#they were doing that in the 90s too....... you just close your eyes and pretend you dont see it ..

[sonknuxadow]

i always cant help but wonder with the people who think theres too many sonic characters where do they draw the line between characters who are allowed to exist and characters who arent allowed to exist. like the only characters that were in the first game were sonic and eggman. every other character no matter how important or popular was The New Character at some point. so when exactly did making new characters stop being acceptable in these peoples minds which character was the final straw. or is it less about the games actually reaching a point where they had too many recurring characters and more about just hating big or cream or the chaotix or whoever else in particular

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ONE FOR THE MONEY, TWO FOR THE SHOW

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: you and satoru, your fake boyfriend, have awards to accept and places to be. so how'd you two end up fucking in a bathroom? NSFW

contents: fem!reader. semi-public sex, p –> v, blowjob, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, you two get walked in on at the end (kinda). references hungry for more. not proofread, ignore any minor mistakes. 3.5K words.

“you two are so cute together,” the interviewer sighs, looking at you and satoru in turn. “please, tell us more about your relationship!”

satoru laughs, resting his hand on your back and pulling you into his side. you put on a smile and instinctually put a hand on his chest, pretending not to notice the way he stiffens up at the contact. “where do i even begin?” satoru asks dryly, turning and looking down at you affectionately, and he’s almost a good enough actor for you to believe there’s any real emotion behind those cold blue eyes.

two weeks ago, satoru’s media team came to you with a request for you two to start dating as a way of gaining more attention from your fans. naturally, you declined—it’s not like you’d gain anything from the deal but the burden of being paraded around on the arm of the man you hated—satoru gojo, the cocky son of some famous actor in the 90’s. but after multiple increases in the amount of money satoru’s team was willing to throw at you, you finally agreed under the condition that this arrangement would end the second you wanted it to.

“i’m sure you’ve seen our latest movie on netflix,” satoru starts, looking back up at the interviewer, whose eyes have practically turned into hearts. “the one with the serial killer, yeah? well, it started from there and just grew into more.”

“i guess you could say the attraction on the screen wasn’t all acting,” you add with a knowing smile. good thing you were a decent enough actor to pretend as if you weren’t just lying through your teeth, otherwise the millions of dollars in your bank account would all be gone. 

the interviewer laughs and turns to the camera, saying something about how the chemistry between you and satoru was what really made the movie a hit—in fact, it might even be the reason you’re both getting nominated for best actor and actress.

“well, if you’d excuse us, i think we should get back to the party,” satoru jumps in, nodding his head at the interviewer in thanks. he removes his hand from your back as you follow him to the main area, weaving through crowds of fans and interviewers on his way there. you walk at his side, heels clacking against the freshly polished floor. satoru dips his head and whispers, “hold my hand.”

you scrunch up your nose and shake your head. “no thanks, it’s not like anyone’s watching right now. it’s way too crowded.”

“just do it,” satoru mutters, grabbing your hand anyways. when you start to pull away, he fixes you with a stern look and adds, “they’ll think something’s wrong if you don’t.”

“ugh, fine.”

two hours pass, filled with other actors’ remarks on how good you and satoru make as a couple. suguru geto, one of satoru’s close friends who had played a cult leader in a recent documentary even said that you might be the girl who could fix satoru. yeah, right.

“so, when do awards start?” you ask satoru, swirling your drink and relishing the sound of the ice clacking against the side of the glass. he shrugs and takes a swig from his own cup, which looks suspiciously like apple cider disguised as champagne. “really? you’re nominated for like, four awards, and you don’t even know when you’re getting them?”

satoru laughs carelessly and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on the short cut of your dress. “at this point, i’ve got so many awards that it doesn’t even matter anymore. and by the way, you look really good in that dress. oh, wait, didn’t i buy it for you?”

“you’re not smooth.”

“then why am i nominated for best actor, huh?”

“because the system’s absolute shit, obviously. otherwise toji would win every time.”

satoru groans and drinks the last couple sips of his drink, rolling his eyes. “don’t even mention that piece of shit.” you shrug in response, hiding your smile behind your glass. a couple years back, satoru had lost a role to toji and to his despair, the movie did really well, despite what he’d promised to the producers who had turned him down. and it looks like he’s still bitter over that, and all of a sudden, the perfect plan to piss satoru off appears in your head.

“look, it’s toji right there!” you gasp, setting down your drink and hopping off your seat, walking over to toji while ignoring satoru’s warnings. “oh, hi, i’m a big fan,” you say to the tall, well-built man, smiling bashfully. toji turns and looks down at you, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

“hey, pretty, you’re the girl in that movie with the serial killer, yeah?” he asks, crossing his arms. you nod and internally marvel at how tall he is—especially compared to satoru, who, by any standards, is pretty damn tall. toji looks you up and down, taking his sweet time drinking in the way your dress hugs your figure. “that scene in the alley was really fuckin’ good,” toji adds conversationally. “you’re definitely winnin’ best actress for that.”

anyone who’s watched the movie knows that the scene he’s referring to is the one where you get fucked by satoru against a dark alley wall—and you’ve seen enough edits of the scene to know exactly why it’s getting all the hype.

“aw, thanks,” you say coyly, resting a hand on your hip and tilting your head. “y’know, i’ve always wanted to star in a movie with you,” you continue, hearing satoru come up behind you in the background. you ignore the sickeningly obvious way he clears his throat and flutter your eyelashes at toji, who’s eying you with interest.

“i’d like that. i can probably pull some strings,” toji replies with a smirk. his dark eyes flicker from you to satoru and his smile turns almost patronizing. “and who’s this?”

“her boyfriend. and i really hate to interrupt this friendly chat, but she’s not up for grabs,” satoru snaps, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you back to your spot at the bar. you shoot satoru an indignant glare, but receive no reply besides his tightening jaw. toji laughs and waves you off, mouthing “call me” at you when you turn back apologetically. 

satoru drags you by the hand to one of the bathrooms, shoving open the door with the side of his arm and pulling you inside. there’s a long, shiny counter, which you become very familiar with once your fake boyfriend hoists you up and sits you on it. “the fuck was that?” satoru hisses, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

“what, we were just talki—”

“i don’t like the way he was looking at you,” satoru interrupts, crossing his arms tensely. he fixes you with a cold stare and you fidget uncomfortably with the hem of your dress, which you now realize is rather short. 

“okay, and?” you reply irritably, starting to get annoyed by the way satoru keeps patronizing you. “it’s not like we’re even dating, gojo,” you snap, emphasizing the use of his last name.

“yeah? well, i don’t need my ‘girlfriend’ slutting herself out to the guy everyone knows i hate,” satoru fires back, taking a step forward. his palms rest on the counter on either side of your exposed legs, and you suddenly notice how red satoru’s face is. the flush in his cheeks wasn’t as noticeable underneath the bar’s dim lights, but here, it’s rather obvious.

“are you jealous?” you ask incredulously, unable to suppress the cheeky smile that finds itself on your face. satoru’s jaw slackens and his eyes widen, and that’s enough of a sign for you to confirm it—satoru gojo, your fake boyfriend, is jealous. he doesn’t reply immediately, so you laugh, throwing back your head and giggling at the way satoru’s petty rivalry seems to be only one of the reasons he was so eager to get you away from toji. “aw, that’s so cute, but we aren’t even dating, sweetheart,” you coo, reaching out and caressing the side of satoru’s face.

he instantly swats your hand away, rolling his eyes at your laughter. “well, we still have to act like it, you idiot,” he mutters, leaning over you and eying the low neckline of your dress. you instinctively cross your arms and glare at him, and satoru only cocks an eyebrow in return. “so, if we were actually dating, do y’know what i’d be doing right now?”

“what?” you decide to humor him.

satoru’s demeanor completely changes at your question, going from pissed and flushed red to almost playful.

“this.” 

and just like that, satoru slips his slender fingers underneath the bottom of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your black, lacy panties. 

“gojo, what the—”

“shh, it’s all for the show,” he whispers teasingly, brushing one finger against the warm skin of your thigh. you involuntarily shiver from his touch, and against all rational impulse, find yourself wanting more.

in the acting community, satoru was well-known for being a stuck-up brat, and when you two had first announced your relationship, plenty of actors doubted it. after all, how could you, the classy it-girl of the movie industry, date an asshole like satoru? but even you were surprised at how easily people started to believe it when you two interacted in front of them. you’ve been told that you two had a rather unexpected burst of chemistry together, and that your relationship might actually make it.

what a shame.

satoru hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, raising an eyebrow when you don’t protest. he maintains eye contact with you as he slides your panties down your thighs, exposing your embarrassingly-wet cunt. satoru looks almost as surprised as you do at how soaked you are, even as he runs two fingers over your slit before sliding them in. you hate how good it feels—it’s been a while since you got a chance to sleep with another man, especially since you’ve been stuck with satoru for the past two weeks. 

“shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” satoru murmurs, scoffing in mild disbelief as he meets your eyes and smiles. he curls his fingers upwards, causing your thighs to reflexively close before satoru reopens them. “so, wanna explain, sweetheart?” he tsks, tapping your thigh with his other hand.

you make a face and look away, cheeks heating up the longer satoru waits for a response. “it’s probably from toji,” you snap back after a moment. satoru laughs sarcastically, shaking his head almost condescendingly and pulling out his fingers.

“nice try, hon,” he says sweetly, lifting his fingers to his mouth and licking off your slick in one smooth motion. satoru exhales heavily and swallows, taking his time in doing so. “want me to go grab toji to join us?” satoru asks, forcing a smile on his lips. “i’m sure he’d love to watch you beg—”

“shut it, gojo,” you interrupt, swatting away his hand, which somehow found its way back in between your thighs. “we have an award show to get to, there’s not enough time for this bullshi—”

that was a mistake. satoru instantly lifts you off the counter and, ignoring the rather wide range of curse words you throw at him, sets you on the ground and starts unzipping his pants. “shh, we got all the time in the world. they can’t give an award to someone who isn’t there, right?” satoru cooes, threading one of his hands through your hair and pulling you closer to him. his other hand finishes unzipping his pants, freeing his already-hard dick.

you look up at satoru, forcing yourself to act unimpressed—even though you know damn well he can see through your half-hearted attempt at hiding your real feelings. “s’ that all?” you ask, hating yourself for the crack in your voice when satoru laughs at you. 

“ah, i think it’ll be more than enough for your pretty face to handle. now c’mon, open nice n’ wide for me,” satoru instructs you, reaching down and tilting up your chin as he guides his dick into your mouth. against all rational impulse, you let him, all while glaring daggers at him from below. 

you run your tongue over his flushed red tip, and satoru sucks in a harsh breath, chest tensing as you continue kitten-licking him. his hand moves from your chin to the top of your head, and he pushes your mouth farther onto his dick, jaw tightening the more your tongue laps at him. 

sure, maybe you shouldn’t be sucking off your fake boyfriend in a bathroom where anyone could walk in at any time, but it’s the first time you’ve felt this way in too long, and you weren’t ready to let this feeling go just yet. so you humor satoru and moan, smiling when you feel the way his whole body loosen up at the soft vibration. “f-fuck, didn’t think you’d actually know how to give a man a good time,” satoru mutters through gritted teeth. 

“really?” you ask, pulling away from his dick for a moment to catch a breath. “we fucked for that movie, though, and you seemed pretty damn satisfied then, didn’t you?” you say in-between heaving breaths. satoru scoffs and shakes his head, pushing your mouth back onto his dick.

“yeah, but that was for a movie. this isn’t,” he clarifies, eyes fixed on the mix of spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin as you continue sucking him off. “fuck, why are you good at this?” he hisses, almost incredulously—it’s as if he was hoping you wouldn’t be this good for him for some reason, but now’s not the time to reason through it or wonder what’s going on in his mind.

satoru shudders around you, and you feel the hair threaded through your hair tighten. it’s not enough to be painful, but his grip still makes you whine from the increased pressure. his breathing becomes more shallow as you run your tongue over his length, and his foot starts to bounce on the floor as he gets closer to cumming down your throat. “shit, baby, m’ close,” satoru confirms a moment later, tilting his chin back and glaring at the ceiling. 

“fuckin’ hell, i—” he cuts himself off with a loud, lengthy groan, pushing your head even farther on his dick and tensing as the full force of satoru’s orgasm hits him. he lets loose a flurry of curse words as he cums in your mouth, filling you up to the point where it starts dripping down the side of your face. it’s hot and salty, two sensations that you normally wouldn’t put together, but in this moment it’s all you can think about as you slide one hand downwards towards your throbbing pussy.

still reeling from his surprisingly quick orgasm, satoru leans back onto the counter and pants for air. as for you, you’re starting to want some of his pleasure for yourself—so you slip two fingers inside your cunt and pulse them back and forth, needy moans slipping out of your lips at every thrust. “gojo,” you call, looking up at him and licking his cum off your lips. the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cum dripping down your lips and fingers knuckle-deep in your cunt is enough for satoru to cum again, but he forces himself to maintain some level of control.

“jus’ call me satoru,” he murmurs, reaching down and tugging you up to your feet. it’s hard to stand while your legs are trembling, but thankfully, satoru does most of the work for you by positioning you against the wall, back facing him as he aligns his still-hard dick in front of your dripping pussy. “say it,” satoru mutters in your ear, resting one hand on your waist and the other on the wall just above your shoulder. “say my name f’me, sweetheart.”

“s-satoru,” you breathe, and a moment later, your fake boyfriend—who doesn’t feel so fake anymore—shoves himself inside of your welcoming cunt. you’re already wet enough to the point where he doesn’t really need to prep you at all, but you’re still just tight enough so that every thrust feels like he’s breaking you down in the best way possible. 

“y’feel so good,” satoru groans, resting his chin on your shoulder and snapping his hips back and forth, setting a steady yet harsh pace. you stutter out satoru’s name again and again as your vision goes blurry, with your only thoughts revolving around the dick shoved up inside you and the man praising you in your ear. 

satoru curses when he feels your walls clench around him, breaths growing shallower with every thrust. “arch your back for me, princess,” he mutters, eyes fluttering rapidly as he squeezes your waist. “yeah, jus’ like that,” satoru praises, breath brushing against the side of your face as he continues thrusting into you. “how’re you feeling, pretty? s’ this all right with you?”

you nod shakily in response, swollen lips hanging wide open as you gasp for air. satoru clicks his tongue and slows his pace, dipping his chin and studying your face. “gonna need you to use your words, angel.”

“m' good, i wanna cum,” you mumble, a loud moan slipping through your lips when satoru laughs and resumes fucking you a millisecond after you answer. 

“i’m gonna fill you up, baby, i promise,” satoru whispers, and his words are barely audible over the lewd, sticky sounds coming from everywhere. all your senses are directed at satoru—the man you really shouldn’t be fucking right now, but all your inhibitions fade away as you feel your stomach start to tighten as you approach your orgasm.

“fuck, satoru, m’ close,” you whimper, arching your back even more and clenching your teeth shut. satoru sucks in a sharp breath as he confirms that he’s also about to cum, and his thrusts grow sloppier the closer he gets. “don’t stop, please, i—”

from there on, your words mix themselves together, with the only understandable word being satoru’s name. your fake boyfriend spills into you first, cum leaking from his tip and mixing with yours as you both chase your releases. and it hits you hard—if it wasn’t for satoru, you would’ve crumbled to the ground from the sheer force of your orgasm. all you can see is white as satoru finishes emptying his load inside of you, and the sticky, viscous liquid trails down the warm skin of your thighs as it overflows from your abused hole.

“shit,” satoru mutters, stumbling backwards and eyeing his now-soiled clothes. “this was a couple thousand dollars, damn it.”

you exhale a breathy laugh and turn around, leaning against the wall and meeting his half-lidded eyes. “you kidding? my dress was way more than that, and there’s no way i can wear that out now.”

satoru grins, running a hand through his ruffled hair and walking back towards you, touching your waist and sliding a finger over your dripping cunt. “you were so good f’me, baby. what were we arguing about again?”

“i have no idea,” you mumble, watching satoru lick his finger clean. he’s shameless—even as clarity returns to both of your minds, he still insists on dragging the moment on. not that you mind—that was the best sex you’d had in a while, even if it was too fast and in a bathroom.

“we should get back to the ceremony,” you say distractedly, pulling down your dress and frowning at the new wrinkles. “can i wear your suitjacket? i don’t want people to see this.”

satoru sticks out his bottom lip and pouts, looking you up and down. “but i like it. you look like you just got fucked by a really hot guy. oh, wait, that’s me!”

“you’re an asshole.”

before satoru can reply, the bathroom door opens, and you both jump out of your skins. thankfully, satoru had time to pull his pants on, otherwise it would’ve been significantly more embarrassing. suguru pokes his head in the bathroom and rolls his eyes when he sees you and satoru, and an exasperated sigh slips out of his lips when he sees your fucked-out states. 

“are you two seriously fucking during the awards?” suguru snaps, amber eyes glittering with dry amusement. you look away bashfully, tugging down your dress even farther out of embarrassment. satoru shrugs nonchalantly and walks over to suguru, offering his hand in search of a fistbump. 

suguru eyes him dubiously and crosses his arms. “did you wash your hands?”

“heh, no, not yet.”

ignoring satoru’s smug grin, suguru swats his arm away with the back of his hand, disgust evident all over his face. “gross, fuck off.” he turns to you and arches an eyebrow, looking you up and down disapprovingly. “you two should clean up before coming outside, otherwise they’ll probably take away your awards,” suguru adds, wrinkling his nose. “i’ll tell them you’re on your way.” 

“okay, thanks,” you mutter, face warmer than ever. suguru nods in response and leaves, and when you and satoru finally return to the awards ceremony, there’s plenty of whispers about you two, and most of them aren’t very family-friendly.

well, at the very least, nobody’s gonna doubt that you two were a couple now!

