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deadghosy · 1 year ago

Note

Do you know about the Welcome Home fandom? So what about Wally Darling!Reader?

HAZBIN HOTEL X WALLY DARLING! READER

prompt: you are a greeter of the hazbin hotel! Who knew a muppet looking demon could be so colorful.

You are so soft spoken! Like that soft voice you have can hypnotize anyone into doing anything.

“hello, welcome to the hazbin hotel. i’m your greeter.” You say with a “:D” face

You’re so colorful and you’re definitely shorter than Lucifer…i can see Lucifer picking you up like a damn doll at times as you just smile with your muppet ass smile.

You’re just TOO DAMN CUTEEE! 🦆💗 literally even husk grumbles and gives you apples by the bar for you to stop giving him those doe eyes you give him when you are needy for apples.

I feel because of your muppet look, it would bring attention to yourself as a muppets looking demon is quite rare around the pentagram city, or even hell itself as Lucifer and Charlie have a muppet or Marionette look.

Literally you are friends with Lucifer because of it and he finds your muppet look adorable. Even with your 3 ft height. (Yes I looked up his height and damn he short as hell!😭)

You are just chilling after greeting some new sinners in the hotel as you read the news paper, Lucifer comes out of no where. Dead ass reads the newspaper trying to understand your likes and dislikes.

“Lu-Lu?” You said softly as Lucifer awkwardly smiles and does finger guns at you. “Oh what a coincidence? What are you doing here..?” He says awkwardly as he sweatdrops at his attempt to start a conversation with you. “I live here?” You said raising a brow sitting down the newspaper.

“Oh I do too! What a very crazy thing?!” He says pointing his finger at himself as he poofs away in embarrassment as you just sat there…..*cue in pure confusion*

Alastor would not hate you because you are colorful, lemme be realistic. You two would be mutuals. Not like “oh I hate you but you are cool” type shit. I mean you two are the people who wave at each other but never approach each other because you don’t know if they like you fr. 🥲

One time a sinner had shoulder bumped you on purpose thinking you wasn’t gonna do anything…BUT NAH! YOU GRABBED THAT MF BY HIS NECK AS A SHADOW COVERS YOUR FACE, only leaving your eyes showing as you kick they ass out. You ain’t dealin' with no bullshit at this establishment. And for your friend’s sake.

Angel likes to play with makeup with your face since it’s calling out for his makeup kit. Literally he does blue eyeshadow on you.

I headcannon you wear blue eyeshadow just like how Wally’s eyelid is blue up there. Dead ass it would be cute if it was just blue eye shadow and you had a natural blush on your cheeks. You are quite beautiful reader💗😘

Since Angel is a drag queen, he would also try to make you wear drag queen makeup only for you to sneeze at how much product he used…yeah he never used it on your face.

You’re beautiful natural anyway…just don’t sneeze in his face. Ever again.

You definitely look like you listen to 1970-80’s jazz music as you dance in the lobby with Alastor nodding along happy. Just two jazz buddies liking jazz.

I can imagine Charlie trying to hold you back from eating the fruit gift basket for the guests…you’re only aiming for the damn apples as your mouth was drooling for it.

Imagine Vox has you on his channel because he brided you with apples. He stalked you through your tv you had that has rainbows and apples on it-

Well anyways Alastor “recused” you because you just sat there “begging” to be saved is what he saved when you munched on an apple confused by why Alastor came to take you away from Vox.

If you and Lucifer hung out doing hobbies together, which he suggested. You’re panting a portrait as he makes a duck based off of you….he can’t help but show affection of making you a duck version of yourself.

Niffty and you definitely get along well as hell! As you two have the same fashion taste as you both will dance to the genre of music you guys like.

With you being the greeter, you always have a soft smile and a soft approach to make the guest and residents feel safe in the hotel.

Sir Pentious will absolutely admire you…like a friend crush. He just wants to be your friend but you are too pure to approach as he thinks he won’t be cool enough to be your friend.

Imagine Valentino seeing you shopping and he tried to approach you only for a red smoke to cover you as you blinked confused to see an overprotective Lucifer smiling at you as you had teleported to the hotel. But with Lucifer, you could see his real feelings as you felt confused.

After a few months you and Pentious became friends because of one of his egg boiz named Frank said his “boss” wants to be friends with you. You giggled and nodded as you and sir Pentious do trust exercises together when Charlie host them.

Husk had dilated eyes and purr at you because you scratched under his chin which made him snap out of his cat daze and slap your hand as you giggle with a soft gaze.

I headcannon Velvette to be your girl who makes your outfits in primary colors. Like that or just cute aesthetic kid core fits. 💗‼️

I can see how reader always gives balloons to sinners who had trouble reliving their childhood. So they give balloons out to the sinners who had childhood trauma. You are a greeter, and a hell of a good one. 🦆💗

Imagine how Wally! Reader has those safety pins that say “Welcome!” And it’s so cute because you made them a t hand and Lucifer saw his you had effort in it so he made you more to give out to the guests.

I feel like Valentino will try to get you under his contract so he can use your pretty look since you seem like a femboy….but really you’re just a little guy who likes apples and his friends.

YOU’RE ONLY 12 APPLES TALL! 😨

But the hazbin crew literally cockblock him to the point he just stops doing he was trying to do to you.

I can see Lucifer trying to impress you at times as he never has a friend that had a cute appearance like you so your blank eye stare always catches him off as you just stand there smiling so adorably.

I headcannon waking up to find an apple by your night stand as a note reads “hope you like the apple, my angel!”- Lu-Lu. You just blinked at the apple completely ignoring the note and eating the apple as you smile at the taste.

“…yummy apppleee….” You say until you open your eyes looking at the note. “Wait what.”

You had gave Lucifer back an apple basket with rubber ducks that had painted apples not it for your appreciation of the apples he gave you

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b0ng05 · 7 months ago

Text

Hi(gh) Milf! Wanda Maximoff x Stoner! Reader Pt.1

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Word Count: 3333

Prompt: Billy and Tommy are coming home from college for winter break, Wanda couldn't be happier. Until they show up with her least favorite guest. Enemies to lovers type of vibe 🥴

Warnings: Age gap, smoking, Angst

Also, Not Proofread 💅

Masterlist

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

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Wanda had always been a supportive mother to her boys, she’ll love them no matter what. They were her babies and could do no wrong in her eyes. Now, just because she’s supportive doesn’t mean she always approves of their choices. Like she didn’t approve of the way Tommy had wanted to bleach his hair over and over, mostly because she was worried about the health of it. Or when she didn’t approve of the boys wanting a pet lizard, but let them have it anyway to make them happy. Or how she doesn’t approve of Billy’s newest choice.

Billy had begun college and he had started making new friends. While that was great, there was one friend in particular that Wanda thought might be a bad influence on her son. Her name was Y/n, and as of late, Billy had chosen her to accompany him everywhere. They were like Dumb and Dumber, but put them together with Tommy when he’s home and it’s the Three Stooges.

From the first day Y/n had entered their home, Wanda could smell the reefer off the younger woman from three feet away. That accompanied with the stupid goofy grin on her face and Wanda instantly knew the girl was stoned. It wasn’t that Wanda didn’t approve of smoking, she just didn’t want her boys getting sidetracked with that new hobby and letting their grades slip in college, or getting mixed with the wrong crowd, nonetheless, she trusted them enough to ensure that themselves. And most of the time when the kids did visit back home with their new friend, Y/n was the only one stoned, and that only fortified the trust she had in her boys.

It was mid December, the air outside had grown cold and snow had begun to coat the ground in cold powdery layers. The Maximoff household smelt of fresh baked gingerbread cookies and a hint of cinnamon apples. Wanda had begun her baking when the boys told her they were driving home for Winter break. She was excited to see her kids for the holidays, to hear what she missed out on while they were away. She had kept herself pretty busy when the boys left home. She appreciated the free time to figure out who she was outside of being a mother, she had always had her own interests, but when the boys came along, they became her whole world. But now, she had time to try new hobbies and adventure out. She was happy, and it was a bittersweet yet tremendous feeling. So she softly hummed out a tune as she mixed together the cookie dough in the kitchen aid before her, lost in a peaceful bliss.

What Wanda’s kids forgot to mention to her, is that they were bringing Y/n with them for Winter break. Y/n had nowhere else to go for the weeks off, it was either go with the twins or be stuck on campus, the second choice didn’t sound too appealing. So, with a stash tucked in her duffle bag, she hopped in Billy’s suv. They had picked up Tommy from his dorm on the other side of campus, and began their journey back to the Maximoff home. The car was filled with the quiet hum of the wheels along the road and soft music playing in the background, the playlist courtesy of Billy. The twins occasionally chatted about school and the freshest gossip, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable.

As the car cruises down the highway, Y/n’s eyes fall to the window, her mind getting lost in a haze that wasn’t weed induced. Y/n felt guilty, of course she did. She may be stoned all the time, but she wasn’t a complete idiot. She felt as if she was invading the Maximoff household; it was clear to her from the first interactions that Wanda wasn’t necessarily the biggest fan of hers. Whether it was due to her poor introduction or whether it was how she dressed and acted, she couldn’t chalk up which one rubbed Wanda the wrong way. She didn’t want to impose herself into their home, but she didn’t have a different home to go back to. Her plan this winter break was to be out of Wanda’s vision as much as she could. Whether she had to hide away in the guest room all break, or if she had to duck out in Billy’s room. Anything to avoid the fake sugary kindness and judgemental glances.

Billy pulled over to a gas station along the side road, grabbing his wallet. He unbuckled his seatbelt, turning in his seat so he can view both passengers easier. “Alright, I’m running in to grab something to drink, you two want anything?” Billy asks, turning to look at Y/n and Tommy, who was sitting in the backseat with a bag of doritos in his lap.

“Redbull,” Tommy says through a mouthful of chips. Billy cringes, turning to look at Y/n, expecting to see the same reaction, instead he’s met with the sight of her staring off into space, lost in her own mind.

“You alright?” Billy lightly taps the back of his hand to Y/n’s shoulder to grab her attention from the dashboard. The woman jumps at the contact, eyes flying up to meet his.

“Y-yeah I’m good. Just- thinking about something. What did you ask?” She sheepishly requests, scratching the back of her neck.

“Want something to drink? I’m running in.” Billy gives a warm reassuring smile. He knew she was a bit spacey, whether it was the weed or her natural demeanor, he didn’t care. To him, she was good company either way. The day they got assigned to that group project together, he didn’t think much of her, just another person that was gonna slack on their end of the work. But as he got to know her, there was a lot more to her than the simple one-track mind that people assumed was in there. When the other two people in their group project had decided to slack off, she had helped him pick up the weight and finish the project with an A. When Billy saw her effort, he decided Y/n was someone worth keeping around. He knew Y/n was smart, the humble kind of smart. She may have put on a facade in front of others but behind it was a beautiful personality that just needs a little more effort to get to know. And in Billy’s opinion, the effort was well worth it.

“A monster would be great, thank you.” She smiles back. Running a hand through her hair to push it out of her face. Taking a deep breath to shake the lingering thoughts from her mind, blinking them out as she turns to face the boys.

“See, she has manners, unlike SOMEBODY.” Billy jokes, whipping his head to look back at Tommy, who comically whips his head to look behind him for the culprit. Billy snorts at his reaction, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Billy, who’s back there?” Tommy asks, his voice quivering, imitating genuine concern. A dramatic, chip-dust covered hand over his chest to clutch his imaginary pearls. His eyes wide and mortified.

“I can’t with you-” Billy bites back a laugh, shaking his head as he gets out of the car. He closes the door before walking into the gas station. Once Tommy sees that Billy has entered the store, he reaches up to the passenger seat, smacking Y/n in the arm with his hand. Y/n gags at the doritos dust he leaves behind in wake of his touch. Quickly wiping her arm clear of any lingering chip dust while grimacing.

“Dude, break one of those joints out.” Tommy requests, a cheeky grin on his face. He wipes his hands off with one of the wet napkins in the backseat, something Billy kept back there specifically for Tommy after a particularly harrowing trip to Wing Stop in the past. Y/n chuckles and rolls her eyes, shaking her head playfully at his request.

“No way, you know Billy is paranoid about his car smelling.” Y/n reasons with a mischievous grin. “Just wait till we get to your place, we can hide out in your old treehouse again and smoke.” Tommy huffs exaggeratedly and leans back in his seat, “Why can’t you be like, ‘sure Tommy, we can go outside the car and smoke?’” He mimics Y/n’s tone.

“It’s cold, I’m not freezing my ass off out there.” Y/n laughs, glancing back at him. He scoffs and retorts, “As if the treehouse won’t be cold.”

“That’s different because we can plug in the space heater up there.” Y/n points out. The treehouse was something Tommy and Billy’s dad had built for them before his and Wanda’s divorce. He put extra care and work into making it the best treehouse the boys could ask for. As over the years Vision’s efforts proved themself, the treehouse had held up tremendously well, only thing different was the red paint that began to fade in shades.

Billy exits the store, a plastic bag in his hand as he enters the car, passing the bag to Tommy to deal out.

“Ew, did you get sparkling water? What are you?” Tommy playfully mocks his twin, passing the bottle up to Y/n so she can put it in the cupholder. At his words, he receives a chuckle from the woman and a glare from Billy through the rearview mirror. “Gay,” Y/n responds for Billy, “He’s gay.” Snorting when Billy smacks her upper arm in a playful scold. Tommy snickers, passing Y/n her monster from the bag before cracking open his own Redbull.

