#god this has to be one of my best strings covers

[jamminvroomvroom]

our secret moments.

ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers

in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.

this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D

songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument

5.6k words

-

your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.

vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.

you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.

high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.

he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.

but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.

“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”

both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.

your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.

your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.

lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.

your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.

okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.

“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.

“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“

“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.

“he is!” you protest, waving them off.

you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.

“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.

“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.

the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.

you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.

“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.

you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.

“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”

lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.

it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.

you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, yourfriendnancy, yourfriendmia, maxfewtrell and 378,654 others

youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday

user: are they together?

otheruser: mother?

landonorris: lost millions.

user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.

and 444 other comments

-

you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.

apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.

“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.

“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.

“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.

“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.

you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.

lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.

“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.

“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.

“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.

lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.

“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.

“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”

he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, ashjbibby, yourfriendnancy and 344,555 others

youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)

landonorris: whoops?

user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?

user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.

user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?

yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.

otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW

and 567 other comments

-

“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.

“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.

you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.

none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.

you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.

you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.

“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.

“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.

“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.

you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.

“lando, why are you doing this?”

“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, maxfewtrell, yourfriendmia and 332,211 others

youruser: dinner w bestie

user: lando took this. bet.

user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando

landonorris: how was dinner?

youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.

user4: a date if i ever saw one?

user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?

user4: @ user63 girl. be so fr

and 329 other comments

-

the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.

your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.

“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.

“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.

“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.

“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.

“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.

“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.

“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.

you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, abudhabigp, yourfriendmia and 543,288 others

youruser: new heights n pretty lights

user2: i know who took 3/4 of these pics.

landonorris: i want that hat back btw

user6: she is the moment

user: mommy? huh who said that?

and 588 other comments

lando.jpg just posted on instagram

liked by: youruser, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 645,321 others

lando.jpg: from the road

oscarpiastri: violation.

youruser: can u send me these. especially the one of oscar :)

user4: WAIT didn’t she post the second one a while? LANDO TOOK IT?

user81: oscar 😭😭

maxfewtrell: why don’t you take nice pictures of me like this?

user11: the wags are fighting omg

and 799 other comments

-

your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.

nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.

lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.

you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.

so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.

that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.

it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.

but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.

no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.

cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.

“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.

“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.

“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“

“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.

“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.

great, now you are crying.

“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“

alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.

“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.

fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.

“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*

“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.

“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.

your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.

you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.

you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.

-

the flight home is quiet.

your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.

you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.

you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.

he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.

“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.

“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.

your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.

“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.

“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.

“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.

“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.

“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.

“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”

“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.

“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.

“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.

“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”

fuck.

-

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: maxfewtrell, mclaren, yourfriendmia and 442,689 others

youruser: commotion for the dress?

yourfriendmia: *commotion*

user5: on my knees begging

user1: no lando like? divorce? 😟

mclaren: always good to see you! 🧡

yourfriendnancy: kicking my feet looking at this lord have mercy

and 504 other comments

-

you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.

from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?

he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.

you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.

the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.

you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.

he says your name, and the world stops for a second.

“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.

you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.

“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.

“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.

you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.

someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.

you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.

dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.

plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.

“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.

“lead the way.”

he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.

“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.

“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.

“come home with me.”

you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.

you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.

-

the door slams softly behind you.

lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.

“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.

your breath hitches in your throat.

“neither can i.” you whisper.

“we can be more.”

“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.

“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.

“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.

“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.

lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“can i…?” lando mutters.

you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.

“of course you can.”

he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.

you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.

“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.

the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.

“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.

“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.

“say it.”

“fucking incredible.”

“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.

his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.

his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.

lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.

“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.

“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.

“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.

lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.

he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.

he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.

“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.

your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.

the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.

lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.

one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.

“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.

lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.

“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.

“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.

“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.

“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”

“oh?” he coos, mockingly.

“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.

“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”

the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.

lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.

“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.

“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.

he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.

“you sure?”

“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.

it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.

you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.

lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.

“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”

the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.

you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.

-

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by landonorris, mclaren, francisca.gomez, lilymhe and 735,641 others

youruser: our secret moments

landonorris: “only bought this dress so you could take it off” 🕺🏻✨💘

youruser: @ landonorris omg shut up (omw over)

user1: FINALLY

user4: bisexual panic is a real thing.

otheruser: i used to pray for times like these

maxfewtrell: took you long enough.

yourfriendmia: mum n dad

user63: mclaren ships it and so do i

and 1,442 other comments

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239

maintenance: i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed!

[suguruplsr]

i just feel like, when you’re gone, satoru will edge the fuck out of himself.

only because you’re an even bigger fucking tease, so why not give himself the best orgasm he’s ever had since.. the last time he gave your pussy a nice warm load before you left.

“c’mon baby— y-you’re practically fuckin’ playing with my dick!” satoru groans, hands fighting the urges to pull at your hair, but gripping tightly onto the couch. you hum playfully, tilting your head and letting your wet mouth soak the head of his pretty, long, and ready dick. it’s twitching, a faint red blush formed right where your mouth has it captured.

you pull off with a pop, “you talk too much toru..” you sigh, sticking out your tongue, spit swirling around his tip with the muscle. your eyes hotly look up at him, a small laugh escaping your throat from his flushed state. his hair sticks to his head, muscles visibly contracting under his white t-shirt. satoru squeezes his beautiful eyes shut for a moment, probably too stimulated.

so cute.

forming more spit, you meanly spat on his cock. finally deciding to touch him for the first time and wrapping a right hand around his base. “try not to cum in 20 seconds, kay?” you giggle up at him, moving closer and giving a sultry view of your perky tits. a shameless moan leaves satoru as he watches you move your breasts up to wrap around his dick. “20 seconds? please baby..”

you ignore his plea, holding your plush tits up and darting your tongue out to the aching dick in front of you. “17..” you try your best to speak, focusing on his cock. you can’t be serious.. satoru’s body hurts from your torture, watching the movement of your perfect titties moving around him hypnotically. one up, the other down, and repeat. he can even see a mixture his pre and your spit coating the flesh, the wet sounds between all of the movement getting louder as you let a glob of spit slide down his cock. right on his vein, and perfectly falling down his tip first.

fuck—

“10”

satoru raises a brow, it’s been more than fucking— oh that smirk.

damn tease.

“gonna make you pay for this; tenfold baby.” he grits, blown out eyes trying to look somewhere, anywhere but that mouth sucking his tip like it’s gonna leave you. you squint your eyes, an obvious smile on your face. rather than pulling your mouth away from his addicting taste, you let go of your breasts.

forgetting the count down altogether, you watch him as you take his cock down your throat, relaxing it and letting it lay there. god— you just want him to shoot it all in huh. satoru wasn’t even sure if your lewd thought was even safe, but he gives a sick smile. “dirty girl.” he mumbles, going to squeeze the leftover of his base that you couldn’t reach, but with an even better idea, you swat his hand away, humming on his cock.

your hand dips between your bare thighs, slipping under and going to your soiled panties, then to your cunt. trying your best to avoid rubbing your clit and cumming right then and there, you soak your fingers in your wetness, gathering what you can on your hand. your messy hand, covered with strings of cum, grab at his base.

your slutty actions has satoru blabbering, dick pulsating with cum ready to dump into your esophagus at any moment, “shiiit— that’s fucking it baby. must want me to cum so bad, yeah? here you fucking go.”

[hees-mine]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲! 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, blowjob, cursing, food play.

Happy birthday to this sweet boy! I love him so so much. He’s literally such an angel, and he deserves all the happiness in the whole entire world. I hope he had the best birthday day ever!!!🎂🩵

Baby, you really didn’t have to do all of that,” heeseung says as you both walk to your shared bedroom. He’s carrying at least 10 different bags and sets them on the floor before plopping down on the bed. “You woke me up with breakfast in bed, sang happy birthday to me, took me out on a date to my favorite restaurant, somehow managed to band all my family and the guys together.” he listed off each thing on his fingers until he finally gave up because he didn’t have enough fingers for everything you did for him today. “I’m so grateful for you. Thank you so much. This was literally the best birthday ever like everything I could ask for in just one day.”

You joined him on the bed, laying your head on his chest, his arm naturally wrapping itself around you.

“You’re welcome, babe, and I wanted to do this for you 'cause you deserve the world.” you looked up at him with a small smile on your face while you stroked his chest.

“Give me a kiss, beautiful.” he puckers his lips, giving you a quick peck. “I love you so much.” he holds you in his arms, squeezing you as tight as he possibly can.

“I love you more.” you kissed him on the lips.

“Not possible, baby,” he says in a sing-song tone as you remove yourself from his grip. He looks at you, puzzled.

“Where are you going?” He pouts.

“Change,” you chirp. “Be right back.” you turn on your heels, going to the bathroom to change into his final surprise of the night.

“Hurry back,” you smile to yourself cause your boyfriend was so cute he acted like he couldn’t go a moment without.

He hums a tune while scrolling on his phone. A few minutes pass, and he’s already missing your warmth. He was about to get up and check on you until he heard the bathroom door creaking open. “Baby, are you almost-“ he stops halfway, his mouth instantly falling open the moment he sees you standing in the door. “Done,” he finishes his sentence, gulping down before the drool got a chance to roll down his chin.

“You like it?” You do a little spin teasingly, shaking your ass, and his eyes glued to your exposed bottom, watching it jiggle.

“Oh my god,” he falls back on the bed, his hands rubbing his eyes before he looks at you again. And his eyes were correct, and you looked absolutely stunning. “I fucking love it. Come here,” he says softly while you stride confidently over to the bed.

He bends down, kissing your exposed stomach, your arms encircled around his neck, his hands finding purchase on your waist as he looks up at you. “Are you gonna unwrap your gift?” You shyly bite your lip, anticipating his next action.

He pulls the string to the pink bow you wore that was covering your chest, sticking his tongue at the sight of your hard nipples. He wets his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. “You’re so pretty,” he sighs, eyes roaming to each of your tits as he admires your beauty.

“Thank you,” you giggle as his large hands sneak up your waist until they meet your plush breasts.

“Mm, of course, baby,” he hums, leaving little warm pecks all over your torso.

“Not so fast.” you pull away from him.

“Hmm?” He tilted his head curiously while you reached into your drawer, taking out the can of whipped cream you had stored in there prior to his birthday party. “O-oh,” he looked at the can, smirking to himself as you lay on the bed. “Ooh, my girl has a naughty side,” he takes the can from you. “Lay back for me.” You lay on the bed for him, and that’s when he finally noticed the pink crotch-less lace panties you were wearing. “Fuck” he groans, looking at your bare pussy. “You don’t want me to make it to next year, huh?” He chuckles, laying on top of you, making out with your lips before he gets to the main event.

You laugh Against his lips as he claims your mouth, tongue licking every single last inch until he pulls away.

He smiles and holds the whipped cream to your chest, index finger pressing on the nozzle as he covers both your perked-up nipples with cream.

He sucks the cream in his mouth, the tip of his tongue wetting your hardened bud as he flicks his tongue back and forth. “So sweet.” he switched to the other nipple, doing the same and licking off the cream.

“Yes, hee,” You moan, pressing your tits together and pushing them up as he hungrily licks all over your chest, loving the feeling of his tongue roaming your body.

“Hmm.” He sprays more cream from the top of your stomach to your navel.

His tongue meets your tummy, going all the way down to your abdomen as he licks the trail clean off.

He then moves lower, giving your clit a tiny kiss making you shiver in pleasure before he climbs back on top of you. “Open” he slots himself between your legs, humping against your thigh as you open wide for him to spray the whipped cream into your mouth, and you seductively suck on the tip like you do when giving him head.

The sight has him shifting from on top of you. He stands up quickly, pulling down his jeans and boxers along with his shirt, leaving him completely naked as he got undressed in record time. He laid beside you on the bed, and he didn’t even have to ask. You grab the can, spraying the cream all along his fully hardened length from base to tip. He whimpers from the coolness of the white substance cock twitching the moment your mouth envelopes his tip. “Ooh shit baby,” his eyes are already glazed over his hand placed on the back of your head as you Bob up and down eating the cream off his dick. “Just like that baby,” he sighs, head tilted to the side so he can see how your mouth swallows up his every inch.

You hum when your lips meet his base, and you breathe out through your nose so you won’t gag around his long cock.

