeks burn as his words settle over you, but you can't stop the grin that threatens to split your cheeks. "maybe," you tease back, your hands instinctively finding their way to the front of his denim jacket, your fingers toying with the fabric.

heeseung’s eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "you know," he says softly, his voice laced with amusement, "if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask."

you laugh, the sound light and breathless, your body buzzing with anticipation. "oh, i’ve had your attention all night," you counter, your voice just as teasing, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his jaw. "haven’t i?”

his breath hitches slightly at the contact, his arms tightening around you. "yeah, you have," he admits, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, like it's just for you. "but now... i think I want a little more."

your heart skips a beat at his words, your pulse thrumming wildly in your chest. heeseung leans in, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours, close enough.

your heart races as heeseung’s lips hover close to yours, the tension between you thick and electric. the space around you seems to shrink, and the air feels warmer, heavier, with anticipation. his breath mingles with yours, and you're maddeningly aware of how close his body is to yours, how his hands on either side of you are steady, but his eyes — his eyes tell you he's barely holding back.

your hands tighten their grip on the front of his jacket, pulling him closer still, your breath dancing with his. the sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, loud and steady, as you resist the urge to close the gap between you immediately. instead, you let the tension simmer, savouring the way it builds and swells in the space between you both.

"i want to give you something," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, his eyes dark with curiosity and desire, but his smirk never falters. "yeah?" he murmurs, his lips just a breath away from yours, his hand gently sliding down your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. "what’s that, baby?"

you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. "a little reward," you tease, your voice playful yet laced with intent.

his grip on your waist tightens slightly, and you can feel the tension in his body as he leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "i like the sound of that," he whispers, his voice low and rough.

you grin, your heart racing, and slowly, you let your fingers slide down from his jacket to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. "but," you say, tilting your head up just enough so your lips graze his jaw, "you'll have to be patient."

heeseung groans softly, his head dipping forward until his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven. "you’re killing me," he mutters, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone, like he's enjoying this playful back-and-forth as much as you are.

"patience," you repeat, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines down his chest, your touch light enough to drive him crazy.

heeseung chuckles, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with both amusement and frustration. "you’re really gonna make me wait?"

looking up at him through your lashes, the smile on your lips is playful but knowing. "i think it'll be worth it," you say, your voice teasing, and you lean up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth

his lips press back against yours, but before he can deepen the kiss, you pull away, your smile widening at the quiet groan of protest he makes. heeseung’s hands tighten on your waist, and his eyes meet yours with a mix of desire and amusement, like he knows exactly what you're doing, and he's more than willing to play along.

you tilt your head slowly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. before heeseung can even register what's happening, you drop to your knees, the cool bathroom floor sending a brief shiver through you. when you look up at him, his breath catches, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

his hands, which had been resting on the counter behind you, grip the edge tightly now, knuckles white with tension. his gaze locks with yours, dark and full of surprise, anticipation, and something deeper. you can see the way his chest rises and falls, his breath coming faster as the realisation of your bold move settles in.

"y/n." heeseung breathes out, his voice rough, like he's struggling to keep control. his eyes flicker between your face and the space between you, his hands twitching as if unsure of whether to stop you or let you continue. but his body betrays him — he's frozen in place, caught between disbelief and desire.

you bite your lip, leaning closer, your fingers lightly grazing the fabric of his jeans. "shh," you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. the power shift between you both is palpable, the air between you charged with intensity.

you can see the effect you're having on him-the way his breath hitches, his muscles tensing under your touch, the raw hunger in his gaze as he watches your every move.

for a moment, you both just stay there, the silence in the small bathroom heavy and thick with expectancy. heeseung’s jaw clenches, his hands still gripping the counter as he lets out a shaky breath. his lips part as if to speak, but no words come out, just another sharp inhale as he watches you, eyes hooded and dark with want.

but instead of taking things further, you pull back just slightly, your teasing smile widening. "still want me to keep going?" you ask, your voice soft but dripping with playful intent, leaving him on the edge of anticipation.

heeseung’s grip loosens for a moment, and he lets out a low, breathless chuckle, his voice hoarse. "you’re really not playing fair, are you?"

you wink at him and moisturise your lips. a feel of rage and desire rushes to heeseung’s limbs as you free his now hard dick. your hands wrap around the base of his dick and you stroke him with a rotating motion. a small gasp escapes your boyfriend’s lips as a zap of pleasure shoots down his spine.

heeseung’s fingers sink into you hair, gathering it in a ponytail, and then yanking you back not so smoothly. you look back at him, eyelashes batting and lips forming a pout. “let me have a taste, please.”

and who is heeseung to say no to you? he stares at you as you slide his length into your hot, wet mouth, the tip of him disappearing past your lips as you continue pumping him at the base slowly, your grip tightening gradually.

your movements are slow, teasing and sensual. you peek up at your boyfriend through your lashes the whole time, watching his reactions, relishing in each moan and hiss — loving the effect you have on him.

suddenly, heeseung tugs you away gently, his fingers tangled in the makeshift ponytail he created, his eyes dark but steady as they meet yours. his lips curl into a teasing smirk as he watches you spread his precum across your lips. his thumb lightly brushes your bottom lip, and his breath hitches for a moment.

"why did you stop me?" you ask, your voice soft but with a hint of frustration, groaning slightly at the abrupt interruption.

his grip tightens ever so slightly around your arms as he pulls you up to stand, his expression shifting from playful to something more serious, yet still burning with desire.

“we’re leaving the party now, get up.” he says firmly, voice low and commanding.

you frown at first, confused by the sudden shift, but before you can question him, he's already pulling you closer, his hands gripping your elbows as he makes sure you're steady on your feet. his eyes soften as he sees your confused, slightly hurt expression, and his lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“no, no, baby. i loved it, i love you” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “ but we’re doing things my way now. let’s go home.”

a playful smile spreads across your face, and you nod, understanding the promise behind his words. "as long as you wear the hat while fucking me, i’ll go anywhere you want," you tease, your voice playful but full of anticipation.

heeseung chuckles, adjusting the cowboy hat still perched on his head “you really love this costume, don’t you?”