“Says the other gay,” Billy quips, his lips quirking upwards. Y/n grins, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Takes one to know one.” She jokes, cracking open her can and taking a sip.

Billy and Tommy laugh at her words, settling back in their seats for the rest of the journey. Billy buckles back in his seat, beginning to drive again. Their trip to the Maximoff household is almost complete, only a few more hours ahead of them. The winter clouds brewing a snowstorm above them, dimming the daylight that remained. The heat of the car warmed Y/n’s cheeks, her eyes turning heavy and tired with the comfort. The sound of Britney Spears echoing in the car and filling the silence. Her eyes settled on the fields passing by, and it wasn’t long before her eyes fell shut and soft snores emitted from her.

A few hours later, the tires roll into the driveway, the snow quietly crunching beneath their weight. As Billy pulls the car into park, Tommy reaches up into the passenger seat, delivering a firm but gentle hit to the woman’s arm to wake her. The trio exit the car, collecting their belongings before making their way to the front door. It was painted a bright white with royal blue detailings and a golden doorknob to compliment the colors. A green christmas wreath with bells and ribbons hung from the center. Billy went to grab his keys from his pocket, but before he had the opportunity to pull them out, the door flew open.

Wanda stood before them, a big excited grin on her face as she opened her arms for her boys. She was wearing a grey christmas sweater with black reindeer patterns, a pair of black leggings and fuzzy socks on her feet. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, a small flick of flour littering her cheek. The big grin on her face dwindled slightly at the sight of the familiar y/h/c in front of her. Nonetheless, forcing the grin again to welcome them.

“Boys! Hug your mother!” She teases, pulling the twins into her arms. A small tinge of annoyance tweaked at the back of her mind, not knowing her boys were gonna have a guest with them. Her least favorite one at that. When they pull away from the hug, Wanda gives the best fake smile she can produce. Her green eyes looked the younger woman up and down, taking in her appearance. The younger woman was in jeans, a hoodie, and an old worn out winter hat, no jacket despite the cold temperatures.

“Hi, Ms. Maximoff,” Y/n pipes up with an awkward smile and a half wave. Not really knowing what to do, especially under the older woman’s intimidating gaze.

“Y/n, nice to see you again. Are you staying with us for Winter break?” She asks, praying the answer was no, but not getting her hopes up entirely. She knew that the chances of the girl coming for a quick visit was very unlikely. “Yeah, we didn’t want her to be alone in the dorms for Christmas.” Billy informs, trying to make his mother seek a little empathy for the girl once he notices the look in Wanda’s eyes. At the words, Wanda’s annoyance dwindles slightly, showing some understanding. She gives the warmest smile she can, opening the door to let them all in. “C’mon, don’t want anyone getting a cold, do we?” She says, nodding her head to gesture to them to come in. Wanda slightly grimacing at the whiff of weed on the younger woman’s hoodie as she passes through.

The group piles in, slipping their shoes off by the door before making their ways to set their belongings in their respective rooms. Y/n silently cursing the fact that the guest room was next to Wanda’s room instead of next to the boys. It would make hiding from Wanda a little harder than anticipated. Y/n sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh, mind flicking through anxious thoughts as she eyed her backpack. She grabbed a joint out, making her way into the bathroom connected between the guest room and Wanda’s. Locking both doors and cracking open the bathroom window, Y/n lights her joint. Letting her anxious worries turn into a comforting euphoria as she leaned against the wall, blowing the smoke out the window. Exhaling her worries out with grey puffs. Anxious thoughts dwindling, it wouldn’t be too hard to stay out of Wanda’s way right? All Y/n had to do was stick to the guest room or stick to Billy and Tommy like a parasite. It wasn’t that Wanda was too intimidating to be around. Maybe it was- despite the point, Wanda was stunning. Y/n didn’t do great around pretty women, she turned into a blubbering blushing mess. And especially older women, and Wanda hit both points dead center. She was absolutely stunning, effortlessly so. As Y/n smoked, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander thoughts of the older woman. How cute that speck of flour on her cheek looked, the whimsical pastel gingerbread men on her fluffy socks, every quirk and trait that had Y/n enamored-

'No- no, absolutely not enamored, this is my best friend’s mother for gods sake.'

Wanda was taking the cookies out of the oven, her mind sorting through her thoughts as she set the baking sheets on the stovetop. She began using a spatula to take the cookies off and set them on the drying racks. But the question lingering in her mind is, why didn’t Y/n have anywhere to go? She knew that Y/n never really mentioned her family but Wanda just chalked that up to the younger woman being a rather private person. From what Wanda had observed being around her, Y/n didn’t talk much, only jutting in with the boys when they’re joking around. Wanda knew nothing about her besides the fact that the younger woman was an English major that liked smoking the good kush and was unreasonably good at Mario Kart. That last one she learned when the boys came home for a weekend with her and they all ended up playing a few rounds while Wanda sat on the couch and observed with a content smile. As much as Wanda disliked the younger woman, she was a good kid despite the smoking. Y/n was always a help after supper, offering to do the dishes up as a ‘thank you’, cleaning up after herself, just random chores to help. Maybe, Wanda could try to make peace with the woman. Maybe a few weeks of winter break with her boys and Y/n couldn’t be so bad… Right? She just needed to try to be more understanding, maybe get to know her better. It was for the boys sake, right? Not the fact that she did find the younger woman attractive and a little endearing. Especially with how nervous and bashful she looks whenever Wanda is around, or that cute glimmer in her eyes when she won Mario Kart last time. What was she thinking? It's her son's friend, she can't think like that.

Then the scent hit her.

Wanda ran over to the oven, whipping it open and using an oven mit to take out the last tray of cookies. Slightly burnt and crispy as they clung on to the baking sheet. A small unconscious pout falling on her lips, her brows furrowing as she sets them on the oven. Turning off the oven and shutting it closed. “Damn it,” Wanda mutters, tossing the oven mit on the counter before making her way over to the cookies on the drying rack. Their gold hue mocking the burnt ones. Letting out a sigh, she turned to walk out of the kitchen to give them time to cool down. As she makes her way up the stairs, a faint smile graces her lips, hearing her boys chat in their room as they unpack. She goes to her bedroom to grab her phone off it’s charger, but pauses in her steps. Her nose tipping up as she sniffs the air, smelling something familiar, something burning. Her eyes widen slightly as she makes her way to the connected bathroom, knocking heavily.

“Y/n, you better not be smoking in my house!” She calls through the door, annoyance peeking through her tone.

Y/n freezes, eyes wide in fear and embarrassment of being caught. Quickly snubbing the joint out in the sink and stuffing the remaining half in her hoodie pocket. Panic filling her mind, what happens when she leaves this bathroom? Is she gonna be kicked out? Is she gonna get a lecture from Wanda?

She didn’t know, but boy was she scared to find out. But she took a deep breath, mustering up her courage before unlocking the door and opening it, revealing the brunette before her. Wanda’s eyebrow quirked as the scent grew stronger.

“Hiiii, Wanda.” Y/n drawls out, giving a guilty smile, sheepishly lowering her head to brace for the woman’s reaction. But to her surprise, a small laugh breaks past Wanda’s lips.

That guilty smile tugged at Wanda’s heartstrings in a way she couldn’t help. A small smile that Wanda tried to fight back, and a hint of amusement in her eyes, but she quickly tries to cover both.

“If you’re gonna smoke, go outside.” She reminds, lightly flicking the younger woman in the forehead before entering the bathroom to light a candle to get rid of the smell. Y/n’s eyes widen almost comically, surprised that Wanda didn’t raise her voice.

“Sorry, I know.” Y/n’s cheeks flush pink as she scratches at the back of her neck. Her eyes following as the older woman enters her bedroom again, standing before her.

“It’s alright, just don’t let me catch you again.” Wanda hums playfully, “Now c’mon, I need you and the boys to help me decorate all those cookies, wouldn't want my baking to be for not.” Nodding her head towards the door with a small smile, Wanda heads out into the hall.

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Authors Note- Okay, how are we feeling?

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #b0ng05

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v6quewrlds · 8 months ago

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❝ urge, c. sainz jr. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: you love your boyfriend, you really do. but it's hard to give him grace when he looks that good and denies you like that.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: not at all proofread <3 amazed that i got this up bc it was not looking good when i was trying to write last night, but we ball! day eight of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, my dreadful high school/south florida customer service osmosis spanish, bratty!reader, dom!carlos, exactly two spanks, unprotected sex, creampie.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: carlos sainz x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.4k.

You smoothed over the silk of your crimson lingerie, the fabric hugging your curves like a lover's embrace. You had picked out the set yourself, knowing that the deep red would make Carlos's eyes pop out of their sockets when he saw it. You had been planning this moment for days, each hour of November ticking away like a sadistic metronome, counting down the moments until you could finally have him again.

Carlos had committed himself, without prompting, to a ridiculous challenge: No Nut November. You, bless your heart, had tried to be supportive, but the lack of intimacy was wearing on you. You knew it was all about his "energy levels" and some pseudoscientific nonsense about testosterone that you couldn't bear to pay attention to. You rolled your eyes every time he brought it up, but deep down, you felt a smoldering resentment. It had been weeks since you had been intimate, and you were ready to set that shit on fire.

As you sailed into his office, your eyes gleaming with mischief, you caught him in deep conversation. He was gesturing wildly, the phone cradled against his ear, his full lips moving rapidly in a rush of Spanish that you didn't have the mental capacity or patience to decipher. He looked up at the sound of your entrance, his eyes widening in shock and then darkening with desire as he took in your attire. You bit back a grin, watching him struggle to keep his cool as you sauntered closer.

His thick eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his cheeks flushed slightly, the stubble on them standing out against the tanned skin. He was dressed casually in a white t-shirt and black shorts, which only served to highlight the muscular frame you hadn't been allowed to touch in weeks. Your heart raced, the thrill of the seduction sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

"Carlos, honey," you purred, your voice low with a conspiratorial whisper. If he had questioned your intentions before, there was no doubt now. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes devouring you. "Who's on the phone?"

He paused, the Spanish on the other end of the line growing more insistent. 'Carlos' he mouthed, his wide, brown eyes shooting you a silent plea for mercy, but you had come too far to give up. You placed a hand on the desk, leaning in so that your breasts, pushed up by the lacy bra, nearly spilled over.

"It's okay," you whispered, "I'll just wait."

The conversation continued on, and you could see the effort it took for him to keep his voice steady. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the phone tighter, the conversation the only thing keeping him from pouncing.

Taking a faux interest in a framed photo on his desk, you pretended to absent-mindedly fiddle with the strap of your lingerie, watching the tension build in the room as Carlos listened to his cousin on the other side. You could almost feel the energy shifting, the air thickening with desire and the challenge you had laid before him. His eyes darted down to the swell of your breasts, and you could see his pupils dilate, his jaw clenching.

A delicate hand reached out to play with the hem of your thong, teasing the fabric that barely covered your lower half. You could see Carlos's eyes flicker to your hand, his gaze lingering for a moment too long before shutting them in frustration. The conversation on the phone was winding down, and you could tell he was desperately trying to keep his focus. But the sight of you, the scent of you, the sound of your voice—it was all too much.

Finally, with a curt, "Tío, te llamo más tarde," Carlos hung up the phone, cutting off whatever his cousin was saying. The silence that fell was electric, charged with the buildup of weeks of unspoken need. He set the phone down with a gentle thud and leaned back in his chair, eyeing you with a look that didn't quite hide the hunger in his gaze. [I'll talk to you later, bro.]

"You think this is funny?" he challenged, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver through you.

You couldn't hold back your grin anymore. "Maybe a little."

You stepped closer, your hand tracing the line of your lingerie as if you were the one in charge. But you knew the second you made that first move, you'd be giving up your power.

"You know what's not funny?" Carlos' eyes sparked with something that could only be described as determination. "How much I want to rip these off of you and fuck you right here on my desk."

Your smug smile only grew wider at the raw desire in his voice. "Oh, really?" You leaned in closer, your breasts grazing the desk. "What's stopping you?"

Carlos' nostrils flared, his gaze raking over your body with a hunger that made your core tighten. He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and closed the distance between you two in a heartbeat. He grabbed your hips and yanked you against him, your bodies colliding with a force that made you gasp. He kissed you hard, his teeth grazing your lower lip as his tongue delved into your mouth, tasting you like he had been starved for your touch. His hands roamed over your body, gripping your ass firmly, pulling you closer, making you moan into his mouth.

"You want to play games?" he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Fine. Vamos a jugar." He spun you around so you faced the desk, your heart pounding in anticipation. He stepped back, and you felt a moment of panic, thinking he might change his mind. But then his hands were on your back, pushing you down firmly. [Let's play.]

You felt the cold wood against your cheek, your palms flat on the surface. The scent of wood and his cologne filled your nose as you leaned over, your ass in the air. You looked back at him over your shoulder, your eyes gleaming with challenge. "Is this how you want me?"

Carlos took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on the curve of your spine, the way your hips jutted out in the lacy thong. "No," he said, his voice gruff. "I want you naked. Now."

You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Make me," you taunted, your voice a seductive whisper that sent a jolt of electricity through him.