The sweet cream mixed with his salty precum was the best taste ever. You closed your eyes, savoring the delicious delicacy that was your boyfriend. “So warm,” he moans. The contrast from cold to warm made his toes curl. “Baby, your throat feels so good. Oh my god,” he grunts, finding it impossible not to buck his hips ever so slightly.

You moan as his thick tip hits your uvula, a gush of arousal getting pushed out of your hole as you gag around him. “Shit, there you go, just like that” You swallow around him, pulling back to take a breather spitting on his cock whole, jerking him off a few seconds before hollowing your cheeks and deep-throating him.

He runs his fingers through your hair, a thin layer of sweat forming all over his naked body, and his upcoming release feels so intense. “I’m gonna cum already” he throws his head back, whining at the sensation of your wet mouth. He’d still never understand how your mouth always produced so much saliva, but he wasn’t complaining. He loved getting head from you. Always so nasty and sloppy, just the way he likes it.

He pulled you back by your hair just so he could see his dick coated in your spit. “Spit on it” Without any hesitation. You spit all over his cock, thick strings of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock before he lightly pushed your head, causing you to sink down on his cock once more. “Gonna cream pie your throat, my pretty girl,” he groans, his hand cupping your cheek as he watches you, taking him in with ease.

You moan in response, the little vibrations tingling his tip just enough to send him over the edge and spill warm spurts of cum in your mouth as it slowly slithers down your throat. “Fuck me,” he gasps softly, mouth hung open, the whites of his eyes showering as he breathed heavily and his balls throbbed with pleasure. “Oh yes,” he falls on the pillows searching for a breath of air, but he finds it difficult after that amazing fucking blow job you just gave him. “Fuck yes,” you could feel his balls pulsing on your body lip which brought you so much satisfaction you loved that feeling mixed with the way his heavy cock rested on your tongue.

Your trail your hand up his abs, releasing his cock with a lewd pop. “The surprise is far from over,” you tease his nipples, slowly grinding your wet pussy on his softening cock. “We’re just getting started,” you wink, and he can’t help but think this is the best surprise he’s ever gotten and definitely his favorite birthday to date. “Happy birthday hee.”

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

[kechiwrites]

what’s in a name?

simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

synopsis: ‘It’s not his fault.’ He reasons. ‘It’s not his fault you’re a brat.’ 

wc: 1.1k

cw:  fem!reader, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, light brat taming, spanking, pet names (princess, darling), no use of y/n ever.

an: yes, i know i should be posting kinktober IN NOVEMBER, but my god does this man make me wanna [redacted] his [data expunged]. enjoy!

He’s your most stubborn patient, in fact, his entire squad is a pain in your ass, but Ghost takes the cake. Always grunting and scoffing as you administer care, as if this is all a frivolity and not you saving him from gangrene or tetanus or whatever other peril has found its way into his blood that week. And that’s if he even deigns to be seen to at all.

It’s another one of those days, marshalled out of your bed at the crack of dawn because there are wounds to dress and blood to take. It makes you irritable, just short of bitchy really, and you’ll be damned if you have to work this early in the morning for a couple of jarheads who can barely string together decent conversation.

Ghost is the first person you see. Naturally. And it’s much of the same. Groans and impatient huffs while you snip gauze and sanitize abrasions. It’s rapidly turning you from irate to downright incensed.

“What’s your name anyway?” You murmur, while you fold up his shirt sleeve, baring a muscled, veiny forearm, covered in ink and dried blood, courtesy of a deep gash that’d only ceased bleeding thanks to a field tourniquet applied in the nick of time.

“No.” He mutters. As if that’s an answer. You scoff, turning in your swivel chair to grab more cotton wool from your desk. When you return he has you pinned with what little of his face you can see, dark, long lashed eyes peering out from the mask and face paint. As though he can see through you.

"You can tell me your actual name, or you can bleed out." It’s unnecessary, really. Probably even dangerous to ask, but it’s always bothered you that his medical record has those black marks where a Christian name should be. And you’re nosy. Nosy enough to pry it out of the soldier himself.

You stare at each other, neither daring to back down. Your threat is horse shit and you both know it, you're obligated to give the best care possible. He could wait you out. If he wanted to.

Apparently, he doesn’t want to.

"Simon."

You give him a smile in return, cartoonishly big and saccharine sweet. You begin cleaning the wound, humming happily with yourself. Satisfied.

For the next two months, it's relentless. Everytime he sees you, it's;

"And do you know your blood type, Simon?"

"It's lovely to see you again Simon."

"There are easier ways to stop bleeding, Simon."

It irks him, makes his skin feel like it's not sitting right. Makes him feel like his teeth are stopping his tongue from laying in his mouth comfortably. Makes his blood hum in his veins.

Eventually it's too much.

"Would you come off it?" He asks, voice rougher than he means it to be, but maybe that's what you need to end this little joke of yours.

You keep reading the charts on the clipboard in your hand, as if he hasn't spoken at all.

"Come off what, Simon?" You purse your lips at whatever you're reading, but he suspects you’re trying not to laugh.

"Saying my name like that." He flexes open the fingers of one hand, keeping the other balled in a fist on his thigh.

"Like what?" You finally look at him, head tilted to the side, the picture of innocence.

What a lark.

"Like you want something from me." He stands, looming above you, jostling himself into your personal space.

"It's your name." Now you are smiling, a confident, amused thing that transforms the look of your face, makes him forget the bags under your eyes and the familiar bone-tiredness of his body when it’s been pushed too far.

And these days, it’s always too far.

“We have code names for a reason, darling.”

“Darling? I was beginning to think my name was ‘Ugh’.” You drop the timbre of your voice to mimic him, though he doesn’t look very flattered by the imitation. At least, that’s what you get from the very little of his face you can see.

“It’s Ghost from now on.” He ignores you. It’s necessary, really. To block out the things you say. The things you do. The songs you hum cheerfully when you do inventory, the way your medical uniform stretches over the curve of your ass when you need something from the bottom cabinet.

“Sure, Simon. Whatever you say.”

‘It’s not his fault.’ He reasons. ‘It’s not his fault you’re a brat.’

It’s not his fault when he pushes you over to the examination bed. It’s not his fault when he fists his hands in the waistband of your scrub bottoms and yanks them down, it’s not his fault you’re wearing a thong, for christ’s sake. It’s not his fault that you giggle and sigh and beg so goddamn pretty.

It’s certainly not his fault that your cunt feels like a fucking dream.

He takes you like you deserve for all the teasing, brings the weight of his hand down on your ass when you moan something that sounds suspiciously like “About time.” Ghost gropes at your tits while he has you bent in half, in for a penny, as they say. His fingers pull and flick at your nipples, and you wish he’d put his mouth on you, fucking anywhere, and you don’t care what it does, bite, suck, kiss, what-fucking-ever. When you say as much in between the gasps he fucks out of you, he responds immediately, voice subdued under his mask.

“Maybe next time.”

Your eyes nearly roll out of your head at the idea of next time.

When you come it feels like your pussy is buzzing, stretched over the length of his dick and he tunnels into you, fucking into you deep before he grinds the head of cock into you, scrambling any thought you could’ve had.

It’s a battle for him to not come inside you, to resist covering the sweet, soft walls of your cunt in his seed, but he prides himself on what little control he has left, and pulls out, doing you a favour by letting his come shoot onto the floor rather than stain the baby blue fabric of your scrubs.

"Now, I think we can both agree to you saving that name for when you want me to spread you open, yes?" His voice is gruffer somehow, covering your overheated skin in the rasp and cadence of it.

"Fuck off." You moan miserably in response, your forehead sticking to the paper covering the examination bed below you.

"I want an affirmative, princess."

"Yes." You hiss from between your teeth, your head still spinning from your orgasm. “Yes, Ghost, I agree.”

“That’s better. Don’t worry about getting up.” He pats your exposed lower back, and when his hand withdraws you can hear him zip his fatigues back up. “I’ll see myself out.”

endotes: hehe...i love him. my mask kink is in full effect y’all. support content creators + city girls, reblog. find part 2 here. 

[007reid]

YASSSS okoki blurb/ drabble spence painting readers face/ praise kink <333 my brain is a horny machine.

🤭🤭had sm fun writing this, i luvv nsfw reqs!! enjoy <3

to wake up seeing spencer’s face nuzzled into your neck is the best part of your morning. the second best part has to be this.

spencer looks the prettiest like this, head thrown back and hand wrapping your hair into a ponytail as you work your mouth on him, taking your time, sweet whimpers falling out of his mouth. he’s about to cum, you know it, just from the way his brows is furrowed together and how his pants had gotten quicker, more high pitched.

“fuck y/n you look so good,” he breathe and you nearly preen at the compliment, covering the base of his dick with your hands as you sink your mouth down on him, bobbing your head. “such a good girl for me, tryna be good so that i compliment you more, hm?” he’s out of breath and his words are interrupted by his panting, but you heard every word.

one thing about spencer you didn’t expect when you first got together was how dirty he can work his mouth, yet while he’s saying all these filthy words to you he looks completely undone, writhing and helpless as you lick up his cock slowly, tediously. hes so gentle, so sweet to you yet so fucking nasty, and you absolutely love it. love him.

you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock, looking up and he’s already looking at you, lids hooded and mouth ajar, red from him biting on his lips. “god you look so fucking beautiful like this baby,” he moans, pushing the curls off his eyes with his hand, the other hand still holding back your hair. what a gentleman.

you hum, pleased and you feel that ball of fuzz at the bottom of your stomach that warmed with every compliment, every praise. this does not go amiss to spencer, and he smirks. “like that, don’t you?” he asks, guiding you by your hair up and down his cock until he’s slowly fucking into your mouth. “like it when i praise you, call you my good girl, makin’ me feel so good? hm?”

you moan around his cock, feeling yourself clenching wetly around nothing at the sound of his words. spencer squeezes his eyes shut and you already know what he’s going to say next before it even comes out his mouth. “gonna cum baby,” he whines. “i—fuck—“

you remove your mouth on him with a pop, a string of spit connecting the redness of his tip to your lips. “want you to cum on my face, spence,” you say sultrily, wiping a bead of precum off the head of his cock. spencer’s hands grip the sheets. he’s close, really close, and the both of you can feel it. he wraps his hand around his own cock, getting himself off with jerky motions as you trace patterns on his inner thigh, purring. “want you to paint my face with your cum spence, want you to—“

his entire body freezes for a second and then he’s coming, blurts and string of cum leaking out his cock and he’s whining, moaning so loudly as his orgasm hits him like a loaded truck and you close your eyes appreciatively, feeling the wetness of his cum splatter your cheeks and lips.

spencer can never keep his mouth shut while or after he cums. “y/n, y/n, fuck…” he whimpers softly like a wounded animal, sensitive and overwhelmed. you make your way up his body, pressing kisses along the way and brushing his disarrayed curls back once you reach him. “my beautiful girl,” he murmurs, wiping a thumb over your shiny, puffy bottom lip. his hand sneaks down your body, and lingers on the waistband of your shorts. “so good to me.” you kiss him as his hand sneak further, palming you through your shorts and you gasp. “it’s my turn, honey.”

[rcksmith]

Brick by Brick - Kaz Brekker

Requests: “Heyy, I wanted to request a Kaz Brekker x reader fic where y/n is Pekka Rollins' innocent and naive daughter, and she stumbles across Kaz when he breaks into Pekka's house. Kaz tells her to stay quiet and stuff and y/n obviously has no idea who Kaz is, only that he's handsome as fuck and she kinda falls in love with him despite the fact that he's literally robbing her father

Love, anon :3

P.S. I love your writing.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Thank you very much for your kindness and sorry for the delay. I love you. My loves, requests are open and I am banning Kaz's smut request rules. U can ask for anything in the original universe, without being in a UA. I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

------------

Ketterdam was not a good place. It wasn't safe, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't healthy. Every dark corner, every ghostly street, every edge whispering curses, was fulfilled the entire list of unholy sins and harbored monsters as horrible as the harbor rats on the coast. If the soil in that place was cursed, the people were demons.

Pekka Rollin’s knew this like he knew how to count kruger. He was one of those monsters. He taught profanity and stained the ground on which his feet walked with innocent blood. Pekka destroyed homes, hopes, kicked people's dreams and hit each one soul with his staff of damnation.

Each one.