“you know what they say, save a horse… ride a cowboy…” you say in a sing-song voice, winking as you turn around and open the bathroom door to step out.

behind you, heeseung’s deep, booming laughter echoes down the hallway, and you feel his presence close behind as he follows you out. there’s a glint in his eyes, and you can feel the shift in the air, the promise of what's to come.

as you step back into the party, the noise and music barely register. all that's on your mind is heeseung, and judging by the heated look in his eyes, the feeling is mutual. there’s only one thing on his mind as he watches you saunter ahead — tonight, a lot of riding will be involved.

after all, he thinks with a smirk, a lot of horses need saving.

[mageofspace924]

i was casually thinking about fiyero's costumes and how he went from musical red to movie blue bc fiyero is associated w blue in the books, and then i thought: why give the dancing-through-life-flirty-i-dont-really-care-but-i-do guy a full uniform suit when he arrives at school versus in the musical he's just wearing rolled up sleeves and a vest? its a reflection of his vulnerability. ofc its a well-known very much used symbol of vulnerability but still one nonetheless.

1) first outfit change: when movie fiyero meets elphaba, he's wearing the blue vest and the white sleeved shirt, the coat isnt in sight. when he's alone he allows some honesty/truth to himself, hence the uncovered sleeves. and when he does interact w elphaba, the exchange is quick fire yet subtly genuine (as much as one can get from meeting someone for the first time) not from his rehearsed lines as he does when he meets glinda for the first time (a crowd he knows how to charm, act around, fall into line with).

2) 2nd outfit change: arrives at shiz in full garment uniform wear, coat, vest, everything. he's fully prepared to play the role he's been uptaking: rich vinkun playboy prince looking to have a good time. the glimpse we had when he met elphaba is gone, no more trying to banter, moreso rehearsed flirting both glinda and fiyero know well. no one gets to see a crack in that armor.

3) 3rd outfit change: his shiz coat is open and we see his white garment underneath, a hint that yes, he's loosening up at shiz, but also matches the disagreeing expressions when dr. dillamond is taken away and the cub is kept in a cage. it's a bit of the genuine caring fiyero coming thru, who feels a bit of injustice esp bc his friend is a horse.

4) 4th outfit change: the coat is taken off and we get fiyero at his most vulnerable so far. his sleeves are rolled up as opposed to the first outfit with billowing sleeves to his wrists. and here is the most vulnerable scene between him and elphaba bc she saw right through his existentialism in dancing through life (could argue she saw a bit of him when she met him first bc she had a small smirk). he's laid completely bare and like the scene went, he had no clue how to deal w it.

5) 5th outfit change: at the train station, hes back in full uniform, bc that vulnerable moment shocked him and shook his foundations of his image/front. he maybe didnt know he had the capacity for that vulnerability until it happened and thats why hes so off kilter and shaken, starting to rethink his everything bc of elphaba. that vulnerability now persists through that uniform, his self-proclaimed image he's built up between countless schools and several dates etc. could be said that crack in the armor is visibly represented through the flower he gives to her bc it's tucked in his collar first VERSUS the musical when he runs up w a bouquet already in hand.

ALL IN ALL the move has the opportunity to tell REALLY AMAZING STORIES through the clothes/fashion, and they've really stepped up to the challenge and are making the most of it AHDJDJS so good + itches my brain

i didnt add in the dance uniform bc i forgot lmao but that plus the uniform he wears in thank goodness are also more decked out than the other stuff he wears, the cpatain uniform WAY more decorated and thats when he hides the most (dance scene he is fully in his element, he can hide safely in that playboy persona). cant wait to see all of that disappear in as long as youre mine HAHDJDJSS

[bluewxrld07]

Kiss Cam (Luke Hughes)

Luke Hughes x female!reader

Warning(s): slight makeup sesh, angst, major fluff, touching without consent, alludes to smut

Summary:In which Luke lets his anger get the best of him.

“Mom I love you, but I have to finish getting ready for the game. We can talk more about it tomorrow.” Y/n sighs, applying mascara to her lashes. 

Her phone was on the bathroom counter with mom on speaker phone, mom currently blabbing about something that happened at work that she needed to rant over. “Oh, that’s right there’s a game tonight! Tell Luke and Jack goodluck for me, and I’ll let you go then. Love you!” Her mom’s sweet voice rings in.

Y/n responds back before ending the call, her music coming back on while she used her setting spray to set the rest of her face. 

Luke walks into the bathroom behind her a few moments later, setting his sweatshirt on the counter next to her puffer vest for her to wear. He stops and looks her up and down with a slight smirk on his lips. 

She wasn’t fully finished getting dressed, only wearing her flare leather pants and a bralette to prevent getting makeup on his clothes. Not that he would’ve minded that anyway, but he wasn’t going to complain about her current outfit. 

“What?” She chuckles putting her makeup away when catching his stare in the mirror. His eyes find hers as he walks up behind her with a hum, placing his hands around the front of her waist slowly trailing back and down to grab her ass. 

She squeaks at his hands, letting a laugh leave her mouth while his own kisses her collarbone a few times. “I like these pants.”

“Oh you do, do you?” an amused grin on her face. He hums with a nod. “Very much yes. You need to buy more.” 

Her eyes roll at his comment before she turns around in his grasp, his hands still going down to her ass when she faces him. Luke looks down at her, taking in the beauty of his girlfriend. She looks down at his lip before lifting herself up a little to place what was supposed to be a chaste kiss. 

Luke thought otherwise, humming out a no on her lips to prevent her from breaking away. She giggles at his comment, letting her hands trail up his chest and to the back of his neck and into his curls. 

Their lips moving in sync, his tongue finding hers as his hands roam her body. His touches and kisses making her whimper and moan into his mouth. 

His hands began to trail from her ass, up to her hips, then to her waist, until they were gripping her breasts. Luke letting his thumb graze over her nipples through the thin fabric. 