With a predatory smile, Carlos stepped closer, his hands sliding above your waist to unhook your bra. You shivered as it fell away, your breasts bouncing slightly from the sudden freedom. He stepped back again, his gaze lingering on your bare back as you slowly, deliberately bent to remove your thong. You straightened, tossing it over your shoulder, the fabric landing somewhere behind you.

Without breaking eye contact, Carlos stepped closer, his fingers tracing the line of your spine before he gripped your hips tightly. "I'm not playing games," he warned, his voice thick with need.

He pulled you back against him, the heat of his body almost too much for you to bear. His cock pressed into you, hard and insistent, and you felt your resolve waver.

"I've been waiting weeks for this," you murmured, your voice dripping with honey. "You've been torturing me, Carlos. It's only fair I get a little payback."

Carlos' hand slid down your body, cupping your sex, his thumb pressing against your entrance, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Payback, huh?" He whispered, his voice a dark promise. "Then maybe you'll enjoy this." He pushed you forward so that you were bent over the desk again, your hands gripping the edge, your breath coming in short, eager gasps.

He stepped back, and you heard the sound of his zipper. You couldn't help but look over your shoulder, watching as he freed his cock, the tip glistening with pre-cum. You bit your lip, eager for what was to come. He stepped closer, the tip of him teasing your entrance, making you whine with need. "Carlos, fuck me, please" you begged, your voice breathy and desperate.

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You're going to beg for it?" He taunted, his hand smacking your ass lightly. The sting of it only made you wetter. "I think I like this game."

Without warning, he thrust into you, filling you completely. Your grip tightened on the desk as you gasped, your body adjusting to the sudden intrusion. It had been weeks since you had felt him inside you. You felt a wave of pleasure crash over you as he began to move, his hips pumping into you with a force that made the desk shake.

Carlos groaned, his hands moving to your hips, gripping you tightly as he set a relentless pace. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, along with your ragged breaths and muffled curses. You couldn't hold back your moans, your body responding to his every touch, every thrust. You felt yourself getting wetter, your juices coating his cock as he slammed into you over and over.

He reached around you, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was too much, and you felt the beginnings of an orgasm building inside you. "Fuck, Carlos," you panted, your voice strained with pleasure.

"Not yet, amor," he murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. He slowed his movements, drawing out the agony. You squirmed beneath him, trying to get more friction, trying to push yourself over the edge.

Carlos leaned over you, his hand coming to rest on the back of your neck, pushing you down onto the desk. His grip was firm but not painful, sending a thrill of excitement through you. "You're going to come when I say you can," he whispered, his voice thick with need.

The dominance in his voice had your pussy clenching around his cock, and you whined in response. "Please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled darkly. "You want it?" He didn't wait for your reply, instead speeding up his thrusts, his fingers working your clit with expert precision. The tension grew, coiling tighter in your belly with every movement. You felt your toes curl, your thighs quivering as you neared the edge.

"Prove it," he demanded, his voice strained. "Tell me you want to come for me."

"I do," you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your skin slapping together. "I want to come for you, Carlos."

With a groan of satisfaction, Carlos increased his speed, his cock pistoning in and out of you with an urgency that made your toes curl. You felt yourself getting closer, your muscles tightening around him. He leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as he whispered, "Dale, mi amor. Ven para mi." [Come on, my love. Come for me.]

Your entire body was alight with pleasure, your orgasm building like a tidal wave. You could feel it, so close, just out of reach. "Carlos," you moaned, your voice strained with need. "Yes, baby."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your neck as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin. "That's it, mi vida. Give it to me." His grip on your neck tightened slightly, your face pressed into the desk, his hips moving faster, his cock plunging into your depths.

Your orgasm hit you like a storm, making your whole body convulse, your pussy clamping down on him as you screamed his name into the wood. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, making your vision swim and your legs threaten to give out. You could feel him tense behind you, his breath hot against your neck, his own release close.

"Good girl, haces un desastre, amor," he growled, his hips stuttering before he slammed into you one last time, holding himself deep inside you as he came, his warmth filling you up. The sound of your breathing filled the room, the only noise in the aftermath of your passion. [Make a mess, love.]

You had missed this, missed him, missed the way your bodies moved together like they had been made to fit. You felt his cock soften inside you, but his grip on your neck didn't lessen, his breathing still ragged in your ear.

"You happy with yourself?" Carlos murmured against your neck, his grip loosening to move your hair aside, bending over to press his lips to your sweaty skin. You couldn't help the smug smile that spread across your face, even as your breathing slowly evened out.

"Very," you replied, your voice still a little shaky from the aftermath of your orgasm. You felt him chuckle, the vibrations moving through his chest and into your back as he slowly withdrew from your heat.

"You're not going anywhere," he said with a growl, his eyes still dark with desire. You watched him stride over to his mini-fridge, his cock still semi-erect and glistening. He grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and took a long gulp before walking back over to you. He handed you the water, and you took it gratefully, your throat dry from your intense encounter.

"Thank you," you murmured, taking a sip before holding it out to him again. He took the bottle from your hand, set it aside, and then leaned in to kiss you deeply.

"Te lo dije," Carlos murmured against your lips, the smugness in his voice unmistakable. "You're mine. And I'm not done with you yet." [I told you.]

Your pulse quickened, your body already responding to his claim. You felt a thrill of excitement at the promise in his words. "What do you have in mind?" you asked.

Carlos' gaze was dark and intense, his desire for you written across his face. He took your hand and led you to the threshold of the office, clothing long forgotten on the floor. "I think it's time for round two," he said, his voice low and commanding. You couldn't resist the urge to giggle, but the sound was cut short by a sharp smack to your ass as he guided you to your bedroom.

#&. cassie writes.#&. nnn masterlist.#carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x black!reader #black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader

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sacredsorceress · 4 months ago

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hi, it’s me again

could you please write something inspired by “but original trilogy logan would be ALL over you with that” as you said in this post

tysm you’re so awesome <3

my mom and i were just having a conversation on facetime this morning about logan and i'll repeat what she told me to the rest of you: "he's not like this anymore, but the old wolverine [referring to triology!logan] used to be SO charismatic and funny." so yes I would be more than happy to explore further on how logan would get SUCH a kick out of teasing you. (not proofread)

⋆˙⟡ Baking for Trilogy!Logan ⋆˙⟡

inbox | logan masterlist

The mansion was uncharacteristically quiet.

The day before, winter break had begun. Although there were a few stragglers who stayed within the building's fortress-like walls year round, the majority had left in no less than a hurry. Most professors would take this as an invitation to sleep in until noon.

You, however, saw the rare opportunity to have the kitchen to yourself.

Before the sun had even risen, the indigo hue of twilight stretching its fingers through your blinds, you were awake. When you had shuffled into the kitchen the stovetop clock had read 6:17 back at you. Now, as a loaf of bread sat baking in the oven while bowls whisked themselves around you- who said telekinetic abilities couldn't be used for baking?- you had lost track of time.

The yellow warmth of the sun had just begun to kiss your skin when you heard the door creak open.

Logan's eyes ran over the microbakery you had established in the kitchen as he turned on the coffee machine.

"You ever sleep?" Logan asked, throwing open the fridge.

"I could ask you the same thing, Logan." You said, picking up a chocolate chip cookie from the cooling rack. "Here, try this."

Logan raised his eyebrow.

"C'mon, it's good!" You urged.

Leaning himself against the kitchen island, he rolled his eyes and accepted your offering.

When he took a bite, the gooey chocolate stained his lips and your eyes grazed his throat, staring as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. To your relief, he didn't notice- too engrained in the flavor hitting his tongue. You even swore you saw his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Logan groaned, taking another bite.

"Are you tryin' to fatten me up?" He asked.

The timer rang.

You laughed as you went to pull the finished bread from the oven.

"Well I always heard that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach."

You hadn't thought about the words until they escaped your lips. Even then, you hadn't considered them too seriously. It was a phrase, a common one at that, but when said to Logan they carried an all too real weight in honesty.

You bit your tongue, hoping it would blow over. Knowing Logan, you should have guessed that wouldn't be the case.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, planting one hand against the fridge to lean over you. He was so close, so intimately in your space, that his hot breath warmed your neck. "Trying to steal my heart, darlin'?"

Despite the pounding of your own heart against your chest, you feigned annoyance; groaning and swatting Logan with your towel.

"You know what I meant."

Logan told you once that you had a shit poker face. You could hear his voice rattling around in your skull, reminding of how easy you were to read as you turned back to your work, hiding your face from view.

But Logan had time and a prompt. Two hell of a things for an instigator to be in possession of.

He stepped into your path.

"I'm not sure I do, sweetheart." Logan teased, a coy smile on his lips. "Didn't know you thought about me like-"

Maybe you should have let that loaf of bread burn and engulf the kitchen in flames, you thought. Maybe then the heat of the room would outweigh the burning of your cheeks.

"Logan!"

Logan gestured towards the door with one hand while the other rested against his chest. Faux-sincerity.

"I thought you'd be into those square assholes like Red."

You grimaced. Scott was a wonderful guy, but it was difficult to imagine him as anything other than a friend when he stood next to Logan. Scott was a shimmering light in the dark, but Logan hung the stars in the sky.

At times, it was difficult not to be envious of Jean- a woman who casually dismissed the love you so desperately vied for.

"Logan, I'm serious." You huffed. "Stop."

As if your words slid off him like water, he ignored them. Instead grabbing another cookie from the rack.

"Cute gesture," He said waving the baked good in the air. "Cooking f'me."

He winked and took another bite.

"A few more of these and you might get a ring outta me."

Your breath caught in your throat.

You thought of everything you could say- every insult you could hurl at him for making your affection a game, for playing with the feelings you suspected he knew about. But none of them landed.

Instead, all you managed was:

"You're an asshole, Logan."

And swatting his hand away from another cookie.

#logan #logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #xmen fanfiction #logan howlett blurb #logan howlett headcanon #wolverine drabble #logan drabble #logan howlett fluff #wolverine fluff

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moonstruckme · 10 months ago

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Hey Mae!! Congrats on 7k!! I couldn’t possibly think of anyone more deserving than you<3

Can I request a little apple pie with tasm!Peter and the prompt dark lipstick smeared on a cheek?

Congratulations again and I also hope you had a wonderful birthday yesterday!!

Thank you angel <3

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 350 words

You hear a whistle on the wind. It’s faint, almost impossible to pick out over the constant thrum and chatter the city, but you have practice. You turn down the next empty alley you find.

There’s the soft thump of something hitting the ground soon after.

“Hi Peter,” you say, turning around with a smile.

Your boyfriend’s in his suit. He lets his head loll to the side as he walks towards you, some mix of exasperation and fondness. “Why are you walking home down dark alleys?”

“Because I knew you’d come talk to me.”

“Wha—” Peter lifts up his hands, helpless. “Are you always just walking down alleys on the off chance I’ll come talk to you?”

“No,” you laugh, stepping toward him so you can put your hands on his shoulders. The material of his suit is slippery under your fingers. “Peter, I knew you were there. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

“Really?” He sounds a bit disappointed. “Stealth is sort of part of the thing…”

“You’re very stealthy. I’m just more wily than most of the supervillains you fight.”

“I don’t generally fight supervillains.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.” He brings his arms around your waist, and tingles dance up your spine as his hand flattens over your lower back. You sense his smile underneath the mask. “Definitely not tonight. Tonight I fight creeps who come after my girl on her way home.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Were you planning on someone coming after me?”

“No.” He laughs. You feel the puff of hair on your face as he drops his forehead to yours. “No. I just wanted to make sure no one did.”

“Awe.” You tilt your head up, smearing a kiss over his cheek. “My hero.”

Peter squeezes your waist. “Did you just get lipstick on my mask?” he asks you.

“Yup.” You grin. “It looks great.”

“You’re really not doing a lot for my street cred tonight, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be alright.” You press your lips to the same spot again, darkening the mark. “This way all your supervillains know you’re taken.”

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jude-duarte-wannabe · 10 months ago

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one order to be served by lewis carl davidson hamilton please!! oaty slice, english muffin, apple turnover and croissant with a side of tea, cider and pina colada 😁😁 reader is working remotely and having an online meeting but lewis is dying to eat her out and just do it while she was in the meeting 🥵💦

irresistible

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, i think this may be my longest story yet, i have been dying to write this and get back to writing after being gone so long, i hate promising to post and then not being able to cause of work, sorry for the late reply <3 your requested prompts will be bolded

pairing; husband lewis hamilton x female wife reader

blurb; working from home while trying to hide the fact that your married and pregnant is hard when your husband can't keep is hands to himself, he's just lucky you love him aka lewis eats his wife out while she's on a zoom call

warnings; oral fem!receiving, thigh kisses, belly kisses, semi public sex, body worship, pregnancy kink. [let me know if i missed anything]

tea; semi public sex cider; body worship pina colada; pregnancy oaty slice; "you smell like me" english muffin; "i could die between these legs" apple turnover; "can you keep it down in there" changed to "can you keep it down under there" croissant; "don't you dare"

words; 3.1k

currently playing; hands to myself by selena gomez "can't keep my hands to myself, no matter how hard i'm trying to"

"oh god dammit, boba no!" you scolded your two year old calico who sat on the stool next to your laptop, swatting at the screensaver you had set, picking her up you stepped out of the little home studio you'd made for yourself during the covid days.