Because of it that he kept his daughter under lock and key from the ugly world, far from that wretched city that he himself helped build the horrors and desolations. Maybe it was out of love, maybe it was out of sensitivity. Or maybe it was because you were the only healthy and intelligent heiress capable of leading his empire one day. You represent too many precious things for him to risk losing control over you. Maybe Pekka would never be able to love anything or anyone other than his own greed.

Whatever it was, he covered your eyes to Ketterdam. He decorated the blood-stained walls with sparkling pink and said to you that the smoke that covered the tops of Ketterdam's houses at night was Aladdin's magical fog, which pointed the way to a cave full of treasures, and not that it was the incinerated bodies of his enemies, nosy people and families who starved to death on their land. Pekka deceived you with pretty tales that the big mansion you lived in was because he would always give you the best, and not that it was bought with money stolen from honest people and that he liked to see in material forms the extent of his capabilities of evil. Like a trophy.

Rollin’s wove the ties around your limbs like a cursed puppet, and pulled your strings according to his unscrupulous interests of greed. For all of Ketterdam, Pekka was a demon of the worst kind. But for you, he was a bearded, loving father who made you see magic and romance in every corner of that city condemned by God.

The worst types of monsters were those who tricked and manipulated their children like pawns in a game of chess. But, again, perhaps Pekka wasn't capable of loving anything other than his own greed.  And, if the price for having an heir who agreed, trusted him for the rest of the life, who would follow in his footsteps and obey all his order, was to make you believe in his goodness, in the beauty of a life with him only to implant wonderful - and illusory -  memories in your childhood, so be it. After all, you were a girl, and in his view, girls were sentimental. So how would you go against him in the future, or not act according to his orders or not run his business as he wanted when he was too old, if you only had memories of him being an excellent and loving father? You will feel so guilty! You would fall under the weight of your own mind's arguments that everything he once did was to protect and give you the best, so your only obligation would be to be a good girl and return the favor by obeying your father's orders.

Loyalty.

Maybe, if you were someone else and this was a different story, you would have realized the hoax at 16 years old. Maybe you would have born with a strong, inquisitive and responsive personality. Maybe you would have developed that spark and fire that wouldn't let you lower your head to any man, that would make you stamp your foot on the ground, lift your chin with petulance and unravel the mysteries of that dark empire alone and take justice into your own hands.

But this was no different story. And you were just you.

You were born with a sweet aura and gentle personality. You liked butterflies and flowers since birth because their color and beauty attracted you and made you smile. Your romantic nature was not only accepted by your father, but encouraged and recharged every day - for his dark game. 

For 19 years you lived in the theatrical farce that Pekka created with monstrous hands, believing and agreeing with every story in your bubble. But the blame can never fall on the shoulders of the pure in heart, who blindly believed in words and stories just because it didn't have a single wave of malice or disbelief in the veins. One should never condemn the soul that was born naturally sweet and destined to be the breath of light that such a terrible world as Ketterdam needed. 

 You believed in love, fairy tales and pure honesty, and that was not a defect. The Herculean guilt should fall on the shoulders of the devil who abused the innocence of a girl for his greedy benefit.

In your perfect world manipulated and distorted by the unscrupulous Pekka, you blossomed like a dazzling lily in the middle of Plato's allegory of The Cave. You acted with honesty, patience and affection towards everyone who crossed your path: employees, cooks, gardeners, bakers, painters, stylists, delivery people, friends of your father.

You were, genuinely, a kind soul. Your interests were related to literature, cooking and painting, your heart vibrated with the sunset, with the first snowflake falling to the ground and how twilight seemed even more stunning in books when they portrayed a couple in love beneath it.

You always saw the poetic, lyrical, angelic side of life, with the eyes of an artist and a passionate soul, smelling mystery and romance in the air when others only smelled wet grass because of the rain.

And being like that was, perhaps, the reason for your downfall.

It was three o'clock in the morning on a Friday the thirteenth. A combination so full of superticities, curses, fears and prague. While some saw that day and time as a condemned and satanic sign, you saw it as something mystical, mysterious and enigmatic. And maybe that was your mistake. Maybe you should be careful about the things you think, the things you wish. Maybe three in the morning on a Friday really was the devil's time. Because as you crossed the hallway of the mansion's library, unable to sleep, you saw him.

Dressed in black like the darkness outside. Skin as white as the moon's glow. Hair personified as a raven's feathers. He seemed to belong to the mysteries and occultism of the world as sin belonged to hell. The huge Victorian window behind illuminated him like an apparition, a mirage, a nightmare…an erotic dream. Or like a demon.

You should have screamed. You should have ran away. You should have done something other than get stuck in that same place, anything other than feeling inside you squirms and something sinks into your belly like warm honey.

His eyes, as blue as the deadly waters of icy Fjerda, were fixed on you with as much intensity as the dangers of Shadow Fold. For a split second, a human emotion passed through those irises; surprise?

An inattentive observer would not have noticed such a tiny sign, but you lived 19 years analyzing every detail of life.

Would a demon have such a mundane emotion?

“Who are you?” Your voice came out like a breath in winter. 

Your concentration should have been on your dad book under that man's arm, but it wasn't.

A single thick, black eyebrow of his was arched, and only there were you able to run your eyes over the details of his appearance.

“Do you always ask questions for thieves?” His voice was like the scratching of sand on a stone, like a withered willow branch brushing against human skin.

That man, in his entirety, seemed to have come out of the dark romance books that you read hidden in your room in the early hours of the morning. You should have focused on the fact that he just called himself a thief, not the way your soul seemed to be shivering because of his voice.

“Or you´re just stupid?” the thief continued.

Kaz never made decisions based on fear. Only in despair. 

His analytical mind rewound every step of the years he spent investigating Pekka Rollin's; every detail, every day, every season, every strand of gray that appeared in Pekka's red hair. Where had Kaz gone wrong? Pekka had no children. And Kaz made no mistakes. Never. But the girl in front of him, too curious for her own good and common sense, had too similar traits to Pekka to be anything other than his daughter.

Desperation hit.

This made EVERYTHING infinitely more Herculaneum. Your existence meant that Pekka had many more secrets than the Kaz discovered in their constant meticulous investigation. You were a loophole, and that meant there could be others. Loopholes that Kaz had no idea about. Kaz Brekker felt naked, even though he was covered from toes to neck. Being without clothes wouldn't have bothered him any more than the damn fact that he hadn't come up with the perfect plan. He failed. And that disturbed him deeply.

Suddenly, that library seemed sneaky and questionable, even though Brekker had studied the layout of the mansion for months.

How the fuck did he didn't have the knowledge about that girl?!

A daughter meant many things. But being caught by his daughter created a LOT of problems. Problems involving Kaz Brekker on a gallows.

Fucking hell.

The Barril's bastard waited for a scream, for an accusation, waited for the guards to be alerted at any moment and…the silence was sepulcher. A silence so solemn that he heard the sound of his own blood running through his veins. None of his muscles relaxed, but the part of his brain that worked in despair was activated.

Or he could kill you. But a body would add an extreme problem and…

‘’Who are you?’’ Your voice was so feminine that for a second Kaz thought he had fallen backwards and landed in a bed of roses.

Which was bullshit. Because he never falls. And he had never touched a rose in his entire life

Were you really talking to the man who was robbing your house?! Where was your instinct?! Your common sense?! Your discernment?! And where, by the damned Saints, were you all these years?

“…you don’t look like a thief’ That voice again. That damn voice that made him think of roses he never touched.

Why didn't you shut up and run away?

“Have you seen enough thieves to know one?” Normally Kaz had higher control, but he couldn't hold back his whip tongue, which seemed somehow wanting to hurt you the same way he was being hurt.

That atypical creature blushed. You blushed! For the love of the saints! Who blushes face to face with imminent danger?! Were you stupid or just terribly naive?! And why did that sweet blush remind him once again of a rose?

Bloody hell, where have you been all these years?! Why didn't anyone tell him about you?!

“No’’ you replied like a little animal being caught biting the sofa “but common thieves wouldn’t have that much intelligence to be able to bypass the security of this entire mansion’’

You had a point. But why were you worried about arguing with a damn thief instead of running away?

“That's yet another reason why you should keep your mouth shut about what you're seeing here.” His voice dropped to deeper, more threatening tones. “Bypass security is not as difficult for me, just like hiding a body''

That should have scared you. It made you scared; but with less than it really should. He was threatening you with death, his voice as cold and hoarse as a grim reaper, his eyes as serious as prophecies of the apocalypse. So why you could only think that this about him was overwhelmingly enthralling?

Maybe it was because there was a lack of excitement in your life, maybe it was because you've read a lot of erotic books about mysterious men entering the towers at night and taking the girl away, or maybe it was because Pekka deprived you of the world so much that he left you unaware of the true gravitas of situations. Whatever it was, there was something that grounded you like the roots of ancient trees, something that made you want to look at that thief more closely. Perhaps you liked the danger... That nameless man represented a large part of all the danger of Ketterdam that was so diligently hidden from you for 19 years. He represented death. But he also represented the new, the mystery, the unknown. And you, romantic by nature, loved the occult and its secrets. That man came from a world of shadows, mists, risks, deaths. Where every night was full of adrenaline and every second was a fight to stay alive. He smelled like the ghostly five a.m. fog that you watched envelop the mansion every winter, that made your heart clench with the feeling that there was so much more to the world than you knew. Very quickly, Kaz - even though you didn't know his name yet - became everything you'd always wanted to know, but had always been deprived of.

Once again, you weren't a different person to know about Pekka's disgusting game, but you were romantic enough to feel your soul begging for adventure. Even if these adventures meant ruin. A downfall.

Did it only take one handsome, mistery man for you to throw all your comfort in life out the window and want to ruin yourself with him? Want to get lost with him? The same stranger who just threatened to kill you? Apparently, yes.

You took a step into the library, and Kaz stood firm on the ground, his blue eyes boring into yours like a shining knife. Brekker thought you were extremely naive. Who knew that damn Pekka Rollin's daughter would be so pure? He would bet the Crow Club on the certainty that, if Pekka saw you now, he would have a heart attack. The monster sure had kept you in a little pink bubble your entire life, given that you seemed to not have a single ounce of survival instinct left in you. And how would you have? You certainly didn't know what pain, loss, hunger, cruelty were. This was comical and irritating to Brekker. You were a daddy's little girl. But it was in these waters of thought that his ship hit one fact: you must be very valuable to Pekka. Because otherwise that idiot wouldn't have made so many efforts to hide you from the entire world. To hide the wrong eyes from you. Eyes like Kaz's.

A shiver ran through Brekker's body; a damn good chill, a note of music he'd been waiting to hear his whole life. Revenge.

Brick by brick.

Oh, how ironic fate was. The boy who lost everything at Pekka's hands, was face to face with what was everything for the man. Like a breaking violin string, you have become the most valuable item in all of Ketterdam to be stolen. The most valuable item for Kaz Brekker.

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if pulled by the devil's rope as he set the book down again. He had something else to take away.

Kaz advanced towards yoou. And suddenly, as fast as lightning that cuts through the darkness, everything in your vision turned black and you fell into the abyss of unconsciousness as something pressed against your nose and mouth.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 7 - Mall and/or Job

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,884 | rated: G

“Munson Residence, wha'd’ya want?” Eddie groans into the receiver.

Whoever this is better be someone super fucking important to have woken him up with their damn ringing. He’s surprised Wayne didn’t wake up too, but it’d be kinda hard to hear the phone over those snores.

“Eddie! Thank god,”

Oh. Steve! Very important, actually.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Eddie, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” he immediately spirals into what all could have gone wrong, what could be going wrong. Everything dark blue and cold, vine-y and the flashing of red lightning—

“Nothing, nothing–well, something.. Can you please run to my place later today and grab my lunch? I forgot it this morning and I know I’m not going to be able to run back and get it and get back in time to eat it before my break is over.”

“Your lunch?” “Yeah, I packed one this morning but left it on the counter. There’s a key under the mat and everything.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Tryin’ to get robbed, big guy?”

“I don’t care about any of the shit in that house.” Steve scoffs. He shrugs even though Steve can’t see him. “Fair enough. Sure Stevie, I’ll bring your lunch; when do you want me there?” “Dude, you’re the best; My lunch break is right at noon, can you be here just before then?”

“Got it. Five to noon at Family Video.” he drawls out as if he’s writing the information down.