[princesssmars]

thinking about how vi loves to be close to you. maybe too close. slight nsfw.

one of your favorite things about your girlfriend was just how passionate she could be about whatever she was doing. if you spotted a nice looking jacket at a stall walking through the lanes, she was charming and gagging the owner until it rested over your shoulders. if you made an off handed comment about wanting to start a better workout routine, she was carefully altering your diet and taking up the spot as your fitness trainer in the living area of your shared apartment.

but you really loved how passionate she was about touching you. after getting out of prison and reuniting you could see how conflicted she was, the memories of your soft hands caressing her skin fighting against the recollections of the ‘punishments’ she would receive in stillwater. you had told her you wouldn’t push her into anything that put her into a bad head space, that you’d wait how ever long she needed before she touched someone again.

you knew she appreciated the sentiment, truly she did, but when she came to see you later that night she put away most of your shared doubts about being too aversed to touch.

even still, you tried to take care with any physical contact you initiated with her. you made sure she knew you were behind her before wrapping your arms around her waist, looking into her eyes for silent consent before pressing a barrage of kisses to her cheeks and face. it was a slow process, but it was oh so worth it when after a few weeks of careful touches she started to come out of her shell.

but gods, did you start to regret it after a while.

vi has always been a confident woman, but you never knew how confident until she revealed just how much she loves to touch you. you can still hear her cackle after she came up behind you in the kitchen and straight up picked you up off the floor, holding you for a few seconds before setting you down with a kiss to your cheek and heading back to do whatever she was doing.

and she gets acclimated to touching you often very quickly. you definitely weren’t complaining when she’d start an impromptu make out session while relaxing on the couch, or joining you in the bath to help each other ‘unwind’, or simply flipping her body into yours on the bed after shared hard days at work.

and then the pda starts.

vi had finally gotten a promotion at her security job, and youd decided to take her out to jericho's to celebrate. while a little gross you thought it was endearing how she always ate his meals like she was starving, gulping it down quicker than you could finish a quarter of your bowl. when she had turned to you with a tahnks and a smile, you gently wiped away some of the juice leftover on her chin, innocently sticking your thumb in your mouth.

she smiled and you could see a faint flush over her cheeks. and then she allegedly saw some juice dribbling down your chin and neck, and decided it only made sense to lean over and lick it of if you.

"vi! what the hell was that?"

"what? was returning the favor. plus you look so adorable right now."

and like a lightbulb appeared over her head, she then decided the best way to show her physical affection from that point onwards was upfront and in public. you couldn't walk anywhere without feeling her hands resting on a part of your body, her strong grip tugging you back to her if you strayed too far. you both knew she was riling you up but she liked to pretend she didn't know what she was doing.

well, that was until she finally showed you how possessive she could truly be. she'd shown the trait before, leaving hickeys up and down your neck and giving looks you're 90% sure could actually kill behind your back to anyone who stared at you for too long. but you were both out in the cheap markets looking for some more decorations to liven up the house, a kind old woman holding up an old keepsake from her old village to help you see as you bent over the selling counter.

apparently, some guy had been staring too hard and too intensely at your bent-over form because while you were in the middle of inquiring about the details on the ornament you felt a large familiar palm slip into the back pocket of your pants and squeeze. you really wish you could say you didn't startle the poor old woman with your yelp, but...

and while you were a little pissed about being flustered in public, you couldn't find it in you to stay mad at your beautiful girlfriend who was finally coming out of her shell. especially when she made up for it when you got home, hands and mouth all over your body as she brought you to a sweet release again and again and again <3

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Double Dad Swap

Hunter:

It was a regular day. My boyfriend, Quinn, and I were hanging around my house on a Saturday. We had just finished breakfast and were deciding what to do.

“Man it's way too hot today. I don't feel like doing anything,” Quinn announced. It was true, there was definitely a heat wave going on or something. Normal people would stay inside, but a certain someone had other plans.

“Hey boys!” My dad walked into the room with a determined look on his face.

“Hey dad. What's up?”

“I'm gonna go fix that hole on the roof. The neighbors paid for the damages their kids did to it, but somebody’s still gotta do the work.”

“Today?” It's too hot out.

“Well,” he said with a laugh. “You can't stop progress!”

Once he walked out to the garage and was out of earshot, Quinn spoke up.“Your dad is like the biggest workaholic ever.”

“I know right.”

“Better than being lazy…like you,” he teased.

“Hey!” We laughed and then decided to watch a movie.

Quinn:

A few hours later we were talking in our group chat with a couple old school friends. Somehow the topic got to Hunter's dad and how hot he was. He looked at me with a confused face.

“My dad?”

“You gotta admit. He's pretty hot.”

“What the hell? No way.”

“Well of course you would say that. He’s like…your dad. Duh.”

“Well what if I said your dad was hot? He really is actually.

”Ew. He did not just go there. The idea of my dad being considered hot by anyone, was an unsettling thought. Who could like a guy like him? He was always supportive of me and all, but tended to be overly formal in casual situations.

“My dad? Gross. He's like…all traditional and stuff.” He laughed.

“And how does that affect his looks?”

“It doesn't. I mean…well he's fat and has had the same ugly mustache since the 90s.”

“Well I happen to think the chubby mustache combo is pretty sexy…”

“Gross! Stop! Your dad is the sexy one! Those piercing hazel eyes…that fit bod…”

We got in each other's faces and after a couple seconds of silence, we flopped back onto the couch and started laughing.

“If anyone heard us just now, they'd think we were nuts!” Hunter said between laughs.

“True!” I replied. “Well whatever. What are we gonna do now? I'm still bored.”

“I have an idea,” he scooted closer to me and began stroking my pants.

“But your dad's home.”

“Yeah, but he's on the roof. He's such a perfectionist with all his projects; he'll be there all day.”

“Yeah I guess.” I let out a laugh. “Well then…shall we head over to the bedroom?”

Hunter:

As Quinn sucked my dick, all I could think about was his dad. How hot it would be to fuck him, and watch him cum. Man, that would be amazing. But it was only a dream. It would really make things awkward between Quinn and I, even if it somehow did happen. I guess the only thing I could do was close my eyes and pretend he was his dad. I leaned over and kissed him, pretending he had that sexy mustache.

“I'm gonna cum!” He said between breaths. He got onto his back and jerked while I did the same, sitting on top of him. My last thought was of his dad before I closed my eyes and came; The sound of Quinn’s moaning meant that he finished too - the same time as me. It was so intense that I started feeling a little lightheaded. Before I knew it, I blacked out.

Quinn:

I opened my eyes to find I was outside. What happened? The last thing I remember, we were messing around and I came. I've been known to get so exhausted afterward that I want to take a nap, but that was just straight up blacking out. Was this a dream? I looked around and realized that I was outside my dad's restaurant. What was I doing here? It was then that I noticed it was extra hot and I found that I was wearing long sleeves. I examined my clothes to see I was wearing a tie with a black shirt and vest combo. No wonder I was sweating my ass off. But I think I recognized the outfit. My dad's? That couldn't be…

I walked inside and scanned the area. I spent a lot of time at this restaurant as a kid so I knew the layout pretty well. I would probably get an explanation by talking to my dad, so I headed for his office, but was stopped by one of the waitresses.

“Hi Mr. Rivera! How are you today?” I had no idea who this waitress was but I didn't want to be rude so I greeted her back.

“I'm good. Thanks.” My voice came out raspier than usual. A little deeper too. What was going on?

I tried the door handle. Locked. Great. What was I supposed to do now? I took a seat on the nearby bench and it felt like I sat on something, but nothing was on the bench. I searched my back pockets and it was almost like my butt was bigger somehow. I grabbed a pair of keys - my dad's pair of keys. Oh god. What if…?

I quickly turned the keys and closed the door behind me. I felt around my front pockets and took out a phone - his phone. I opened the front camera and found his face staring back at me. Fuck no, this couldn't be happening! How did I switch bodies with my dad? What was I going to say to Hunter?

Hunter:

What happened? I opened my eyes to the blue sky, but looked down to find I was on the roof! What the hell?! I scanned the area and noticed that I was home…on the roof. Did my dad bring me up here somehow?”

“Hey dad! Where are you?” I said, but my voice came out weird. Deeper somehow. I caught sight of my hands and found I was wearing gloves that had some dirt on them. My dad's gloves? What was going on? When I noticed that I was wearing his clothes - the same clothes he was wearing earlier this morning - it suddenly hit me.

“What the hell! I'm my dad!” I screamed.

How did this happen? What was Quinn going to think? And how do I even get down from the roof…

Quinn:

I held the phone up to my ear and anxiously waited for my dad to pick up. I realized that if I was in his body, he must be in mine right? After a few seconds, it went to ringtone. I couldn't wait any longer so I decided to go there myself. It wasn't too long of a drive to Hunter's house at least. I walked through the restaurant, (thankfully no employees noticed me), and pressed the button on the keys to locate my car. The reflection in the car reminded me of what I looked like, but I tried to ignore it and got into the driver's seat. There, I could see a clear reflection of myself in the rear view mirror for the first time. It was definitely my dad's face. His double chin was so evident without any facial hair - well except for his ugly mustache. I touched it with two fingers and brushed along to see what it felt like. I grazed the back of my head to find the bald spot he had there. This was so gross! I turned the ignition and was on my way to figure out how to fix this!

Hunter:

After climbing down the ladder, I was back inside the house and I immediately headed towards the bedroom where Quinn and I fucked. There we found our bodies seemingly unconscious on the bed, in the same position we were in. It was really creepy.

“Hey uh. Dad? Wake up…” I said hesitantly. No response.

“Wake up!” I said even louder. No response.

They must be in a coma or something. Oh god what if I was stuck like this? I headed towards the bathroom and found my dad's face staring back at me in the mirror. I made different facial expressions and started to creep myself out. Thankfully I was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. I made my way and opened the front door just as Quinn's dad jumped out of the car, almost losing his balance as his feet hit the concrete

.“Sorry, I'm not used to this…” He looked up at me. “Oh uh I mean, hey there Mr. Patterson. Um, have you seen my uh son?”

I think I had an idea what was going on.

“Quinn?” I asked.

“Yeah? I mean- yeah that's his name…I mean…” He paused for a few seconds until he must've realized what had happened too.

“H-hunter? Is that you?”

“Yep. And that's really you in there?”

“Oh god. This sucks! What are we going to do? Wait, where are our bodies?”

“In the room where we last were. Whether or not our dads are in our bodies doesn't matter because they're unconscious or something.”

“So we're stuck like this?”Suddenly I had an idea.

“Well…you did say my dad was hot…”

“What are you getting at….OH.” Quinn replied as I smirked. “But…I mean...it's my dad's dick!”

“Yeah I know. But this may be your only chance to fuck my dad. Same thing for me too.”

“Well…being in a different body means I'm horny again so…”I leaned in for a kiss. The brushing of his mustache against my face felt amazing. Even better than I imagined!

“Shall we go?” Quinn said with a smile.

Quinn:

We didn't know what to do with our bodies so we just left them there and closed the door. Hopefully they wouldn't hear anything if they somehow were still conscious.We went into Hunter's dad's room and he immediately started stripping. He had the sexiest athletic body. Blond hair covered his entire chest and while he didn't have a six pack or anything, he had some pretty decent pecs.

Hunter looked into the mirror and made a frown.

“This is so gross!”

“Maybe don't look at your face in the mirror. Only look at the body.”

“I guess it's not as bad when I do that. But still…” He gazed at me with lust in his eyes. “Your turn.”

I so wasn't ready for this! But he hugged me and began to strip me himself, starting with my tie and vest. Each piece of clothing made my dad's chubby body more and more obvious. He started unbuttoning my shirt until the tank top underneath was revealed. I guess I didn't look as bad as I thought. My dad must've lost weight. I didn't want to go any further than that, but I also really wanted to feel his body against mine so I lifted the tank top off happily…but I was met with a terrifying surprise.

“Shit,” I said. My chubby rolls slapped the rest of my body as I gawked at myself in the mirror. It's no wonder that the tank top felt so constricting. It was holding in all that blubber.

I turned to Hunter and expected him to be upset, but was instead met with a sexy smirk. God, making his dad do those hot expressions was really turning me on.

“Wait you like this?” I asked.

“Of course. You're even bigger than I thought. An absolute muffin top.” He came from behind and wrapped his arms around me. I could feel my dick harden as much as it could and grasped it. It was still gross the idea that it was my dad’s dick but I didn't care. All that mattered was Hunter's sexy body.

He reached his hands over and grabbed my man tits. When he played with them, I experienced sensations I never felt before as a twink. Vibrations went through my body as he jiggled every bit of squishy flesh. I turned around to return the favor - I kneeled down and started sucking his cock. He was huge! Much bigger than what he had before. It wasn't any harder to take it in though; I guess my dad's mouth must've opened bigger than mine. He put his hands around the back of my head and started pushing his cock down my throat. Faster and faster, as I jerked myself.

Suddenly he stopped as I could feel the warm cum shoot down my throat at the same time I shot my own load. In one big gulp I swallowed it all and hopped onto my back, the flabby rolls jiggling as I did.

Afterwards we washed up and Hunter put on one of his dad's t-shirts, while I just put on what I had before, because I knew nothing would fit me. We walked back into Hunter's room to see if our dads had woken up, to find that they had disappeared completely. In fact, the whole room was magically cleaned up and the bed made, as if it was a guest room and always had been.

“So…I guess we're the dads now,” Hunter said with a smirk.

“And best of all, we don't have any sons,” I replied as I opened Grindr.

[hier--soir]

be good

no outbreak joel miller x f!reader

pairing: sub!joel miller x dom!f!reader summary: joel was never really the submissive type. until he met you, and realised he'd do whatever you asked of him. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no outbreak au, established relationship, strangers at a bar role play, dom!reader, sub!joel, dirty talk, joel miller is desperate, face sitting cunnilingus, f!masturbation, save a horse ride a cowboy, size kink, praise kink, light choking, mean!reader, pet names used for joel [honey, baby, sugar], orgasm denial, reader talks joel through it, 90% porn 10% plot lmao. word count: 7.6k masterlist a/n: folks i've been gagging for something with joel just being so good for his partner and [begrudgingly] doing whatever she tells him too... and then i listened to 'sex with me' by rihanna and got even more inspired so here we go. [i swear i will post something soon with an actual plot jfc]

He’d been watching you all night.

Pip’s Bar was busy. Though it wasn’t your usual haunt, it was one of the more popular spots in Austin, and on a Saturday night it was absolutely teeming with people. Strangers lined the bar, drinking and talking and trying fruitlessly to chase down two overworked bar tenders. A mass of bodies gyrated and swayed in the middle of the room, moving to the fast rhythm of a bassline that shook the rickety old floorboards. You were lost in the midst of it, dancing alone and yet connected to the foreign bodies that crowded you from every angle, suffocating you until you were slick with sweat and sticky from spilt alcohol. Swallowed whole by the writhing, heaving pack of dancers, your every breath and movement synced with theirs.

And he’d been watching you, all night.

He’d arrived at Pip’s not long after you. And since then, he had hardly moved from the same spot across the room. He leant against the wall, one hand gripping a glass and the other propped on his hip. He looked bored, uninterested in everything happening around him, and yet every time you glanced his way those eyes were already burning a hole into your skin. The truth was that he’d never had much patience for the whole thing, but you trusted he enjoyed it just as much as you did. Knew he’d do whatever you asked him to, even if it included going to a bar and pretending you were strangers. Even when it meant him watching you dance all night, rubbing yourself against strangers, and pretending you didn’t know him until one of you finally broke.  

Your arms stretched high above your head, hips swaying from side to side as you muttered the lyrics of the song underneath your breath. Once again, you glanced back in his direction while you danced. You allowed your torso to sway with the movements of your hips, hands dropping to rest lacklustre by your sides. You offered him a quick smile, but his face hardly moved, body rigid. He lifted the glass to his mouth, playing coy, and you chuckled under your breath, closing your eyes and revelling in the heavy bass that vibrated through your body. When you opened them again he was gone, the wall where he’d once stood now devoid of his presence. You didn’t give it much thought, until suddenly a pair of hands were on your waist, pulling you back against a solid body. A gasp of soft surprise exhaled from your mouth, and you felt the hands squeeze gently. When you turned around, there was already a sly smile was painted across your lips.

The dim lighting in the bar did him no justice; casting too many shadows across his strong jawline, his straight aquiline nose, hiding the perfect shade of his dark pink lips.

He stared down at you with a simmering intensity as you pressed your chest against his. The room was hot, and sweat beaded along your hairline, but it didn’t stop you from dancing slowly against him, gliding your curves against his body, maintaining eye contact all the while.

A faded denim button up covered his chest, the thin material doing nothing to disguise the toned, strong body beneath it. The fabric was slightly coarse, and it was rough against the thin mesh of your shirt. You always loved waiting to see what he would wear, how he would dress up for you. Tonight’s shirt was new, something he’d bought specifically for the occasion, and you loved it. Your nipples hardened a little, and you smirked as he snaked an arm around your waist to press his palm to the spot in between your shoulder blades, holding you against him.

“What’s your name?” you asked over the music, noting the way his eyes drifted to your mouth when you spoke. God, he was so easy.

“Joel.” Those deep, brown eyes bore into your own, drinking in the details of your face as his hips moved slowly against yours. He was always antsy to get this part over and done with, but he played along for you.

“Are you single?” you asked, revelling in the way his mouth went to respond before his brain could catch up. The beginning of the word no formed on his lips, and you almost grinned at how loyal he was, even when you wanted him to lie.

“Yes,” he said.

“You’ve been watching me all night, Joel.”

You reached up to fix his collar where part of it had been turned up. He didn’t respond immediately, mulling his thoughts over in his head, contemplating what he thought you might want to hear.

“It’s okay,” you spoke again when you sensed he was overthinking it, allowing your hand to glide down his shoulder and over the firm muscles of his upper arm. “I liked it.”

“And your name?” he asked, almost shouting to be heard over the music. You smirked at the deep bellow of his voice; at the way it gave the pumping music a run for its money. The thick, Texan drawl of it always managed to spark a fire in your belly.

When you told him, he repeated your name slowly, as if it were foreign to him; rolling it around in his mouth, tasting out the syllables on his tongue. The hand on your back held strong, and you could almost feel the individual tips of his fingertips leaving indents in your skin.

A gyrating body jostled into you from the side suddenly, and you stumbled forward. Joel tightened his grip on you, keeping the both of you standing up right. You flashed him a grateful smile, and your eyes dipped to stare at his mouth. The urge to kiss him was strong, but you held yourself back, knowing the payoff would be worth it if you could just hold off a little longer.