"lew!" you called out waiting for an answer but after not getting one, you wandered down the hall and into the living room, as you carried boba into the living room, she squirmed in your arms, clearly displeased at being removed from her new favorite perch, you sighed, scratching behind her ears to relax her "i know, i know the pretty lights are fun, but mommy needs to work."

as you entered the living room, you noticed lewis sprawled out on the couch, completely engrossed in whatever he was watching on his phone. you rolled your eyes fondly, a soft smile decorating your face as you realized why he hadn't answered your call.

"lew..." still no response as his eyes remained trained on his phone "lewis hamilton" you scolded and that caught his attention immediately, looking up at you with soft eyes as he dropped his phone.

"am i in trouble.." he gulped, looking sheepish as he responded.

"not yet," you said, your tone softening as you took in his worried expression. "but you will be if you don't start paying attention."

you merely dropped boba onto his lap and crossed your arms over your chest "please keep her out of my studio... the album is due at the end of the month and i still have three songs to finish" you groaned.

he nodded numbly which made you feel guilty for scolding him over something so silly and so you lent down and placed little kisses against his lips "i'm sorry i called you lewis" you mumbled as your thumb gently traced over his cheek. "you'll always be my lew"

you left him on the sofa, shuffling to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge but before you could move and return to your studio, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, cradling your pregnant belly lightly.

"you smell like me bub" lewis mumbled into the skin of your neck, which sent shivers zipping up and down your spine.

you leaned back into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his body against yours. a soft smile played on your lips as you placed your hands over his, intertwining your fingers.

"i should hope so," you murmured, turning your head slightly to catch his eye, resting it on his shoulder. "i've been wearing your sweater all day."

he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. "i noticed," he said, his arm tightening around you. "it looks incredible on you."

"well i unfortunately have to take it off soon" you groaned "stupid zoom meeting with my producer"

lewis sighed, running his fingers over your bump, the soft fabric of his over sized sweater rubbing on your skin gently. "can't you just keep it on for the meeting?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

you shook your head, a wry smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "not unless i want to explain to my producer why i'm wearing 'the' lewis hamilton's sweater" you giggled.

lewis chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "but i'd love to see see his reaction." his voice dropped into a whisper, your producer had always been flirty with you mainly because he thought you were single and lewis hated it.

you playfully swatted his arm, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity and tone of voice. "that's horrible lew"

"i hate the way he flirts with you, your mine" he growled against the skin of your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin. "and this proves it" his finger ran over the cold metal of your wedding band.

"your lucky i love you lew, your so possessive and you and i both know you like keeping this private, i like it being just us" you giggled, removing yourself from his grip, pulling his sweater up and over your head, placing it on the counter.

you stood on your tippy toes to peck his lips "love you, i should go" and with that you made your way back to your studio, almost waddling due to the size of your belly.

as you walked, lewis couldn't help but admire you in your white floral maternity dress, he couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in his belly or resist the surge of desire that simmered within him.

lewis had always found you irresistible but now that you were pregnant he could hardly ever keep his hands to himself anymore, working on your newest album was the only break you got from his ever wandering hands.

but unfortunately for you, it seemed that not even that would be enough to stop lewis anymore, he made his way to your home studio, feet padding on the hardwood floors as he went.

you wouldn't have even known that lewis was there, leaning against the door-frame had he not accidentally bumped the door causing the hinges to squeak.

"what are you doing lew" you mumbled, taking your seat in front of your mic, lewis didn't answer your question, he merely wandered over and dropped to his knees in front of you.

his head rested in your lap, hands holding your hips as he placed kisses to your swollen belly, each of them filled with love and a gentleness that only lewis had ever shown you, it was part of the reason you'd fallen for him.

"want to taste you bub" his words were mumbled but you understood him well enough, you shook your head "don't you dare even think about it" you softly scolded, hand cupping his cheek.

but lewis wasn't in the mood to listen, he wanted to taste you and he had to do it now, the desire simmering within him was pushing him to do so, you were beautiful and he just couldn't get enough of you.

his hands trailed up your thighs, his touch feather light and making a pool of desire simmer in your own belly or was that just the baby getting hungry again, most likely the latter you thought as a giggle escaped your soft lips.

"why do i even bother" you murmured as his fingers started pulling at the band of your panties, eager to get them off and thrown into the nearest corner as soon as humanly possible.

you lifted your hips knowing if you didn't that lewis would simply rip them off you and you couldn't afford to be down yet another pair of panties all because your husband couldn't keep his hands to himself.

you watched as his head disappeared under the skirts of your dress, hands gently parting your thighs to get a better look at your dripping cunt, the way this man could affect you so easily.

he nuzzled against the soft skin of your thigh, you started to get lost in the feeling when the facetime ringtone rang out through the room causing you to jump in your seat, you were so distracted by your god of a husband that you'd basically forgotten you were meant to be facetiming your producer.

"can you keep it down under there" you asked lewis and when he hummed against your skin, you trusted him, bad choice might i say and adjusted your laptop so that both lewis and your belly were out of view before clicking 'accept call'.

"there's the star i know and love" your producer; thomas's voice rang out, you glanced at the screen and smiled as best you could, with lewis currently between your legs, the last thing you wanted to be doing right now was talking to thomas.

"hey tom" you mumbled, voice quiet in order to keep yourself from moaning as lewis kissed at your thighs, slowly inching his way towards your dripping wet cunt with every kiss.

thomas began to ramble about the new album and the last three songs that were needed and while you tried your best to listen, your focus was quickly pulled away from the computer screen and was put into staying quiet when lewis's tongue licked your cunt from bottom to top, nibbling on your clit which he knew would make you squirm.

you nibbled on your bottom lip, struggling to keep your composure as lewis worked his magic between your thighs. you could have sworn you could taste the metallic tang of blood from how hard you were gnawing on your bottom lip in that moment.

thomas's voice began to fade into a distant buzz in your ears. your fingers gripped at the arms of your chair, knuckles turning white as you fought the urge to moan.

lewis's hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he continued his relentless assault on your senses. the thrill of potentially being caught only heightened your arousal. you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your body betraying your attempts to appear normal.

"taste so good" you heard lewis's mumbled voice and if you weren't so focused on trying to remain quiet and not draw attention to what was really going on, on your side of the screen you would've smacked him round the head.

thomas's face on the screen remained oblivious, still chattering away about chord progressions and potential guest artists. "what about olivia, we've been wanting to work together for awhile" you suggested when you managed to calm yourself enough to speak, your suggestion set thomas off on another tangent.

'good' you thought, that should hopefully keep him distracted for a while but you were once again pulled from your thoughts when lewis's tongue swirled around your most sensitive spots, making your thighs tremble around his head.

you were struggling to maintain your composure as lewis continued his ministrations. thomas's voice once again fading into a distant buzz as pleasure coursed through your body.

"that's actually a great idea," you managed to catch thomas say. "maybe we could arrange a writing session next week?" he suggested to which you merely nodded in return.

lewis's hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of your chair, the new angle sent a jolt of electricity up your spine, and you had to disguise the gasp that escaped you as a cough.

"everything okay?" thomas asked, his brow furrowing with concern, he was always concerned when it came to you, sometimes a little too much for lewis's liking.

"peachy" you squeaked, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "just recovering from a bit of a dry throat" you lied, reaching for your water bottle to make it seem real.

lewis's hands tightened on your thighs, he was going to leave bruises that was for sure but knowing your husband as well as you did, he would also make sure to kiss them better because he hated hurting you, even when you insisted you were fine.

you knew you were completely fucked however the moment you felt lewis's tongue slip inside your cunt, desperate to taste every bit of you that he could.

your breath caught in your throat as lewis's tongue explored you hungrily. every flick and swirl sending shock waves of pleasure radiating through your body, your hips began to involuntarily move against his face the best they could with your rounded swollen belly in the way, thank god it was still hidden from the cameras view.

"oh god, bub" you moaned softly, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

he growled quietly in response, the vibrations only intensifying the sensations you were currently feeling. lewis's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he devoured you with single-minded focus, you were his top priority in this moment and his focus would remain entirely on you, until you tipped over the edge of your release.

wave after wave of bliss washed over you as lewis worked you expertly with his mouth, you could feel yourself getting close, teetering on the edge of release, just a little more...

"ah y/n, you still with me" holy fuck!, you'd completely forgotten about your producer currently working on a melody on his side of the computer screen, thomas was the most oblivius man you'd ever known and today it was working in your favor.

the fact that he somehow hadn't noticed what was going on almost made you laugh, you bit your lip hard to stop yet another soft moan from slipping past your lips and despite everything that was happening, you somehow managed to croak out a reply to thomas.

"y-yeah, just concentrating," you stammered, struggling to keep your voice steady, thomas nodded absentmindedly, completely focused on the track he was currently mixing. "what do you think of this bassline?" he asked, pressing play.

a pulsing beat filled the room, providing the perfect cover as lewis picked up his efforts, he wanted thomas to know what was going on but you were not about to let that happen, not on your watch.

"it's good," you gasped out "maybe try... ah speeding it up a bit?"

as thomas began to fiddle with the tempo, you felt yourself rapidly approaching the point of no return, lewis's skilled tongue was soon joined by his equally skilled fingers slipping inside your tight hot cunt as his mouth started to suck and nibble on your clit.

all the emotions and sensations that you were feeling was making your head dizzy, you wanted to end the call with thomas right then and there so that you could focus on lewis and lewis alone but you knew that, that wasn't about to happen unfortunately.

as lewis's movements intensified, you were struggling to maintain your composure, your breath quickened as you fingers tangled in the fabric of your dress skirt and hiked it up and around your hips.

as you did lewis looked up at you with mischievous eyes, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you, his fingers curled inside you, finding that pleasurable spongy spot inside you as his tongue flicked rapidly over your sensitive bud, you swore you could feel lewis smile agaisnt you.

"is everything alright?" thomas asked, finally beginning to notice how quiet you were being on this call compared to all the other video calls you'd shared over these past few months.

"ah.. actually no" you stammered out. "i think i might be coming down with something" you lied to thomas for a second time today.

lewis increased his pace, determined to push you over the edge, you weren't sure how much longer you were going to be able to hold on.

your breath hitched as you tried to maintain your composure, thomas's concerned voice crackled through the phone, "do you need to rest? we can talk later if you're not feeling well."

"n-no, it's okay," you managed to mutter, lewis's fingers dug into your thighs, his tongue and finger's relentless rhythm threatening to unravel you completely.

"are you sure?" thomas pressed, clearly unconvinced. "you sound... strange." panic fluttered in your chest. you couldn't let him suspect what was really happening. "i'm fine, really," you insisted, your voice strained. "just a bit of a headache." you reached for your water once more.

lewis pulled away from your cunt, his fingers slipping out of your warm cunt as well, his breath was hot against the skin of your thighs as he whispered, "tell him you have to go” oh how you prayed thomas hadn't heard that.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at lewis's command. your mind raced, torn between the overwhelming sensations that your husband was making you feel and the need to stay on the video call with thomas and finish the album.

"actually," you gasped out, "i think i might need to lie down for a bit." you had caved, mind you with a husband like lewis, who wouldn't cave when asked.

"of course," thomas replied, his voice laced with genuine concern for you "get some rest. we can catch up tomorrow."

"thanks," you whispered, your finger moved the cursor so it was hovering over the end call button. "i'll text you later." as soon as the call disconnected, a low moan escaped your lips.

lewis looked up at you again "good girl," he murmured, his voice husky with desire for you, his beautiful wife. "now, let me hear you properly."

you finally allowed you restraint crumble and you cried out, no longer having to hide the pleasure coursing through your body. "your a fucking menace lew" you scolded your husband as he went back to work, tongue flicking across your clit with renewed fervor.

lewis chuckled against your sensitive core, the vibrations sending shock waves of pleasure through you once more, his strong hands which you loved oh so much gripped at your thighs, holding you in place as you writhed in your seat.

"you love it," he murmured "no i love you" you replied, fingers tangling in with his twisted braids "my handsome handsome husband"

"don't you dare stop," you gasped, your voice hoarse with need, lewis redoubled his efforts, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just so and that's when you saw stars, your back arched as waves of ecstasy washed over you

"that's it, baby," lewis encouraged, your body trembled as he guided you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, his touch now feather-light and teasing, when your breathing finally steadied, he kissed a trail up your body paying special attention to your bump before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, you swore you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"you're so beautiful when you come undone," he murmured pulling away his voice low and husky, his hands rubbed at your thighs soothingly "i could die between these legs" he chuckled.

"i am so going to write a song about this" you teased with a giggle, hand cupping his cheek as you stared into the brown eyes you loved so much, that could be a pretty could be an interesting way to announce your relationship you thought.

he leaned into your touch, a soft smile playing on his lips. "oh yeah? what's it gonna be called?" he asked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

"hmm," you pondered, pretending to think hard. "how about 'the ballad of lewis's talented tongue'?" you joked.

lewis could help but burst out in laughter, burying his face in your neck, "cheeky," he mumbled against your skin, pressing a soft kiss there. "i like it though but i might have to fight you for the rights to it."

you ran your thumb across his cheek, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. "we could always collaborate," you suggested, your voice softening. "i think we would make beautiful music together."

lewis lifted his head, meeting your gaze with a tender look that made your heart skip. "we already do, love,"

#formula one #formula 1 #formula one fanfiction #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader smut #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton

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juuuulez · 10 months ago

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bearblr promptober + kinktober 2024

this october i’ll be doing half of each! on alternating days, i’ll be posting the corresponding bearblr prompt (created by the almighty @carmenberzattosgf), and then a kinktober drabble of my own choosing.

here’s the lineup, fics will be updated and linked next month! kinktober is (obviously) smut, and prompts marked with 🍂 indicate non-smut/fluff.