“Uh, actually…not Family Video..”

A short two hours later, Eddie finds himself among a throng of people inside Melvald’s. He has to fight his way forward at first, but the crowd thins out as he gets closer to the registers.

Damn, he’s not even that far into the store and he feels like he’s ran a mile.

“Ms. Byers!”

“Oh! Hello Eddie, what brings you here?” “Steve called and asked if I could drop off his lunch to him. Do you know where he is? I didn’t even know he was working here.”

Joyce just grins at him. It’s weirdly mischievous. “Only temporarily, he’s near the back of the store. Just head back there and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“Uh..thanks. See ya later Ms. B.”

He wanders toward the back of the store through the aisles, but stops up short when a fake white picket fence blocks his path.

The whole back corner of the store has been covered in fake felt snow, a couple of those fake plastic trees like Steve’s (though these are a normal size), a candy-striped ‘North Pole’, and dozens of paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling between what seems like hundreds of string lights.

And there, sitting in the middle of it on a throne that looks suspiciously like the one he used to use during Hellfire, is Steve. Dressed in a Santa suit. With long white beard, big ol’ belt and buckle, shiny black boots..

“Psst!”

He’s got something stuffed into his Santa jacket to give him the right shape, and even some small half-moon glasses, but those sparkling eyes, the freckles, that one swoop of brown hair stubbornly sticking out from under the fuzzy brim of his hat, that’s all Steve.

“Eddie!”

Santa Steve is fully enraptured by whatever story the kid on his knee is telling him, their hands waving every which way but somehow missing smacking Santa right in the face. Steve just continues to nod along, then gives them a hearty “Ho Ho Ho!” when they try to squeeze their tiny arms around his fake belly.

“Eddie!!”

He glances over at the sound of his name, and sees Robin waving frantically at him from her spot at old school music stand-turned-podium. She’s got on some sort of outfit that honestly looks like it was supposed to be a jester costume, where’d she even get that from?

His feet start toward her, but his eyes fall back on Steve Claus, now posing for a picture with the kid who’s smiling so wide it looks like his face will split in half.

Managing to take his eyes off Steve for a moment, he sees Jonathan behind the camera, and that Argyle kid is crouched in front of Robin, talking to the next kid in line to see Santa. All three of them are wearing matching jester costumes.

Eddie steps up to her podium after Argyle and the new kid pass in front of him to see Steve, “Family Video not paying enough, Birdie?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, the extra cash doesn’t hurt. Joyce asked us to help out.”

He nods at her, and finds his eyes drifting back to Santa Steve.

This kid is much more shy than the last one, tilting her head down and taking short glances up at Steve’s face.

Steve is saying something to her, a low comforting sound that Eddie can only make out the tone of. His one hand covers the entirety of her upper back, and his thumb is moving up and down to try and soothe her nerves. His head is ducked down to be more level with her, looking at her over those half-moon glasses.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up and Steve leans back a bit. “Yeah?” he hears him say.

The girl grins, nodding her head like crazy, then she too is squeezing Steve into a hug. It’s so unfairly endearing, he can actually feel his heart swelling in his chest.

Robin speaks up then, “So..?”

“So?” he repeats dumbly.

“So wha’d’ya think, Munson?” 

“Does he need a Mr. Claus?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“Uh, wait, I mean Mrs.–Do you have— is someone going to—”

Eddie chances a look over at her…she’s wearing a smug, shit-eating grin. She leans toward him conspiratorially and mumbles out “I wouldn’t mind a Mrs. Claus myself.”

She leans back, still looking smug, but there’s a note of panic in her eyes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So would he.” he mumbles out himself, jerking his chin towards Steve.

Robin only shrugs “You never know.”

“You never—what do you know, Buckley?” he asks, stepping closer and pointing an accusing finger into her still smug face.

“I know that there’s some mistletoe hanging above the breakroom door.”

He’s confused for just a moment, then understanding floods through him, “You little—”

A short whistle interrupts his incoming tirade, and Eddie can see Steve Claus moving out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry folks, it’s time for Santa’s Cookie break!” Robin calls out over the long line of people. “He’ll be back in 30 minutes though, don’t you worry!” the smile falls off her face as soon as she turns her back to them.

Eddie follows her, Jonathan, and Argyle toward the back rooms, “I’m gonna take a nap.” She says, “Tell Santa to grab me before he goes back.” She waves toward a door as she passes it and from the sprig of greenery hanging above it, this must be the breakroom. 

Robin takes a right down a turn in the hall, and Jon and Argyle push out the back door of the building.

He expects more of the same when he opens the door to the breakroom, for Steve to huff and grouse about the kids or the parents or something, but when he does, Steve is grinning ear to ear as he combs through his (now removed) fake beard.

“Hey Santa Stevie.”

“Eds!”

“I’ve got your lunch.” he holds up the brown paper bag for Steve to see. Steve nods, and lays the beard out on an empty chair, taking off his hat and glasses too and setting them both on top before stepping forward to grab the bag. “And you have hat hair.” Eddie laughs.

Steve’s free hand jumps to his head and scruffs up the long hairs, making them stick up every which way instead of just being plastered down on his forehead.

“Better?”

“Sure, big guy.” Eddie pokes Steve’s fake belly.

Steve chuckles, then heads to a table in the corner where he dumps out his lunch bag.

“So what’d Past Steve pack for Future Steve?” Eddie asks, plopping down in a chair kitty-corner from Steve’s. “Bologna and mustard sandwich, Doritos, and half of a leftover Hellfire cookie.”

“And a Coke,” Eddie says, taking a can out of his jacket pocket, “I grabbed one for you from your fridge.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles warmly at him. “You want some?”

“No way dude, you gotta get your energy back after dealing with all those kids, right?” Eddie says, waving him off. 

“Eh, some of them are little assholes, but most of them are really well behaved.” he’s ripping his sandwich in half, “Gotta impress Santa, right?”

He offers him one half, and Eddie takes it.

“It’s really not a bad gig, though the beard is itchy as hell…”

Steve starts talking about some of the kids who have come by in the last couple days of them doing this, having started on that past Monday, the 1st.

There were the kids asking for baseball bats, Lincoln Logs, Malibu Barbie, Rockstar Barbie (“Barbie’s a rockstar now?”, “Barbie can be anything, I guess.”), all the usual things.

Then there were kids that asked for actual Santa stuff, “I don’t want my mom and dad to get a divorce.”, “I wish I had some friends.”, “I want my grandpa to get better.”

“Makes me wish I actually was Santa, y’know? Then maybe I could actually help them.”

Eddie’s heart is definitely getting way too fuckin’ big for his chest.

He puts his hand on Steve’s forearm where it’s resting on the table between them. “You are a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s face flushes nearly as red as his suit. “Thanks, Eddie.” he glances above Eddie’s head then, “I better go wake up Robin, if she naps too long on top of the potatoes, she gets cranky.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, better get on that.”

Steve stands up and tugs on his hat, not bothering to put on the beard and glasses yet. The fuzzy white band smushes a lock of his hair onto his forehead. 

“Hold on,” Eddie stands as well, reaching forward to tuck the hair under the bottom of Steve’s hat. “Now you’ll be ready to see your adoring public.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, walking with him toward the door.

And of course, Eddie forgot all about the damn mistletoe until Steve’s arm stops him in the doorway.

‘Jesus H. Christ…’

He glances over at Steve, then up at the offending plant.. 

Eddie looks back down, out toward the rest of the store where they’d be clearly visible in the doorway.

“I guess you owe me one, huh big boy?” Eddie chuckles, ‘Stupid plant, stupid Robin, stupid Ed–’

His thoughts are cut off when Steve tugs him back into the breakroom, moves him against the wall, and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. The opposite to the kiss he’d given Steve three weeks ago.

Steve leans back, a smirk on his lips and a pink flush on his face. “Now we’re even.” he winks, then turns out the door to wake up Robin.

i may have actually kicked my feet and giggled about this one lmao

also, rockstar barbie mentioned here is from the 1986 Barbie and The Rockers set

also, also, i'm getting rid of the 'pre' before the steddie up top, you all know what's happening and where this is going lol - it's steddie.

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

[hwanchaesong]

Can I request an Ateez Yeosang x reader where it's her first time everything? First time orgasm, first time squirt, first time having sex and she bleeds and freaks so he helps her and calms her through it? Very smutty and extremely fluffy?

a/n: ooh, this req surprised me ngl 😭 but this is an amazing idea! i hope you'll like this tho, i rlly tried my best to make it lovey dovey but still smutty 🙈

ps. this has been on my drafts for too long so here we go. and i'm so sorry because this is SO SO SO LATE

warning!!! smut under the cut so mdni!

It was the heat of the moment, the intense make-out session with your boyfriend really took a toll on you until you blurted out the words that would make you blush.

"Let's do it." you murmured against the lips of the man that you call your beloved.

Said man was named Yeosang, processing what you just said that made him cease all of his movements.

Both of you are in a compromising position. His hands are inside your shirt, feeling your burning skin while you sit on his lap, basically grinding against him.

"Are you sure?" he asks, sincerely gazing into your eyes to ensure that you're not saying it out of pressure.

You gently smiled at his considerate attitude, leaning in to peck his lips and smiling at him softly, "I'm sure."

There were a few moments of silence, still contemplating whether he should continue, not until you slightly moved on top of him, effectively rubbing your aching core against his hard on.

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, shuffling around until he was able to lay you down on the mattress, "my baby is so impatient."

"I can't help it," you whined, gripping his shirt in an attempt to pull it off him, "I just.. want you so bad."

His eyes darkened, "Keep saying that, baby." he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body that made you drool before he leaned down, lips hovering above yours, "I might not be able to contain myself."

"Then don't."

He breathed through his teeth before aggressively kissing you once more, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and making sure to lick every crevice. A small yelp coming from you when you felt his hand grope your left breast, his thumb pushing on your nipple through your bra.

He went and sucked on your tongue, your face getting hot at the sensation while you let out a small moan.

He detaches his lips from you after a while, a string of saliva between you, a sign of the passionate make-out that took place.

"Let's remove this, yeah?" he smiled at you, taking your clothes off one by one until you're butt naked under him.

He told you he won't be able to behave, but look at him, treating you like glass. Like a goddess, and you love every moment of it.

"God, you're so beautiful." he complimented you, caressing your hips, lovingly staring at you while his hand crept up, feathery touches until he reached your face. "So perfect." he whispered, tucking a hair behind your ear.

"Stop it!" you whined, your hands flying to cover your face, being shy at the attention you're getting from it.

"What?" he snickers, gently removing your hands and leaving a lingering peck on your cupid's bow before sliding his lips down your neck, his murmurs tickling your skin, "Just saying the truth."

"Oh-!" you were pleasantly surprised when he began kissing your neck, leaving some love marks here and there as his palm covered your chest, tugging on your nipples.

"Oh god, Yeosang." you moaned, now feeling his mouth on your mound, sucking on it and lightly biting.

Soon, his other free hand snaked into your stomach and down to your navel, squeezing your inner thighs before experimentally dipping a finger into your heat.

He released your nipple with a 'pop' sound, "Mmh, so wet for me already, baby?" he rhetorically asked, but you still nodded, eyes tightly shut as you're too focused on the newly found bliss.

His fingers easily find your clit, rubbing it in numbers and shapes that made your legs twitch, "Feels too good." you said, holding on to the sheets when you felt something.

Your breathing got heavy, focusing more on the jolting pleasure on your core, not until he stopped.

"Why?!" you cried out, opening your eyes and throwing your boyfriend a glare, frustrated that you couldn't reach your high.

Yeosang made a show of licking his fingers clean, "Sorry," he says, but without any remorse in his tone, "I kind of want you to cum on my tongue because look," he showed you his glistening digits, "you taste so good."

You whimpered, not knowing what to do with his dirty talks.

"Told you not to be impatient." he clicks his tongue, positioning himself in between your legs and taking a whiff of your scent. "Fuck, you smell so good too."

Then he dives him, earning him a gasp and a pull on his hair, courtesy of you because his wet muscle on your pussy makes you feel a lot of things. Heavenly things.

He laps at your juices, sucks on your clit and you twitch when you felt a wiggling finger inside you.

"More." you moaned, making him add another finger as he curled his digits around, finding your spongy spot that had you rolling your eyes.