You didn’t waste much time though. “What brings you to Pip’s? Y’here to meet someone?”  

A spark of desire flashed through his eyes, and his grip tightened inconceivably. Your body thrummed with excitement as you gained the upper hand so successfully, and so quickly. Joel cleared his throat, face relaxing back into a neutral expression.

“Didn’t want to come here at all,” he spoke plainly, glancing down to where your chests rubbed together. His eyes trailed over your torso, the mesh fabric of your shirt allowing him a full view of your breasts, clad in a thin lace bra. “Brother dragged me along.”

You hummed, almost grinning at the mention of Tommy, who would blush beet red if he knew what the two of you were doing at Pip’s. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he beat you to it.

“Did you?” he asked quickly. “Come here lookin’ for someone?”

You quirked an eyebrow and shook your head once. “No, I didn’t.” Bold faced lie.

His left hand rested on your hip, and he squeezed your waist once, holding your midriff solidly against his own. You could feel his heart beating, a rapid badoom badoom badoom that knocked rhythmically against your sternum. You draped an arm around the back of his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt.

“But maybe I could be persuaded,” you spoke slowly, testing the waters. “If you’re good.”

His eyes darkened a shade at your wording, and a soft exhale rushed out of his mouth, breezing against your face. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from touching yours, but he hesitated, eyes flickering back up to yours, as if asking for permission. Perfect.

You kissed him gently at first, slotting your lips against his and moving tentatively, exploring him as if it were the first time. His hold on you stiffened as he pressed back, running his tongue eagerly along the seam of your mouth. Your hand drifted from his collar to his hair and you gripped it softly, tugging on the wavy curls. Joel was taller than you, and yet he was crouching somewhat, so that your mouths would be level. Simplifying things for you; always so eager for the game to end. He struggled with it – the standing across the room, watching you, waiting for you to invite him over with a smile. But after an hour of dancing, you were willing to let him have it.

You parted your lips and allowed him to swipe his tongue greedily into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and mint and soda water. It burnt your mouth, and inspired a dull ache in your abdomen. He gained confidence, kissing you harder, deeper, and so you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make him pause. A warning.

You pulled away. “Have you been drinking, Joel?”

His chest rose and fell quickly. Lips swollen and red. You could feel him pressing against your stomach, already half-hard from just a little kiss. Poor baby, so desperate.

“Only had two.” His voice was stilted. “I drove here.”

“Good,” you nodded, gripping his hand and leading him out of the throng of dancing bodies.

“Good?” Joel shouted back, eyebrows raised.

“Good that your car is here,” you clarified. “Means you can drive us back to my place.”

Joel walked through your apartment like he’d never been there a day in his life, and you adored him for it.

He rested on the edge of your bed, nursing a cold beer that you’d swiped from the fridge for him. He stuck out in your bedroom, but you suppose he always had. The queen-sized bed looked like a double with him on it, his broad frame taking up most of the mattress. And the contrast between your floral wallpaper and his dark, masculine figure was so stark that you almost giggled as you watched him from across the room. His eyes felt heavy on you, following you wherever you moved, lest he miss a single thing. They raked over your figure, basking in the bare flesh you had on show, monitoring your hands as you removed your jewellery and discarded it. It caused a prickling heat to rise across your skin, and you liked it – the way he seemed so eager, so uncontained.

“What’re you doin’ all the way over there?” Joel asked. His fingers were long, wrapping around the entirety of the beer bottle, making it look miniscule in his grip.

You bent to take off your shoes. “I’m admiring you.”

His lips pursed, beer bottle pausing in the air halfway to his lips. When he spoke, his voice was deeper somehow. “Well, you should come over here.”

“Would you like that?” you straightened up, smiling sweetly.

“Yes,” he responded. His voice was measured, quiet. But you could tell he was frustrated by your relaxed demeanour. It was always the way it went. Joel was so impatient. He knew what was going to happen, knew what awaited him, and he couldn’t fucking stand the tension build up.

“Maybe if you’re good,” you winked, padding over to where he sat. You stood over him, knees brushing against knees.

“I can be good,” he spoke gruffly, depositing his beer bottle on the ground with a gentle clink.

“Is that so?” you asked softly, pulse quickening. He nodded, wiping his palms on his jeans before splaying them on the bed beside him. A slick heat had formed in your underwear, the near-ruined material sticking uncomfortably to your skin. “You’re gonna do what I want? Whatever I ask of you?”

You could see the way his jeans tightened over his crotch, cock clearly straining against the rough material at your words. He swallowed, nodding again. Slowly, so slow it was painful, you leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. His scent filled your nostrils and you inhaled it deeply, sighing against his mouth as everything that was Joel Miller invaded your senses. Your tongue flicked against his mouth and then you were dragging it past his lips, over his teeth, rolling it against his own tongue. A warm, heavy hand gripped the waistband of your pants and long fingers fumbled with the button, but you pulled back, tutting as you shoved his hands away from you. He looked dejected, wet lips parted as he frowned up at you.

“Take your clothes off,” you ordered softly, and he grunted, but did as you asked. “And then lay on the bed.”

Making quick work of it, he stripped out of his shirt and jeans, tossing them haphazardly into the corner of the room. Finally, he tugged his briefs down, before laying back on the mattress.

Splayed on the bed, not a single inch of Joel Miller was left to the imagination. His body sunk into the soft blankets on the bed, and his cock stood at painful attention. It gave you pause, as he stared at you, and you stared at his cock. He was big—bigger than most guys you’d slept with in the past—and he knew it too. Had always been proud of the fact. His tip was ruddy and swollen, with a small pearl of pre-come resting on his slit, taunting you. A thick, pulsing vein travelled down the side of him. You thought about how he would taste, in that moment. How heavy he would be on your tongue, how your jaw would ache, and you’d struggle to breathe as his tip glided against the back of your throat. You were salivating just thinking about it.

“You like what you see?”

You simply took your clothes off in response. Taking your time, you dragged your shirt over your head before peeling your trousers off, underwear following it and landing in a pile on the floor until you stood naked as the day you were born. Joel watched closely, dark eyes monitoring your hands as you removed layer after layer. His gaze dipped to the spot between your thighs, and you saw his cock twitch.

You straddled his thighs, resting just above his knees and taking care not to make contact with his length. As soon as you settled above him his hands rested naturally on your waist, gripping and kneading the flesh beneath his palms. You decided to allow it, just for a moment, as your gaze travelled down his chest and the dark smattering of hair there, past his happy trail, all the way to where he wanted you the most.

His hips shifted on the mattress, cock bobbing against the soft flesh of his tummy and leaving a shiny smear where the tip brushed his skin.

“So handsome,” you traced your fingers over his stomach. “You’ve got such a pretty cock, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he grunted, eyes trained on your hands as they wandered toward his hips. The power you felt in moments like this were unmatched. With this broad, strong man laying beneath you, completely at your mercy, hanging on the precipice of your every word. Even if he struggled to admit it, even when it seemed like he was using all of his will power to let you have your fun, you both knew that you were in charge. And it was invigorating.

“Yes,” you implored, your heart warming at the way his chest seemed to puff with pride at your words.

Your fingertip traced alone his hipbone and he shivered at the featherlight touch, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. “So pretty and thick. I love it like that, you know? When it’s so big that it hurts at first. No matter how wet I am, there’s still that sting.” You dug your nails into the soft of his upper thigh to emphasise your point. He didn’t respond, eyes darkening as he watched you.

“So big that it fills me up until it’s like I can’t breathe, and I’m so cock drunk that I can’t focus on anything except you and how deep you are.” You placed your spare hand on your lower stomach, splaying your fingers. “When I can feel it here.”

Joel’s breathing had started to labour, chest rattling as heavy exhales drifted through parted lips. His hands dragged from your waist to the crease where your thigh met your hips, and his grip was bruising. You knew he loved it when you talked like that, knew it drove him crazy. And you couldn’t deny it made a fresh wave of heat roll through your stomach to think about him stretching you out just right.

“And I love this,” you continued softly, dragging your fingers from his thigh to graze the moustache that rested above his top lip. He smirked at that, tongue darting out to swipe at your fingers. Your stomach tensed at the feeling of the wet muscle touching you, pussy fluttering around nothing, devastatingly empty. 

Joel whispered your name against the palm of your hand. Smiling, you traced the tip of your index over his lips before pressing down, watching it slide easily into his mouth. He closed his lips around the digit immediately, grazing his teeth over it before sucking gently.

“Oh, you’ve got such a pretty mouth,” you said. “You gonna show me what you can do with it?”

He moaned around the digit, strong hands pulling your hips forward so you were edging your way up his torso.

“Mmh,” you hummed lowly, dragging your soaked finger from his mouth. You tapped it once against his left hand and gave him a sly smile. “But none of this, okay? I don’t want to feel your hands on me, not for a second. Do you understand?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, eyes dimming as he slowly pried his fingers away from your flesh, lowering his hands to rest in the sheets.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” he asked softly, tongue swiping out to wet his lower lip.

You nodded, using your knees to shift further up his chest until you were hovering just above his collarbones. Joel’s eyes darted between your thighs, and a soft sigh left his lips as he gazed at the way your lips had parted ever so slightly, giving him a glimpse of your glistening core. When you paused there for a moment too long, he looked back up to your face, expression almost begging you to movepleasejustmovejustalittlebitcloser.

So you put him out of his misery; rested your knees on either side of his head before lowering your aching cunt to meet his mouth.

Joel groaned in relief as his nose buried itself in your hair, tongue darting out to swipe between your soaked folds. You gasped in delight, rutting yourself against him in encouragement. The coarse hairs of his moustache scraped against your clit and you whined at the sensation, reaching up to rest your hands atop the headboard.

Joel licked a firm stripe up your core with the flat of his tongue, and your shoulders tensed as he set to work. He wasted no time setting a hard and fast pace, letting out messy groans as his tongue rubbed firm circles around your clit. You exhaled heavily, teeth biting down on your lower lip. He dragged his tongue to your entrance and dipped it inside you, so quickly that you flinched, before he was back to rubbing your clit, swiping the tip of his tongue back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He was so overzealous, so hungry for it; exhaling hot air against you while he lathed sloppy kisses against your pussy.

“Hey,” you rasped, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. Joel didn’t let up, simply flicking his tongue across your clit again. You jolted, tightening your grip in his hair and inching your hips away from his face. “Hey.”

His eyes flashed open, lips parting as his mouth tried to follow you when you pulled away.

“Wha—?” he couldn’t finish his sentence as you took his bottom lip between your thumb and index finger, squeezing it once.

“Slow down,” you said firmly. His cheeks flushed. “Moving that fast, a girl might start to think you’re trying to get it over with as quick as possible.”

Joel shook his head in a daze, mumbling a meagre apology against your fingers. Those big browns gazed up at you, wide and sad, reminiscent of a Labrador being told off for eating his dinner too fast. You pressed back down over his face, murmuring a gentle reminder for him to go slow.

He was soft then. Meticulous. Calculated. Every lick, every suck, every graze of teeth, was thought out and purposeful. You could feel more slick oozing out of you as his tongue massaged the flesh between your clit and your entrance.

“That’s it,” you praised breathlessly. “That’s perfect, doing—ohh—doing so well for me.”

Within minutes he had you on the edge, holding the headboard in a white-knuckle grip and grinding down against his mouth as breathy moans fell from your lips. It was reverent, the way he ate you out like it was his favourite thing to do in the world. And as liquid fire began to twist in your stomach, and your thighs burned with the intensity of holding yourself up above him, you could swear you felt him moving. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you bit down on your lip to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape you at the sight of him.

The muscles of his long tanned legs were tense, the soft flesh of his hips flexing as he thrusted upward subconsciously, his leaking cock desperately seeking for contact but being rewarded with nothing but the humid air of your bedroom.  

You thought about how easy it would be to turn around. To lean down and take him in your mouth. To slide your lips over his head; to taste his salt while his tongue glided through your folds. Just the thought had you careening over the edge, body jerking as you gasped and sighed and grinded the swollen mess of yourself down against his face. Joel moaned gratefully, dark eyes flicking open to watch you as you came. You could feel him everywhere; his facial hair scraping against your twitching inner thighs as his nose bumped against your clit and his tongue lapped at your entrance, sucking and swallowing down everything you had to offer until you were gasping and prying yourself away.

On shaking legs, you made your way back down his body. As you moved, you rubbed your pussy against his torso, smearing a shimmering trail of your slick across his skin. Joel let out a brief, wrecked moan, stomach tensing as you passed over it and then lifted yourself up. His pink tongue darted out to swipe at his lips, savouring the glistening remnants of your taste. Resting on your knees, you hovered above him, smiling breathlessly.

“Fuck.” You admired the sight, pouting your lips out teasingly. “Made such a mess on you, I’m sorry, baby.”

“Jesus.” His voice was pained. “S’perfect.”  

“And it’s all for you,” you hummed, trailing a finger absentmindedly over his collarbone. “You looked so pretty like that. All messy haired and fucked out while I rode your face. So good for me, I’m tempted to let you go down on me all night.”

“I want to,” Joel exhaled heavily. A soft blush had risen across his chest, and he glowed under the shower of praise. “Think about it all the time.”

“Is that right?” you asked demurely.

“S’right,” he mumbled. “Think about the way you taste. About spreading you out and spending hours with my head between your thighs.”

The words were so hot they almost made you forget about the game you were playing.

You looked down, brain shifting gears and mouth going dry at the sight of your puffy lips hovering so beautifully close to the tip of his cock. He was so hard it looked painful. Stiff and pulsing, the vein down the side of his length visibly throbbed. Pre-come dripped down his length, pooling at the base of him.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, and Joel looked down, groaning at the sight of you so close to where he was just aching. With a soft gasp, you noticed yourself begin to drip. “Look at that.”

Together, you watched a strand of your slick drip out of you, and land directly on the tip of his cock. Joel’s entire body jolted, and a pitiful moan escaped his mouth at the first stimulation he’d received all night. On instinct, his hands rushed forward and gripped your hips, stomach tensed as he thrusted upward into the air. You could see it in his eyes, the burning desire to grab you and pull you close, roll on top of you and just split you open. But this was your night, and you were the one calling the shots.

You tutted softly. “I said, hands off. Don’t make me tie them to the bed,” you clipped. He cursed, hands dropping immediately. “Mmh, you’ll do whatever I tell you to, won’t you?”

He whispered your name hoarsely, lips shifting below his wet moustache.

You ignored him, smiling at the way his cock twitched whenever you spoke. “So needy, so fucking desperate for me to touch you.”

“Yes,” he admit to it through gritted teeth. “God, fuckin’—please. Anything, I’ll do anything. Need to feel you, please baby, I need it.”

You hummed quietly, pondering as you gazed down at the sweaty mess of a man beneath you. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls, huh handsome?”

His lips parted, harsh exhales rushing past chapped lips. “Only you,” he said firmly.

The corner of your mouth twitched up and you gave an approving nod, admiring the sincere gleam in his eye.

“Good boy,” you murmured. He groaned softly, eyes almost closing at the words. “But I’ve decided I don’t think I’ll use my mouth on you tonight. Or my hands, for that matter.”

Joel frowned, lips curling into a deep grimace as he twisted the sheets in his fists.

“Because,” you continued. “All I want your cock to feel, all night, is my cunt. Nothing else. Do you understand?” 

His jaw slackened and then he was nodding, muttering yeahokayyesyes.

“Yes what, Joel?”

“Please,” his voice cracked.

A wide grin spread easily across your face as you shuffled down the bed, settling your knees on either side of his waist.

“You such a tease,” he groused under his breath.

“Uh-huh,” you chuckled darkly. “And we both know you love it.” He stayed silent, knowing you were right, and watched as you splayed a hand across his stomach, using his body for leverage as you—finally—pressed your folds against his cock. Joel’s stomach tightened as you glided along his length, spreading your slick from his head to his base.

“Can I…?” he trailed off, eyes darting from your face and to where the two of you were touching. You nodded once, unable to look away as he reached down to grip himself, strong fingers wrapping around his length and squeezing once while he notched his tip at your entrance. The lingering sensitivity from your previous orgasm had you shuddering at the contact, walls contracting at the thought of him finally being inside of you.

You pushed his hand away swiftly, placing it back onto the bed. A harsh gasp ripped from your throat as you sunk down on him, gravity taking away any chance for your body to adjust to him slowly. The stretch stung a little, and your mouth hung open, spilling breathy whines.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard Joel exhale, voice ragged.  The muscle in his jaw moved underneath his skin, the muscles in his arms straining as he focused all of his willpower on not fucking touching you. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered. “Y-you’re so deep, stretching me out so good, just how I like it.” You tightened around him and a deep groan tumbled from Joel’s mouth, lids fluttering as his eyes all but rolled back into his head. You wiped the sweat off his forehead and cupped his cheek in your palm.

“Talk to me, honey,” you ran the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone. “Tell me how it feels.”

He grunted, heady brown eyes opening to peer up at you. His hips flexed beneath you and you bit your lip to stop from crying out at the way his cock shifted inside you. Slowly, knees painful from the pressure, you lifted almost entirely off him, before sinking back down. And then you did it again, and again, setting a deliberately unhurried pace and never once taking your eyes off his face.

The room already smelt like sex, a heady mixture of sweat and come, and a warm fog settled over your mind as the moment enveloped you.

You rotated your hips in a circle and delighted in the way he slammed the palm of his hand down onto the bed, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. His eyes were half-shut, vision drifting to the ceiling as his head sunk into the pillow behind him. Within a second your hand tightened on his face, fingertips pressing gently into either side of his jaw, angling his face back towards you. His eyes flashed open, fully alert now.

“Look at me,” you whispered. “Wanna see those pretty eyes on me while I fuck you.”

He groaned at the words, pushing himself up into a seated position so your chests were almost touching. The new angle made you moan, and you loved the way the softest part of your stomachs brushed against each other every time you lowered your hips against his. Maintaining your hold on his face, you knocked your forehead lightly against his, nudging his nose with yours.

“Come on,” you urged, speeding up the rhythm just a little. “Tell me, baby, I—fuck—I wanna hear you. Do you feel good?”