She breathes out a moan, her head falling back as he plays with them and his lips moving down to her jaw. “Lu,” she pants.

“Hm?”

“We are gonna be late.” She lets out another whimper when he bites down on her sweet spot just in the crevice of the crook of her neck. Y/n musters up the strength to grab his head from her neck, making him look up at her. 

His lips now swollen, eyes looking a little glazed over as he gives her a lovesick grin. She places one last soft kiss on his mouth before turning back around to grab his sweatshirt off the counter, putting it over her head.

"Why don't you just wear my jersey again?" he asks as he steps away to watch her in the mirror.

"Because I need to switch it up every so often," she says in a 'duh' tone. "Either way people will know I'm yours if that's your problem with it." she chuckles, watching him roll his eyes.

"Okay yes, but still. You can see my name on it in bigger letters than you can on my sweatshirt."

"The sweatshirt I'm wearing is a player only sweatshirt. Therefore nobody else but players own it, so I think that's pretty self-explanatory." she assures him as she sees his pout begin to form.

Once she puts the vest over her shoulders, she turns around to wrap her arms around his neck. He grabs her waist immediately, looking down at her with a knowing look. "You may be beautiful, but you're sometimes not the brightest." he jokes, earning a slap to the chest as she walks away after his comment. She slips on her heeled boots in the entryway while he slides on his dress shoes.

"Forensic Scientist means dumb to you? I don't think so baby." she shoots back, the boy just shaking his head with a playful scoff.

"Whatever you say, honey. Let's go," he sighs before tapping her bum as she opens the front door.

Once they arrived to the arena, Y/n says her 'hello's to the other players, and Jack of course, then gives Luke his good luck kiss before making her way to the lower bowl to find her seat.

She sets her food and drink down when she finds it, seeing she's in the second row from the glass and gets comfy as she waited for the game to start. Y/n watched as more and more fans began to pile in, some starting to take up spots around the ice to watch warmups.

The warmups probably had to be her favorite part. Getting to see the boys rev up for the game as well as interacting with fans, the younger kids especially. She sometimes would find herself overhearing conversations of parents with their little ones talking about how they will try hard to get puck from a player for them.

So some days she took matters into her own hands, signaled Luke, Jack or one of the other players she knew well to bring her a couple pucks to hand out to the little kiddos. The smiles and reactions on their faces always made her smile too, which is why she loved stepping in to help sometimes.

Before she knew it, the boys were out on the ice doing their routine, kids and other fans buzzing with excitement as they watched the players skate around the ice.

She smiles widely when she sees Luke spot her, the boy giving her a little wink as he stood at the blue line with Dawson. Her little moment with Luke was soon cut short when someone took their seat next to her and settled in, his stare never leaving her side profile.

Y/n slowly turned to look at the Devils fan, the boy looking around the same age as her. He had darker hair that poked out of his backwards hat, bright hazel eyes, chiseled jaw with a little stubble. He supported a Devils Jersey with an 86 on the back of it. He nods at her before speaking.

"Hey," he starts off. She smiles warmly. "Hello." she says before turning back to watching warmups.

Luke was busy doing his routine to notice the boy sitting next to his girlfriend, y/n adjusting herself due to feeling uncomfortable by his stare.

"I'm Micah." he introduces, y/n turning her head back to him with a smaller smile this time. "Nice to meet you Micah." she says in a soft voice, hoping that it sounded both nice and uninterested.

Micah leans towards her a little, making her smile falter a bit and look back at the boys on the ice for a minute. "And you are..?" he trails off, making her insides churn at his desperation.

"Um, I'm y/n," she says in a shorter tone. He nods with a toothy smile.

"Beautiful name for an absolutely gorgeous girl." he says, making her internally roll her eyes. She just nods at him and offers another warm smile. "Thank you."

She watches as he looks her up and down slowly, slowly biting his lip as his eyes find hers. "So what's a girl like you doing sitting here all by herself?" he asks.

"Oh, I'm not alone I'm-"

"It's okay, you don't have to lie and say your friends are coming. I'll take care of you," he winks at her, and places a hand on her thigh with a squeeze. He was making her stomach knot. "Please take your hand off my leg," she says firmly. She feels herself relax when his hand leaves her thigh, her chest feeling tight as he sat closer to her.

Instead of pushing the conversation she purses her lips and looks back at the boys on the ice, hoping to find her boyfriend and her muscles relax when she sees he's already staring at her.

Now many fans that paid attention to the Hughes brothers knew she and Luke were dating. It wasn't like they made it obvious, but they also weren't hiding it either.

His eyes going back between her and the guy next to her with a darker stare than she's used to. He can tell she's uncomfortable when his eyes find hers a second later, and skates closer towards where she's sitting.

Y/n watches as he skates past and gives her a small nod as if asking if she was okay, and nods back at him with a small smile on her lips.

Luke nods back one more time at her before turning back to finish his drills, his head turning back to stare at the guy sitting next to her one last time.

Y/n was happy the guy known as Micah let her be after that, hoping that he noticed she was uninterested and very much taken.

The lights dimmed as the boys left the ice, y/n sitting back in her chair and going onto her phone. Her phone soon buzzed as she began scrolling through Twitter, seeing it was a text from Luke.

from Lu <3

Do you want me to bring you one of my jerseys?

to Lu <3

I'll be okay. I can stand my ground, I promise

from Lu <3

Baby I really think you should take one of my jerseys

to Lu <3

Lu I will look like every other fan who has one here still. It wouldn't matter if I was wearing it or not.

read 6:36pm

Y/n rolled her eyes at his actions and no response, knowing he was frustrated by the situation at hand. She wouldn't be able to convince him any other way, him being the stubborn boy he was.

It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he just liked having people know she was his and his only. She would never stop that either, but she just wanted him to understand she can handle situations on her own most times.

Before she knew it, the game had started and that's also when Micah's voice started. He kept trying to talk to her more, explaining the game to her as if she had no idea what was going on. She wanted to move so badly, but knew that that wasn't going to happen.