🍂 bearblr #1: scary movie -> sydney adamu

💌 completed

kinktober #2: nipple play -> carmen berzatto

💌 completed

🍂 bearblr #3: apple picking -> carmen berzatto

💌 completed

kinktober #4: throat fucking -> steve harrington

💌 completed

bearblr #5: vampire -> richie jerimovich

💌 completed

kinktober #6: cockwarming + under the desk -> keys mckey

💌 completed

bearblr #7: orgasm control -> carmen berzatto

💌 completed

kinktober #8: hate fuck + semi-public sex -> steve harrington

💌 completed

kinktober #9: body worship + on film -> veronica fisher

💌 completed

🍂 bearblr #10: rain soaked -> richie jerimovich

💌 completed

kinktober #11: spanking -> lip gallagher

💌 completed

kinktober #12: subspace -> steve harrington

💌 completed

🍂 bearblr #13: hot cocoa + baking -> carmen berzatto

💌 completed

bearblr #14: somnophilia -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

kinktober #15: edging -> keys mckey

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #16: bonfire -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

bearblr #17: dumbification -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #18: candlelight -> michael berzatto

💌 incomplete

kinktober #19: possessed -> steve harrington

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #20: slow morning -> carmen berzatto

💌 incomplete

kinktober #21: orgasm denial -> steve harrington

💌 incomplete

kinktober #22: squirting + competitive -> lip + carmy

💌 incomplete

bearblr #23: dacryphillia -> carmen berzatto

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #24: haunted house -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

bearblr #25: size kink -> carmen berzatto

💌 incomplete

kinktober #26: breeding + overstim -> lip gallagher

💌 incomplete

kinktober #27: wet dream -> carmen berzatto (solo)

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #28: sick day -> michael berzatto

💌 incomplete

kinktober #29: dry humping + high sex -> steve harrington

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #30: sweaters (sharing clothes) -> carmen berzatto

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #31: trick or treat -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

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solarmorrigan · 9 months ago

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Tastes Better on You

For the @steddie-spooktober day 3 prompt: Apples Rated: T | Words: 736 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, fluff, Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson have a sibling relationship, modern AU, it barely matters though, it's mostly just so we can worry a little less about homophobia Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Cold weather agrees with Steve, Eddie thinks.

He stands back and takes a moment to appreciate it: the color in Steve’s cheeks, the sweater pulling snug across his shoulders, the way the breeze ruffles his hair. He stands at the edge of the pumpkin patch, arms crossed over his chest, a little smile on his face as he watches the kids pick the field over for victims to be carved later that afternoon. He’s limned perfectly in afternoon sunlight, golden and shining and beautiful.

And all Eddie’s.

Eddie shakes himself out of his reverie and heads back over with the spoils of his trip to the refreshment stand.

“Your drink, milord,” he blusters, holding a cup of hot cider up for Steve to take.

Steve blinks in surprise at the cup suddenly thrust into his field of vision before he takes it with a smile and a “thanks, babe,” further rewarding Eddie with a kiss on the cheek.

Eddie beams. He hadn’t wanted anything from the concession stand himself—he knows they’ll be roasting the pumpkin seeds later in the evening and he knows he’s going to eat a metric fuckton of them, so he might as well save room—but this right here is exactly why he’d volunteered to go get something for Steve. He settles back into place next to him and looks out over the field.

“Are you going to pick out a pumpkin, too?” Eddie asks.

Steve, caught mid-sip, hums and shrugs. “I don’t know,” he hedges once he’s swallowed. “I don’t really like cleaning them out, getting all that slimy shit on your skin. Feels weird.” He gives a theatrical little shudder, and Eddie grins.

Back in high school, everyone had been able to see the deliberate care Steve had put into his clean-cut appearance, but Eddie never would have guessed that he could be downright persnickety at times. He loves being privy to it.

“How about I help?” he offers. “I’ll deal with the slimy shit, and we can carve it together.”

Steve sends him a sidelong glance, cautious and considering; he’s still thrown sometimes by how genuine Eddie is in his interest, in his affection. He isn’t used to having people meet him halfway, but he’s getting there.

“We could do that, yeah,” he finally says, hiding his smile in another sip of cider. “This is really good, by the way, thanks.”

“The cider?”

“Mm,” Steve hums around the rim of the cup.

“Mind if I try some?” Eddie asks.

Shaking his head, Steve swallows and offers Eddie the cup. Eddie has other ideas.

He gently pushes the cup to the side and leans in, catching Steve’s mouth in a kiss. His tongue darts out, sweeping across Steve’s lips, and he tastes like crisp apples and warm spices and bright sunshine.

“You could’ve just tried some from the cup,” Steve murmurs when Eddie pulls back, even smiling as he is.

“Tastes better on you,” Eddie says, before pressing back in for another kiss.

Steve opens right up to him, and Eddie chases the taste of sweet-spiced apples right into his mouth. Steve’s free hand finds purchase on Eddie’s waist while Eddie reaches up to cup Steve’s jaw, tilting his head just so, searching for a better angle, when–

“Steve!” Dustin’s voice cuts across the field, pulling both Steve’s and Eddie’s focus from the kiss. “Quit sucking face and come help me with my pumpkin!”

Rollin his eyes, Steve huffs out a sigh and, regrettably, pulls away from Eddie.

“You want to stick a ‘please’ in there, Henderson?” he calls back.

“Please stop being gross,” Dustin snarks.

“What’s that?” Steve cups a hand behind his hear. “Sounds kind of like someone who doesn’t want help carrying their stupidly huge pumpkin.”

Dustin, stationed in front of what is truly a very large pumpkin, lets his head fall back with a groan. “Steve,” he intones, “will you please come help me with this pumpkin.”

“Yeah, alright,” Steve calls back. He turns to Eddie and presses the cup of cider into his hand. “I’ll be back. Pick a good one for us while I’m gone.” He pecks another kiss to Eddie’s cheek and sets off across the field.

Slowly, Eddie sips from the cup and watches as Steve and Dustin argue about the best way to get the pumpkin to the van, a smile and the taste of apples lingering on his lips.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie-spooktober #solar wrote #eddiesteve

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starhvney · 2 months ago

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@cainxxremains requested: begging for MCD gene,,, leaning towards tea and i don't have a preference for cream or cinnamon. AS FOR PROMPTS i'm thinking pumpkin bread, apple turnover, or roasted marshmallows :0

𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: romantic tension, hurt/comfort, reader is sick & warm by a fire

𝐚/𝐧: since i completed a order for for pumpkin bread with mcd gene, i went ahead and just did the apple turnover and roasted marshmallows :3 hope you like it! also, i lost your request in my inbox, i’m so sorry??? i’m glad i saved this in my docs drafts omg

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Your head spins as you kneel to the ground, fingers brushing against the rough bark of the logs you’d just dropped in your rather unfortunate trip to the ground. Snow soaks into your clothes where your knees dig into the earth, huffs of vapor leaving your lips as you try to control the black that was threatening to overtake your vision. All you needed was a little firewood, but it seems you were too weak to even do that on your own, whatever sickness you were fighting off more serious than you had initially taken it.

“What are you doing out here?” Gene’s voice startles you, sharp and stern.

With a grimace, you squint up at his towering figure. You hadn’t even heard him coming—not a crunch of a footstep in the snow or an exhale from his lungs from the long journey. Somehow, he always managed to sneak up on you like this, saving you from the trouble you’d gotten yourself into. His arms are crossed, brows furrowed as he looks down at your rather pathetic form shivering in the cold.

“I told you not to go out and exert yourself,” he continues, voice almost blank.

“You were gone for a while after I woke up. I thought you’d left for a few days again.” You cough, black spots taking over and making you hunch over for a moment, leaving Gene’s boots in your vision. They’re a bit dirty, and a few dark red splatters drip down the leather. “…I was cold.”

You don’t have time to question the suspicious substance on his shoes as strong hands hook around your arms, pulling you up onto your feet. You groan as unconsciousness nearly takes you, but before you could tumble over again, he scoops your legs from under you and hoists you up against his chest with a sigh. It feels like cotton has been stuffed in your ears, and you try not to panic as you fight off fainting.

“Why… humans… so weak? I should just…” He mumbles as he walks, and you barely pick up the words over his raspy tone. “But last time… didn’t like it.”

…What?

Your back finds the cot he had practically kept you prisoner on since he’d visited and found you unwell, right by the fireplace where a sad-looking pile of charcoal and ashes lay.

“I said I was getting medicine and took care of the doctor who gave you the wrong herbs.” He says, clicking his tongue in displeasure when he looks around to see that he hadn’t left any wood inside for you when you woke up. He must not have planned to be gone as long as he was.

“…Took care of him?” you wheeze, unable to ignore the small inkling of unease despite your dazed state, already forgetting his previous strange words.

“…I talked with him.” His eyes flick to you, nose wrinkling. “You should be worried more about your own health than that worthless man, anyway.”

You can’t shake off the vision of what so clearly must have been blood on his shoes, but you can’t find any words to confront him, instead staring up at him in your disbelief. He huffs, pointing at you like a disobedient child as he walks back to the door.

“Stay. There.”

You offer a wheezy cough in return, left in silence as he shuts you away from the harsh weather. The ceiling spins, and you curse at your lungs as they punish you for even attempting to stand earlier, let alone do any physical work. You feel miserable, so while that voice in the back of your head tells you something is off about the man you’d let into your life so closely, you’re more focused on the warm feeling in your chest at the fact that he came back to take care of you. So often did he have to leave for “mercenary duties” that you’d see him only for a few days before he’d go for weeks at a time, letting you in close and pulling at your heartstrings before leaving you wanting for his presence. But he’s stayed for a whole week now, and you can’t help but smile deliriously at the fact.

Gene returns with a pile of wood in his arms a minute later—he must’ve gotten dry ones from your stock outside rather than the ones you’d fumbled to the ground just outside the door. He kneels by the fireplace, stoking up the dying embers and glancing back at you. Many times, you’ve seen his eyes go terrifyingly cold towards others, but there’s a spark there that warms the dark blue hue like the fire in the hearth. Sometimes, you swear you could see a twinge of red in the hue, but it would return back to the color of a dazzling night sky before you could question it, and you’d be hypnotized once again.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he turns to you, inching closer to your side and leaning over you on the cot.

You feel a twinge of embarrassment, feeling caught, but it's better to just admit your thoughts from before than suffer his sarcastic teasing in the state you were in.

“Because you came back.”

A moment passes where he observes your face, his lips parting and eyes narrowing, before he shakes his head.

“I’m not going to leave you like this,” he scoffs.

“So you’ll leave once I’m better.” Despite the uncomfortable cold sweats heading down the back of your neck, you’re slightly grateful that it’s kept him here for this long.

He sighs, looking at the wall. His silence gives your answer.

“I wish you’d stay,” you mutter, feverish delirium overtaking your usual hesitations. “With me.”

His jaw clenches before he looks back down at you, eyes muddled with an indescribable emotion. “Trust me, if you let me in that close, you’d regret it.”

“…Then when I’m better, I want to leave with you. To go where you go.”

“No.” His response is quick, stern. “That can’t happen, either. It’s not safe. And unless...”

He trails off, eyes possessively raking across your form. His calloused fingers brush along the delicate skin of your throat, the stiff, roughness that almost seemed inhuman sending a shiver across your skin. Or maybe it’s the fever getting to you.

“Unless…?” you croak.

He’s quiet for another few beats, and you frustratingly have no clue what his inner monologue could be, no matter how hard you try to decipher it through his face.

“Focus on getting better. Then we can talk about these things.” You have a feeling he’ll come up with more excuses by then, but you have no energy to argue when he stands, walking to your kitchen and ending the conversation with finality. “I’ll make you your favorite soup and prepare your medicine.”

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @arienic @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch @izzybella1807 @marst4rz @vyladsgirl @allieyaaa @luvsymai @yoom-ss @garrothswiferealnotfake @fartmonster98

#aphmau #aphmau mcd #gene minecraft diaries #aphmau minecraft diaries #minecraft diaries x reader #gene x reader #aphmau gene #mcd gene

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skibasyndrome · 2 months ago

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Hi! I can’t get over how much I love your wilmon fics/ficlets and your writing style.

I’d love to read what you come up with for smut prompt - 44. “keep going”

gaaaaaaahhhh, anon you are so sweet!!! thank you so much for your kind words, I'm so glad you like them!!! 💜💜💜 and thank you for this prompt! since yesterday's ficlet got a little long I'm gonna try to keep this one shorter. alsooo, since I have no sunday snippet to post because I've only been writing these prompt fills, take this as my sunday not-snippet.

cw: nsfw, Wille being very dramatic about having missed Simon <3 maybe Simon is also a little dramatic

When Wille shifts on his knees, changes the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly, Simon tightens his grip on Wille's hair. Pulling hard enough to drag a broken groan out of him.