“Yes,” he choked out. His voice was rough and wanton with need, and he wet his lips quickly upon hearing it. He almost looked shy, with his flushed cheeks and pouted swollen lips.

You hummed, hand drifting from his cheek to hover over his neck. Joel stiffened, nose pressing against your cheek as his head dropped forward doggedly. You let your fingertips graze the side of his neck, thumb brushing over his Adam’s apple.

“Is this what you want?” you murmured.

“Yes,” he repeated against your skin and you grinned, applying soft pressure on either side of his neck.

He moaned a low, tortured sound in response, and you leaned back to watch his mouth hang open as the sensation heightened everything he was feeling. With your free hand you stretched down to take one of his off the bed, and placed it firmly on the plush globe of your ass cheek. Joel’s eyes shot open in surprise, hand tightening instinctively.

He squeezed, gripping the flesh so tight it had you gasping, taking full advantage of the new freedom he’d been afforded. He used his hold to push you up and down faster, quickening the pace of your hips. And every time he bottomed out, he held you down on him for a second longer than you’d planned to allow, ensuring you felt every inch of him, every ridge and vein as he throbbed inside you, pressing against the deepest part of your core. You could already feel bruises forming where the tips of his calloused fingers squeezed you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Until you began to notice the signs, that is – the way his jaw slackened and his eyes glazed over. Relaxing your grip on his neck, you instead stroked your fingers along the skin there, feeling his thrumming pulse; listening to his hoarse laboured breaths; watching the way the rise and fall of his chest had rapidly increased. His cock twitched inside you.

“C’mon,” you whispered. “Tell me.”

“M’so fuckin’ close,” he garbled out mindlessly.

“Yeah?”

 “Y’feel so good,” he gasped, words slurring together. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, s’like you were made f’me.”

“Mmm, I know,” you hummed, dropping your hand to press down over his stomach. The muscles contracted under your fingers, tensing over and over again as you moved along his cock. “But you can’t come yet, Joel.”

His eyes snapped to your face, lips silently forming your name.

“I mean it,” you warned in a low voice, hips never ceasing their movement. “I’m not done with you.”

“You can fuck me again,” he shook his head. His face all but crumpled, pupils blown so wide that his eyes were almost entirely black. “Can fuck me as many times as you want, do whatever you want with me.”

You grinned breathlessly. “I know.”

“Please,” his voice cracked, abdomen tensing as you sunk down on him with a particularly heavy thrust. A high-pitched moan left your lips as you grinded your clit against the coarse hair at his base. “M’so close, darlin’.”

“No, Joel,” you admonished quickly, tone clearly too condescending for his liking.

Anger flashed across his face. Sharp and fast, but impossible to miss.

“Fuck you,” he hissed. You clenched around him without meaning to, the fire in your abdomen burning hotter as you watched his patience wane.

Swallowing down a moan, you gave him a measured look, and stopped moving entirely, relaxing your thighs against his.

“That’s not very nice,” you ground out. Joel’s expression loosened, panic glinting in his eyes. “What ever happened to southern hospitality, huh sugar? Do you think you deserve anything if that’s how you’re going to talk to me?” Not waiting for a response, you lifted your hips up, and his cock began to slide out of you painfully slow.

“No, no,” his hands lifted off the bed, hovering warily in the air over your thighs. “Wait, m’sorry, fuck—”

You ignored him, lifting up until you were completely separated. You gasped in unison at the loss, and you fought against the voice in your head that told you to just forget it – to end the entire charade. But you held strong.

“Is that any way to speak to a woman?” you teased, resting your ass on the meat of his thighs. The corners of his mouth were downturned, eyebrows furrowed as he stared despondently at you, face the picture definition of frustration. His length hung heavy in between you, glistening with a thin layer of slick and pre-come.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated softly, and your stomach twisted at the earnestness in his eyes. He meant it, and you knew that. Your sweet, kind, loving man… so quick to temper. And forgiving him too fast would be just setting a bad example.  

“You know I can do this without you,” you lied dolefully, stroking a hand along the damp skin of your own thigh. “You’re nothing special, y’can’t do anything I couldn’t do just as well to myself.”

His frown deepened at your words, hurt flashing across his features. But he knew better than to speak in that moment – knew better than to dig himself into an even deeper hole by trying to argue.

“I want you to watch me,” you ordered sternly, fingers stroking thoughtfully through the coarse hair on your mound. “And if you touch me, or yourself, I won’t make you come tonight. Not even once. If you want to touch yourself so badly, be my guest, but you’ll be finishing yourself off.”

Dark eyes flashed down, jaw flexing as he watched your fingers dip to slide between your folds. You let out an exaggerated sound, gaze trained on the way his eyes devoured your movements. You spotted the muscle in his bicep tightening and loosening intermittently, and noticed that he was gripping the bedsheets so tight that you almost worried they would tear.

Moving carefully, you trailed a finger to the apex of your core and began to run circles over your clit, humming genuinely as the pleasure that had been building inside of you was reignited.

It used to make you shy, the way you touched yourself. The way your brain would run hazy with pleasure, and your hands would take on a mind of their own, grazing over your body as you shivered beneath your own touch. But now? It made you feel fucking formidable. The way you squeezed your breasts, made yourself gasp as you pinched and rolled your nipples. To rub a hand over your lower stomach and press against the soft flesh there, putting pressure on all the nerves underneath the skin to stimulate your g-spot. You were greedy, never stinging away or pulling back from what you knew felt good. It was intoxicating, knowing every intricate part of what made your own body tick. And you knew for a fact that it was like a drug to Joel to see you touch yourself. 

His dark eyes glared at your fingers, awestruck as he watched your movements, tongue swiping greedily over his lips as if in an attempt to taste you again. And when you moaned, he did too, soft groans slipping past his lips and hands fisting in the bedsheets as he watched your fingers disappear inside yourself over and over again.

“That’s it,” Joel said roughly. “Add another finger for me, wanna see you stretch yourse—.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, refusing to do as he asked. He grunted, lips pursing closed. “You like watching me like this? Seeing how I touch myself?” He moaned his assent, raking a hand through his unruly curls.

You were already so high strung, so pent up, that it didn’t take long for you to bring yourself to the precipice. And as you approached to your end, expression contorting in pleasure, Joel’s eyes dragged upward to focus on your face instead of your pussy. Devastated, his eyes flicked once back down to your slick fingers, unsure of what he wanted to see more, before steadfastly holding eye contact with you. And as the high washed over you in sharp, twitching waves, he held your gaze, eyes raking across your features and delighting in the way your jaw hung open in a stupor. 

You rode the waves of your pleasure for a moment, only the stopping the ministrations of your soaked fingers when your clit began to burn with oversensitivity. Your eyes slowly flicked open to find Joel’s gaze still trained on your face, although his expression was lax now. His lips formed a small, somewhat dazed smile, and you felt heat rise in your neck at the way he stared at you. All lust forgotten for a moment, he simply watched.  

“What’re you lookin’ at?” you teased softly, your own mouth lilting into a grin.

“I’m admirin’ you,” he repeated your words from earlier in the night, and you huffed out a short laugh.

“You were so good, Joel,” you responded kindly, leaning forward on trembling legs to cup his face. “So patient, let me fuck myself on top of you and didn’t try to touch me once. Did everything I asked, just like you said you would.”

“Of course,” he murmured, turning to press a chaste kiss to the inside of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

Confusion flitted through you, and then you relaxed, remembering the way he had cursed at you. “It’s okay, honey. Why don’t you c’mere?”

Still smiling, he pushed back into a seated position, this time pressing his chest flush to yours. You looped an arm around his neck, toying with the short curls at the base of his neck as he lined himself back up to your entrance. Once he was in position, he gave you a quick look to check in, and in response you simply sunk your hips over him, letting him fill you to the brim once more. He sighed in relief, forehead pressing against yours.

Tilting your chin forward, you dragged your lips lightly across his, kissing him for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Where do you want to touch me?” you asked.

“Everywhere,” he breathed into your mouth.

Your fingers tightened on the back of his neck, tongue trailing lazily along the seam of his lips. “Then touch me, baby.”

His hands were on you in a second. Calloused palms running over the skin of your back, your shoulders, your hips, fingers gripping flesh for leverage as he began to fuck up into you. He had always been an attentive lover, with a keen eye for attention to detail. And it was never as apparent as when he was touching you. Because as he held you against his chest, dragging you harshly over his cock, he did everything just the way you liked it - the way you did it when you were touching yourself.

His palm pushed on your lower stomach, applying pressure there to intensify the feeling against your g-spot. And when your hands drifted to touch your breasts, his hands came up to cover yours, and you squeezed them together until he brushed your hands away to twist and play with one of your nipples, mouth dropping to flick his tongue against the other.  

It was intoxicating. Both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other, of finally throwing out the pretence and just being together, that you found yourself hurtling towards the edge faster than ever.

As if he read your mind, Joel’s mouth left your breast, face pulling back to watch you, saying “I’m not gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you panted heavily. “You can—I want you to come.”

“Need to feel you,” he frowned, shaking his head dizzily. “Want to feel you come around me, please.”

“I will,” you swore. “Come on, give it to me.”

“It’s yours,” he whimpered, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you to him. “Fuckin’ take it, it’s yours.”

His hips begun to falter in their movement, and you picked up the slack with ease, rotating your hips against him to maintain the pace he’d set. His cock jumped inside of you in quick, jerking movements, and as soon as you felt his hot release inside you, your own orgasm hit like a freight train, walls pulsing around him, sucking him in as deep as you could take him. Your vision blacked out for a second, the intensity of multiple orgasms finally catching up to you and making you almost lightheaded. Extended moans and laboured breaths mingled in the air, forming a raucous symphony as you rode out your highs. Sweat beaded across his temples and dripped down the hard lines of his face. Your lower half shook with the intensity of it, thighs bracketed firmly against the outside of his hips. Joel sung your name, wet lips pressing the word into the flesh of your neck and repeating it there, embedding it into your sweat-soaked skin like it was all he knew how to say anymore.

“Fuuck,” he dragged out once your hips stopped moving, his teeth nipping gently against your pulse point.  

“Oh honey,” you murmured, head lolling forward to peck his forehead. “Don’t tell me you’re throwing in the towel? I seem to remember you saying something about how I could fuck you again, and do whatever I want with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his shoulders shook as he laughed quietly, keeping his face hidden in the crook of your neck. “Give me a damn minute.”

Although you could feel his length softening inside of you, and a mix of both of your come was steadily seeping out past his girth to make a mess of your thighs, you didn’t move just yet. And Joel seemed more than content to stay put, his strong arms enveloping your body almost entirely as he held you against his chest, breaths slowly beginning to even out. You shifted your head to the side to peer at his face, smiling when you saw that his eyes had indeed fallen shut.

“Lay down,” you encouraged quietly, letting out a quiet huff of surprise when he simply fell backwards into the mattress, dragging you down with him. Adjusting your legs to rest more comfortably on either side of him, you laid your head against his collarbone, pressing soft kisses to the burning skin of his chest.

“Just a minute,” he mumbled in assurance, although his eyes stayed closed and his breaths deepened.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly. “Can I get you some water? Something to eat?”

He hummed; eyes cracking open to peer blearily at you. “Water sounds about right.” You nodded, moving to get up from the bed, but he held you down, palm solid on your lower back. “Not just yet though,” he added quickly. “Just stay with me for a minute.”

“Okay baby,” you kissed his collarbone, allowing him a few more minutes of rest before you forced him to drink a litre of water and allow you to clean him up. His fingers mindlessly traced a pattern onto the skin of your back, stirring goosebumps across your flesh.

Slowly, a smirk slid across your face and you tilted your chin up to gaze at him once more. “Just saying though—you should probably get out of here before my boyfriend gets home. He’s pretty quick to anger, and I have a feeling he’d kill you if he found out what we just did.”

Joel groaned loudly, hand reaching up to press over your mouth and muffle your laughter. “Jesus, do you ever stop talking?”

[roanofarcc]

LIKE THE MOVIES

pairing: trevor lefkowitz x fem!ghost reader

summary: Requested! being from the 1950s, you had missed the fad of 1990s romantic comedies. luckily you had a ghost-mate with an odd knowledge of movies and eternity on your hands. after binging countless romcoms with trevor, you’re inspired to ask him out in a very 90s fashion

warnings: self-doubt, cheesy rom-com references | read more

“If you love someone, you say it, you say it right then, out loud. Otherwise, the moment just passes you by.” - My Best Friend’s Wedding

“Can I ask you something?” On the couch, you peered at Trevor as the credit rolled over of another romantic comedy he had picked out. 

He had his arm resting on the back of the couch, close enough for you to wonder if he had wanted to put it around your shoulders during the movie. You had seen it in one of the many films he had shown you. A couple in a darkened theater, sharing a popcorn and subtle glances. Perhaps it was the films messing with your head, making you think the air between you and Trevor was filled with more than friendliness. 

“Sure,” he replied. 

“Why do you like these kinds of movies so much? Rom-coms, that’s what you called them, right?” 

Trevor smiled. “Yeah. Romantic comedies. They were everywhere in the 90s; it felt like a new one came out in theaters every week.” All of the movies he had shown you were quite good, certainly different than the films you had watched in your lifetime. “And, uh, I don’t really know. Besides them being all anyone talked about, I’ve always thought they were the best of both worlds. All that overly sappy love stuff is great, but it’s gotta be funny too, you know? I don’t know if you could tell, but I’m not a fan of stuff getting too serious.” 

You laughed lightly. “I’ve noticed.” The best of both worlds, romantic and funny. You liked that too. Your parents' relationship had been more serious, and the books you read were too sappy or sad. You liked the idea of balance, of relationships being about more than getting by or having children to make your parents happy. Of course, you knew of relationships that were so lovely, but they hadn’t found you during your life. 

“And, if I’m being honest, I always tried to copy the dudes in these movies. They always managed to score the coolest girls.” He punctuated his sentence with a short sigh and shrug. “Never worked but it was fun, pretending to be in one of those movies for a minute.” 

“I think if I had watched those movies when I was alive, I’d want to be like those girls. Like the coolest girls,” you had a slightly teasing tone in your voice, but also sincerity. There was something about the rom-com girls’ spunkiness that you admired, their boldness was something you’d never even attempted during your life. 

Trevor shook his head. “Nah, I’ve met way cooler girls since being dead. They don’t even come close.” 

“Ah,” you hummed. “Like Sam?” 

“Uh, yeah. I mean, Sam’s super cool and all. But I’m talking about someone else.” You waited for a moment for him to tell you, wondering if he meant Flower or maybe even Alberta. But after a beat of silence, he laughed. “I’m talking about you.” 

It caught you off guard, not making much sense. The women in the movies were cool, you were just, well, you. You certainly weren’t the same as when you died, changed by the ghosts and living around you for the better, but you weren’t sure if “cool” was the right word to describe you. 

“Me?” 

Trevor hesitated, looking like he had something more to say. Instead, he cleared his throat and dropped his gaze from your eyes. “Y-Yeah. Super cool.” 

Before your conversation could go anywhere else, Hetty and Issac entered the room with Sam. It was their turn with the TV, just in time for their weekly reality show watching. You and Trevor went your separate ways, an odd feeling resting like a rock in your stomach. 

Perhaps it was too bold or stupid, but you had to do something. All night you had tossed and turned, thinking about Trevor between bouts of rom-com scenes that filled your mind. Then it hit you, a plan that would either work beautifully or blow up in your face spectacularly. But you needed help, which was how you found yourself in the mansion’s study with Sam. 

“I have a plan,” you began. 

She paused her work, peering up at you with a quirked brow. “What kind of plan?” 

“I am going to tell Trevor that I like him.” The words fell boldly from your mouth, albeit a tad uneasy as you had never done something like that before. But you liked Trevor, and you felt like after weeks of watching the cheesiest movies together, maybe it was his way of telling you he liked you. You caught him stealing glances during the scenes where the main characters confessed their feelings in a bout of emotions. There was a small inkling of doubt in your mind that maybe you had read things wrong, but Sam quelled that doubt when she broke out in a wide smile and clapped her hands like one of the best friends in those movies. 

“What do you need from me?” 

It was pouring down rain, leaving puddles in the driveway and painting a scene that some would see as gloomy, but you saw it as the perfect opportunity. You stood outside, peering up at the second-story window of Trevor’s room. Sam was beside you, holding an umbrella over herself so she wouldn’t get soaked. 

She picked up a handful of pebbles before turning to you. “Ready?” You nodded and she started tossing the rocks at the window. They bounced off the glass with soft ‘tinks’ just slightly louder than the rain. 

After a couple had been thrown, Trevor appeared, wearing a confused expression. You waved him down and he didn’t hesitate to disappear from the window. 

Sam turned to you, a grin spread across her face. “Good luck!” she said before dipping back inside moments before Trevor appeared. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, glancing up at the dreary sky. 

What were you doing? You and Sam hatched a ‘plan’ but it mostly consisted of her throwing the pebbles and one of the other ghosts ensuring Trevor was in his room. She had asked you what you’d say, and you didn’t have an answer. Some kind of scripted love confession would have been handy, but that also felt inauthentic. While the movies were, in fact, scripted, they had a certain magic of making the confessions feel like a natural collection of feelings spilling out. 

“I, um…” you trailed off, but only for a moment before steeling yourself. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

He blinked, brows furrowed but lips fixed in a smile that he often wore around you. “Out here?” 

“Yes, okay,” you let out a breath before meeting his gaze. “This probably would have worked a little better if we could actually be rained on. I think that’s probably an important of this.” But you had to work with ghost logic against you. 

“Important for what?” 

Before your bravo wore out, you knew you had to speak. “I like you.” 

Trevor still looked confused. “Yeah, I like you too-” 

You cut him off with a quick shake of your head. “No, Trevor. I like you. I…” You hesitated, your confidence slipping with the heavy rainfall. Maybe that’s why people confessed in the rain, it was probably easier to hide some nerves soaked to the bone. You didn’t have that element on your side, standing dry in the middle of a rain storm. 

“Do you remember when we watched My Best Friend’s Wedding?” Trevor nodded slowly, trying to follow the message you were sending him. “And they said if you…if you love someone you should say it, otherwise-”

“Overwise, the moment just passes you by,” Trevor finished the quote in a quiet voice of remembrance and realization. 