"Oh god! Yes! I-I'm-" you wailed, getting the clue that you're close, Yeosang made more effort. He sucked harder on your clit, his fingers getting into a hellish pace until finally, you let the pressure on your lower belly go, but it felt.. wet. Too wet even.

"Holy crap." Yeosang smirked, your juices flowing down his chin and hands, "Did I just made you squirt?"

What? Squirt?

"I'm sor-" you began apologizing but he shut you up with a kiss, guiding your legs around his waist and putting your arms on his shoulders.

"Don't say sorry baby, it was hot." he smirked, then you felt his tip prodding at your entrance, "Are you really sure about this?"

You gazed into his bright, brown orbs. Full of worry and love, and at that moment, all you wanted to do is give yourself to him.

"Yes, I'm all yours."

"Alright then," he pushed only the tip but it was enough to stretch you out a bit, "I'll go slow. Tell me if you want to stop."

You nodded, inhaling and exhaling to prepare yourself. You know it will hurt. Based on what you read, heard, and see. But you trust the man on top of you, you know that he'll take care of you.

Yeosang started pushing in, inch by inch, tenderly massaging your hips as a way to give relief during the uncomfortable stretch.

"Ah!" you cried out, feeling your hymen break at the intrusion.

It was too painful, which was likely since it's your first time.

Then, something trickled.

Red.

"Shit!" he cursed, "You're bleeding, baby, fuck. I'm so sorry."

He panicked, which made you panic as well.

He hastily pulled out of you, standing up from the bed and getting some wipes to clean up the blood.

Damn it, he only sees this in movies. So, it really does happen in real life. What a fucking revelation for the both of you.

"Does it hurt?" he asked after a while, kissing your forehead and staring apologetically into your eyes, making sure that you're not in any kind of discomfort.

You actually felt like tearing up, how did you even manage to bag a man like him.

He's there, painfully hard and possibly at the verge of being blue balled but he ignores all that, choosing to focus on your well being.

"Yeosang," you called for his name, cupping his cheeks and kissing him passionately, "I'm fine. Let's continue."

"Are you sure? What if-"

You placed a finger on his lips, rolling over so now you're on top of him, the biggest signs for him to shut up and proceed with what is supposed to happen tonight.

"It's okay." you reassured him once more, kissing him fully as you do so, "I don't want to do this with anyone but you." you whispered against his lips, lifting your hips and doing the work of filling you up with his girth.

You gasped at the intrusion, feeling the stretch once more but it wasn't as bad as before.

You don't know where you're getting the confidence, but to hell with it, anyone would feel bold if your significant other looks at you like the deities sculpted you themselves.

Eyes full of warmth, longing, and desire.

To hell with everything.

You started moving without giving it any second thoughts, you are tired of waiting and you know that the stinging pain would soon go away.

"Slow down baby, I-" Yeosang mumbled, gripping your hips as a way to control your movements.

You really don't mind the burning feeling in your thighs as you move up and down on his length, but boy did you want to ignite a fire within him.

"If you want me to slow down," you whispered, "then make me."

Well, that did the trick. Yeosang's eyes darkened and the grip he has on your hips is now bruising, "Didn't take you for a brat, really."

He scoffs and he definitely does take control of the situation, stilling you on his lap as he closes his eyes.

Ah, this is life, he thinks.

The way your drenching pussy clenches on his cock. So warm, so good. He could seriously bust a nut from the feeling of you alone, but that wouldn't be fun now, isn't it?

Your moans got louder when he started drilling into you. You can't move as he restrains you in his lap, making him do all the work, rutting his hips until your juices are rolling down your inner thighs and drips onto his own skin.

"Yeosang!" you whined his name, his unforgiving pace made you throw your head back, getting dizzy from the pleasure.

"Take it, baby." he says, his thrusts getting erratic as he chased his high while simultaneously waiting for you to finish first.

"Yeosang, I'm close." you panted, throwing your palms against his chest as an attempt to stabilize yourself.

"Cum all over me, princess." he says hotly, taking one of your hands and bringing it up to his mouth, sucking on your index and middle finger.

He really knows how to rile you up, and that was just enough for you to combust when you truly felt his tongue circling around your digits. Coming all over his length, your clenching heat allows him to finally cum as well, your insides milking him dry.

He went and grabbed your neck, bringing you in for a hot and messy kiss, panting against each other's mouth as you both came down from your high.

"That was so good." you smiled, clinging to him and wanting to go to sleep when the tiredness seeps into your muscles.

"Sleepy?" he asked you, to which you could only nod.

"Alright, let's clean up first so we're not sticky." he says, giving you a final kiss before preparing to stand up, "I love you."

You laughed, giddy and still feeling the dopamine in your veins, "I love you more."

[jjasen]

fireworks

request: due to popular request, I decided to give sleepless nights a sequel ❀

summary: hooking up with rafe at the cameron’s fourth of july party

warnings: smut (somewhat dark!rafe), 18+, minors do not interact

word count: 2k

a/n: if you already saw this pretend you didn’t! (I forgot to put tags and was wondering why nobody was interacting with it)

You’re out on the balcony, leaning on the railing as you wait for the annual Fourth of July fireworks show. The Camerons always host a party as Tannyhill has a good view of the patriotic display, and this year is no different. People from all around Figure Eight mill around, eating canapés and lounging in the pool. Rose really outdid herself this year - children snack on watermelon cut into perfect stars, their parents sip on cocktails from the open bar, and there’s beautifully expensive patio seating for the best view of the fireworks over the bay, framed nicely by oak trees draped in Spanish moss and string lights.

The view from the balcony is somewhat obscured by the tree line, but you prefer its relative quiet to the mingling below on the lawn. This was the first time you had been invited back to Tannyhill since you and Rafe had hooked up earlier that month. Perhaps it was paranoia, but ever since, Sarah had seemed to withdraw from your friendship. From everyone, really: both Topper and Wheezie had expressed to you their concern for her.

A shiver runs down your spine and you become acutely aware that you are being watched. You glance over your shoulder to find Rafe leaning on the balcony’s doorframe, looking you over with a sultry gaze. He takes a drink from the crystal tumbler in his hand, though it’s mostly ice, and sets it down, moving closer to you.

“You’re looking real pretty tonight, sweetheart,” he drawls, a hungry gleam in his eyes. You know what he really means.

“We can’t. Listen, Rafe, that night was a mistake,” you say. Even if you couldn’t stop thinking about him fucking you ever since, you thought.

He narrows his cerulean eyes at you and tilts his head. “Was it?” He steps closer to you, caging you against the balcony railing with his arms. He whispers into your ear, the sensation of his hot breath sending shivers across your skin. “Was it a mistake when you were moaning my name? Was it a mistake when you left scratches on my back while I was fucking you so hard you didn’t know your own name?”

You tremble and squeeze your eyes shut, praying that the hot coil of desire in your stomach disappears. He nods and smiles cruelly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, sweetheart.” He brings one hand down to cup the swell of your backside, pressing you into the muscular planes of his abdomen.

“Sarah’s my best friend,” you whisper. He doesn’t care, of course. Perhaps it adds to the thrill. He presses hot, feverish kisses your bare neck, and with each one you melt further into his embrace. He bites down gently into the sensitive skin of your nape, and you moan into the warm July night air. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, and heat flushes into your cheeks.

“Better be quiet, unless you want everyone to know what a good slut you are for me, darling,” Rafe taunts. He’s achingly hard already; you can feel him twitching impatiently even through the fabric of his slacks and the thin linen skirt of your sundress.

“You’re such a fucking dick, Cameron,” you breathe. He only smiles with that stupid insufferable smirk of his and runs a hand through his hair.

“God, I can’t wait to have you on your knees, choking on my cock with that dirty mouth,” he says, amused. He undoes his belt, freeing his erection and nipping at your neck one last time before looking down at you expectantly, blue eyes glinting coolly, demandingly. Slowly, you sink to your knees, never breaking eye contact, and palm his heavy cock, lapping at a pearl of pre-cum from his tip demurely.

Taking in just the tip, you swirl and sweep your tongue over his purplish head until Rafe’s breath goes ragged. He fists your hair, throwing his head back and parting his lips with pleasure, sending a jolt of arousal between your thighs. “Just like that, baby,” he groans, his hips flexing as he thrusts into you, his eyelids hooded with lust and gaze dark with desire. His tip kisses the back of your throat as you coax more and more of his hard length into your mouth, and he’s so aroused that his cock throbs each time you brush over his sensitive frenulum.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, stop,” he laughs, jerking his hips back to pull out from your mouth before he can come. He helps you up and you rest your forearms are resting on the balcony’s metal railing, facing the view of the fireworks. The show is just beginning, effervescent sparks of red and gold lighting up the night sky. You expect Rafe to zip up his pants and return to the party. Instead, he rolls on a condom and reaches under the skirt of your dress, pulling the cotton of your panties aside. He rubs the tip of his impossibly warm cock against your slit, which is slick with arousal. You gasp in surprise.

“Here?” you breathe, chest heaving with apprehensive lust.

“Don’t worry,” he grins, “the noise from the fireworks will drown out whatever noises you make.” Your scowl quickly turns into a wanton moan as he pushes into you, the blissful stretch of his thick cock making you hiss with satisfaction. You wait for his heavy hand to press into the curve of your back, for his relentless thrusts, but Rafe simply goes still, the only movement the slight throbs and twitches of his cock inside of you.

“Why’d you stop?” Your question is less of a query than a crestfallen whimper, almost imperceptible over the crackling flares of the fireworks.

“Because I want you to beg,” he murmurs, lips brushing across the shell of your ear. His breath is heady and sinful against your neck and it only serves to increase your state of frustrated arousal.

“Please,” you moan, rocking your hips back and forth, aching for friction against your swollen clit. He grabs your hips roughly, forcing you to stop your movement.

“You can do better than that,” he rasps, nipping at the column of your neck teasingly. “I said beg.”

You move to glance over your shoulder and glare at him, but he swipes over your throbbing clit and you shudder, pleasure pulsing down your spine, and relent. “Please, Rafe, I need you,” whisper, and he begins fucking into you punishingly, painfully slow. “Harder, please, please,” you mewl. You grip the wrought iron railing tightly and bite down on your bottom lip as he begins pounding into you, rough with raw desire.

He thrusts into you so hard, so ruthlessly that your words choke in your throat and all you can do is moan helplessly. The pleasure of Rafe completely filling you and circling his thumb over your clit is incandescently euphoric, the waves of pleasure jolting through your body brighter than the fireworks that burst and glitter in the velvety night sky. Every nerve ending in the sensitive nub throbs when he swipes over it, and you can feel the slick of your arousal begin to drip down your thighs. Each time a firework explodes, you flinch a little at the sound, causing you to pulse around his cock, and he groans, throwing his head back.

“Fuck! I’m close,” Rafe rasps as his thrusting begins to get sloppier. He bucks his hips one, two, three more times until you feel him spilling into you, filling you with warmth. You begin to shudder with the beginning of your orgasm just as the finale of the fireworks display starts, and you cry out, a high pitched moan that sounds vaguely like Rafe’s name while the air reverberates with the crackling bursts of colorful sparks. Red, gold, green, and blue shimmers blaze through the sky as you bask in the glow of your own orgasm, your legs trembling around Rafe’s length. Sultry pulses of bliss radiate throughout your body.

Your chests heaving, Rafe pulls out and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, mussing his tawny hair artfully. You smooth your own hair back into place and run your hands over the skirt of your dress and dab at your lips, hoping that your gloss hasn’t smudged too much.

Like last time, Rafe is the first to leave. He pulls on his pants and calls back over his shoulder, “Meet me back downstairs in five minutes.” He doesn’t wait for a response before disappearing, the only trace left of him the slight scent of sandalwood and oakmoss clinging to the linen of your sundress. Despite his detached tone and general air of disinterest, you’re strangely drawn to him, although it is abundantly clear he has no inclination to know you further than the shape of your body. After waiting a few minutes, you follow his path downstairs and look around for a glimpse of brilliant blue eyes or his broad shoulders.

Instead, you hear someone call out your name and you whirl around to find Sarah in a blue floral tank top and linen shorts. She looks uncharacteristically nervous, twirling a stray lock of her honey-blonde hair and glancing around. Grabbing your hand, she whispers to you, “I have to tell you something,” and drags you to a far corner of the lawn under an oak tree. She sits down on the grass with no regard to staining her white shorts, and after a moment’s hesitation you follow suit.