Y/n just tried her best to act as uninterested as possible to his conversation, the boy obviously not getting the point as time went on.

It also appeared that Luke was getting more and more irritated by Micah's advances.

Y/n often caught him skating by their area and looking directly at the pair sitting next to one another, his expression each time darker and more pissed off than the last.

The one that caught her attention was when Luke looked directly at her, shook his head, rolled his eyes and made a swatting motion at her. It deeply annoyed her that he was getting mad at her when she was making it very clear she wanted nothing to do with the man next to her.

"That call right there is known as icing," Micah begins, leaning towards her and pushing a piece of her hair back. Y/n biting her lip and running a hand through her hair as he keeps his hand on her cheek. "It happens when-"

"Okay look. Micah, is it? Can you please stop explaining the game to me as if I don't get what's going on? I used to play myself, and have a boyfriend who plays it as well. So please just -- stop talking, and stop touching me." Y/n snaps, her facial expressions towards the boy looking like she was ready to bang her head against the wall.

Micah looked stunned for a few seconds, before he smirks and rolls his eyes with a scoff. "If you had a boyfriend, where is he at then?"

Of course that was the only thing he paid attention to. She scoffs at him and looks back to the game.

There was an intermission in between whistles, the ice crew coming to shovel off the ice. Y/n looks up and watches as a kiss cam comes on, happy couples one after the other doing funny or cute kisses.

She looks down at her phone while it goes, not really wanting to be at the game anymore with her boyfriend annoyed at her, and her being annoyed with the guy next to her.

That was until Micah was elbowing her a moment later, the girl looking at him with a scowl evident on her face and he smirks smugly while pointing to the screen. She looks up, and immediately wants to sink into a hole.

Micah and her were on the kiss cam screen.

Micah looks back at her and shrugs. "it's for the views," he says, and she shook her head.

Y/n looks up at the Jumbotron, doing a 'cut' signal with her hand while saying that Micah is not her boyfriend. She began to hold up her sweatshirt, pointing to the number 43 on the arm saying 'boyfriend'.

But before she could finish saying 'boyfriend' Micah tries grabbing her face in a bruising and harsh grasp to pull her in for a kiss. Y/n immediately pushes him away and smacks him hard across the face.

Before she can cuss him out, she hears a loud bang against the glass followed by yells and many fans gasping in shock. Y/n turns to the ice and sees Luke yelling at Micah with Jack and Nico holding him back as if Luke was about ready to break the glass to get to her.

"Get your fucking hands off my girl!" he screams at him. "You grab her like that again and I'll fuck you up, you got that! Get the fuck off of her!! Don't you dare touch her!" Luke continues to yell and cuss as the boys pull him back to the bench.

Luke looks at Y/n and points at her after. "That's why I fucking told you to wear my jersey dammit!" he yells to her, making her stomach drop to her ass out of embarrassment.

Her mouth drops at his reaction, seeing him yell to her once again. "Never fucking listens to me!"

Micah sitting there both in awe and shock by both getting cussed at by Luke Hughes and being smacked by the girl next to him.

Y/n is pushing her way past Micah who is still sitting there dumbfounded, some fans making comments to him saying how shitty it was for him to do what he did.

Y/n kept her head down as she climbed up the stairs, tears in her eyes. One of the security guards she knew very well immediately made her way up to her and pulled her into her arms as they walked.

"Let's get you out of the public eye, hm? Get you down into the tunnel?" she suggest, Y/n nods quietly as she wipes a tear.

When she makes her way to the tunnel she hears the buzzer, signaling the end of the second period. She tells the security guard to grab Jack for her as he walks back to the locker room, the older woman nodding before making her way down the hall.

As she waits for Jack, she manages to take in what just happened.

Micah tried forcing himself on her. Luke cussed him out and almost broke the glass to go after him. Luke yelled at her.

Luke embarrassed her.

Y/n didn't even realize she had tears falling until she saw them fall onto her boots.

"Y/n?" she hears, her head shooting up to see Jack making his way to her with concern on his face. He had his helmet off, stick still in his hand as he approached her.

"Hey," he said as he got to her, pulling her in for a hug first. She hugged him back tightly, sniffling into his shoulder. "You okay?"

She just shook her head as they pulled away. "I've never heard him talk to me like that. Ever. I'm so humiliated." she admits, shaking her head as she wipes her tears.

Jack looks at her with guilt and frustration. "I'm sorry I had no idea he would react like that," he says. "We knew he was bothered by the guy next to you because he wouldn't stop talking about it. But he kept assuring and saying he trusted you to take care of it. Of yourself. He kept saying he knew you could handle it. Next thing we knew he was jumping over the boards and skating towards where you sat. And then you can guess what happened next." he explains, making her nod.

"I just didn't think he would ever talk to me like that." she says in a whisper. "I didn't even know that that guy would grab my face like that." she stutters, letting out a choked sob.

"I should've just listened to Luke and wore his jersey." Y/n says, watching as Jack shook his head. "No don't say what you know would make my brother feel better. He's a piece of shit and a dickbag for saying and reacting how he did. You couldn't have known." Jack assures her, pulling her in for another hug, holding her for longer.

She sniffles and stays silent, Jack pulling away from her as he hears Dawson calling out to him signaling they're going back out in a few.

"I don't want to talk to him for a bit. But I can't go back out there. I don't even think I can show my face out there at all." Y/n explains, Jack nods in understanding.

"I'll make sure he steers clear of you for right now. I'll also be the last one out of the locker room, so I will let one of the trainers know to come grab you to get my keys. You can drive it back to the apartment." he says, making her shake her head and cross her arms.

"Jack are you sure? I can't take your car."

"Y/n/n yes you can. We live in the same complex. Worst case I can always catch a ride with one of the other boys if Luke is still being an ass, so I will be able to get home either way." Jack assures her, the girl contemplating for a minute, then nodding in agreement to his statement.