"Sorry... 's just," Simon lets out a short, strained giggle, then immediately stops when Wille carefully pulls back and pushes forward again. Simon's eyes fall closed, jaw slacker than before. "Yea- yeah." Simon sounds so utterly breathless when he lets go of Wille's hair, looks like a vision spread out on the bed, head thrown back and Adam's apple bobbing with every strained inhale. Wille has to remind himself to move, too busy staring and watching and taking it all in. "You can," he says, proud when he can keep his voice from wavering, even when he's feeling warm and tight and Simon and an overwhelm that's so welcome he'd love nothing more than to stop thinking. "Pull, I mean," he adds, moving lower, almost chest to chest, Simon's enticing body heat just centimeters from him, "pull my hair. You can." Simon doesn't open his eyes again when he nods, just lets his hands find their way back, over Wille's shoulder, fuck, brushing his neck, then, finally, tugging again. Wille has missed this, fuck, he's missed this so much. Can't believe he had to go four awful, awful weeks of family holiday without this, without Simon, without having him, like this, or any way, really, without... Wille's body is ablaze with the heat of again and more and never stop. He hums happily when Simon pulls a little more sharply, tries to sink even deeper into Simon, tries to get closer when he knows he can't. Simon's moan, Simon digging his heel into the back of Wille's thigh, oh, Wille can never get enough of this. "Missed this," he gasps out, slowly, carefully picking up speed again. Trying not to let the urgency get the best of him, trying to drag out the moment, trying to make this last, get the most out of this. It's been so long, he needs to savor the sensation, he needs to drink up every moment he gets to feel Simon so... completely. So close his heart is beating heavily with the weight of it. Simon's fingers are rubbing circles into Wille's scalp, Simon's kiss-bitten lips are twisting into a smile. He nods again. "Me too," he says, then breaks off into a moan when Wille tries and- yeah, just where Simon wants him. One of Simon's hands slide down, along Wille's sweaty skin, to the small of his back. He pulls, tugs Wille closer, closer, closer yet, needing-, just like Wille, needing more when there is no more. Another thrust, another mess of sounds mingling between them, and Simon is digging blunt fingernails into Wille's skin. His mouth forms an 'o', so kissable, so breathtakingly beautiful, so close and real and wonderful that Wille can't help but move his arms. Elbows dragging on the fabric of the sheets, he moves until he can get his hands on Simon's face, his thumbs tracing the sharp lines of it. Cheekbones, nose, jawline, moving gorgeously with every breath, with every groan, with every time Wille sinks into him, again and again.

Wille thinks he's going to lose his mind like this, feels like a man lost in the desert hallucinating his salvation. It's- too much. Always is, but especially when they haven't had this in a while, whenever they've had nothing but rushed phone calls and desperate text messages to tide them over. The real thing, the push and pull, the tugging each other close, the kissing until their lips are sore, the gasps and pleas felt against his skin - it all feels too good all at once, too- Simon's legs twitch where they're wound around Wille, he pulls at Wille's hair again. "Fuck," Simon lets out, quiet and gorgeous and Wille feels feral from it, feels the need gnawing at him harder now, the need to get him there, to make him fall apart, to- Wille halts, freezes in place when Simon's hands fly up to Wille's shoulder blades, scratching, pulling. Wille moans helplessly when Simon's body tightens around him, needs a tiny moment before he realizes, then doubles down, fucking Simon through it, nearly losing his footing when, in between a whine and a gasp, he hears his own name. Simon comes, sticky, warm, untouched, between them, knocking the breath right out of Wille. This is, he is... Wille is forced to stay still, thighs and arms burning like there's an army of ants marching through his veins, while he stares at Simon, chest heaving, face twitching, slowly, slowly, slowly coming down from his orgasm. It's almost torture, a torture he'd endure again and again and again every day, but still. When Simon lets out a long breath, blinking and laughing at the end of it, Wille is relieved, relieved that now he gets to pull out and cuddle up to Simon and use his hand to- Simon's grip on his back tightens when he tries to inch away, tries to raise his hips. At once, his eyes move up to Simon's face, meet Simon already staring back. Wille licks his lips. His mouth suddenly feels dry with Simon gazing up at him so intensely. "I'm..." Wille looks down between them, the mess on their stomachs, Simon's spent cock, lower where he's still... He swallows hard. Simon's fingers are drawing patterns into his skin, and suddenly the ants are poking him there, where Simon's hands are warm and heavy on him. "Keep going." Simon's voice is so quiet that Wille barely hears it. Wille whips his head up again, brows furrowed, but he doesn't need to ask when Simon stares up at him, through him almost with nothing but liquid heat in his eyes. They... it's never like this. It's never this way around. It's him coming first, Simon following not far behind, or it's Wille pulling out when Simon is done, when his skin tingles under every single one of Wille's touches post-orgasm, when anything else would be too much. They never... Wille has never stayed afterwards. But, now, Wille sees his own desperation, his own need reflected on Simon's face, like this hasn't been enough. "Need you to," Simon says, and Wille's arms damn near buckle. As if that's not enough, Simon cranes his neck, pulls with all he's got, and sighs into Wille's mouth when they're finally kissing again, after what seems like ages. Wille's hips jerk when their tongues brush, and they both moan into the kiss. The tightening of Simon's legs around his middle is unmistakable. So is the way Simon tries to meet his tiny movements, trying to raise his hips where he's pinned under Wille's weight. Wille isn't going to make it out of this alive. But he can't ask, can't even wonder, all he can do is slowly sink back into the rhythm that pulls him into Simon, slow and deep and dirty and breathtaking. He gaps against Simon's lips, feels a dangerous tug behind his navel, the telltale tightening of that knot deep inside.

"Simon-," he gasps, trying to raise his body up, trying to regain a position that lets him go faster. "Gonna-" Simon cuts him off, drags a hand down the middle of his chest, palm against his skin. "Please," Simon pleads, encourages, and Wille's hips stutter. "Missed this," he confesses, and oh. Yes. Yes yes yes, so did Wille. Does he mean- Wille's pulse is raising, thoughts getting away from him. "Missed you inside," Simon says, and Wille whines. "Missed the feeling," he's interrupted by a strained moan that sends a violent tingle through Wille's body, scalp to toes, "-of this." Simon pushes back against Wille's thrusts, beautiful and needy and like he's trying to make Wille lose his mind. "Need you to," another gasp, "in me." Like his breath is being dragged right from his lungs, Wille is coming. It's white, hot, fuzzy, so so so so heavy and, oh- he sinks down against Simon's chest, into his arms. Slowly, with his breath returning to him, the fog lifting, he feels Simon's hands stroking his back, Simon's legs still tightly clamped around him. And with the reality of it all sinking in, with the feeling of being so close, still, he feels a warm tingle in his cheeks. "Shit," he laughs, and nuzzles his nose into the crook of Simon's neck, where he smells the most like him. Simon follows along, lets out a breathy chuckle. His arms don't move, neither do his legs. Still holding on tight. "Mmmh," he hums happily. Wille simply has to kiss the fluttering skin of his neck. When Wille shifts a little, he feels wet stickiness between their bodies. And, with a pleasant shiver running down his back, past Simon's caressing palms, he feels that Simon is hard again.

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

#wilmon #wilmon fanfic #yr #young royals #wilmon ficlet #yr ficlet #answered #anon

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liminalmemories21 · 1 month ago

Note

prompt 10. “come with me.” please <3

Last one - @cecilyv and I thank you all for the inspiration. Timestamp for half a page of scribbled lines

***********

“come with me.”

"Hey, Robby!" Tommy hollers through the front door. "Come with me if you want to save your skin!"

Evan looks back from the car, confused. "What–? Did you just--?"

"101 Dalmatians?" Tommy asks, but Evan shakes his head. "Not even Disney movies?"

"Not the sad ones?"

"It isn't a sad one?"

"The lady wants to skin the dogs! You just said--"

"But she doesn't?"

Robby appears at the door. His socks don’t match, and the t-shirt and shorts combination are in a questionable state of cleanliness, but he’s dressed and they’re just going to the local diner for breakfast before they go apple picking. He’ll call it a win.

“Movie night tonight,” he tells Robby. “Dad’s never seen 101 Dalmatians.”

Robby looks appropriately horrified. “Dad.”

Evan holds up his hands. “Yes, yes, I had a deprived childhood.” Watches Robby to make sure he buckles his seatbelt before turning the car on. Tommy has never been so glad as when Robby finally got tall enough that they could ditch the car seat.

He can’t help it, croons, off key, “Perhaps I had a wicked childhood / Perhaps I had a miserable youth / But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past / There must have been a moment of truth.”

Gets a baffled look from both his husband and his kid. Sighs. “Right. Adding Sound of Music to the list too.”

#911 #buck/tommy #tumblr ficlets

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beekneelsformommy · 1 month ago

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SUMMER WRITING PROMPTS - ☀️🌻🍉👙

1. Picnic

2. Raspberry turnover

3. Kitchen disaster

4. Migraine

5. Apples

6. Swimming

7. Reading nook

8. Drinking

9. Sundress

10. Gardening

11. Heatwave

12. Sex on the porch

13. Barbecue

14. Family outing

15. First Pride

16. Blackberry picking

17. Bumblebee

18. Cozy night in

19. Summer rain

20. Paperwork

21. Meadow

22. Skinny dipping

23. Thunderstorms

24. Watertight

25. Ice cream

26. Sex and ice

27. Flower press

28. Sunbathing

29. Sunburn

30. Backyard dance

Bonus Prompts 💛🐝🌼⛱️

Soft laughter

Fireflies

Kitchen kiss

June breeze

Open windows

Bare feet

Late sunset

Lemonade stand

#Bee.Writes 🌻#june prompts #scenario prompts #writing prompts #prompt list #prompts #summer prompts #writing prompt #fanfiction prompts

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thisapplepielife · 9 months ago

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Written for @steddie-spooktober.

Gravity Always Wins

Also right here on ao3.

"Oh shit, oh fuck," Eddie says as the apple tumbles out of his grasp. He looks down in horror as it falls, like a slow-motion car wreck happening right before his very eyes, as it lands directly on the guy's head that was picking below him.

To add insult to injury, it hits with a very audible thunk.

Shit, he shouldn't even be allowed on a ladder. That's like the first rule of the universe or some shit. Who signed off on this? Honestly.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Eddie asks, coming down the ladder, watching as the guy, the very pretty guy, rubs at the top of his head, only slightly worried he's about to get his ass kicked in a goddamn apple orchard.

But the guy is laughing.

He's laughing, and gorgeous, and Eddie can't help but smile.

"Goddamn you, Newton!" Eddie shouts, dramatically shaking his fist in the air, eyes trained on the sky, as if he had nothing at all to do with this, and that gravity alone was solely to blame.

"Gravity always wins," the guy says, then adds, "I'm good, honest, you just startled me. I never thought concussion number four would be at the hands of an apple. But here we are."

Eddie feels his face fall.

"Oh, oh no, I'm kidding. I was just teasing you. I'm fine. Look? It was just a little apple," he says, leaning over to pick up the offending piece of fruit.

Eddie eyes it in his palm, "That's definitely gonna have a bruise."

"Like my head," he teases, and Eddie reaches out and pops him on the shoulder, making him pull back, giggling. His sweater is soft under Eddie's hand, and Eddie wants to reach out and stroke it again, but stops himself. Content to just stare a second.

He's truly something to look at. Goddamn.

Eddie just smiles at him, and when he straightens back up, he hands the apple back.

It is a little apple, and Eddie probably shouldn't have picked it in the first place, but he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He saw an apple, and picked it.

Looking at the bushel this guy has selected, though, gives him pause. They are evenly sized, and brightly colored. No blemishes at all. Perfect apples, for the perfect guy.

Eddie's are a little misshapen and odd. The freaks, if you will, but he thinks that's pretty damn fitting.

"Guess you'll have to make applesauce–" the guy starts, and then stops, clearly searching for Eddie's name.

"Eddie," Eddie offers.

"Eddie," he repeats. "I'm Steve."

"Well, Steve, I would make some applesauce if I knew how," Eddie laughs.

"You could always come by my bakery slash coffee shop," Steve offers, sort of shaking the basket slung over his arm, "That's why I'm picking apples today. So I can make some seasonal items with local apples. Customers eat that shit up."

Eddie thinks he's being picked up. Maybe. Or not. He's never very good at getting those signals right. Gareth says he's hopeless, and sometimes that feels more accurate than he'd like to admit.

Like, right now. Is Steve hitting on him, or trying to drum up business?

Eddie decides he honestly doesn't exactly care which it is, "Sure, I'd love to be the guinea pig for your apple pie."

"Well," Steve says, lowering his voice in a way that makes Eddie feel funny in a good way, "I never said pie."

"Oh, well, in that case…" Eddie teases, trailing off, acting as if he's going to walk away.

But, Steve just laughs at him, and digs in his wallet, producing a little business card: Harrington's. Since 1955.

"My, you look awfully good for your age," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "My grandma and grandpa ran it before me. And they didn't think they'd have anyone to take over the family business when they retired. And then I turned up, with nothing better to do."

Eddie nods. He's definitely going to stop by Steve's family business, not even for the not-pie, but just so he can see more of this guy, "Well, in that case. When should I show up?"

"Tomorrow, anytime after three?" Steve suggests, and Eddie is nodding along. Tomorrow after three sounds perfect to him.

Eddie pulls up in the alley behind the back of the bakery, as directed, and can't really believe he's here. Like, what does he know about baking? He can't even bake a box of brownies without messing them up somehow.

But, Steve is gorgeous, and this isn't an invite he's about to turn down. He's a fool, but he's no dummy. Eddie pushes on the back door, and it's heavy, but slowly glides open.