Sarah looks down and fiddles with her necklace. “I know I’ve been kind of m.i.a. this summer,” she begins with a sigh. “And I’m sorry, I really am, babes.” She looks at you with uncertainty in her eyes. “I’ve…well, there’s no way else to put it. I’ve kind of been hanging out with John B.”

“John B? As in the guy who works on your boat?” you ask, arching a brow. Sarah runs a hand through her hair, scenting the night air with her honeysuckle perfume. She smiles sheepishly at you and nods, focusing her gaze somewhere faraway. “He’s really…I really like him. It’s different with him.”

You look at Sarah, the gentle curve of her smile, the way the corner of her mouth twitches fondly at some unspoken memory of John B, taking note of the lightness of the curve of her shoulders, as if an immense weight has been taken off her chest. Clearly, she is happy, and who are you to question that?

She shakes her head, bringing herself back to the present. “Anyways, babes, how have you been? I feel like I’ve been such a bad best friend lately,” she says, brown eyes full of guilt. Couldn’t be worse than sleeping with her brother, you think to yourself ruefully. A pit of guilt begins to form in your stomach at her innocently inquisitive gaze.

“I-” you begin, glancing back at the party. You catch the eye of Rafe, who is watching you, casually sipping from his amber drink. His gaze is hardened, full of warning.

“Nothing much, really,” you mumble, looking down at your lap. You recall the delicious stretch of Rafe’s length inside of you, the scent of his bare skin, the hot, open-mouthed kisses he would press to your neck. The way he had, not even one hour ago, demanded that you beg for his thick cock.  “It’s nothing,” you reaffirm. It’s everything, everything, you think.

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (VIII)

Chapter  8: Hopes and Disappointments

Hello!! Here is another chapter! I apologize for this (that's not true, I love breaking my own heart). Also special warning for this chapter, there is a sex scene (first few paragraphs). Not written as smut, but still pretty explicit so, no minors!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2550

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was in the way you held onto him. The way the two of you moved in perfect sync. The way you peppered his neck with kisses, the way you knew he adored. The way you tightened your hold on his hand, the one he held by the side of your head, against the sheets, as pleasure grew almost unbearable. It was in the way you whispered his name, warm breath burning against his ear and cheek while he pressed his lips to your skin. It sounded like a prayer, like a wish, like a loving chant. A whisper loud enough to cover the banging of his own heart against his eardrums, his staggering and heavy breathing, the creaking of the bed under your united bodies.

No one had ever said his name like that. It sounded different when you said it. Tasted different when he kissed your lips as they formed his vowels and consonants again. And he murmured your name as well, right there against your mouth, in a sigh, like it was the most sacred word he could ever speak, the most beautiful sound in the world, and it was… it was…

I love you…

He almost said it, but pleasure was overwhelming, and he moaned instead; the two sounds meant the same thing.

It was in the way you were so close to him, the way he felt like he could touch your soul like this. The way you worshipped each other’s bodies instead of simply touching. The way you stared right into his eyes, on the verge of the highest form of pleasure, and gently touched his cheek, like… like there was adoration in your eyes, the same he felt for you. And he watched as you became undone, as you broke into fragments of pleasure, his name on your lips shouted instead of whispered this time. He pressed his forehead to yours as he finally let himself follow you in ecstasy, and it felt like you cushioned his fall, how you held him even closer, clinging to him as he stuttered around the sound of your name…

It was in the way sex was simply better with you. Perhaps it was because he loved you. Feelings made the intimacy of sex so much more intense. But the way you rubbed his back now, soothing and gentle and loving…

Because of all these reasons and a thousand more, Andrew couldn’t convince himself that you didn’t care, that this was just about fucking, about getting a moment of pleasure with no sentimental strings attached to it. He finally opened his eyes again when you cradled his cheek, thumb gentle as it brushed through his beard.

If it were just about pleasure, why would you keep him close now? Why would you reach up to kiss his cheekbone, and then his eyelids, the gesture infinitely tender?

He kept on holding onto your hand, even if not as tightly. He knew you craved for that contact, for that anchor. His other hand slipped under your back to hold you closer, to hold you lovingly against him, and the gesture made you smile against his eyelashes.

I love you…

“God… that was so good, Andy,” you whispered with some awe on your face and in your content smile, like you couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. But to be fair, neither could he.

“Divine, I would say,” he corrected, making you giggle as you kissed his lips again.

“Can’t disagree with that,” you nodded, brushing your nose against his in the process, making him grin.

You touched and kissed and caressed for a while longer, before you would both take some time to clean up and get ready for a proper cuddle. The first few weeks, you didn’t linger for so long with him in bed after sex, but now you seemed to indulge in the comfort that came with being held like this, wearing little to no clothes, holding onto each other and saying sweet nothings into the other’s ear, and kissing… and sometimes going further than just kissing again…

Not tonight though. When Andrew walked out of the bathroom and back in the bedroom, your eyes were closed. You had stolen one of his old t-shirts, buried under his blanket, your expression peaceful as your breathing was audibly deeper than usual.

Andrew slipped quietly back in bed, trying not to wake you. Still, you blinked your eyes open as he was lying down.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, trying to sit up, but Andrew held you back.

“Hey, don’t be silly. You’re exhausted, get some sleep.”

“We said that we wouldn’t sleep together. I mean… actually sleep… you know what I mean.”

“Y/N, you’re knackered. Lay down and get some sleep. I don’t bite… unless that’s your thing?”

“I hate you.”

“I’ll take that for a no. Dully noted,” he joked, pushing his hair out of the way as he rested his head on his own pillow.

“I should go home.”

“You can’t drive, you’re too tired. And I’m too tired to drive you home, so just… stay. It’s alright. Nothing is going to happen if you stay the night. Most people do, even if it’s just a one-night stand.”

You remained quiet, and he knew your brain was working at full speed. He hated himself for his next question, but if it meant that you would stay, just this once…

“You want me to sleep on top of the covers?”

You rolled your eyes, but visibly relaxed.

“We’ve just had sex, I don’t fear for my modesty.”

“Then, stay. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning.”

“Tempting.”

“I know, I’m a grand cook.”

“Decent cook.”

“I’ll take it.”

His hold on your arm loosened, he tenderly caressed the soft skin right above your elbow, on the inside of your arm. You didn’t move away.

“I am very tired,” you whispered, as if trying to argue with yourself.

Andrew sat up as well, leaning in to kiss your shoulder through his own shirt.

“Stay, Y/N. Stay for the night. Please, stay… stay…”

I love you.

He almost said it.

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching out for him and pulling him down with you as you lied down once more.

He tucked you in, not daring to hold you, worried to make you uncomfortable and for you to run away again. Instead, you both laid on your sides, staring at each other in the silvery light that came in from the window. He caught your eyes falling to look at his chest, the skin made even paler under the moonlight, and he didn’t mind. Your gaze was gentle, safe. For once, he didn’t hide, let the covers rest on his hips instead of covering him fully. Meanwhile, he was admiring the silver droplets that were being caught on your eyelashes…

It was silent, still, a moment suspended in comfort and hesitation.

But then your expression grew a little more fragile, more hesitant, as you looked into his eyes again. Slowly, you moved closer, as a test, perhaps. Andrew didn’t hesitate a second, and he wrapped his long arms around you, holding you close to his chest. He felt your muscles relax under his touch, and you placed a peck against his heart as a reward.

“Please, keep holding me,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t. I won’t,” he repeated as a promise.

You both fell asleep like this, holding each other close, your lips to his heart and his to your hair.

When he woke up the next morning, you were gone.

“The wedding is in less than four months…”

“Daphne, please, breathe. Sam has enough anxiety for all of us, I can’t have you as worried as him.”

You plopped down on your seat next to Andrew, a brand-new cup of tea in your hands. Opposite you, Daphne and Sam were freaking out about their wedding.

“Guys, it’s in four months, we have plenty of time… There is no reason to panic.”

“We still haven’t decided what flavour we should have for the cake…”

“Stop, just stop, both of you.”

You grabbed the notebook that was set on the table and a pen, scribbling something.

“You are perfectly on time for everything. Do not worry. Oh, and I’ve booked your appointments for the wedding dress and the suit, as planned. Everything is fine.”

“Oh my God, I can’t wait!” Daphne squealed, suddenly more excited than nervous. “I’m going to buy a wedding dress…”

“What about the bachelor’s party, Andy?”

Daphne threw her fiancé a disapproving look.

“What? It’s a perfectly sound question!” Sam defended himself. “It’s tradition!”

“You’d better not do something too crazy.”

“What about you? You might do some crazy things for your last night as an unmarried woman!”

“I’ll get properly wasted with my friends and eat too much chips.”

“Sounds wonderful, honey,” Sam grinned at his excited fiancée.

“Also, I want a striptease.”

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head as Sam was choking on his tea and Andrew was exploding with laughter.

“I agree with Y/N!” Sam interjected after he could breathe again. “You aren’t getting a striptease!”

“Why not?”

“Because… that’s… objectifying bodies!”

Daphne grinned, humour and mischief shining in her eyes.

“You’re jealous!” she teased, making her fiancé scoff.

“I’m not!”

“Are too!”

“Have you seen me? Why would I worry about my fiancée seeing a six-pack-guy dancing some sexy dance when I can give you love-handles and walk on your feet?”

“I have no clue. The choice is easy to make,” Daphne answered with a grin that grew more tender right before she kissed him. “I was teasing you, you idiot. I’ll settle for getting very drunk.”

“My plan, exactly!”

“Okay, so… before you two start snogging and being disgustingly sweet…” you interrupted them, guiding the conversation back on track. “Andy takes care of the cake appointments. I call for the lodgings and the venue. You guys find out when your relatives arrive precisely, and you choose the caterer.”

“And I’ll call for the rings too, to book an appointment,” Andrew added, sipping on his tea.

You scribbled a few more words on your paper. Sam heaved a relieved sigh, letting himself fall back into his chair.

“Alright, if this is done… then Andy and I will go get food for lunch, while you ladies set up the table.”

“I’ve got to go…” you tried to protest, but your friends had other plans.

“No, you don’t. It’s Saturday, you are not working, and you’re staying for lunch. I’ve already called this Chinese place you like,” Daphne argued, and you had to yield, eventually.

Before Andrew stepped out of the house, he threw you one last glance; and you were looking at him too so he caught your gaze with his. You exchanged a fond smile, a silent sign of tenderness, before he would follow Sam as he walked out of the house towards his car while babbling away about this monster he had managed to beat in Zelda.

They had barely climbed in the car, Sam quickly turning on the engines, when he blurted out his question.

“So… now that we’re alone… tell me what’s going on with Y/N!”

Andrew couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is that the only reason why you asked me to come with you?”

“Obviously, did you really think I’d want to see your ugly face if it weren’t for the drama?”

“Keeping the artist around for the entertainment… makes sense!”

“Precisely! Now, spit it out!”

Andrew heaved a sigh, looked out the window to the moving houses and the blur of trees over a grey sky.

“Not much to say about it, I’m… lost.”

“So… you’re still doing this?”

“For now, yeah…”

“So, you didn’t follow my advice.”

“No, I haven’t yet.”

“And so, you’re going to get your heart broken…”

Andrew remained silent for a moment, his throat tightening to the point that he needed a moment to find his voice back. When the words tumbled out, his voice was deep and low, shaking.

“I reckon that’s already too late for that.”

He passed a hand across his face, rubbing at his eyes.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I shouldn’t have agreed in the first place, because I already know that. It’s just, I… I couldn’t help it. And I can’t let her go now. It’s just… it hurts too much…”

Sam remained silent for the rest of the ten-minutes drive. He didn’t unlock the doors after he parked the car though. Andrew stared at a couple walking hand-in-hand across the street, watched the grey sky and wondered if it would rain before he and Sam got back…

“Do you think she feels the same as you do?” Sam finally asked.

Andrew merely shrugged.

“I’m not sure. On one hand she doesn’t let me kiss her outside of a bedroom; on the other hand, the way she acts with me, I… I don’t know. I don’t know if she’s pushing me away because she’s scared, or because she doesn’t feel anything but physical attraction for me.”

“I see…”

“She’s just… just the way she is with me… she acts like she cares, like I’m not just some random guy she’s sleeping with. But then she has these rules that are making sure that we’re not having something… too intimate. You know what I mean? Like… pet names and stuff…”

“I see…”

The two men remained silent for a moment, before Sam asked quietly another question.