You chuckled nervously. “I don’t just like you. I love you.” 

His mouth opened and closed once, then twice. And for one horrible moment, you thought you had completely screwed up, read the signs wrong and let the movies cloud your judgment. But then he surprised you. 

Trevor leaned forward in one rushed motion, grabbing the sides of your face gently before he closed the gap between you. It was almost a frantic kiss upon first taste, but as you leaned into it, his lips moved slowly against yours, sweet and almost too good to be your reality. 

Life wasn’t a movie, but sometimes it felt close enough to perfect that it could have been.

[loveshotzz]

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Melt With You

summary: A cancelled movie night, Steve’s first high, and a realization you weren’t expecting.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: my blog is 18+ but this will be pretty safe for work. takes place in 1988 when Elvira Mistress of the Dark came out. post season four but no mention of the upside down, fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mentions of being stoned and being high for the first time, mutual pining, cuddling.

A/N: first I want to dedicate this to @bewilderedbunny for pointing out that Steve Harrington is Bob coded which made me fall even more in love with him. You can also thank @dr-aculaaa for putting this brain worm in my head where it spiraled and then she entertained it again and it spiraled some more. p.s. I know her movie macabre was cancelled in 86 but brought back in the 90’s but let’s pretend.

mini series masterlist -> chapter two 🎃

Steve was close. Too close.

His thigh is warm pressed against yours, long legs spread wide taking up most of the room on the couch. The cedar that clings to the threads of his maroon sweater mix with the old spice that he’s almost sprayed too much of, and you’re surprised at how much you actually like it. You blame it on the joint you both shared, and you do it again when his socked foot touches yours from under the blanket draped across your laps and your heart rate kicks up a few beats. This was just Steve, your new friend. Eddie’s new unlikely friend.

The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close. 

The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.

When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin. 

“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”

The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?

Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.

“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.

“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”

There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.

“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.

“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”

He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his. 

“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.

Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there. 

“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.

It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck. 

The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.

Cozy. Too Cozy.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted. 

Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.

God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.

The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession. 

Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now. 

The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet. 

“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”

Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow. 

“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.

“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?” 

Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most. 

“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”

You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow. 

“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.

“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.

His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh. 

“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.

Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight. 

“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”

Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated. 

He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black. 

The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed. 

Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.

The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground. 

It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.

“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.

“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.

The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.

“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.” 

“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.

“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’

“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”

“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon. 

So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.

“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.

“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,

“Abso-“

His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.

“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.

What was going on here?

[broidobe]

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔨𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔟𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔩𝔲𝔡𝔢

requested!

⁎⁺˳✧༚80s-90s rock masterlist

kurt loves late-night, deep conversations, talking about everything from music to existential questions.

he would be drawn to someone who could match his intellectual curiosity, challenging him while also making him feel understood and supported.

do you think we’ve lived other lives before? like... maybe we were a couple of lost ghosts?

kurt would enjoy quiet, low-key dates, like going to record stores, exploring small art galleries, or just hanging out in a cozy café.

he’s not big on big parties or flashy outings, preferring intimate moments that allow him to connect deeply with someone.

kurt would appreciate someone who’s comfortable in their own skin and doesn’t try to be perfect.

he’d find comfort in someone who, like him, is a bit of a misfit and embraces their flaws and quirks.

music would be the core of kurt’s relationships.

he might write songs or share obscure records with you, using music as a form of communication.

he could be shy about expressing his feelings directly, but would pour his heart into his lyrics.

wrote something today... it reminded me of you. wanna hear it?

he randomly picks up a guitar and starts making up silly songs about everyday things, like your messy hair or how you always steal his socks.

why do you steal his socks though..?

like do you have a crown of his socks?

while he’d be protective and caring, kurt might also pull away at times when the pressure gets too overwhelming.

he'd need space to process his emotions, but he’d always come back with a new understanding of how much you mean to him.

i’m not always easy to be around... i get it if you need space, too.

in relationships, he’s so tender,

especially when you are feeling vulnerable.

he would be someone who would deeply understand emotional pain and would offer comfort, even if it’s just in small, quiet ways.

come here. i need you closer than close.

his ideal partner would need to accept and support his struggles, but not try to fix him.

he would appreciate someone who understands the dark, difficult parts of him and still

chooses to love him anyway.

and you are that person.

he’s never felt safer with a single soul other than yours.

you make me feel like it’s okay to just... exist. and that’s rare for me.

he grabs a hairbrush or random object and pretends to interview you like a journalist.

so, what’s it like dating the most misunderstood genius of our time?

always makes sure you’re at the shows.

he’ll tug you onto the couch and playfully say,

you can’t leave until i get my good luck kiss,

before going on stage.

if he’s feeling nervous, he leans into you and mumbles,

you’ll still love me even if i screw up, right?

mid-song, he makes eye contact with you in the audience and grins or winks, just for you.

[alittlegiraffe]

Hiii i was wondering if i could request an eminem x reader, where reader is a popstar in the 90s-00s and her and em date secretly off and on between 99-02 and have a crazy connection but break up until the 2010s after marshall gets sober because they just couldnt get over eachother??? (Sorry if thats confusing or complex lol)

A/N: I really couldn't think of a way to add in her being a pop star without making it weird. Hope this is close enough.

Title: Still You

You never expected to hear from him again.

It had been years—years of moving on, of pretending you were fine, of forcing yourself to believe that some things just weren’t meant to be.

But then, out of nowhere, your phone rang.

And it was him.

You stared at the name on the screen, your heart hammering in your chest. Part of you thought about letting it go to voicemail, but your hands had a mind of their own, answering before you could stop yourself.

"...Hello?"

A Marshall Mathers x Reader Fanfiction

A beat of silence. Then, his voice—lower, rougher than you remembered, but still him.

"Hey."

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter. "Marshall?"

"Yeah." A breath, like he was trying to figure out what to say. "Uh… I know this is outta nowhere. I just—I needed to tell you somethin’."

You braced yourself. "Okay."

He exhaled, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I got sober."

Your heart clenched.

You had dreamt of hearing those words—had begged for them back then, when you were still by his side, still trying to pull him out of the darkness he refused to see.

But he hadn’t been ready. And it had broken you.

"...Wow," you whispered, your throat tight. "Marshall, that’s—God, that’s amazing."

He let out a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. "Yeah. Took me long enough."

You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. "No. You did it when you were ready. And I’m—" Your voice wavered. "I’m so damn proud of you."

Silence stretched between you, heavy with everything unspoken.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I don’t expect anything from this call," he admitted. "I just… I needed to tell you. ‘Cause losing you? That was my rock bottom. And I just—" He hesitated. "Thank you."

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing.

You had spent so long wondering if he had ever thought about you, if he had ever missed you the way you missed him.

And now, here he was, saying the words you had ached to hear.

"Marshall," you murmured, voice thick with emotion. "I never—" You paused, swallowing hard before trying again. "I never stopped loving you."

His breath hitched.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. "I missed you every day. I still do."

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was hopeful.

Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of your story.

Maybe it never had to be.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Marshall was still on the other end of the line, you could hear his breathing—uneven, like your words had knocked the air out of him.

You hadn’t meant to say it.

You weren’t supposed to say it.

But it had been there for years, locked away behind pride and heartbreak, and the second he called, the second you heard his voice, it all cracked wide open.

"You still—" He stopped, cleared his throat. "You still miss me?"

You closed your eyes. "Every day, Marshall."

Another silence. But this one felt different—charged, thick with something unsaid.

Finally, he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Shit… I dunno what to say to that."

You smiled, shaking your head. "You don’t have to say anything."

He exhaled sharply. "Nah, I do. ‘Cause I miss you, too. Always did. Even when I tried to pretend I didn’t."

You leaned against the counter, gripping your phone tighter. "Then why didn’t you ever call before?"

He sighed. "Didn’t think I had the right to." A pause. "I fucked it up. I hurt you. And I knew if I ever wanted to fix shit, I had to fix me first."

Your heart twisted.

The man you had walked away from was stubborn, reckless—too lost in his addiction to see what he was destroying. But this? This was different.

This was growth.

This was him finally seeing himself the way you had always seen him.

"Are you happy?" you asked quietly.

Marshall hesitated. "Gettin’ there," he admitted. "S’not easy. Some days are harder than others. But I feel… clearer. More like myself than I have in years."

A warmth spread through your chest. "That’s all I ever wanted for you."

"I know," he murmured. "And I was too fucked up to see it."

Another silence. Another shift in the air.

Finally, he spoke again, voice careful. "Do you think… we could see each other?"

Your breath hitched.

You should’ve been scared. Should’ve hesitated.

But you didn’t.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I’d like that."

And for the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Right back where you started.

Right back where you belonged.

---

You hadn’t let yourself think about that night in a long time.

It was easier to bury it, to pretend that the final fight—the one that ended it all—was just another moment lost in the wreckage of what you and Marshall used to be.

But after hearing his voice again, after agreeing to see him, it all came rushing back like a wound torn open.

It had started like so many fights before—words sharp enough to cut, his eyes glassy, his hands twitching as he paced the living room.

"Why the fuck do you always have to start shit?" he had snapped, running a hand over his face.

You had laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I’m not starting shit, Marshall. I’m begging you to wake the fuck up."

He rolled his eyes, turning away from you, muttering something under his breath.

"Don’t do that," you had hissed. "Don’t act like I’m the problem when you’re the one getting high out of your mind every night."

He scoffed. "Oh, right. Because you never fucked up, huh? You’re so fucking perfect."

"This isn’t about me!" You had thrown your hands up, frustration boiling over. "This is about you being too fucking blind to see what you’re doing to yourself—to us."

"Jesus Christ, here we go again," he had muttered.

That’s when you lost it.

"You know what? Yeah, here we go again, Marshall! The same fucking cycle, the same excuses, the same bullshit. You promise you’ll get better, and I believe you, and then you turn around and prove me wrong every single time."

He had glared at you, jaw clenched, breathing heavy. "If I’m so fucking hopeless, why are you still here?"

And that’s when you knew.

Because the truth was, you had already been gone for a long time.

Your body was still in that house, your heart still trying to hold on, but the person you were—the person who had once believed he would fight for you, for himself—she had left months ago.

You had swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing your voice to stay steady. "I don’t know," you had admitted.

That had stopped him in his tracks.

His expression had changed—not angry, not defensive. Just… lost.

You had seen the flicker of something behind his eyes, something real, something terrified.

But it was too late.

"I can’t do this anymore," you had whispered. "I love you, Marshall. But I can’t watch you destroy yourself."

His hands had curled into fists at his sides. "So that’s it?" His voice had cracked. "That’s it?"

And maybe, if he had said something else—anything else—you would’ve stayed.

But he hadn’t.

He had just stared at you, letting the silence fill the space between you, his pride swallowing the words he was too afraid to say.

So you had turned around, grabbed your bag, and walked out the door.

And he had let you.

Now, sitting on your couch, your phone still clutched in your hands, you let out a shaky breath.

He had let you walk away back then.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was the one who reached out.

And maybe—just maybe—this time, neither of you would let go.

[bowieandqueen11]

Sanji And Reader Being Smitten With Each Other Would Include...

Request: Headcanons of sanji with a crush or s/o who is absolutely smitten? Like always glancing or looking at him. Probably got punched across a room in battle after admiring sanji. Literally always looks at him with heart eyes.

My love this is so sweet but honestly I feel like Sanji is exactly the same so I hope you don't mind Sanji being just as smitten with reader :)

Warning: slightly NSFW, mentions of smoking and mentions of blood/ injury!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @suuho.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

I mean look at Mr. Heart Eyes right here so let's just say that you're smitten? You're with the perfect man then because oh my goooossshh have you driven ZORO crazy with how infatuated the two of you are with each other. This poor swordsman has to spend 90% of his time barrel rolling you out of the way and diving in front of Sanji because you dopey dumbasses (affectionate in my case and derogatory in Zoro's) will just not. stop. gaping. at. each. other.

It all started when you agreed to escape the Germa Kingdom with your young princely friend; for many a year, since that fateful day he had literally walked face first into you while you were pretend playing pirates with some of your school chums in the marketplace, Sanji had been inseparable from you. Whether it was him sneaking out to find some solace in your welcoming home, or you trudging over the imposing walls of the palace so you could sneak down into the dungeons and hold a weeping Sanji's hand through the bar grates, you had been the one thing in his life since his mother's passing that had kept him sane.

And now here you were: worried eyes dampened by the torrential rain, but still peering over his face on that desolate rock the three of you ended up shipwrecked on. The whole eighty five days the two of you were stuck on that lonely side, with nothing but the unending stretch of unsultry gloam to keep you company, Sanji believed you were an angel sent to keep him safe. It was the way you shoved the crummy tins you had managed to shovel into your pockets while the ship was going down into Sanji's arms, shaking your head and pressing them further into his stomach as he began to protest. It was the lack of care you had for yourself, so intent you were with making sure he was doing as well as he possibly could: scooping murky water out of the crevices with your hands, just so you could run back and let it trickle down your fingertips and against his chapping lips. How some nights you hadn't slept a wink, too busy chasing away the growing whirlwind of seagulls that circled over your heads, diving down to try and peck at Sanji's burning legs. Making sure that he was tucked tightly under the overhanging edge of a crag, relinquishing the only bit of cover on this small island so Sanji could at least be a little sheltered from the constant downpour. Not only that, but you had even tried to comfort him: offering him a tired smile as you let your fingers shakily run through his hair and tuck away the stubborn curls behind his right ear.

He had held you against him then, as tightly as he could. Wracking with shivers, he couldn't quite figure out if it was due to the freezing cold wind that blew in from the North and snapped at his fingers, or the growing guilt that left him sniffling against your shoulder. It was so hard to focus on anything, with the sleet biting at his face, the imposing waves eating away at the stones beneath your feet. So he did the only thing his dispirited mind could still home in on: the one thing he would regret never doing, if he really were to wane away on this forsaken rock. He let his eyes flutter close, and he used the crash of lightening to mask his thundering heart as he tilted his head up and bashfully pecked your cheek.

For a moment, you thought it was just another hot splash of rain, until you caught sight of Sanji pulling away quickly and ducking his head in embarrassment.

'I-I don't know if we'll ever- well, I'm giving that kiss to you as a loan. I fully expect to get it back.' He managed to rouse some kind of meagre conviction in his hollow voice as he turned to watch your reaction; when he realised you weren't horrified, but instead were wide-eyed with shock as your pointer finger glazed over the wet mark left on your skin, he found himself hopeful for the first time in his life.

God, the two of you were both so gone. It was haunting, in its own beautiful way, as you gripped onto his hand and squeezed.

Far too many times has Zeff nearly blown the kitchen down with the amount of boiling smoke pouring out of his ears due to you two. It wasn't your fault that you had been assigned to the kitchen for your shift: Zeff should have known better, considering the exact same thing had happened yesterday... and the day before... and the year before that and so on, until your hand resembled more bandage than actual skin. You couldn't help it. It was just far too enticing- something so enchanting drawing your attention away from julienning your carrots to instead focus on the way Sanji's taut muscles rippled underneath his shirt as he sautéed. It was as if he had spellbound your eyes so they followed his form around, gladly taking in and making note of the idiosyncrasies you recognised from childhood: the way he still bites his bottom lip when he's really concentrating on stirring, the revulsion on his face as he absentmindedly unscrews a spice jar and takes a sniff, finding it to be oregano.

When you gash across your ring finger and start pooling blood onto the chopping board, though, is when the spell finally breaks and the shouting starts. 'Forth time this week!', he wags his finger at you. 'Forth time this week I've had to bloody throw out good equipment!'

'Was that seriously a pun?', Sanji asks, following on your heel like a swarming shadow as you hobble over to the sink. Zeff bites his tongue as Sanji shakes his head at him: this was an argument they had had far too many times. He had almost, almost resigned himself to the fact that Sanji would, and has, dropped the plates he was carrying to the floor with a resounding crash to run over and care for you. Thankfully, this was the perfect opportunity for Sanji to wrap gauze around your finger, before using an 'old fisherman's tale for healing grievous wounds' by peppering kisses against your knuckle to make you laugh.

Once, you were caught admiring him across your shared work station; the dishes stacking up to be washed were long forgotten as you spent ten minutes absentmindedly running your soapy sponge over the same plate, too busy letting your eyelashes flutter down to watch Sanji's skilful hands work. If you had let your gaze settle for just one more second, you would have seen Sanji raise his eyes to observe your face, lingering far too long on the rising curve of your Cupid's Bow. He bit his bottom lip, trying to stop the peach from flushing along his ears as he imagined how it would feel to swipe his tongue against your lips. When your eyes finally lock, the two of you end up so flustered about being caught that you both immediately go running off in different directions for your fifteen minute breaks.

It's not until the late evening, when everything is finally stowed away and only the late party-goers of the ship are still milling about by the bar that Sanji reappears. His head pops around the door like a surprised meerkat, rapping his knuckles against the office door and smiling as you kicked out the velvet stool next to you, beckoning him in. You drop the pen you were fiddling with when he magics the dish he had been working on earlier from behind his back, the heavenly aroma of your favourite childhood dessert overwhelming your senses as he settles next to you.

'I remember that this was your favourite, and-. Well, a sweet treat for a sweet treat, don't you think darling?'

You hum as you take the first bite, dragging the spoon along your bottom lip and throwing your head back in delight. Little did you notice the effect the warm, low vibration and sight of your plush lip dragging spit against the metal had on Sanji. He squirmed in his chair, swallowing thickly as he did his best to straighten his spine and look presentable: not like someone who was finding it harder and harder to hide the tingling feeling burning in his groin at the sight of you. God, just one noise and he was becoming undone.

He nearly cries out when you lean forward, so close he could nuzzle the tip of his nose against yours. God, does he want to. Instead he becomes slack jawed, eyes glazing over with pure want as you use your thumb and pointer finger to grip onto his chin. You tug down, opening his mouth and replacing the space with a fresh spoonful of his sweet dessert. He forgets how to breathe as he watches you glide the spoon out past his locked lips. It's only when you swipe away a little bit of cream left behind on his bottom lip line with your tongue, that he finally jolts. You just giggle, bringing the spoon back to your own mouth and sucking off the remnants of chocolate as Sanji does his best to stop his breath shuddering with soft squeaks.