"Knock, knock," Eddie says, and then hears a commotion. Lots of yelling. Like a fight is happening.

His fight or flight starts to kick in, and flight will always win for him, but…he pauses.

He knows that kind of yelling from Uncle Wayne, and as far as a fight goes, it's surely a one-sided one, because Steve's staring up at the mounted television over on the wall, screaming at the refs of a football game, as he stands inside an industrial kitchen, at a stainless steel prep table, peeling apples.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Steve the Baker is also Steve the Sports Guy? That wasn't advertised on the label at all.

Eddie's been hoodwinked. The wool pulled straight over his eyes. Was bamboozled by a pretty face in a warm-looking sweater, right there in a goddamn apple orchard.

He's starting to plan his escape, when Steve turns to look at him, and smiles, waving his paring knife in the air, "Hey! You made it!"

"Hey," Eddie says back, shucking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. Steve sounds excited to see him, and maybe the game is almost over. He could deal with it for a few minutes. Steve was very pretty in that sweater.

He squints at the screen, and the score is 0-0 and it's still the first quarter. He doesn't know a lot about sports, but he grew up with Wayne. He at least understands that this means the damn thing has just started.

"You care if I leave the game on?" Steve asks, flashing him those warm eyes, and Eddie finds himself nodding along with that idea, like a damn idiot. No, he doesn't want to watch sports, but…that face.

That face will make him break his most solemn of vows: no sports. He just won't tell Wayne or Gareth. He'll gloss right over that part, and nobody will ever have to know that he spent the whole afternoon with football blaring in the background of his maybe date.

Because, as good looking as this guy is, and as much as Eddie would like to eat this guy, and his baked goods, alive, he's sure this isn't going to go any further than this afternoon. It can't. What would they talk about? Baking and football? Eddie doesn't know anything about either of those topics. But he can surely bumble through one afternoon. That'll be fine. Eddie can do anything for one afternoon. All the odd jobs he's ever held has proven that.

Hell, if he plays his cards right, maybe he can get one night out of it, too.

But long-term? He can already see the writing on the wall, and it bums him out, just a little bit. He hadn't been this excited about a guy in a while.

Steve hands Eddie a peeler, and Eddie goes to work, peeling the whole bushel of apples that Steve has washed and laid out on a towel. He does know how to work a peeler, at least. That was his job for potatoes at Wayne's, when he was far too little to do anything else.

"So, tell me about yourself. Do you always assault men with apples?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks over at him and smiles.

"Only the cute ones," Eddie flirts, and loves the blush that stains Steve's cheeks as he looks back down at the apples he's evenly slicing.

"No offense, but you don't seem like the apple picking type," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. He's not wrong. "What brought you out there, especially all by yourself?"

"It's part of my contract. Free apples from the orchard and free pumpkins from the patch," Eddie says, then realizes that doesn't explain anything at all, adding, "I work nights at the haunted hayride. As a scare actor," Eddie says, then holds his hands up like a zombie.

Steve's eyes are big, and it's awfully cute as he laughs.

"So, free apples. I mean, how many apples or pumpkins can one man eat? But free is free."

"Maybe I'll teach you how to bake something using them," Steve suggests and Eddie nods. He'd like that. A lot, he thinks. Even if that's all he gets out of the day.

"Deal. So, what's on the menu for today?"

Steve grins, "Apple fritters. Cupcakes. There's this apple maple upside down cake I want to try. A cobbler. Someone suggested an apple pie."

"They sound smart," Eddie banters, and Steve just keeps smiling.

"Have you ever made a dessert pizza?" Eddie asks, meeting Steve's eyes.

"Like from Pizza Hut?" Steve questions, and Eddie nods.

"No, but we totally can. I've never thought to try to make it myself."

Eddie smiles at the thought. He imagines homemade would be even better than what used to be on the buffet at Pizza Hut when he was younger.

Steve moves from slicing apples to dicing them very small and fine. In perfect little squares that are very impressive to Eddie's eyes. He can barely cut anything evenly, so that seems like quite the feat.

Eddie watches as Steve goes between watching the knife in his hands so he doesn't cut his fingers off, and the ballgame.

"You should come to the hayride," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, "I don't really do scary things, or anything that risks a head injury these days."

It's just a trailer pulled around the grounds, nobody touches anybody. Couldn't if they wanted to, but if he doesn't like scary, he doesn't like scary. Then he remembers something Steve had joked about in the orchard after Eddie had beaned him with that apple.

"Have you really already had three concussions?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah," Steve answers, "at least three that I know about. But not from falling apples. I'm fine. I promise."

"How'd you get them?" Eddie asks, because he isn't sure how one gets that many concussions unless they've been abused, and his stomach drops. Maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Maybe it's none of his goddamn business. Maybe-

"I got one from a dickhead in high school that blindsided me during a stupid fight, and then the other two from football plays in college, a couple weeks apart. One was a dirty, on purpose, helmet-to-helmet late hit, the last one was during a quarterback sneak that went wrong."

Eddie has no idea what that means.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks.

Steve looks at him, "Not a football guy?"

Eddie shakes his head adamantly, "Not an any sports guy. Sorry."

"That's okay," Steve says, "A quarterback sneak is when you only need to move a yard or two down the field to, say, get across the goal line to score, or get a first down, and the linemen in front of you, the big guys, push forward and the quarterback tries to carry it over himself. No hand-off. No throw."

"And you were the quarterback?"

"I was. I was a little too exposed, and one of the defensive players came in and hit me helmet to helmet in the dogpile. Snapped my neck backwards."

"I'm sorry," Eddie says.

"It happens. Most of the time you go into concussion protocol, and clear it. Mine wasn't even caught immediately after it happened. Not even by me. I hopped right back up, and it wasn't until I'd thrown a few uncharacteristic picks later, that they decided something must be wrong with me and pulled me out of the game and straight into the tent. Once the migraines started a few days later, and never really stopped after all the other symptoms went away, that was the end of the line. No more football. No NFL draft."

Eddie swallows, that's fucking rough.

"They forced you to stop?" Eddie asks.

"Yes," Steve says, then must change his mind, "No. Not really. The specialists suggested it. I don't think they could have forced me to comply. Hell, they'll play you into the ground. But it would have been a risk to draft a known concussion magnet. So, it was a choice I had to make for myself, and I chose to stop, to preserve what I had left. Stop it at the occasional migraine. Of course Robin, my best friend, would have flayed me alive if I'd done anything else. She was the first to call it, and she was right."

"But you were good enough to go pro? If you hadn't taken those hits?" Eddie asks, quietly.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?" Steve answers with a shrug, like he doesn't really care one way or the other, but he must care. He'd have to. Eddie knows he'd care if he couldn't play the guitar anymore, and he's never been anywhere near going professional.

"But you still watch it? Football? Even after losing the chance to play?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles, "Hell yeah. I still love the game. Even if I can't play."

Then he points at the screen, "I'm friends with #52. In the white. We went to college together. It all worked out better for him than it did me, but I couldn't be prouder of him. A little jealous, sure. But really proud, too."

"Do you ever get to go to games in person, or is that impossible with the bakery?"

"I try to hit one a season, as that's about all the favors I can call in with my friends. Coming in at three a.m. to get shit ready is a hard sell, let me tell you," Steve laughs, "That and they don't know what they're doing. So, it's just easier to just stay here. Watch on television. Scream at the refs from home instead of the stands."

"I know all about the screaming. I live with my uncle, and he has a sport for every season, I swear it. Getting him to move to Indy with me was no small feat, let me tell you," Eddie laughs, "But he needed to retire from the plant. He still works, because he's a stubborn old man, but now he's at a local hardware store instead, bossing clueless jackasses around. His words, not mine."

Steve laughs, "He sounds great."

"He is, and of course you'd think so, you sports guys always stick together."

Steve laughs, nodding like it's true, and then they go back to work. Baking, watching the game, and cheering on Steve's friend to a close game win.

And that evening, Eddie goes home with a still warm pie, and a phone number for Steve burning a hole in his pocket.

They spend the next two weeks texting back and forth, with a few short phone calls sprinkled in for good measure, but it hasn't gone beyond that. Eddie isn't sure if Steve's just busy or uninterested in setting up a second date. He wishes he'd just tell him. They could just be friends, but Eddie would rather know that now, instead of later once he's already gotten swept away by the idea of dating him, for real.

Eddie looks at his phone as Chrissy does his makeup, "Eyes up, Munson."

Steve hasn't responded, but he's probably asleep. Eddie puts his phone on the table, "Yes, ma'am."

She laughs, and gets him ready for another night of a constant loop of visitors to the maze. They've done this for a few years now, and they're all good at it, and it's not bad seasonal work. It helps pay the bills for the band to keep trying, stay plugging along.

Eddie knows they aren't gonna make it big, not now, that window has closed. But they still make music together, good music he thinks, so taking on odd jobs to still do that has been worth it.

Maybe after thirty he'll have to settle down, but for right now? He's just having fun.

"Tell me about the boy," she sing-songs, then changes her mind, "No, keep your mouth shut until I'm done with your face."

Eddie laughs, and keeps his mouth shut, as directed.

"But tell me later, though."

And he nods. He definitely will. Gareth's sick of hearing about Steve, so if he has a fresh pair of ears to listen to him yap, he's definitely all-in on that.

It's actually gotten chilly tonight, but when the second-to-last trailer full of guests pulls around the corner at quarter to two, Eddie sees Steve sitting next to a woman that has to be Robin. She just looks exactly like what Eddie imagined every time Steve's told a story about her. And she looks very grumpy about being awake in the middle of the night.

Eddie is stoked, and rushes around from Gareth to Jeff to Goodie to Chrissy, pointing out Steve, and then hurrying back to his spot for the last trailer. They don't really care all that much. He's sure they're happy for him, but they definitely just want to finish doing their jobs and get the fuck out of here for the night.

Steve's lingering by the employees only sign when Eddie exits backstage.

"You came," Eddie says, makeup hastily scrubbed off his face. It's a big no-no to interact with the guests in character, even if it's the guy you've been playing phone tag with for the last two weeks. He wasn't sure Steve would stay, but he did, and Eddie's fucking thrilled to see him.

"This is Robin," Steve says, slinging his arm over her shoulders.

Eddie starts to say hi, when the door bangs closed behind him, and he turns to see Chrissy on her way out.

"Night, Eddie," Chrissy says, as she passes by them, her dirty dead cheerleader costume slung over her arm.

"Was she the cheerleader?" Robin hisses, and Eddie nods.

"Hey, Chris, wait!" he hollers, and drags her closer, making introductions. He's no dummy, he knows what that question entailed, and he has no problem playing a hint of matchmaker. And if they're talking, that'll give Eddie some time alone with Steve.

The fact that Steve showed up at all, late at night, was a sacrifice of sleeping time. Eddie knows it, and appreciates it. So, he won't keep him. He'll send him back home to bed, or straight to the bakery, wherever he needs to be next, so he can get ready to make the donuts as Steve likes to say.

"I'm glad you came," Eddie says, running his hand up Steve's arm.

"Of course, I couldn't resist the opportunity to see you as the evil undead."

Eddie grins at him. He really likes this guy.

"The bats were really believable."

Eddie grins, and tells him all about how he helped design them with his friends. They built the pulley system in Gareth's garage on the cheap, but it works, and well.

Steve nods along, then pulls Eddie into the darkness, where the floodlights don't reach. Eddie goes, willingly, sliding his hands along Steve's waist.

And then they're kissing, and Eddie couldn't be more fucking thrilled.

Steve is interested. And Eddie is definitely interested.

Steve's tongue slides along his, and Eddie squeezes him tighter, pulling Steve into his body, wanting to be closer. As close as they can get here in this dark alleyway.

When Steve pulls back, he presses his forehead to Eddie's, and Eddie tries to look into his eyes this close-up.

"I've wanted to do that since the orchard," Steve says.

"Fuck, me too," Eddie admits. He'd like to do more, too, but Robin is yelling that her alarm is going off, meaning Steve's got to get to the bakery.

Steve's day is just beginning, and Eddie's is just ending. Their schedules couldn't be more out of sync if they tried.

But Eddie reluctantly lets him go, they say their goodbyes, but Eddie is already scheming how he'll get to see Steve next.

The next morning, Eddie forces himself out of bed at a normal hour so he can go to the bakery. Gareth follows him to the van, tagging along without an invite, but Eddie doesn't care, as long as he can see Steve, it's all good.

Steve's behind the counter, and he grins when he sees Eddie come through the front door, "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself," Eddie says back, looking at the handwritten menu board. "Suggestions are welcome."

And Steve just laughs, and then produces a piece of cobbler that looks sticky and delicious.

"Sold," Eddie replies, taking the plate from him, and then nodding towards Gareth, "and whatever he wants. This is Gareth."

Gareth is looking in the glass case, paying no attention to either of them.

"So, this is the famous Eddie?" a girl who is not Robin asks, sidling up beside Steve at the counter.

"That's Eddie," Steve says with a smile, then introduces her, "This is Di."

She makes a shooing motion with her hands, "Go. Sit with him for a minute. I'll watch the counter," Di offers, pushing Steve from behind the register, and Eddie's grateful.

"Thanks, Di," Steve answers, pulling his apron off over his head, showing a strip of bare skin as it goes. His stomach is hairy and Eddie gulps, probably audibly, like he's in a cartoon.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

Steve picks up his coffee mug, and grabs a piece of cobbler for himself.