He kisses her forehead before heading back to the locker rooms, Y/n pulling herself together as she waits silently for one of the trainers. She sees and hears the guys cheering as they head out for the last period, music blaring in the stadium.

She spots one of the trainers walking towards her with a sweet smile, motioning for her to follow behind them to the locker room.

When they get to the entryway, the trainer stops and points to Jack's locker stall. "He said it should be in his suit jacket pocket on the left side." the trainer tells her, y/n nodding as she feels his keys.

As she was about to walk out of the locker room the trainer stops her once more. "Luke also told me to tell you that you can take his key. Since he knows you don't normally bring yours when you drive with him to games." they explain, Y/n feeling her heart clench at his name.

She slowly nods and walks over to her boyfriend's stall and grabbing his apartment key before following the trainer out and towards the garage.

She smiles softly at the trainer before thanking them, then unlocks Jack's car and gets inside.

On the drive home the car is silent, nothing being heard but the rain on the windshield. The radio off due to her not wanting to hear a single thing as she drove home.

The embarrassment she felt from the night was starting to creep up on her, making her just want to crawl up into a ball and live there for the rest of her life.

The facial expression she saw on his face was something she only ever saw when it came to him getting pissed off at another player in the ice, or when he was arguing with Jack. Never did she see it directed towards her. It made her insides burn, her chest feeling tight.

Most of all Y/n felt violated. She had never been grabbed or touched like that, and it scared her that a man would've been desperate enough in a situation to make a move like that guy did.

She let out a sigh as she parked Jack's car in his parking spot in the parking garage, locking it as she made her way up to her and Luke's shared apartment. She kept her arms crossed over her chest, keeping her head low as she made her way through the hallways.

When she saw her familiar doormat outside her apartment, Y/n felt her exhaustion hit. As she unlocked the door, she could hear the patters of the raindrops hitting the windows. The apartment only being illuminated by her golden sunset light in the living room, window cracked open to hear the thunder outside.

She shut the door, and took off her shoes. The tired girl's feet padded down the hall to their shared bedroom, going and taking a seat on their bed as she took a deep breath.

Her phone was buzzing, causing her to turn it over and see what it was.

Luke Hughes loses it over guy in the crowd!

Breaking: New Jersey Devils player, Luke Hughes, almost breaks glass to fight man in stands after putting hands on Hughes' girlfriend!

Devils player Luke Hughes screams at fan in stands after putting hands on Hughes' girlfriend. Soon starts screaming at girlfriend shortly after, causing absolute mayhem in the stands!

After seeing each title and tweet get worse and worse, she immediately puts her phone on Do Not Disturb and puts it face down on the nightstand.

Y/n began taking off her outfit, grabbing pjs and a towel before heading into the bathroom.

Y/n turned on the shower, loving how the warmth felt on her skin and closed her eyes as she stepped in.

Usually she had always taken a post game shower with Luke when they'd gotten home, but she couldn't even fathom to want to be in the same room as him after his outburst.

Sure she understood the one towards Micah, but she still thought she didn't deserve to get the backend of it too.

Y/n also knew that he probably felt like shit after how he acted, and was probably getting an absolute earful from the entire team, the coaches included.

She let the water soak up her scalp, taking a few deep breaths as she stood there. She didn't even know where her head was at. She was still so shocked of the events tonight, but also craved to have Luke holding her. Telling her she would be okay, and that he never meant any of it.

Y/n jumps and gasps when she feel hands slither around her waist, but relaxing when a familiar head of curls is seen in her side view as he hid his face in her neck for a few moments.

The girl fought with herself, wondering if she should just let it happen or push him away, not knowing which would be the better option.

That was until he propped his chin on her shoulder, sniffling a couple times. She stood there tense, staying quiet for a few moments.

"I don't even know where to start," he says, his voice rough. He squeezes her waist, her hands still staying crossed at her chest.

"Well I do know where to start. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, Y/n. I have no excuses for the way I spoke to you. You were trying to get him off you, and were clearly uninterested in general. Guy couldn't take a fucking hint," he chuckles bitterly. "In the end, I should not have yelled or screamed at you. You didn't deserve any of that. I can't imagine how embarrassed you felt after that. That's all completely my fault, I couldn't control myself after seeing how uncomfy he kept making you." he sniffles and pauses to press a kiss on her temple.

"I really can't believe I lost it on you. I have no regrets for losing it on that guy, but losing my shit on you I have every regret in the world. I would absolutely go back in time and prevent myself from doing that to you. Without a second thought." he finishes. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. I am a dick, and I truly don't expect you to forgive me easily. I embarrassed you, and made it so hard for you to walk back into that arena without wanting to curl up in a ball. If you don't come to some my games for a bit, I get it. I don't blame you."

It's quiet for a few moments after that, Y/n taking that as Luke's speech being finished. She sighs and lets her body relax fully into his own, letting her hands trail down to where his hands are on her waist and wrap hers around his wrists softly.

She caresses the top of his hands with her thumbs. "You're a fucking asshole you know that?" she whispers, shaking her head as she looks down at their hands.

He nods against her shoulder. "More than an asshole honestly." he chuckles, making her muster up the smallest grin.

"You embarrassed me. You humiliated me in front of the entire arena, Luke," she starts. "I wouldn't have been as mad if it were just towards that guy. Yeah I still would've been annoyed, but it was when you started going after me. As if I had been letting it happen." she explains, Luke letting her speak.

"I tried everything in my power to make it known I was uninterested. I tried everything to make it known I didn't want him talking to me. I tried Lu," she says, her voice sounding defeated the last few words.

Luke just nods, saying he knows repeatedly. "Especially when he kept putting his hands on me, I kept telling him to stop and I kept saying no." Y/n says, her voice weak as her lips began to quiver. Luke pulls her in tighter, his heart aching and his anger rising at the guy. He had no right to touch her, and especially when she kept telling him to not touch her.

Luke couldn't imagine what was going through her head during then. It made him feel even worse after hearing how defeated she. sounded.