His heart is about to spill out onto the floor: the trajectory of his life wrapped so firmly around the sweet twilight embrace of your tide that he would find it a pleasure to drown. You were his best friend. The love of his life. And he understands in that moment, with a realisation he could never unlearn, that he would go through every moment that led, every hardship, every bit of pain to get here again. He would do it all, if it meant he ended here with you.

But he only sighs and smiles fondly as you reach up to tuck that damn stubborn curl of hair back behind his ear again.

As soon as he made it back to his room, he slammed the door and fell back against it. With a hand thrown over his face, he groaned inwardly at how oblivious he had been. How much time he had wasted being afraid. But it was okay. He understood now. It had always been you. This. He was made more of you than he was of himself.

The next night, just after your shift, you find him leaning casually against the back door of the Baratie: his legs crossed out in front of him, watching the waves lap up serenely against the docks. His back rests against the shimmer of the bottle-green fish scales, making him seem almost other-worldly as the sun dips over his body. It fades from a warm yellow against his fringe, settling onto a melted honey running over his twirling cigarette, bowing with a crushed violet against his tapping heel.

You two have spent the last thirteen years endlessly circling each other's orbits without the eventual collide, that it didn't take long for you to find him. Tucking yourself against his shoulder, Sanji offers you a smile full of solace: an unspoken acknowledgement that he had been waiting out here for your arrival.

That despite all the hours and hours he had droned on about finding the All Blue, he wanted to be here with you - hell, he wanted to be anywhere with you. Even though he couldn’t find the right words to say it, still so unused to the daunting vehemence of requited love, it showed in the lift of his rose-tinted cheeks. In the flutters of the lines on his forehead. Sanji knew one thing in his life was certain, no matter how his future panned out: he loved you with every fibre of his being.

He grabs at your fingers, gently guiding them up to his lips. Pursing them, he places your fingertips around the mouthpiece and stares over the butt as he takes a final inhale, firm perch stopping you from getting away. As the stream of smoke floods out from the corner of his mouth, he allows you to pluck the cigarette away and toss it into the ocean.

'Y/n, I-', he starts breathlessly, turning his torso so he's giving you his undivided attention. He looks terrified - even more so when you quickly interrupt him by talking over his quivering confession.

'I have something to give back to you.' Your tone is so serious, Sanji's head bucks back in confusion.

'...Well, love. If you stole my apron again, don't sweat it.' He shoves his hands into his pockets, finding his courage draining away as you stare indiscernibly straight at him. 'Zeff has enough in the spare cupboard that we could dress up every Marine in a new uniform-'

'No, I mean- well', you shake your head and look up at the sky. 'I've been meaning to give it back for a long time now, but I guess delivery is pretty slow out in the middle of bloody nowhere', you laugh breathlessly, appreciating the way Sanji's worried eyebrow creases settle at the joke. You swear, golden treasures buried at the bottom of the ocean couldn't gleam as ferociously as Sanji's eyes do as he finally catches onto your meaning, his mouth dropping open.

His breath hitches in his throat, and his chin drops down to his neck in shock as you lean to your right and finally press your pliant lips against his own. Your fingers are quick to spread over his cheek, twirling through his loose curl once again as he falls against you; he almost crushes you with his full weight, but is quick to curve his spine and bow over you, little whimpers following his open mouth.

For a moment, as a thin trail of spit joins your brushing lips, Sanji has no idea how to react. Well, that is until he registers shock ripples delightfully lashing up his spine as you shove him back against the wall, his mouth falling open again in allowance for your tongue to lash in and fill the empty space: to suffocate his whines.

The look on the rest of the cooks' faces as the two of you come stumbling back in is priceless. The two of you really thought you had gotten away with it: if it weren't for the wall being shaken hard enough to rouse a Kraken from its slumber, and the slurred string of French curses and praises stuttering out of Sanji's lips and through the open door, you almost might have.

It's so worth it. Sanji just coughs into his clenched fist, fixing his lopsided tie and doing his best to use the flat edge of his thumb to try and wipe away some of the ruddiness from his swelling bottom lip. But when he slides his fingers in-between yours, a shy smile masked by a playful wink thrown back at you, do you know the two of you won't be able to keep your eyes (or your hands) off each other for the rest of the dining service.

When two of your 'charming' customers have a disagreement over their seating arrangements, you're too busy admiring how Sanji's thighs strain against his pressed trousers to see the trouble coming your way. It's only when one of them comes hurtling towards you and knocks you and your drinks tray ass over kettle that you become enraged. Before Sanji can even reach you to apologise, you've launched the customer off of you with a swift kick, managing to jab Sanji in the abdomen in the process. Doubling over, he falls on his face on top of you. I've got to be honest, neither of you are exactly complaining about your sudden arrangement. Once you've finished giggling and checking each other over, you realise that an inch lower, and short pant of Sanji's heaving breath against your breast and your lips would be brushing together.

The two of you would have turned into a tangled mess of heavy making out right there and then if Zeff hadn't come swinging out of the kitchen to see what all the ruckus was about.

Istg this poor man does his best to give the two of you jobs at opposite ends of the Baratie, only to nearly tug his braided beard out when a customer complains that their service is slow because, *surprise surprise*, the two of you are slacking off together. Either you're making heart eyes at him during as you wait in the main dining area, using any opportunity to grip onto the meat of his waist and slide past him with a poor excuse about 'needing to get clean menus' and making him shiver with a fresh rush of goose bumps, or he's finding you. Even when you were confined to working behind the bar, Sanji still manages to convince the other cooks that he so desperately needs the new delivery of brandy for his new profiterole recipe. Of course, he only does it so when he's on his knees lifting out the boxes, he can leave you a gasping, flustering mess. With clenched hands sending curls of shredded wood down on top of his hair, Sanji just presses his knees forward and pays no notice. He's too busy gliding his hands underneath your shirt, splaying them across your your back as he shoves his nose into your stomach. Although he's careful to stay hidden from the customers, he adores the sound of your clenched whines too much to stop himself. He rolls up the hem, ravishing you with a wet trail of kisses over the band of your trousers; his tongue runs welts over your skin as his teeth suck underneath your bellybutton, his left hand snaking down to rest on your leg so he can grip his thumb against the inner seam of your thigh.

It's only when the pad of his pointer finger presses a little too close to your clothed groin and you spill a drink over a customer that you both stop.

Once the two of you join Luffy's crew, you and Zoro seem to be the perfect team to drive Zoro up the wall. He likes you just fine, but you and waiter together being all lovey dovey makes him want to jump head first overboard.

What makes it even better is the fact that during the attack on Coco Village, you were too busy being proud of Sanji on his spectacular form and fighting technique that you and Zeff had spent years teaching him, that you don't notice one of the Fish-Men grabbing your collar. Before you can even gasp, you've been punched straight across the water and have knocked Zoro and three of the guys he was fighting down like a speeding bowling ball.

From then on, Zoro sleeps in the Crow's Perch and nowhere else. If he's not being knocked down, he's being left wincing as he trains with bruises gained from your elbow jabbed into his back. It's not your fault if you sneak in to cuddle in Sanji's hammock every night, and Zoro's face just happens to be inches away from yours. Sanji still has nightmares of your shipwrecked days from time to time, and just the pressure of your hand against his arm is enough to rouse him from whatever oblivion he was beginning to sink into. A warmth immediately spills through him as the two of you spend most of the night talking, reminiscing, sharing secret smiles between lingering kisses that leave the two of you giddy.

You're always up before him, letting him sleep in for as long as you can with a final, lingering kiss to his tense forehead. You wait for him in the kitchen, a warm cup of tea cupped between your hands, and a second one waiting for him on the counter as he sleepily wanders in to start breakfast preparations. It's become a comforting routine: you placing your head on your hand and talking idly as you admire him, keeping him company.

He knows, though. He knows what you're really waiting for. He happily obliges once the eggs have begun to sizzle, coming to rest on the bench in front of you. He grabs onto your back, pulling you onto his lap until you were straddling his waist. With languid blinks, he leaves soft kisses against the edge of your mouth as you grind against him, delighting in the hoarse groan that bobs his Adam's Apple. You tug the hair at the nape of his neck before scraping your nails over the skin apologetically, but what other way were you going to get him to open his mouth for you? Besides, the jumbled rush of French words that leave his mouth in a pealing string as you slide your tongue over his pulse point is the most heavenly sound in the world.

You're only disturbed by the sound of Luffy's yawn. For a moment, he just scratches the back of his neck and looks between the two of you curiously.

'Y/n, how come only Sanji gets a good morning hug! Can I have one too!'

'No!'

[minksstinks1]

A short fic of mine in progress (also on Ao3)

What a Nerd, Chapter 1

Ford Pines x Reader

Summary:

Ford Pines is an awkward, introverted university guy who doesn't expect to get attention from someone such as you. He's unfamiliar with romance and isn't quite sure what he's doing in general, but he's trying his absolute best.

You two are immediately drawn to eachother and aren't sure why exactly, but you both seem to be incredibly happy to have one another in the end.

---------♡

Working at the local library could be incredibly boring and isolating at times, but it had at least given you a quiet place to study while you waited for anyone to approach you to ask for help- which wasn't often.

You'd think that the closest library to your local university, Backupsmore, would be filled with students constantly, but you had to again remind yourself that this university was considered one of the lowest of the lows. 90% of the people would do the absolute bare minimum to pass their classes and get their degrees to move far far away from this town.

All of them, except for one you had noticed.

A man who came in almost every day with a bag that looked like it weighed more than him, and he would stay until closing time. You'd never seen him say a word or come in with anyone else. He'd move to the middle of all the bookshelves at the left of the entrance, and would study for hours like his life depended on it. Weirdly enough, you had never seen him actually check-out any books from the library. You wondered if he knew he was allowed to do that or not.

Some days, it seemed like he was studying for fun, but other times he'd stress himself out so badly, he'd leave looking like he'd got in a nasty cat fight. Brown hair messy, clothes disheveled and sweaty, and looking like he hadn't slept in days. You speculated on how long he'd actually stay in the library every day if there was no closing time.

It was a typical, quiet day as always. You were scanning over your book when you heard the large library doors creak open. Cold winter air rushed in, causing a harsh shiver to climb up your spine. You looked up and saw the same familiar man again. After barely catching a glimpse of his face, you watched him swiftly make his way towards his usual spot. It seemed he had a routine and stuck with it, he seems the type.

You attempted to get back to studying once more, but it seemed practically impossible. The words began to blur together and everything had suddenly become ten times more boring than previously. You weren't sure what it was specifically, but today you were particularly captivated by this quiet, peculiar man.

'I have to know what he's up to every day.'

'Does he study the same thing, or multiple?'

Thoughts swarmed your head.

'Is this even for his classes?'

You stood up and looked around for an excuse to head over there. Your eyes landed on the nearby half-filled book cart. Perfect. Your prayers were being answered today, you thought as you rushed towards the cart and began pushing it around, actually getting a good chance to do your job for once. You knew you couldn't immediately go right towards his little station he had set up; that would be too suspicious.

As you put books away lazily, you kept looking over your shoulder in the aisle to make sure he wasn't leaving for any reason. He seemed so sweet, you didn't want to freak him out accidentally. Maybe he just wanted to be left alone completely and that's why he was so secluded. Thoughts raced through your head, filling you with an overwhelming anxiety. Trying to get you to turn back at all costs and give it up.

You weren't quite sure what drew you to this boy so strongly, but it must be for a good reason.

Finally, after several agonizingly long minutes, you ended up in the same isle as that same man. He glanced up at you for only a moment when he heard the cart approaching and you pretended to be looking at something else. He then immediately went back to his intensive studying, brown eyes inspecting every word carefully, but quickly as well. You weren't sure why, but this made your face heat up slightly. He was always working so hard and was definitely the most nerdy guy you had ever seen, but you meant that in the most endearing sense you could.

You began to put books away and when you had a moment, peered over your shoulder and quickly checked over one of the numerous books he had open. Deciding to be bold for once, you took a deep breath and turned towards him.

"I take it you major in physics?" You softly spoke, you didn't want to startle him. "But I can't imagine you'd come in here every day for hours to study only that."

Ford was snapped out of his focus and looked around, completely caught off guard. "I- uh- pardon?" His eyes finally landed on you, looking right down at him. "Oh, uhm, yes- I mean- no," He nervously fiddled with his hands under the desk and took a moment to collect himself.

"I mean I DO major in physics, but I also study hyper-advanced engineering, fifth-dimensional calculus," he began counting on his fingers. You were absolutely shocked at how many things he was taking on in this simple university. "-Applied quantum phase theory, but that's just for fun, of course." He then got to his sixth finger and once he realized, immediately hid his hands under the table once more. Lucky for him, you barely noticed this detail. You assumed he was just nervous.

"Wow, I can't believe you're at Backupsmore doing all this." The surprise on your face was visible, though you were smiling still. "Why not attend some elite college or something? I'm sure you'd be able to get a scholarship or something."

He immediately cringed thinking about his past highschool incident with West Coast Tech and his brother. He wasn't quite sure what you wanted or why you were talking to him. In his eyes, you didn't seem the type to speak to people like him with kindness. He felt a pit in his stomach assuming that you were probably just making fun of him.

"Yeah, well, I'm here now." He spoke, bluntly.

You were a little taken aback by his sudden change in tone. Had you upset him somehow? That same exact feeling in your stomach was now present, almost as if it were mirroring his.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted," you began. "Or if I said something wrong... It's just that I noticed you work quite hard here about every single day and I'm impressed!" You gave him another soft smile, hoping to lighten the tone.

'About every single day?' He wondered how you knew that at first. It then hit him that you actually WORKED here as assistant librarian. He passed by you every time he came in here and he was just now realizing you were the same person? He started to feel a bit bad that he hadn't ever actually spoken to you before this at all.

"Oh, yes! I uhm," he was attempting to quickly think of something to say. Maybe you weren't as bad as he thought you were after all, and that you were genuinely interested in having a conversation with him. This made him feel even worse knowing that he was the one to always be judged by the other kids in school for how he looked on the outside considering his extra fingers, and now he believed he was doing practically the same to another in his own head. He stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking up once more,

"I apologize if I was a bit short with you, it's just that I assumed you were here to tease me," he nervously rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "-but, I shouldn't have assumed that; it was rude of me."

You wondered what would've made him think that you were going to tease him. Was this a common problem with him? You started to feel for him and looked down at him kindly. "It's alright. I promise, I'm genuinely interested right now."

He lightly tugged at the back of his own hair at your response. He was so anxious right now and didn't know how to contain it, but he appreciated your genuine words and gave a small smile back. Your gaze was practically killing him.

"Well, I'll let you be," you placed your last book back on the shelf for this section. Taking the cart handle in your gentle grasp, you began to leave, not not before looking over your shoulder one last time at the man. "By the way, the library closes in about twenty minutes."

The man watched you leave and once you turned the corner, he let go of the piercing air in his lungs that he didn't know he was holding in. He wiped the excessive sweat off of his hands onto his jeans before trying to get back to work.

If it wasn't clear, he wasn't exactly the most social type. People didn't typically approach him to converse with friendly intentions, so you caught him off guard. He felt a bit out of practice with talking to new people... which he had felt like all his life, but especially now since all the people he pretty much talked to these days were his dorm mate and his mother on the phone.

It's not to say that he disliked talking to you, it was just a very different and uncommon interaction for him. He almost wanted you to talk to him more.

He then noticed that two rows of bookshelves down, you were returning the rest of the books on the cart back to their original places. He leaned back on his chair carefully to get another look at you, attempting to make it as least obvious as possible. He couldn't deny that you were very pretty to him, which is part of the reason why he was confused that you were talking to him. He wondered what someone like you was doing in a dusty old library, as you came off as more of the average outgoing partying type.

He quickly re-adjusted his chair back to normal when you turned back towards his way. He had just met you and was worried he was going to freak you out unintentionally. He obviously wasn't trying to, he was just incredibly awkward, though also curious.

Curious about you.

The last couple minutes of closing, he stayed staring right down at his watch, completely zoning out. The man was completely caught up in his work one moment, and then felt his brain turning to mush the next. He didn't quite understand what was happening, but before he knew it, both hands struck eight on the clock and he had to leave. He swiftly gathered up his belongings and shoved the rest of his books in his large backpack. After struggling with closing his bag for a moment, he eventually was able to zip it up like normaland head out.

He was worried about staying to late as he didn't want to be an inconvenience for you- something which he never took into account before today apparently it seemed.

He began to leave and as he passed by your desk where you were gathering up your own items, he swallowed thickly and spoke,

"Well, uhm, see you tomorrow, I presume?" He begins to sweat again. 'Oh god,' he thought. Was he making a big mistake?

You look up at him. "Hm? Oh, oh! Yes, definitely!" You say, a little too enthusiastically for your own liking.

He gives a relieved smile at your response and can leave comfortably knowing his interaction with you went well.

Before he was officially out the door, you shouted out one last thing before he left, "Be safe walking around campus tomorrow, I heard it's going to be icy out!"

"Thank you, will do!" He waved back without turning around.

When the door shut and the cold air subsided, you both thought the same thing to yourself,

'I never got their name.’

[palelaboratory]

okay so i saw you liked the s.t.a.r.s era post too (it broke my heart honestly) and i have a request/inspo for a fic ??? jill and reader who is also a s.t.a.r.s member in that era. driving back home together while listening to the cranberries, slow days in the office and leaning over others shoulder to helping them win at solitaire on windows nt, fools in love trying to hide their relationship because its the 90s, more jill in her beret i love it so much 😭

thats my thoughts on the post that occupies my brain rn 🩷

۶ৎ Thank you tons for the request anon 💋 I believe it's the same pink heart anon, I love your idea so much. No one can resist lil beret Jill during her STARS years.

۶ৎ I also have been thinkin of what Jill would do in her free time in her lil apartment or just anywhere in Raccoon City. The pictures on her board just tells it all. I guess this is a sign.