“Are you… are you two exclusive?”

“We’re not together,” Andrew shook his head.

“But have you slept with other women since this has begun?”

“No, of course not.”

“Are you planning on doing that?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Has she? Slept with other people?”

“God, I hope not… don’t make me think about that…”

“Sorry, sorry…”

Another silence, before Sam started to smile.

“Alright, I’ve got a plan!”

“Here comes trouble…”

“You need to finally know if she has feelings or if she’s… dragging you along.”

“What a revolutionary idea, I hadn’t thought of that one!”

Sam merely ignored Andrew’s sarcasm.

“My plan is simple: make her jealous.”

“What?”

“Make her jealous! You feign to be interested in another woman, and you’ll see how Y/N reacts! If she’s jealous, it means that she cares for you… beyond just having you around for sex. If she doesn’t give two shits about you banging someone else, then…”

Andrew took a moment to ponder this idea, and he slowly nodded.

“That’s… actually a rather good idea…”

“There’s a party next week with the whole gang, at the usual pub. Perfect moment to try it!”

“I…”

“All you have to do is flirt with a woman. Even you can manage that, Andy! Trust me, it’ll work.”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, perhaps it could work.”

“And if she’s not jealous at all, if she really doesn’t feel the same… you have to bail out, now, mate. Cause she’s going to have you in pieces if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

Andrew nodded, and when Sam climbed out of the car, he followed him in silence, thinking about next week and contemplating how, for the first time in his life, he hoped he could bring you pain.

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 1

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the story that has had my entire weekend on lock. Like every spare moment was writing this story. I wrote over 6000 words in two days. So yeah. Don’t worry. I’m still working on Boy With a Bat (I just need time to research season 3 so I don’t over step on the show’s timeline {like I did with “Little Runaway”}). And of course I love working on “All My Roads Lead Back to You” and will continue working on it as well. Also these first two parts are long. I don’t know if all the parts will be as long, but as you can see when you read them there isn’t a lot of places to stop (and not make them super short).

Summary: No Monster Modern AU. Eddie and his band, Corroded Coffin, have a steady gig at a bar in Indy where they play every weekend. Eddie's life takes a left turn when his regular tattoo artist, Max Mayfield, moves to New York with her boyfriend Lucas Sinclair, newly traded to the New York Knicks.  Now needing a new tattoo artist, Jeff recommends "Royal Pain", which even Max agrees is a good shop.  On arrival, Eddie is shocked to find Steve is the shop's artist.  They hit it off, and slowly move from the barest of acquaintances to boyfriends.

***

“God damn it!” Eddie growled, throwing his phone at the sofa and snarling when it bounced to the floor.

“One day you’re gonna throw it so hard and it will break,” Gareth grumbled from behind his drum set.

It was Corroded Coffin’s weekly practice. They weren’t big or anything, but they had a steady gig at a local metal bar and it paid good money. They drew large enough crowds that they were able to play their own music.  

Eddie hopped to his feet to retrieve the discarded phone from the floor. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered darkly.

“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” Jeff asked from the same sofa Eddie had tossed the phone at. He was tuning his guitar, ear bent toward the strings.

Eddie scoffed. “Like you have any interest in my panties.”

Jeff lunged and grabbed one of Gareth’s drumsticks from the bucket he kept at his side and threw it at Eddie.

“Hey!” both Gareth and Eddie protested.

“Just answer the damn question!” Brian sneered from his place on the battered old floral armchair. “You usually like bitching, so what’s your deal?”

Eddie flopped gracelessly on the lavender two-seater.  “That was my tattoo artist,” he groused, crossing his arms petulantly. “Her boyfriend got traded to the New York Knicks so they are moving there and if I want to get my dragon finished before she leaves, I better ‘haul ass’ according to her.”

Eddie’s friends winced. They knew finding a tattoo artist you could trust in a style you liked was hard. And for Eddie to lose his? That sucked. Max Mayfield was one of the best in Indy and to lose her to New York? That was even worse. But her boyfriend, Lucas Sinclair, was an NBA raising star and she went where did. Which meant Eddie had to start all over with a new artist.

Suddenly Eddie straightened up. “Hey, Jeffie!” he said. “Did you ever get that tattoo you wanted done?”

Jeff lit up. “Oh yeah!” He set his guitar aside and rolled up his sleeve and showed them his tattoo. It was of a bullet tearing through the flesh. It was fantastically rendered, where you could see the torn muscles and broken bone. It covered the scar there perfectly. “Isn’t it fucking amazing?”

“Holy shit!” Brian cried. “That is so wicked.”

Eddie leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder. “Yeah fuck, man. Where did you get that?”

“It’s this little place called Royal Pain,” Jeff explained. “The artist, Stevie is so fucking good.”

Eddie chewed on his lip, thinking hard. “Hey, can I get the number?”

*

Eddie was standing in front of a shop that he wouldn’t have in a million years would have even suspected was a tattoo parlor. It was a clean and bright storefront. The sign was black with a golden crown was on the R. It was a far cry from any other tattoo parlor he had ever been to. But despite his reservations, both Max and Jeff highly recommended this place and specifically this ‘Stevie’.

Sighing deeply, he yanked open the door and took two steps into the shop. The decor was nice enough, it had a ‘royal’ theme to it, he supposed, but he really didn’t look that much. Because suddenly Eddie knew who Stevie was. The name, the royal decor, and Robin fucking Buckley as receptionist.

He was going to kill Jeff. Or maybe just his next three D&D characters. Because there was no way on this insignificant planet did Jeff Lawrence not recognize King Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. They had all gone to school together. Robin was Steve’s best friend. His soulmate if the rumors were to be believed.

He was about to turn around and walk out, Jeff and Max’s recommendations be damned. Even he wasn’t that masochistic. But he was stopped by the cheerful, “Welcome to Royal Pain! How can I help you?”

Eddie winced and rubbed his eye in frustration, but made his way up to the counter. “Munson, Eddie. I have a two o’clock with Stevie.”

Her smile grew genuine. “Not your first tattoo, I take it.”

Eddie pulled down the collar of his shirt to show of his finished dragon tattoo. “Yeah, no. Some asshole jock absconded to New York with my tattoo artist, so here I am.”

She grinned. “Stevie will be out in a moment.”

Before Eddie could chicken out, the man himself came out of a backroom, wiping off his hands. Eddie gulped. Steve looked very much the same as he did in high school. Same hazel eyes, honey hair, tight jeans and a fucking polo. This guy couldn’t have looked less like a tattoo artist if he tried. Except for one thing.

He could see tattoos on Steve’s arms. He couldn’t get a good look at them without staring but yeah, okay. Steve Harrington, tattoo artist. Who would have thought?

Steve looked up and smiled brightly. “Eddie?” Eddie nodded. “Hey! It’s so good to see you. I had hoped when I saw the name that it was you. How’s it been?”

Robin tilted her head in confusion and made an odd chirping noise.

“Come on, Robs,” Steve teased her. “You can’t tell me you don’t remember Eddie from school.”

She looked Eddie up and down and then cocked her head. “You do look vaguely familiar.”

Steve laughed. “You know, ran the D&D club, had that rock band–”

“Metal,” Eddie corrected. “Not rock, metal.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “That’s right, sorry. Oh! And stood on tables ranting about the man and how schools fail the kids they are supposed to teach.”

“You stepped on my sandwich,” she said deadpan.

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Whoops.”

She grinned and pushed his shoulder. “Just kidding. It was Tammy Thompson’s sandwich.”

“Isn’t she the one that sings like a Muppet?” Eddie asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Steve laughed. “That’s what I said.”

Robin looked between them both and growled, “I hate you both.”

“You’re only saying that because you had a crush on her,” Steve teased.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you swung for the other team, Buckley.”

She grinned. “What can I say, I do love a pretty girl.”

Eddie shrugged and cocked his head, nonchalant. “I wouldn’t know.”

Robin wagged her eyebrows at Steve, who rolled his eyes. He turned to Eddie. “So what am I doing for you today?”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Oh!” He pulled out a picture from his back pocket and handed it to Steve.

“This is the Evenstar from Lord of the Rings, right?” Steve asked, tapping the picture. “Arwen’s necklace.”

Eddie lit up. “Yeah. I’m impressed, even uber fans have a hard time remembering that.”

Steve blushed, ducking his head. “I have this friend that hosts huge parties watching the extended versions of the movies every year. Complete with full Hobbit meals. It’s hard not take in something from the films.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, suddenly feeling less like murdering Jeff with each passing moment.

Steve smiled back. “Actually, you might remember him. He was in your club, your final year at school.”

Eddie cocked his head. “Oh?”

“Actually, you had three of Steve’s nuggets in your club,” Robin interjected.

Eddie turned to Steve. “What nuggets would those be?”

Steve blushed again. “I used to quasi-babysit these kids. There were about seven of them, if you count Erica and Elle.”

“Which I absolutely do,” Robin crowed delightedly.

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he leaned forward. “You babysat kids?”

Steve shrugged. “They were good kids and their parents worked a lot, so they just kinda imprinted on me. Like ducklings.”

“Wait...Lucas, Mike, and Dustin, huh?” Eddie asked putting two and two together. “Holy fucking shit. I loved running their characters. The ranger, the paladin and the bard.” He couldn’t believe it. He had missed out the chance to run with their friend Will, but he had come back to Hawkins after Eddie finally graduated. “Which one was Dustin?”

Steve smiled and then ran his tongue over his teeth. “Floofy hair, trucker hats, Weird Al shirts, and a huge theater nerd.”

Eddie clapped and pointed, “That’s the one!” He tapped his finger over his lips. “Which means it’s Dustin that hosts the Lord of the Rings fest, isn’t he?”

Steve beamed up at him. “Yeah. Sadly I haven’t been able to go the last couple of years.”

Robin made a sympathetic noise.

“Why not?” Eddie asked, the curiosity getting the better of him.

“Migraines,” Steve said with a wince. “Too long staring at a TV set can trigger them, who knew?”

“That sucks.”

Steve looked back at the picture in his hand. “Did you draw this?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure did, big boy!”

“And would you want me to tattoo it in your style?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked rapidly. “You can do that?”

Robin folded her arms, looking smug. “Hell yeah, he can!”

“I mean, if you can that would be amazing,” he said breathlessly.

“Where is it going, the tattoo, I mean?” Steve asked.

Eddie tapped his chest. “Sternum.”

Steve chewed his lip thoughtfully. “That would be awesome, but have you thought about putting it on your back. Like a shadow covering your spine?”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up.

Eddie shook his head. “As tempting as that would be sweetheart, I have plans for my back.”

Steve looked a little disappointed. “And what would that be?”

“I want big black bat wings on my shoulder blades,” Eddie said gleefully. “I just haven’t found anyone who’s style I liked well enough to trust doing it.”

Steve hurried around the desk and pulled out a large three-ring binder. “This is all my work, flip through it, see if you like my style enough for me to do it for you. Because I would love to. So take a look and let me know if I could be your man.”

Eddie blinked. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve smiled brightly. “Great! I’ll go set up and I’ll call you back when I’m ready.” He practically skipped to the back room again.

Eddie opened the binder slowly and began to shift the pages. They were all amazing pieces of work that only seemed to get better the further he got into the pictures.

“These are amazing,” he breathed.

Robin leaned on the counter and stage whispered, “If you do not get his number after he does your tattoo, I will murder you and no one will find the body.” She leaned back to look down the hall. What she saw Eddie didn’t know, but she leaned back into whisper to him, low and menacing, “I am not paid enough to listen to his rom-com pining bullshit.”  

Eddie looked behind her and then back at her. “I’m–I mean–what the hell?”

“Eddie!” Steve called.

Eddie slammed the binder shut and stomped to the back. He stopped short when he got to room. Again he was blown away at how opposite it was from other shops he’d been to. It wasn’t sterile white or anything like that but it was brightly lit and nicely decorated. It was a place that most ‘normies’ would feel comfortable getting their first tattoo. And he got the appeal.

Steve looked up at him with a lopsided smile as if he understood why Eddie was brought up short. “Other tattoo artists give me such shit about my set up, but it’s not about the aesthetic of what people think a tattoo shop should look like. It’s about people feeling comfortable about permanently altering their bodies.”