"Hey kid, head's up," Eddie says, and Gareth looks just in time to catch Eddie's wallet as Eddie tosses it to him. "Pick something and pay the nice lady."

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth says, and goes right back to looking at all his options.

Steve leads Eddie over to a table in the corner, and they sit and get to talk face-to-face, for the first time since their first afternoon here. Yeah, sure, he saw Steve last night, that was just a brief hi and bye.

It's nice to sit across from him again, and even nicer when Steve slides his hand forward, lacing their fingers together. Miraculously Gareth doesn't come over and cockblock him like the little shit that he is, instead lingering by the counter.

Eddie looks back at Steve.

"You know, I don't really date," Steve admits, "I mean, the bakery hours keep my nightlife non-existent. And I've gotten used to that. But I really like you."

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. Is he blushing? That's absurd, but he thinks it's probably true. He likes Steve. A lot. And he can deal with weird hours for Steve, he's damn certain. Dates at three in the afternoon? Awesome. He'll have just rolled out of bed a couple hours before that half the time anyway.

"But, I'd like to try. If you want to," Steve says, and Eddie nods.

"Yeah, I want to. I really like you, too."

Then the phone rings, and it's something Steve has to take, and Eddie glances at him one more time before he holds open the door with the jangly bell for Gareth to exit.

Steve's still looking at him, watching him go, so Eddie winks, and it makes Steve smile.

There's no plan, but Eddie knows he's gonna date the shit out of Steve Harrington.

Turns out, the whole dating with opposite schedules idea was way easier said than done. Eddie works every weekend night, all fall long, because that's the busy time. He works some weeknights, too, but those are easier to trade around for with his friends. So, weekends are definitely out, and he needs date ideas that don't mess with Steve's sleep schedule.

He's reading the paper that Wayne left on the coffee table as he sits on the couch and eats his cereal, when he sees that the local high school football team is playing next week, but that's on Friday. Duh. Friday Night Lights. Even he understands enough about football to get that that's a reference to the night they play. He may have needed three senior years to graduate, but he's not that dense. He keeps reading, and sees that the JV football team plays on Tuesday and the junior high team on Thursday. That's an idea. He doesn't really know what that means, but he knows who would.

"Hey, Wayne!" he yells, and when Wayne rounds the corner Eddie asks, "Tell me. Which is a better game to attend: JV or Junior High?"

"Game of what? Tiddlywinks? Dragons and Dragons?" Wayne prods, teasing him. Eddie damn well knows Wayne remembers what DnD is. He bought enough of those books for him in high school, it has to be seared into his old man brain.

But Wayne glances over at him from his recliner he's just sat down in, waiting for Eddie to spill it.

Eddie lowers his voice and mumbles, "Football."

"What'd you say, I didn't hear you?" Wayne drawls, but he's grinning like he heard exactly what Eddie said.

"Shut up, old man," Eddie teases, "I'm sort of dating a guy. He likes football. Used to play. I thought it might be nice to take him to a game, and I obviously can't do a Friday night game this year because of work. But I thought Steve might like to go to one of these other games?"

"Steve, huh? This Steve have a last name?" Wayne asks, and Eddie rolls his eyes. Wayne doesn't need to try to vet this guy like he did every single person Eddie dated in high school. He's a grown man now, almost thirty. He picks better these days.

At least, he hopes he does.

"Harrington," Eddie answers, "and you're ignoring the question. JV? Junior High?" Then points his finger at the newspaper, crinkling it, "Or the local flag football team plays on Sundays. Help a guy out. Jeez."

But Wayne is just staring at him, mouth slightly open. Eddie's never seen him this shocked in his life. And Eddie did some wild shit in high school that Wayne swears made him go gray and bald.

"Yes, yes, I'm willing to go to a game. We're all shocked. Make fun. I have it coming. But close your mouth before you catch flies."

"No. Just. Steve Harrington, Ed? You, my nephew, who hates all sports sight unseen, is dating Steve Harrington? Heisman Trophy winner as a sophomore, that Steve Harrington?"

Eddie just shrugs, "I don't know about all that. He runs a bakery."

Wayne lets out a breathy laugh, "Right. He runs a bakery."

"He does," Eddie confirms.

Wayne picks up his phone, puts on his reading glasses so Eddie knows he's serious, and finally turns the screen towards Eddie, "This your boy?"

Eddie smiles. He's younger, but yeah, that's definitely Steve, "Yep, that's Steve."

"I'll be damned, I knew he was from Indiana, but I didn't expect him to come back to our neck of the woods to run a bakery."

"You know my boyfriend, Wayne?" Eddie teases, lilting his voice, and batting his eyes.

"Anybody that followed football in the last decade knows of your boyfriend, Ed. He was gonna be a star, a franchise quarterback, for any team lucky enough to draft him."

Steve had said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to go pro, and now Eddie is doubting the validity of that, "He said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to make it pro."

Wayne laughs, "That boy would've been a first round pick. He's just being humble."

"Oh," Eddie says, "that's pretty cool. It's too bad he got hurt, then."

"It is," Wayne agrees.

"If he was as good as you say, why didn't he just go pro right out of high school?" Eddie asks, thinking this over. He's really not sure why you'd take the risk playing college football before you could make the big bucks.

"That's not how the NFL draft works. You have to be three years past graduation from high school before you're eligible. And what else are you gonna do for those three years, if not play ball at college?"

"Oh," Eddie says, then adds, "Good thing I wasn't good at football. I'd have been an old man trying to enter the draft."

Wayne laughs. It wasn't so funny when Eddie was bearing down on twenty-one and still trying to get that damn diploma, but they can laugh about it now. Water under the bridge.

Eddie then asks, "So, about the game…"

Wayne steered him towards the JV game, but told him over and over that all of the options were beneath the level of football that Steve Harrington was used to watching, or playing.

Eddie decides to take him anyway.

Eddie buys the four dollar tickets at the gate from a mom sitting at a card table with a metal cash box in front of her, a button with her son's face pinned to her coat. He gives her a ten, and tells her to keep the change when she holds it in her hand, unmoving.

But that's just because she's staring at Steve, kind of starry-eyed. He is attractive, that's undeniable, and Eddie puffs up a little that he's the one getting to date him tonight.

Then Steve is accosted for pictures no less than seven times on the way to the stands, and Eddie wonders if he's made a mistake here. He didn't think it through, didn't understand that Steve would be known here.

Eddie escapes to the concessions stand, and when he comes back, arms full, there's a group of kids surrounding Steve. And Steve's engaged, and giving them what they want, clearly, but this isn't a good date. This seems more like he's trotted Steve out for the wolves.

Everyone else finally clears out as kickoff happens, leaving them alone, and Eddie takes his seat next to Steve on the bleachers.

"Uh, did I fuck this up?" Eddie whispers, handing Steve a tray of nachos.

"No. No way, this is great," Steve reassures, a big smile on his face.

"I truly didn't understand that you'd be recognized here," Eddie says, "I don't know anything about sports. I'm in over my head. I just thought, well, maybe you'd like to see a game. Even if it's just kids."

"This is great, Eddie. You did great, honest," Steve says. "I'm not recognized outside of football. Don't worry. This isn't an everyday occurrence. This is a very isolated incident, because of where we are. Some of these kids probably watched me play. I'm not that old."

Eddie laughs, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. He definitely didn't want to make Steve uncomfortable.

And if he is, he never lets on. Instead, Steve explains the game to him as it goes, and it's a slow enough pace that Eddie thinks maybe he's understanding it. The football Steve had been watching on TV in the bakery had moved so fucking fast he had no hopes of following, not even when there was an instant replay to slow it down.

Steve's never seen these kids play before, but he can read them all like open books, calling plays, calling probable results before they happen. And he's right. Nine times out of ten, he's right.

He should probably coach football. But maybe that's too painful? Eddie's definitely not gonna bring it up.

They leave at halftime, and Eddie's sure it's only partly because Steve has to be up in less than eight hours.

He still thinks it went well, because Steve leans over in the van and kisses him.

Eddie suddenly feels like he can't feel his face, even as he kisses back, hand cupping Steve's face, just wanting to touch him.

Eddie likes him so goddamn much, and as Steve pulls away, Eddie feels like they are no longer struggling to make a connection. They've done it. They're getting there.

Over the next few weeks, they have half-dozen more half-dates. Eddie catches the first quarter of a college football game, Steve's alma mater, on the television at the bakery with him before having to head to the maze for the night.

A few days later they grab fast food in Steve's car, and Eddie's definitely trying hard not to make a mess. Steve's car is nice, and Eddie's only used to his shitty van.

They carve out an hour to just lay in Steve's bed, kissing and touching, and eventually fucking before they need to part ways again.

Eddie wonders if they'll ever get to actually sleep in the same bed with shifts this ass-backwards from each other.

Spooky season comes and goes, and Eddie's back looking for some kind of other temporary work. He's complaining to Steve that nobody is hiring, even when they say they're hiring.

"Come work at the bakery," Steve says, "then maybe we'll finally get to see each other for longer than an hour at a time."

Eddie starts to say no, starts to deflect in a knee-jerk way, but then decides he'd really like to do that, "Really?"

"Really," Steve confirms.

"I don't know how to bake, you know that," Eddie teases.

"You're not coming there to bake. Please, no. But you could run the register. Right?"

And Eddie thinks he'd like to do just that, so he nods and nods.

So, they work together, and sometimes go home with each other after. Both of them dozing on the couch while Wayne watches football, or cuddling up at Steve's place while Robin whines about it being her turn to cook dinner.

And Eddie ends up loving Robin, because working with her at the bakery might be almost as fun as it is working with Steve. She's not there all the time, but when she is, they run the front together, while Steve and Di have the back, and it's the least work feeling work he's ever done.

She's funny, and snarky, and loves Steve so much Eddie can feel it rolling off of her in waves. She kept him from getting hurt further. She made sure he'd be okay, even if Eddie's sure Steve felt anything but at the time.

He talks up Steve's baked goods, upselling easily, turning a half-dozen box into a full dozen more often than not. Eventually he sneaks around while Steve isn't looking, and hangs his own picture on the wall, labeled underneath as Employee of the Month, as a joke.

When Steve finally notices it, it stays. Eddie's part of the place, now. And he couldn't be happier about that. Harrington's is fun, and relaxed, and he's honestly never gotten this invested in a job before. He wants it to succeed, because he wants Steve, and the rest of his friends, to succeed. And yeah, he's sure Steve has a lot to do with that, but still, the fact that he's enjoying it is a bonus he hadn't foreseen coming.

He helps clean up every afternoon, so they can get out of there faster, together. Today, with the cold winter air blowing, snow flurries are blustering around, stinging his face as they hit. So, he hugs Steve from behind as he locks the back door in the alley where they park, hiding his face in Steve's coat.

"Hello to you, too," Steve flirts, and Eddie smirks as soon as he realizes this is gonna be a short afternoon, because when they get home, they are definitely going straight to bed.

And they do just that. It's cold outside, but the warm winter sunlight is pouring through the windows, made brighter by the snow on the ground, and Eddie's in love.

Steve looks fucking gorgeous, the light hitting him that way, letting that glow he always has about him shine through from the inside out.

Eddie runs his fingers over his body, his athletic frame that sees no playing time, anymore. He runs to keep in shape, but Eddie thinks he'd run too if he had that kind of albatross slung around his neck. If he'd lost the thing he loved most, the thing he'd hung his whole hat on.

If he'd lost possible rings and millions of dollars.

Steve's almost twenty-nine. He'd be hitting his peak, his best years of play.

But Steve's happy. He's not a bitter guy. He loves his bakery, and he loves his friends and-

"What's," Steve breathes out, easing up on his pace, "what's with the face?"

"I love you," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, so fucking wide it feels like it cracks open Eddie's chest, "Well, don't look so sad about it then."

And Eddie laughs, reaching up to grasp Steve's hips, helping him regain his momentum. The spiral he was headed down on Steve's behalf, broken.

Steve doesn't want Eddie dwelling on the past. Especially if he doesn't do it himself. There are no pity parties happening in Steve Harrington's orbit.

"I love you, too. Now fuck me like you're not gonna cry about it."

Eddie huffs out a laugh, so fucking charmed and delighted by this man that he loves. He'll fuck him all right.

"Hold on then, big boy," Eddie teases, and thrusts upwards, carrying the weight of Steve with him off the bed.

Maybe instead, they'll just hit their primes together.

Eddie starts to become a morning person against his will as the months wear on, and Steve will have to pay for that, eventually. But not today.

No, today he's more than fine with going to bed at eight-thirty, dicking down his boyfriend, then afterwards both of them will be sound asleep by nine.

Gareth is hanging around the bakery more and more, and before Eddie realizes it, Steve and Di have taught Gareth how to bake. And he's somehow good at it. Gareth eventually weasels his way into a full-time job, too. Which gets Eddie's wheels turning. Maybe by next fall, Eddie can surprise Steve with tickets to an NFL game to watch his friend play, because together they are slowly building up enough of a staff to run the store in their absence.

It doesn't have to just be Steve anymore. It can be all of them.

Next fall, Eddie thinks.

And he smiles.

He's planning ahead, now. Planning for a future, one that he intends to share with Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-spooktober to follow along with the fun! 🍎

#steddiespooktober #prompt: apples #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: spooktober #wayne munson #platonic stobin #gareth stranger things

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