"Then when he grabbed my face, I felt so violated. Like I couldn't even win even when I kept saying no," she sniffled. "Then when you yelled at me like that, it made me feel like you didn't even care that I was trying my hardest to not let him touch me. When it was so clear I didn't want him to."

Luke raised his head from her shoulder, placing his hands on her hips to turn her so she was facing him. "Look at me." he says softly to her, seeing as she shook her head and kept it staring down at her hands.

He watched as she began to nervously pick ta her fingertips, something she did from anxiety, which made his hands leave her sides and lace his fingers between him own to prevent her from doing so.

"Y/n, baby, look at me." he says, his voice softer than the first time. Y/n mustered the strength to look into his eyes for the first time that evening, seeing his were incredibly bloodshot and swollen.

"Oh Lu," she sighs as she sees his face. He shook his head. "Don't worry about me." he says. "I want you to know that no matter what, I will always care for you. Even when it's so much it seems annoying, I will still be there by your side protecting and caring about you. I care more about you than I do myself." he assures her, making her lips quiver.

"You need to care about yourself too, Luke. Don't beat yourself up when you can't help me with a situation. You have to trust that I can handle it most times on my own." she explains, Luke nodding in agreement with her.

"I get that you were mad and that you were wanting to do anything you could to get to me in that moment, but taking it out on me when you know I'm trying is not the way to go."

Luke puts his head down, nodding once more. "I know. And I'm never going to stop apologizing to you. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take it all back. I'm so sorry, Y/n/n."

She puts her hands on his cheeks. "I know. But you can't take it back, no matter how much to wish you could. Just learn from it, and move forward. Yeah this was a major bump we will work on fixing, but that is the thing. It's not just going to be you, it's gonna be us." she assures him, watching his eyes find hers again.

"You won't be going through this alone. Yeah I'm hurt. Yeah I'm embarrassed. But that's not gonna stop me from loving you and helping you. We will work on it together, okay?" Y/n caresses his cheeks, watching as he nods.

"I love you. So much. So so much, Y/n. I'm so sorry."

Y/n gives him a smile and nods, leaning her forehead against his own. "I love you too, baby. I know."

He presses his lips on her own cautiously, Y/n feeling his actions. In which she lets her hands find the back of his head and pull him closer to her to make their kiss more passionate.

He hums as their lips move in sync, letting her lead it as he wraps his arms around her figure.

Luke breaks the kiss after a few moments. "Let me start making it up to you right now, yeah?" he pants, and she nods.

"I'm all yours."

That's all Luke needs to hear before he begins his apology to her. Showing her how sorry he is in many different ways.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Kraven The Hunter x fem!reader

Summary: You meet a dangerous stranger in the woods...

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: kinda dark but still tame, cheating (reader), unprotected sex (pls use contraceptives in real life!), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, degradation kink, rough sex, riding, he spits in reader's mouth 👀, kissing (duh), fingering, light misogyny, ik he has a name but i use Kraven in this, bad russian google translate maybe (I AM SO SORRY I DID MY BEST—if you speak Russian and have any suggestions… please 🙏 ) LISTEN…I'M SORRY LIKE I COULD NOT RESIST WRITING FOR HIM…HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? Probably NOT comic accurate…

SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST

You don't know what you hate more at the moment—your boyfriend or the continuous sweat forming on your hairline from the dampness and heat. It's becoming dark outside, which should cool the air and help with the heat but not as much with how pissed you are at Chris. 

With a small squeal, you stumble on the roots of a tree, gasping as your ankle twists awkwardly in your hiking shoes and the buzz of an insect flies around your ear. You swat your hand near your cheekbone. You're holding the branches you'd found in one arm now as the stickiness of the air makes your skin feel heavy. 

Screw you bugs! 

Screw you woods!

And most of all screw you Chris!

You're too immersed in your hatred that you don't realize you've fallen into an animal trap until it's too late. You scream, the branches falling from your arm as your body folds and the net wraps around you, pulling you up into the air. The rope burns your exposed skin as you squirm. This had to be a nightmare, some sick cruel joke Chris is playing on you. You half hope he'll jump out from behind the bushes and laugh in your face. 

You wait in silence for a moment but your boyfriend doesn't show up. 

"Help!" You scream out helplessly, "Is anyone there? Please, I-I'm trapped," you call. 

"Hmm, yes, that is the point of one of those," a deep voice drawls from behind you and you wince. You try to strain your neck to look at the newcomer but you can't move enough to see who it is. It certainly isn't Chris. Chris doesn't sound like that.

"Please, can you help me?" you plead shamelessly now. 

Your heart is beating so hard. You hear the creak of leaves and dirt as whoever stands behind you walks closer to you. You feel them turn the entire net around and soon you're face to face with dark piercing golden eyes. A color you can only describe as supernatural. 

"Now why would I help you? You stumbled into my trap—that makes you my prize."

The man is tall and strong. His shoulders are broad and his hair curls messily across his forehead. He's wearing an open vest made of brown leather and adorned with fur, thick leather bracers, and a necklace where three animal teeth hang.

You concentrate on the sharpness of the teeth for a while, ignoring how very much shirtless the man is against them, but eventually you lose focus as with a swift motion, he uses a knife he'd taken from his belt to cut the net and you crash to the ground. 

Immediately, the dirt sticks to your sweaty skin as you scramble up onto your feet. You brush hair from your face and stumble back, almost falling again until the man's large, calloused hand finds your forearm and he holds you still. "Calm down," he says hoarsely, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening.

"You don't wanna run from me, gorgeous. Clearly, you don't know your left and right around here but I do. So, stay still for me so I can think about what I'm gonna do with you."

He has a thick accent and you find yourself nodding. He drops your arm and you don't move. You look up at him as he looks around, rubbing his hand over his jaw like he's debating his next moves. You can see his knife, which he has secured into his belt again, glistens with blood and your stomach churns. 

"Please don't hurt me," you whisper.