۶ৎ Note; S.T.A.R.S era (1996 - 1998), this makes Jill 22 to 24 years old. I'll exclude 1998 because that was when the Mansion Incident happened. Jill will obviously be a little more lively. She was just a girl too. Capcom seriously needs to give us more Jill.

۶ৎ Any form of interaction is highly appreciated, thank you mwah.

The only star I see | S.T.A.R.S Jill Valentine x female reader

Being the only two women in S.T.A.R.S. meant you were wrapped around each other’s fingers. Although not from the start, it was a quiet battle for dominance, both of you vying for each other’s attention without even realizing it. A little too competitive, a little too jealous whenever one of you spent more time with the guys, more than you did with each other.

Now, it was always the two of you against the boys, picking apart their habits, making fun of the way they carried themselves, sharing quiet laughter behind their backs. In a world that rarely made space for you, you carved one out together.

You taught her combat, guiding her movements with steady hands. While she taught you lock-picking and bomb disposal, her delicate fingers demonstrating every intricate motion. You handled her carefully, afraid of hurting her, while she urged you not to hold back, craving more of your touch, more of your time. Fingers intertwined, lingering a little too long. The more she tried to help, the more you seemed to need it, until neither of you were sure if it was still about learning or just an excuse to stay close.

“C’mon, let’s go to my desk.”

She guides you over, letting you settle into her chair before angling the lamp toward the rusted old lock you’ve been practicing on. The glow casts a halo around her as she bends down, her breath warm against your cheek.

“Oh my, I have competition,” She teases, her voice laced with amusement, face inches from yours as she hovers over your back.

She gives away her top-secret tricks, not just to teach, but to be closer, her fingers ghosting over yours, her soft breasts pressing lightly against your uniform. And of course you play along, pretending to be utterly absorbed in the lock when really, you just want to stretch this moment forever.

All in that blue tube top that you chose for her months ago, the one which she kept wearing over and over again, despite your constant teasing.

"Should I get this, or... this?"

"The blue one, matches your eyes."

"That's pretty lame." Putting back the white one while you weren't looking moments later.

"I think I'll wear blue for a change, it's a pretty shade."

Jill with her unshakable sense of self, looking in the mirror for the tenth time as she adjusts her black mini skirt, pacing her apartment, checking her makeup, smoothing a wrinkle that isn't even there, before meeting up with the crew at the bar. Barely sparing the guys more than a quick "hey" before striding straight to you, as cool and chic ever. That calm, knowing smile playing on her lips, somewhere between I know I’m gorgeous and Well? How do I look?

Of course, you pick up on it instantly. Who knows her better than you, right?

"New blush?"

"No..."

"..."

"I really spent $59 on this lipstick for nothing."

Well, who could blame you, she was blushing like crazy for gosh knows why.

And though you sat next to each other, it was never just that.

The intentional stares, the fleeting moments of jealousy whenever one of the guys managed to steal your attention, even if just for a second. As if your bond wasn't already enough, stars of greed, and lust. The two of you, passive-aggressively vying to pull each other back in, scooting closer, asking pointless questions just to force the other to look your way. Shooting subtle (or not-so-subtle) death glares at the guys, neither of you realizing the other was doing the same.

Jill "helping" to tug your skirt down whenever you shifted too much, her touch lingering just a little longer than necessary. You fixing her lipstick in the bathroom, fingers steady against her jaw, until she smirks and offers to do the same.

"Just trust me... and can you please stop moving around?" Her shaking her head at you in disbelief as she holds your waist in place. You shouldn't have had that last drink, you uselessly thought, as your gaze drifts helplessly to her lips. Pretty and tinted, her lips deepened under the dim red glow of the bathroom lights.

She holds your chin, her touch both gentle and commanding, taking an excruciatingly slow time to apply the lipstick. Dragging it over your lips like she’s savouring every second. Like she’s preparing her own dessert.

"The girls are in their own world huh."

"Always are."

A world just for the two of you, locked away from prying eyes. Stolen glances across the office, the silent thrill of knowing what no one else does. A quick pucker of the lips when no one's looking, the playful game of hiding each other’s berets, the quick glance up, instinctive now that you've long since memorized the sound of each other's combat boots, the quiet ache in your chests whenever you’re both dispatched to different locations. Sneaking onto each other’s computers to play solitaire and chess, only to swiftly close the screen and scurry away the second Wesker walks in.

"Maybe move the knight to C3 and- Wesker."

"Shit."

The careful facade you both uphold, the restraint, the professionalism, until you’re finally alone.

Tight embraces, desperate kisses the moment you step through her apartment door, Jill pushing away the boxes on her bed, drowning in each other's overflowing warmth, drawing her in, unlocking each other’s fragile secrets, her lessons were definitely useful after all.

The two of you taking in the other as much as you can, buying silly stickers for each other, although it became more like a silent rebellion rather than just a hobby anymore. Wearing each other’s perfume, as if carrying a piece of the other even on the most dangerous missions. Staying up too late, chasing the night just to steal a little more time together, wearing your dark circles the morning after like badges of honour, paying the price with every scolding from Wesker.

In Raccoon City, where the noise tries to swallow you whole, you embrace each other's silence, presence in itself. In a world that threatens to dim your light, you are the only stars in each other’s sky.

[steddieas-shegoes]

you're not santa

i may or may not be having a small (this is a lie) crisis over liam believing in santa this year? i am 90% certain he doesn't actually believe in santa and just said he does because he thinks the cool gifts come from santa. meanwhile i am just trying to get the vibes on if i need two wrapping papers this year or not for the same amount of gifts. so anyways working through the feelings with putting the idiots in the situation as always, enjoy.

rated t | cw: the mildest innuendo | tags: fluff, modern au, married steddie, steddie dads, the magic of christmas is all of it not just santa etc

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

"You better be quieter this year," Steve slapped Eddie's still bare ass as he hurried to throw on his Christmas pajamas. "Almost woke Maddy up last year. You're lucky I was standing by the door."

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, maybe if you hadn't turned the-"

"Just go!" Steve laughed, throwing a pillow at him with deadly accuracy.

Eddie threw it back at him with a smirk. "When I get back, I'm giving you your present."

"You already did, Eds."

"No, that was just one of them," Eddie rushed to say before leaving their bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him.

Both bedroom doors were closed across the hall, so he quickly made his way down the stairs to the garage, where all the gifts were hiding since Robin dropped them off earlier that day.

But when Eddie opened the garage door and flipped the light switch, a voice startled him into nearly turning and running.

"I knew it!"

Sammy.

Their oldest son had been acting very suspicious of Santa related discussions for months now, and Steve had warned him that he was getting to an age where a lot of his friends probably didn't believe in Santa anymore.

"Sammy, why aren't you in your bed?" Eddie put his hands on his hips, identical to the way Steve stood when he was about to have a very serious conversation with one of their three kids.

"Because I saw Auntie Rob bring in a big bag earlier and you and Dad were trying to keep us distracted. So I looked out here while you were cleaning up dinner and saw all these presents." Sammy was standing with his hands on his hips, a mirror image to Steve in every way down to the same swoop of hair and freckles across his cheeks. "And all of these say from Santa, but Santa wouldn't have even come here yet because he was in London one hour ago and London is at least four hours from here!"

Eddie bit back a laugh at how Sammy tried to explain his way through the Santa gifts being here.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Eddie asked, dropping his arms and sitting down on the ground, gesturing for Sammy to join him.

"I already know Santa isn't real," Sammy said as he sat, sounding absolutely miserable.

"What do you mean Santa isn't real?" Eddie asked, pretending to be shocked at the revelation.

"Really, pops? You're gonna act like Santa is real?" Sammy got the sass from Steve, too. It was both annoying and adorable. "I'm seeing the evidence that he isn't with my own eyes."

"Look, Sammy, can I call you Sammy?" Eddie smiled when Sammy let out a laugh. "Santa as you know him isn't real, you're right. But there is a Santa. He's just so busy and can't do it all in one night, so he has presents delivered early for some people, like you and your brother and sister. But he can't ruin the magic, so he left them at Auntie Rob's house for safekeeping."

It sounded airtight. Any kid who wanted to believe in Santa would definitely believe that.

"Dad. Seriously." Sammy was giving him The Look. "I'm nine years old. I have straight As. I'm not stupid."

Which was something Eddie knew of course. He was endlessly proud of all of his super smart kids who did a million times better in school than he and Steve ever did.

But he didn't think believing in Santa was a sign of a kid not being smart.

"You're smart enough to learn the truth, which is that Santa gives the parents a lot more control than we let you think. Don't you think it would be harder to get Maddy to do her homework if I said 'Dad will take a present away' instead of 'Santa is watching to make sure you do your homework'?"

Sammy looked out at the garage, the clutter of children's outdoors toys and broken Christmas decorations and bulk snacks for lunchboxes scattered around.

"So he just gives you the toys when he thinks we've been good enough for them?" Sammy asked, still sounding unsure.

"Exactly! And he usually delivers them a couple weeks early so we can make sure they're wrapped and ready for tomorrow."

"So why keep it all a secret?"

Damn Sammy for always being two steps ahead of Eddie.

"It's more fun this way! Olivia was so excited to leave out cookies before bed, remember? If we told her this, she wouldn't even get to be excited about Rudolph eating the carrots, right?"

"So Rudolph is...real?"

"Okay, that one might be a lie," Eddie gave in on that to sell the rest of it. That's what you had to do with Sammy.

"So who eats the carrots?"

"I take bites and spit them in the trash. You know I hate carrots."

"Why don't you make Dad do it?" Sammy leaned against Eddie's side, letting out a long yawn. He was probably sitting out here for the last couple of hours waiting. He had to be exhausted.

"Dad did a lot of that stuff when you were really little. For five whole years before we switched."

"So he sleeps while you bring out all the presents?"

Eddie's face went red as he thought about what Steve was probably doing in their room right now.

"Yep! He did a lot of baking and stuff all day today so I let him rest," Eddie wrapped an arm around Sammy as his weight became heavier against him. "I think you should probably get some rest, too. Santa wouldn't want your Christmas morning ruined because you stayed up all night."

"I guess." Sammy yawned again. "Can I sleep on the couch?"

"You know Dad's rule. Bedrooms only on Christmas."

"Yeah, but that was for the secret. Now I know."

"But Maddy and Olivia don't. We have to keep this a secret from them, okay?" Eddie paused when he heard some footsteps directly above them. His brows furrowed.

"Maybe Santa forgot one?" Sammy asked, perking up.

"Maybe. Better get to your bed so he doesn't see that you're awake," Eddie nudged him.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Sammy was rushing out of the garage and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Eddie looked above him, but no more bumps could be heard.

After setting all the presents under the tree in a mostly organized fashion, Eddie got back to the bedroom, where Steve was fast asleep.

He got into bed carefully, not wanting to wake him up, but Steve's eyes blinked open slowly as he curled up under the comforter.

"Took you too long," Steve whispered.

"Sammy."

"What?" Steve's eyes opened all the way and tears were instantly filling them. "Does he know?"

"Sh," Eddie pulled Steve against his chest and ran his hands through his soft hair. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Sleep, love."

"Eds-"

They heard a small bump on the roof and then silence.

Steve sat up and looked out the bedroom window, then back at Eddie.

"What was that?"

"Must've been Santa," Eddie teased.

Steve rolled his eyes.

They both stayed up for a bit longer to make sure no other noises happened outside, but fell asleep when there was nothing.

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

The next morning, all three kids jumped into their bed, yelling about how many presents Santa brought them and how full their stockings were.

Steve and Eddie made their way downstairs, rubbing their eyes as the kids pushed them down on the couch while they started grabbing gifts.

By the end, the kids were so busy playing with new toys, they didn't notice one more present hiding between the fireplace and the tree. Eddie reached over for it, not recognizing the wrapping paper.

"Did Robbie say she was getting them something else?" he asked, holding the gift out to Steve.

"Nope," Steve took it, checked the tag, then handed it back to Eddie with a shrug. "Says it's for you."

Wayne wouldn't be bringing his gifts for everyone over until that afternoon, so who could this one even be from?

He opened it carefully, worried that it was a prank by Steve and the kids. It wouldn't be the first time they managed to pull off a prank gift.

The confusion only increased when he pulled out a small plastic replica of the London Bridge.

"You don't even like London that much. Who got you that?" Steve asked, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"No idea."

Sammy looked up at them over the new book about planets he got and beamed.

"Santa brought you a present!"

Eddie was suddenly reminded of their conversation last night, how Sammy insisted Santa was just in London and couldn't possibly have made it here.

Eddie had seen a lot of weird things in his life, had ignored a lot of them and passed them up to weird coincidence, but this was different.

He set the replica on the table by the couch and wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, kissing the top of his head as he leaned further into him.

"Santa?" Steve asked.

"Must've been a good boy this year," Eddie smiled.

"Uh-huh. I'm sure you were," Steve kissed his cheek before turning back to watch their kids playing on the floor.

Maybe Eddie would have to write a letter to Santa next year to thank him for the gift.

[pinkteethmarks]

(4.5) THE TIME SHE PLANNED TO GET HER FIRED; OLIVER AIKU

0.7k words

4 OF “EASY” - M.LIST - 5 OF “EASY”

tag: @lvrndkoo @julesss110 @90s-belladonna

“i am still extremely opposed to this.” sae announced as he layed relaxed on your couch - which, oddly, seemed uncomfortable to him.

“thank goodness we aren’t asking for your approval then!” you smiled sarcastically which quickly dropped as you rolled your eyes at your nonchalant friend.

“honestly, like sara is a bully anyways, we are just… representing those she has put down in the past!” shidou excused, furiously typing on his phone as he spoke.

you hummed and nodded on agreement, looking at shidou’s phone which displayed fake texts between ‘you’ and ‘sara.’

“and.. done! yeah, girl, with these, you could sue her.” shidou laughed, handing the phone over to you.

“oh my… i’m actually offended reading these, they are so good!” you laughed, looking at shidou who wore a proud smirk.

“i told you, this app is great with faking messages. now, let me upload them to my laptop so that i can edit it to make it look a little more realistic. right now, they look like a crappy one shot.” shidou took his phone from you, leaning on his stomach as he opened up his laptop.

“what’s a oneshot?” sae asked, getting off the couch to take a peak at the messages on shidou’s phone.

“these are… extremely realistic already.” sae said, the slight pause indicating he was highly amazed.

when it comes to sae, you needed to really read between the lines to understand what he is saying, he isn’t very open so little quirks like a pause in sentence, a twitch or even a slight change in breathing will tell you everything you need to know.

“my glorious king sae, thank you. you know i love when you compliment me!” shidou giggled, leaning into sae whilst sae backed away immediately causing you to giggle.

“i don’t understand why you still pretend you don’t want him too sae, just accept your homosexual tendencies.” you laughed.

“say something like that and i’ll get you banned in 59 different countries.” sae responded with an annoyed tone, pretending as though you couldn’t tell his gaze was slightly lingering on shidou for a little longer than normal.

“i’m done!” shidou interrupted whatever the hell was going on as the screenshots of messages were blown up on his laptop, looking practically as though it truly was a conversation that had transpired between you and sara and she was bullying you.

not like you were the type to get bullied anyways, but you didn’t mind playing the damsel in distress as you got the wicked witch of the west banished from the forest.

“this is horribly good.” sae mutters.

“i love you too!” shidou looked into sae’s eyes as sae’s face was unchanging.

“this is amazing, thank you so much.” you hugged shidou as he started hyping you up.

“you got this! get rid of her! she’s a loser!” shidou spoke into your shoulder as you two hugged.

you checked the time as you let go of shidou and saw the clock was getting close to 8:30, it was nearly time for jullian to come.

“this is sweet and all, but you guys lowkey need to leave, i have someone coming over.” you announced, getting up and packing up random wrappers and bits from the floor.

“oh?” shidou asked suggestively, to which you nodded and smiled.

you both erupted in laughter and dapped each other up, sae watching you two as he gathered his things.

“be safe, don’t do anything stupid.” sae warned.

“of course, of course, now leave you guys!” you smiled, pushing them out of your house.

you flung open the door, ready to fully push them out, only when they came face to face with the man you were meeting.

“jullian?! oh, you naughty boy.” shidou gasped dramatically.

“i thought you were loyal to oliver.” sae said plainly.

“friendships can be rocky, either way, im getting laid so..” jullian smiled.

“ugh, come in and ignore these losers. bye! don’t call me in the morning.” you pulled him inside as you slammed the door shut again.

“sorry about them.” you sighed.

“oh, don’t worry, i literally am on the same team as them so i can understand how… weird they can get.” he chuckled softly.

“anyways, you ready?” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his stomach.

“yeah.” he said simply, grabbing your nape softly as he leaned down to kiss you softly.

[lowkeychenle]

Try Me On [NJM] (feat. Chenle)

Description: FWB!Jaemin takes you to buy lingerie. You're surprised when he tells you to pick out one Chenle will like too, until you realize what his goal is. A few photos and a video call later, you know you're in for it the next time you see Chenle.

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3,073

Content Warnings: So much goes on here lmfao sooo public sex (Jaemin), phone sex (Chenle), one lil instance of a hand necklace (thank you Jaemin), use of the term Princess, Chenle calls them brats yada yada oh and unprotected sex (plz don't do this part)...and use of mirrors.......and taking pics and videos there's a lot okay

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader x Na Jaemin

Author's Note: This is the second installment...so you should read the first part of the AU first, but the poly portion of it is kind of ambiguous right now? They'll get there eventually but the smut needs to progress naturally to that point (bc boo more smut right?)

Opposites Attract [Poly!Jaemle Series Masterlist]

General Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @haeigoo

“Isn’t the whole point of lingerie like, you being surprised?” You furrow your eyebrows at Jaemin. “Plus, what if someone sees you with me?”

“You know we’re still friends in real life, right?” Jaemin chuckles as he walks into the store behind you.

“Male friends don’t usually go with female friends to try on underwear, Jaem,” you remind him, eyes already snagging on a few pieces you like.

“I’m a man, and you need a man’s opinion. Sounds simple enough to me.”

You snort in response.

“It’s not complicated at all, Princess. Plus, I paid them to close the store for two hours so you could find whatever you’d like.” His tone is so nonchalant, you almost miss what he actually said.