The man stares at you blankly, his eyebrows crease as he looks you up and down. After a moment, the corners of his lips curl upwards and he moves closer. You squeeze your eyes shut, scared, and you gasp inaudibly as a tear escapes you. 

The man's thumb wipes it away, his hand cupping your cheek and he speaks a language you don't understand—russian you assume—"Я бы никогда не подумал причинить тебе боль, (I would never dream of hurting you)," His tone seems sweeter than how he'd spoken before but all hopes of him translating what he'd said disappear when he asks:

"Why are you out here all alone?"

You recover from his touch as it leaves you and you try and explain, "I'm not alone. My boyfriend," you turn to look behind you but all you see is the trees and hear the rustling of animals in the shadows, "is around here somewhere," you finish.  

"He left you? Alone? Now? It's almost dark," the man accuses as if it had been your choice.

"I- I was supposed to bring branches for the fire," you say quickly, gesturing to the branches that had fallen from your arms. The man looks where you're pointing and chuckles darkly. 

"Oh, милый (darling), those aren't branches. Those aren't even twigs."

You glare at him, not finding it funny at all, "Well, I couldn't carry the heavier ones," you defend and the man interrupts with another chuckle.

"Ah," he smirks, "so why was it you who went out? Can your man not care for you properly?"

You scrunch your nose, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The man's smirk turns into a smile, his teeth showing, and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as he smiles. He's handsome—almost too handsome for someone who looks like they live in the woods.

"I mean," he drawls, leaning in even closer, "what kind of man allows his woman to do all his labor, leaving her on her lonesome and vulnerable to bad men like me?" Your breath hitches and your eyes widen when he finishes, "Your man is a pathetic little boy who doesn't deserve a woman like you."

Your mind races. You want to defend Chris, tell this man that Chirs is an amazing, loving, boyfriend—but another part of you can't deny Chris had basically coerced you onto this hike, on your birthday nonetheless, and then promptly abandoned you to fend for yourself.

However, those details weren't what your mind latched onto. No. As you stare at the handsome stranger, his words ring in your ears; "bad men like me"

The man can tell and he chuckles, "Don't look so scared. I like you. You're the most entertainment I've had in a while. Come," he beckons you over, turning around and gathering his net over his shoulder. When you don't follow instantly he calls out, "I can offer you shelter and food, and a fire," he adds with a glance over his shoulder, "Unless you'd rather find your way back to your boyfriend. Your choice, милый (darling)."

So, you end up in the man's home. The man—who had finally introduced himself as Kraven— lives in a small cabin that's obviously been worn out by time and weather. All the furniture looks barely used—as if there hasn't been life inside this cabin for a long time. 

Kraven's hospitality is coarse and oddly demanding as he pours you some honey tea he made himself and hands you some bread. You don't complain, you're starving. As Kraven makes a fire, he mumbles things in Russian and occasionally he'll look over at you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your hair is wet from the shower you just had and the strands stick to your cheeks.

Your mind wanders to Chris. Is he okay? It is a warmer night—so he really shouldn't freeze to death. You feel guilty for having accepted Kraven's offer but your thoughts are interrupted by the fire starting and Kraven stands. He runs a hand in his curls and drops his vest on the couch near you. You look up, suddenly extra aware of how shirtless and toned he is. 

"Продолжай смотреть на меня так, и у меня не будет другого выбора, кроме как трахнуть тебя прямо здесь и сейчас, милый, (Keep looking at me like that and I'll have no choice but to fuck you right here and now, darling)," Kraven says in a growl and the only word you recognize is the last one since he's used it a few times.

"What does милый mean?" you ask, attempting to pronounce the word but fumbling it. Kraven smirks and tilts his head as he walks closer until he's sitting next to you. 

"It's a term of endearment," he chuckles, "like darling—or honey."

You feel your cheeks burn. It's almost worse to hear him explain the term rather than just using it. You look down at your hands, feeling Kraven's warmth next to you. He smells like pine-wood and ashes and the scent is invading. You feel safer near him then you'd ever felt in Chris's arms. Guilt settles in your stomach again. 

"Ты так сладко пахнешь. (you smell so sweet)," Kraven says again and his hand comes up to move some stray hairs behind your ear. The air shifts and sexual tension settles around you and the feeling dances across your skin with fervor. 

You don't dare turn your head to look at him, afraid of how he's staring. "What does that all mean? The Russian?" you mutter.

"It means I want to kiss you, doll," Kraven chuckles and his hand cups your chin and he turns your head so you're staring at him. Your eyes are round and he chuckles, "what do you say милый (darling)? Will you indulge me? I wanna see if you taste as good as I think you do."

Your heart jumps in your throat and suddenly you feel very small compared to him. Your eyes flicker to his lips and then up to look into his eyes. They sparkle darkly and you wonder if anyone has ever been able to say no to those eyes. You surely won't be the first. You nod. 

Kraven leans in and captures your lips with passion so fierce you're afraid your lips will bruise. Still, they slide across his easily and it's as if you've been molded for one another. Kraven's hands tighten in your hair, bunching up the strands so he can control your head movements. Control. His entire demeanor screams control.

"Good girl," he mutters with a smirk against your lips and his hands move to grip your hips. You're wearing some shorts and a shirt you found in the bedroom when you changed from your shower.

You gasp as he helps you up and you straddle him now. With a humph, he lifts up his hips and slides his knife holster to the side so it isn't digging into your thigh or his. He grins wolfishly, continuing to kiss you. His lips trail up your neck and near your ear. 

It never felt like this with Chris. Sure, it had been fine—it had been good even in the beginning—but this? No, nothing could compare to this. 

Kraven's hands are large and strong against your skin as he kneads your waist and ass. "Ты такая хорошая девушка для меня (You're such a good girl for me)," he whispers, his voice hoarse, and as attractive as it is, you whine and furrow your brows.