“You paid them for what?” Your jaw drops. “Jaemin, what the hell? What if they know who you are?”

“Money solves all problems,” he says. “Stop worrying. The clock is ticking and if I don’t see you at least 90% naked, I’m gonna make you 100% naked in the middle of the store.”

Your cheeks suddenly burn like you’re on fire. There’s not an ounce of humor in his voice.

“While you’re at it,” he pauses briefly, almost like he has to come to terms with what he’s about to say next, “find something Chenle would like, too.”

No way in hell today is happening. It’s completely possible you’re dreaming right now, because Na Jaemin just told you to pick out lingerie sets to wear for him and your other fuck buddy. It’s only been a week since you took both of them at once. Things seemed fairly normal after that—as in, they went back to having completely separate relationships with you.

“Didn’t know you thought of me with Chenle a lot,” you mutter, looking anywhere but at Jaemin.

“At first it was a little bit of an ego shot.” Jaemin’s honesty almost knocks you off your feet. “But it feels normal now. And I’m not going to buy you lingerie to wear for me and not think of the way Chenle has bent you over every surface of your house.”

“Jaem—“

“I never realized how turned on I’d get at the idea of watching you get fucked by someone else. You were so overwhelmed, Princess. It was sexy.” He runs his fingers through his hair, chest rising. “Pick some out for him, too.”

You clear your throat, trying your best to pretend his simple words didn’t have heat swarming inside you. If the offer was on the table, you’d take them both again. The pleasure was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and you swear you can still feel it tingling inside you at the mere thought of them.

Jaemin prefers lighter colors. Pinks, whites, baby blues. He likes feigned innocence and purity, fabric that left little to the imagination but still covered you enough to leave him some joy in unwrapping you.

And even though you hadn’t ever dressed in lingerie for Chenle, you have a feeling you know what he likes. Blacks, reds, deep, royal blue. For him, you couldn’t really convince yourself he’d like anything more than he likes seeing you naked.

You pick out four to try on. There’s only one that might spark something for Chenle, but you aren’t completely sure. Jaemin would help you decide.

You head over to the fitting rooms, giving Jaemin a wide-eyed glance when he tries to follow you. The worker stops him.

“Sorry, sir, I can’t let you go in there.” She holds up her hand.

“Ah.” With a sigh, he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He opens it and grabs a wad of cash, holding it out to the woman. “I don’t even think I’m really here right now.”

Reluctantly, she takes it from him and disappears toward the front of the store. You should scold him for doing something like that, but you can’t help but like it much more than you should.

Jaemin leads you into the room by the small of your back, closing and locking the door behind you. You’re not sure what to expect from him. There’s plenty of space to move around, and he sits on the bench on the far side of the room. You stand between him and the mirror, the skimpy shreds of fabric clutched to your chest.

“You want me to just…”

“Yep.” He grins, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve seen it all, baby.”

“It’s different in this context. What if they look bad on me?” You frown at him.

He scoffs. “(Y/N), in no world are any of those gonna look bad. You’re so sexy, you make me hard no matter what you’re wearing.”

You won’t lie—he boosts your confidence way more than you should allow. If Na Jaemin is calling you sexy, you have to be, right?

“Try Chenle’s on first. We’ll send him a picture.” Jaemin pulls his phone out of his pocket and winks. “Think he’s busy?”

You pull your shirt over your head. “He said he was recording with Donghyuck and Renjun today.”

“Let’s make his day a little harder, huh?” He chuckles to himself, leaning back against the wall as he watches you strip.

His gaze drinks in every inch of your bare skin as you remove the rest of your clothing. You try to ignore the dark look in his eyes once you’re fully naked, really try, but everything he does makes you crave him beyond belief.

The royal blue fabric is intense, despite the lack of material. It’s completely sheer, displaying your already peaked nipples without even a smidge of coverage.

“Fuck,” Jaemin mumbles, shifting forward. “You look so fucking good.”

“I don’t know about that.” You let out a small laugh.

“C’mere. We’ll ask Chenle.” He spreads his legs, and you already know what he wants you to do.

“Jaem…”

“Baby,” he whines. “Come get on your knees and let me show him. You didn’t mind both of us at the same time last week.”

You do as he asks, kneeling in front of him and placing your palms on your knees. Gulping, you patiently wait as he positions his phone to take the photo.

“You look so good,” he says, wetting his lips. “Wanna do one more pose for him?”

Against your better judgment, you nod.

“Put your ass up.” It’s not a suggestion.

You listen, turning around and sliding your chest against the floor. The hardwood is cold on your skin, but Jaemin’s sharp inhale makes you undeniably warm. With a burst of confidence, you spread your legs a but further, knowing you’re giving him a clear view of your pussy.

Jaemin grips your ass while he takes the picture.

“Okay, baby. Get one of the other ones. Hurry, or I’ll have to fuck you in this one before Chenle does.”

Blushing, you get up and grab the pink one you picked out. You barely have time to get it all the way on when Jaemin’s phone buzzes once, twice, three times.

He looks at the screen and chuckles. “Chenle’s mad at me. He said he wants to, and I quote, rip that flimsy fabric off of her and fuck her stupid.”

You’re so weak when it comes to them. Jaemin glances up at you, a dark look in his brown eyes.

“My God, look at you.” He clicks his tongue. “Should we keep playing with him? I think so.”

“We can’t stay here all day,” you warn him. “We’ve already been here for an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the choice then.” He sighs. “You can suck my cock or you can get fucked while I send videos of us to Chenle.”

“This isn’t real.” You laugh, smacking your palm to your forehead. “Jaemin, we’re in public!”

“This is a closed room,” he replies.

His gaze rakes over your body.

“We’ll buy that one, too. Put the white one on and pick an option.”

Your logic doesn’t work when you’re around Jaemin. He offers to fuck you and you melt into a puddle immediately no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Your body knows he doesn’t stop until you’ve finished, and now you crave release.

“We gotta be fast, babe.” He unbuttons his pants as you put the white set on. “Please, please pick getting fucked. I’ve been so hard this whole time.”

If you’re going to commit to this, you’ll act the part, too. You put on the best seductive face you can, moving slowly over to him until you’re standing between his legs.

“I’m buying you all of these,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Too fucking sexy.” He turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, his fingers trailing up your bare sides and sneaking under the white lace.

You gasp when he yanks you down onto his lap, hands resting on your hips. He chuckles lowly, kissing from your shoulder to your jawline.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, eyes nearly rolling when his touch ghosts along your inner thighs.

“Just making sure you’re ready for me.” He squeezes your leg.

“I’m ready.” You grind down the best you can, living for the way he hums in response.

He releases you, allowing you to stand up while he pushes his jeans down. Reaching into his boxers, he pulls himself out of his boxers, stroking a couple times before he beckons for you to join him. You climb over him and make sure to face the mirror while you straddle him. The uncomfortable plastic of the bench digs into your knees, but as Jaemin slides the thin fabric covering your heat aside, you don’t even think of it.

“God,” he groans when he slides a finger along your entrance. “You must fucking love the thought of both of us, don’t you?”

“You might like it a little more than me,” you tease him.

You barely get the sentence out before he’s guiding his throbbing cock into you. Once he’s fully inside, every word you considered saying next has disappeared, and all that’s left is how good he feels. The stretch is a little harder to take without foreplay, but he allows you time to adjust.

“Princess,” he mutters against your ear. “You brought him into this. I’m being good and sharing, is that not what you want? Because I can just as easily keep you for myself.”

You lift yourself up with his guidance, moaning when he thrusts up to meet you on the way back down. He inhales sharply, grabbing his phone.

“Keep going,” he commands.

It’s hard to move in this position, so you’re not able to ride him the way you usually would, but the lack of mobility sends more wetness to your core. You’re desperate to take all of him. Focusing on his pleasure, you ignore the ache forming in your thighs.

His hand travels over the expanse of your stomach, and from the way you see him holding his phone in the mirror, you know he’s recording. You try your best to move faster, wanting to give the recipient of the video that much more material. He finds your clit rubbing it just enough to have you moan loudly and jolt your hips before he stops.

He drops his head against the wall, ending the recording and sending it to Chenle.

“How does it feel, Princess?” he asks, touch dancing along your collarbone. The soft fabric of his sweatshirt presses into your back, and you wish more than anything you could feel his bare skin against yours. He gives your throat a quick squeeze. “You’re stuffed full of my cock, and Chenle’s watching that video wishing he was me.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Jaem, are you getting jealous?”

He fully wraps his hand around your neck and tugs you back until he’s talking in your ear. “Careful, baby,” he warns you. “Don’t give me a reason to be.”

His phone vibrates with an incoming call against the bench, and you stop moving. You settle onto his lap even though your entire body begs you to continue. Jaemin answers, but he doesn’t have time to say anything before Chenle starts scolding him.

“What part of I’m recording with Renjun and Donghyuck did you two not fucking understand?” His voice sounds strained. “You fucking brats.”

“Keep going, Princess.” Jaemin pats your leg before returning his attention to Chenle. “She looks sexy in white, doesn’t she?”

You resume your motions, trying to set a steady pace while Jaemin rubs your thigh.

“Fuck you, Jaemin,” Chenle groans, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I don’t have a lot of time, and I’m hard as hell. Can’t believe I’m stuck recording while you’re fucking our girl.”

Our girl. You whimper at the words, and you’re not sure if the twitch of Jaemin’s cock buried deep inside you is from you or Chenle.

Your legs burn at this point, but when the signature FaceTime sound starts, you don’t dare slow down your pace. Jaemin feels heavenly inside you, and the thought of Chenle watching has you dripping down your thighs. You forget you’re in public for a moment, moans falling from your lips as Jaemin positions the phone in front of you. He uses his knees to spread you apart further, and he sinks a little further inside you.

Chenle has the perfect view of you riding Jaemin.

“You’ve always been too easy on her,” Chenle growls. “Play with her tits.”

You’re surprised Jaemin listens to the other’s command. He immediately slides his hand beneath the white fabric and tweaks your nipple. Your hips jerk and you’re so close to begging him to make you cum. You feel the high approaching, but you need more. His length is heavenly inside you, but it’s not enough to push you over the edge, and both he and Chenle know that. Your clit throbs, screaming at you to give it attention.

“She doesn’t get to finish,” Chenle says. “Fuck her until you’re done, but she doesn’t deserve it yet.”

You cry out in protest.

“She’s so pretty when she cums, though.” Jaemin pouts, moving down until his fingers tease your lower stomach.

“My God, please.” You move faster. “Please, I need it so bad.”

“Don’t you hear her?” Jaemin hums. “I always make my princess cum. What are you gonna do about it?”

His fingers connect with your clit, and you let out a much too-loud moan as your hips jerk. You move faster on top of him, wanting nothing more than to fall apart. Right before the high washes over you, he stops.

“Fuck,” you hiss, trying to get that feeling back.

Chenle’s breath hitches, and the sounds coming from his end of the phone tells you he’s fisting his cock right now.

“I’ll punish both of you.”

Jaemin’s length twitches inside you, and this time, you know it’s from Chenle. Warmth floods your legs as all sorts of images flash across your mind. You don’t want to be punished, but you desperately want to cum. Your body aches, and there’s an intense pressure building in your abdomen that makes your skin sticky with sweat and your core flutter around Jaemin.

Smirking, he finds your clit again. Almost like he knows what’s going to happen, he drops his phone and covers your mouth with his hand, muffling your scream of pleasure as your walls clamp down on him. Your vision turns white, and you barely notice what happens next between your delirious state and the way Chenle’s moans filter through the phone.

Jaemin pulls you off him and turns you around so he can look at you. You’re back on his lap within seconds, and he tugs you down until you’re filled with him all over again. He seems to have forgotten about the other man. He thrusts upward, nails digging into your hips to pull you down every time.

Another few seconds later, and his head is falling back against the wall with a thud as his warm cum fills you. He gives himself a moment to calm down, and then he grabs his phone. With your head buried in his neck, you shy away from the camera.

“Both of you better be at my fucking house in the next half an hour, understood?” Chenle’s voice is low and a bit scratchy. “I’m getting out of here, and by the time I get home, both of you better be waiting.”

“One more thing,” Jaemin says. He wraps his arm around you and lays you back against the bench. As he slides his cock out of you, he positions his phone so Chenle has a clear view of Jaemin’s cum leaking out of your pussy and gathering on the ruined lingerie.

“Don’t piss me off even more.” Chenle huffs. “Half an hour, Jaemin. I’m not playing with you.”

“We’ll see.” Jaemin grins widely, winking at his phone before hanging up. He tosses it to the side, returning his attention to you. “Are you okay, Princess? That wasn’t too much, was it?”

“I’m good.” You nod, closing your eyes. “We definitely have to buy this one now.”

He chuckles, helping you sit up. “I already paid for all of them. Did you really think I’d fuck you in it and then pay for it? I’m not a monster.”

You stand on your shaky legs, and he helps you remove the ruined fabric and grabs your clothes. Once both of you are fully dressed, he goes out to the cashier to get a bag. You put all four sets into it. When you see yourself in the mirror, you cringe at how messy you look. There’s no way that woman out there won’t know what happened in here—if she hadn’t heard you first.

You don’t look at her as you follow Jaemin out of the store. He flashes his dazzling smile at you, and you’re not sure why that sends a flutter to your heart.

“Guess we’d better go to Chenle’s, huh?” He raises his eyebrows. “He’s not very happy with us.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” You pout but nod anyway.

He laughs and throws his arm over your shoulder. “You were literally fucking yourself on my cock, babe. I think that counts as something.”

Even with your legs shaking as you walk to Jaemin’s car, everything inside you tingles with excitement at the thought of Chenle punishing you.

[stevesjockstrap]

Somebody to Love

@stcreators event 04: music

Steve/Eddie • rated G • 90s, no upside down, single dad Steve • read on ao3

Eddie loathed the early shift at the record store, but Allan had moved away and the new hire was a college student who had class every morning, so Eddie had begrudgingly agreed when Chrissy had explained the situation.

He was not a morning person. But he figured since the store was usually empty in the morning, he could use the time to write music or work on his D&D campaigns. Then go home and nap.

Everything changed the day the new customer walked in. It was just after nine, and Eddie had had about four sips of coffee when the bell on the door jingled.

“Welcome to Chrissy’s Classics,” he monotoned.

“Mornin’,” the guy mumbled, giving him a nod.

He tried his best not to stare as the man walked aimlessly around the store. He looked younger than Eddie, but had more laugh and worry lines. They suited him. Showed off that he’d expressed himself a lot. He appreciated those things about people. Scars and freckles and callouses and liver spots. Those were the things that made you real, the things that showed you really lived.

The customer’s hair was hidden under a beanie, but his sideburns and the too long tufts on the back of his neck were a gorgeous and intriguing copper color.

They made sudden awkward eye contact when the man looked up and Eddie immediately ducked his head down to his notebook. His closed notebook. He heard a small snicker and he winced. Caught.

Deciding to go for broke, he cleared his throat and looked back up. “You need any help finding anything today, sir?”

The man laughed, grinning over at him. “No, I don’t think. And lose the ‘sir.’ It makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not ancient,” he argued. If he was ancient then Eddie was already dead.

“Thanks, I’ll take that today,” the man gave him a crooked smile. He held up a record and nodded towards a listening booth. Eddie waved a hand.

That was good. Let’s him off the hook of making small talk. At least until he’d woken up a bit more.

A few minutes later, though, he almost dropped his coffee cup when he heard singing coming from the booth. Not entirely on key, but belting out George Michael without a care in the world, and it brought a smile to Eddie’s face. So new guy assumed the booths were soundproof. They definitely were not.

But over the next couple weeks this became their norm. Usually the first customer of the day, if not the only customer Eddie saw during the morning, Crinkly Eyes would show up, they’d have some pleasant small talk about the weather or a new album release that week, and he’d end up in a booth. Where he’d sing. Usually some pop hit, but sometimes going rogue and choosing The Cure or Van Halen.

While Eddie would pretend like he couldn’t hear. Secretly serenaded while he mapped out his campaigns or doodled. Tried to decide when he’d gather the courage to ask out the hot guy who didn’t know he was putting on a concert for one.

When Chrissy stopped by early to do payroll, she heard him in the booth and raised an eyebrow. Eddie shook his head pointedly at her and she’d just shrugged.

“Whatever, weirdo. Your funeral when he finds out eventually,” she’d scolded quietly as she walked back to the office.

Then on a perfectly ordinary day, Crinkly Eyes walked in with his nails painted. All different colors and what had to be glitter, the sunlight catching on it just right. Eddie couldn’t drag his eyes away, the juxtaposition of the big manly hands and the pretty nails causing his brain to malfunction.

The man blushed so prettily, too. “Oh,” he murmured. “I forgot. Um, my daughter, she- well she only has twenty of her own nails to paint. She was upset that she couldn’t use all the colors.” He raked a hand nervously through his hair.

“Looks nice, very pretty,” Eddie offered with a lopsided grin.

“Hah, thanks,” he stuck his hand out finally and introduced himself. “I’m Steve, by the way. Thanks for letting me come here like every day and annoy you. My kid, she started half day kindergarten around the corner… and I didn’t want to be far, you know, if she needed me? And I can’t stand being home alone anymore. It’s too quiet.” The man, Crinkly Eyes, Steve, realized he was rambling and pulled his lips in between his teeth. Adorably.

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s pretty boring here in the mornings, anyways. Chrissy would probably be happier if I sold you something, but it’s fine.” He laughed at Steve’s stricken face. “Seriously, it’s cool. At least you’re dusting off the record players for me, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said a bit awkwardly.

“You should bring your artist daughter in some time. I’d love to meet her.”

“Oh? Y-yeah, that’d be okay?” He seemed to be asking a deeper question.

“I’d like it, or maybe we could do dinner just the two of us first. Before I meet the family.” He winked.

Steve sucked in a breath but recovered quickly. “Yes! I mean, yeah, uh, we could definitely do that.” His eyes crinkled up more as he smiled wide.

It wasn’t until after their dinner that he confessed to listening to him singing every day, and he’d watched mesmerized as Steve turned a brilliant red and stammered at him.

Title from the song Somebody to Love, Steve would’ve been stoked about the George Michael release.