"Please, don't talk in Russian anymore. I can't understand you," you pout, pulling him closer as you unconsciously grind your hips into his for more friction. "I wanna understand you," 

Kraven grips your hips harder and rolls them onto him, earning him a soft moan that falls from your lips. "Alright, darling, alright," he smiles and kisses you again. "Tell me, do'you want more from me? Seems like you do," he grinds your hips again, punctuating his words as he teases you mercilessly. 

You are at loss for words. This is wrong. You're cheating on your boyfriend, you try to remind yourself, with a man you met in the woods. But if this is so wrong, why does it feel so good? You moan. You desperately want to slide your shorts and panties down to allow even more friction on your clit. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you must look so needy. 

Kraven hooks his fingers in your waistband, running his thumb over your hip, reading your mind, "Is this what you want, darling? You wanna rub yourself on me like a little slut?" 

The insult shouldn't be as hot as it is, but when it's followed by a searing kiss, the word is honey on his tongue. You moan and drop your head in the crook of his neck, grasping onto his shoulders as you lift your hips so he can easily slide your panties and shorts down. "Please," you whisper, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. 

Kraven smirks and, as he holds your nape with one hand, he uses the other and finds your pussy. He explores your folds, wanting to make sure you're wet and ready for him. He rubs your clit, earning him smaller, more high pitched sounds from your parted lips as your wetness seeps over his hand. 

Kraven teases you for a little while longer, murmuring praises in your ear until he suddenly spreads his legs and you fall to your knees in front of the couch. You gasp, looking up at him from the ground. 

He looks majestic, sitting there, as if the couch was his throne and he was a King. 

Kraven's smirk widens as he fists one hand in your hair, using his other hand to lick his fingers clean of your arousal and then swiftly unbuckle his belt. He stares at you as he does this and tilts his head. "D'you do this for your boyfriend, gorgeous?" Kraven seems amused by the word boyfriend, as if it's some game to him. 

You nod, sinking onto your heels as you watch Kraven pull out his cock. He's big and hard and your eyes widen. "D'you like doing this?" he asks, his voice low. You catch his eye and shake your head honestly. You didn't like giving Chris head—but Chris's dick didn't look like this. Your eyes snap up to Kraven's cock. 

"You'll like it with me," he adds, smirking, and guides your head to his cock. You let him, having no complaints as you take him in your mouth. You're nervous at first, unsure of what to do, but soon you gain more confidence as you try and take him even deeper. 

You gag a little and Kraven just tightens his hand in your hair. 

"You can take it. I know you can, doll. There," he coos, clearly enjoying your work as you adjust your mouth around him. "There, yeah. That's my good girl." Kraven grunts out the word "my" and warmth pools in your stomach. You moan around his cock, sucking faster as if to respond yes, I am yours.

With a pop, he pulls your head away and tilts your chin. He helps you up to straddle him again, keeping you eye level as he positions his cock at your entrance. He squeezes your cheeks, opening your lips, and then spits into your mouth before claiming your lips again. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him against you and he sinks you down onto him. 

"Can you feel me, милый (darling)?" he grunts, moving you on his cock slowly, torturing you. He chuckles darkly when you whine. 

"Mmh," is the only sound you make as he fills you up. It feels so good. 

"You feel full, hm?" Kraven taunts, moving your hips a little faster as his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise. He pulls one away a moment and rips your shirt, attaching his lips to your hardened nipples as you squeal. 

"Yes, oh, I feel so full," you whimper, bouncing up on him, helping him so you can go even faster and deeper. "Shit, you're so big."

"Шлюха (slut)," he groans, the word slipping past his lips in ecstasy as he kisses and sucks across your chest. You whine, wanting him to tell you what the word means so you can understand him but Kraven smirks. He kisses your collarbone and then, using his strength, he easily flips you over so you're laying on the couch and he's on top of you now. 

Kraven sinks his cock back into you as he snaps his hips hard. You gasp, wrapping your arms around him and your nails slide up and down his back, and he groans with pleasure at the sting. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck please," you plead, eyes rolling as your body shivers.

"You're so tight around me. As if you were made just for me," he says as he continues to fuck into you. "Does your boyfriend fuck you this good?" Kraven asks, his accent thicker as he loses himself in the pleasure. His hand comes to wrap around your jaw as he holds you in place under him. 

You shake your head. 

"Слова (Words)," he growls but then curses and says, "Words, darling. Tell me."

"N-no. He doesn't fuck me this good," you whisper as Kraven's cock slides into you. You're so wet and he's so hard and this is so so wrong. 

"Yeah? You gonna run back to him now, bunny?" he snarls and nips as your earlobe. He thrusts harder and smirks at the pet name. "Hmm. run little bunny, back to your poor excuse of a boyfriend? No," Kraven grunts, as if he's made a decision, "I'm keeping you, doll. I can take care of you better than he can."

You moan at this and nod, "Please," you whisper, feeling your thighs clench around him as you can feel your orgasm approaching. 

Kraven feels it too. "You're squeezing around me, Шлюха (slut), do you wanna come?" Kraven teases and his thrusts slow. You whine and look at him, your eyes becoming teary from need. You nod.

He laughs and kisses your lips with a grin, "Alright, you can come. Go on, let yourself come all over my cock," he smirks against your skin as his sharp teeth nip at your neck. 

 You whine, letting your body finally relax as you come. You gasp, your eyes rolling from pleasure as your legs feel like jello. Kraven finishes inside you with a grunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He smiles as you sink into the cushions and your eyes flutter. His large hand comes to hold behind your head as he pulls you up and leans you against his chest. 

While Kraven's touch is comforting, it's also possessive and claiming. His thumb strokes over your hair and his lips kiss your head. He's holding you so close you're almost afraid he'll never let you go. You sigh when he slides out and picks you up in his arms as he stands.

"Good girl," he mutters as he walks you to the bathroom and adds, "You did so well for me." You let yourself relax in his arms as he promises he'll be here from now on. You're his now. 

You're so blissed out from your orgasm that your mind doesn't understand what that truly means. Instead, you shut your eyes and let him take care of you and, with a small smile, you think,

Happy. Fucking. Birthday. To. Me.