Eddie nodded. “No man, I get it. It’s just a pleasant surprise, you know?”

Steve grinned at him. “Thanks. Come on, have a seat. Take off your shirt. Relax.” He paused for a moment. “But not necessarily in that order.”

Eddie laughed and pulled off his shirt, tossing it on a nearby chair. He got on the lounge chair and laid back. He noticed the way Steve dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and smirked. Maybe Buckley was right.

“You’ve got a lot of great tattoos,” Steve said, wiping down Eddie’s chest with a mild anesthetic to clean the area. “Your old tattoo artist do those?”

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, I mean most of them. A couple were stick and poke when I was high school.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Shit, really? I wouldn’t have guessed. They’re all really good.”

Eddie blushed. He figured Steve was just being polite because he thought it was fairly obvious which ones were the stick and poke. “Speaking of high school, I would have never in a million years thought that King Steve would become a tattoo artist. You been doing this long?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I got voted most likely to run my own business, but I’m pretty sure they thought something closer along the lines of hair care or some such shit.”

“At least yours was nice,” Eddie grumbled. “I got voted most likely to still be high school at the ten year reunion.”

Steve winced. “Was that the first time or the second time they held you back?”

“First.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Steve commiserated. “Yeah, no, I’ve been doing this for the last five years. Three years at my own shop.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Wait really? That’s epic, dude.”

Steve nodded. “I went with a friend of mine to see about apprenticing under Hop. He caught me doodling on myself because I forgot to bring my drawing pad and offered the apprenticeship to us both.”

“I can see why,” Eddie said. “You do some pretty impressive work. Who was the friend? Robin?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, no...I love Robin, and she is a lot of wonderful things, artist just isn’t one of them.”

Eddie laughed, too. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

Steve picked up his gun and sat down on the rolling stool. “Nope, Max Mayfield. One of my nuggets, as Robin called them.”

Eddie blinked. “Shit, dude. She was my old tattoo artist? You two really apprenticed under Hop?”

Steve hummed. “Yup.” He turned on the gun and then shut it off again. “I know you said that you wanted it in your style, but can I add my own flourishes to it?”

Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, sure. I liked what you did with Jeff’s tattoo, so yeah. Knock yourself out, man.”

Steve grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

***

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Permanent Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03

[andypantsx3]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI : MASTERLIST

please be respectful! do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or otherwise share on other platforms. all my reader characters are fem + afab unless otherwise specified. please see individual fic posts for nsfw ratings and other warnings!

bakugou writing tag | universal masterlist

MULTI-CHAPTER

incendiary (30K) : complete

When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

you’re the one that i haunt (15K) : complete

Ghosts aren’t real. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when the spirit of pro hero Dynamight suddenly starts haunting your apartment.

statistically significant (24K) : complete

You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

cover shot (through the heart) (16.5K) : complete

For years, you’ve been the only assistant in the business equipped to handle foul-tempered supermodel Katsuki Bakugou. That is, until he catches on to your weak point.

war paint (28K) : complete

Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (A Mulan AU)

savvy (17.5K) : complete

You’re a business course third year who’s good at being bossy, organized, and data-driven. You just want to use your business savvy to help all heroes. Well, all heroes except one. [smutty one shot follow on: defiant]

barbarian-verse au (various) : in progress

You find yourself traveling with barbarian Bakugou. Things get complicated quickly.

ONE SHOTS

fruit first (ask questions later) (3.6K) - gn!reader

When the grocery store you’re in becomes collateral in a villain attack, pro hero Dynamight comes to your rescue. When you become armed with a handful of oranges, however, someone may need to come to his rescue…

abs-olutely worth it (3.5K) - gn!reader

You’re an amateur hero photographer whose shots of Bakugou’s abs keep going viral. Everything is going great…until Bakugou catches wind of it.

defiant (4.5K)

There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place. Katsuki, however, has other ideas. [a smutty oneshot companion to savvy; you do not need to have read savvy first!]

DRABBLES + PROMPT FICLETS

general bakugou x princess reader (1.1K) -> part two (3.2K)

Your father is ailing and with no sons in his lineage, your country risks dissolution and open war if you do not marry. There is only one man you can stomach the thought of assuming the throne.

always (1.5K)

Best friend Bakugou helps you through a breakup.

todobakureader domestic fluff (1K)

The sound of muffled arguing in the kitchen wakes you up on Saturday morning.

destruction (1.6K)

"Are you this stupid on purpose?"

wine & dine (0.3K)

“Oh my god, I am gonna fuck whoever made this apple pie so hard they see stars for weeks.”

always first (0.7K)

“It’s not a double date, we’re just third and fourth wheeling."

just can’t weight (0.8K)

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" + gym bro Bakugou

personal chef (0.4K)

Living with Bakugou is like living with your own personal chef.

fan art (0.2K)

Bakugou has an embarrassing secret (ft super cute art from Merms!!)

[lisenberry]

Ngl I feel like price has a size kink… he loves how big his hands look splayed across your waist. His hand completely encompassing the nape of your neck!!!! Don’t get me started on how tight you feel around his thick fingers….

I apologize. That sound you heard was my brain screeching to a halt and coherent thought leaving me for a few days as I pictured John's hand on your hip. 

Nsfw. Smutty smut smut. Bossy, handsy Price.

His fingers gripped you dead center, just above your pubic bone.  His thumb circled around to graze the opposite polarity.  Massaging deep circles where your ass met your spine.

You'd never thought of yourself as small.  No one ever called you 'little' or commented that you would fit so nicely over their knee.  Not until him.

Not until you watched from the mirror above the cold, stainless steel sink as his other massive paw circled your neck.  He made you feel like a doll.  A toy.  A mouse trapped in the jaws of a great beast.

"Just for me, aren't you?"  He raked teeth and stubble along your cheek.  "I need one more."

"No, I c--can't.  Not again."

You were boneless now, even more pliable under his strength.  The hand at your neck trailed lower, and your head rolled back against his shoulder without its support.

"Can't?  Of course, you can.  I've got you."

It didn't stop, only paused to cup your breast.  There was a primal hitch in his breath as he admired the way he could cover it all.  A stiff, darkened peak notched between his knuckles as he gave it a squeeze.

So small and yet he looked at it like it gave him purpose.

He was big enough to swallow the moon.  Eclipse the sun.  Envelope you into darkness.  Nothing but the stars bursting behind your eyelids as his palm slunk lower.

As stealthily as an avalanche of rocks and sand.  Abrading and disrupting everything in its path until it settled down to the core of you.

"Please."  You whispered, whimpered, on some foreign tongue that felt too big, to thick, to be yours. 

It's because he was in your mouth.  Lips against yours.  Skin on your skin.  Body against yours from behind.

You felt the root of him buldge on the other side of layers of fabric.  Yours and his.  You weren't even naked.  Military issued canvas and cotton stood between you.

But he still had his hands.  His fingers.  His tongue.

The grip you had on the sink felt strong enough to leave marks.  Dents.  Tiny little divots like prints in the snow.

"Open up, darling.  If you ever hope to fit the real thing, you still need some practice."

He found you wet, a small accommodation as you muttered a silent thanks to your nature.  Your heart desired him, and your body did its best to oblige.

"I want it.  Let me feel it." 

"Next time, love.  Show me how good you can be."

His long, thick fingers disappeared three at a time, to the gnarled and swollen knuckles before your hazy eyes in the mirror. 

The cry that slipped from your lips would wake up the others if you weren't careful.  The reverant moan from his could conjure magic.  Gods and monsters.  Things best let lie dormant.

He liked it like this.  Where you both could see in the stark, fluorescent reflection.  The dark hair of his hand reemerging from your depths silky and dripping with slick.

It was the barrier that left you both satisfied as he circled those same fingers and curled them inside, tormenting your most vulnerable weakness.  The heart of you.

He felt on top of the world.  And you were his puppet on a string.  Brought to life.

[l1tw1ck]

After Class

bottom!ftm Shoto Todoroki x top!masc!teacher Reader

↳ W.C: 840

↳ [EVENT REQUEST] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Public Sex, Teacher-Student (3rd Year Shoto), Aphrodisiacs, Creampie

"I brought you a drink." Shoto walks into your classroom, holding your favorite beverage while locking the door behind him.

"Thanks, I needed that." You smile and take the drink from him. Shoto sits down at his desk while you clean the chalkboard. "How was your day?" You ask, taking a sip.

"It was good.." He trails off. He wasn't paying much attention in class because all he could think about was what would happen later in the day.

"But?" You take a big sip of your beverage.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you." He says softly.

"What exactly were you thinking of?" You ask, walking towards him and growing a boner. Which is unusual, as you're not really all that turned on. Or at least you thought you weren't.

He motions for you to come closer. "I was thinking of you fucking me on my desk." He whispers.

You bite your lip. You've never done it in the classroom, it's too risky but your dick is saying otherwise. You're too horny to deny him, for whatever reason.

"Take your pants off and bend over." You order, pulling away from him and unbuckling your belt.

Shoto quickly complies, not taking long to strip and kicking away the chair so you can fuck him easily.

"Fuck..." You sigh, feeling flushed and like you have a much higher libido. "Did you put something in my drink?" You ask, pulling his underwear down.

Shoto doesn't respond.

"Answer me."

"I put an aphrodisiac in it.." He admits.

You sigh. "I don't even have any condoms...” You run two of your fingers up his wet cunt before prodding them against his entrance. “I don't know if I even have the patience to prep you.”

“It's fine, sir. And…I fingered myself for you…” His cheeks are tinged red.

"You’re such a needy thing." You take out your aching length and slide into his tight cunt. “You better stay quiet, sweetheart. Unless you want to get caught.”

Shoto covers his mouth with his hands, a muffled gasp leaving them as you forcefully thrust into him, your hands gripping his waist. Soft moans leave his pretty lips as you fuck him at a fast pace.

“God-” You groan. “You feel so good, baby.”

Shoto does his best to stay quiet but it's hard with the way you're thrusting inside him so viciously. He almost regrets giving you the drug. Almost.

You turn him onto his back and dig your nails into his waist, indulging in the wonderful feeling of being inside him. He looks pretty as tears fall down his cheeks, his face and hands red as a rose.

Shoto wishes he could speak so he could tell you how good he feels. Words aren't necessary though, his muffled string of moans tell you enough. You bring him close to you, pulling his hand away and bringing him into a sloppy kiss. You rub his clit in circles, getting him close to an orgasm.

His walls flutter around you, moaning into your mouth and shaking as he comes. You pull away from the kiss and slow down, going at a comfortable pace so Shoto doesn't get overwhelmed. Just being inside him is enough to satiate your drugged self.

With Shoto’s “Okay”, you speed up and go back to your previous roughness. He quickly covers his mouth and rolls his head back, crying in pleasure. You unbutton his shirt, just enough to expose the two mounds on his chest. You nip at his neck, softly kissing it and making sure to bite him below the collar. You move down to bite more places, renewing old marks you made and making new ones.

You pull and twist on his nipple, causing him to tighten around your length. He loves when you play with his nipples, they're so sensitive.

Your thrusts start to get sloppier as you get close to your release. Shoto can tell. “Sir..” He tries to be as quiet as possible. “Co- come inside-”

“Shit- are you sure?” You ask, his words not helping the fact that you're currently teetering over the edge of your release. He nods approvingly, the final push that has you dumping your load inside of him.

You pick him up and start fucking him again, still hard due to the aphrodisiac. Shoto bites his hand to silence his whoreish sounds, the new position feeling even better than the last.

You bring him up and slam him down, repeating that over and over as you fuck your cum into him. You’ll have to clean the floor later.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, wanton moans, and the wet noises from Shoto’s cum filled pussy. Neither of you care about getting caught anymore, you're too desperate for him and he feels too damn good.

This goes on for at least an hour, lucky for you, you don't get caught.

But now you have to deal with the fact that you just came inside Shoto for the nth time today.

[southelroydrive]

i'll make your body a habit.

pairing: robin buckley x f!reader summary: you're the guitarist for corroded coffin, known for your flirtatious and confident attitude but little do your fans know how you really are when you're alone with your girlfriend. word count: 3.4k title: own my mind by måneskin warnings: smut (18+ mdni), fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), degradation, multiple orgasms, weed usage a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app for like 3 months and i finally finished it. happy pride everyone <3

it was corroded coffin’s first gig outside of hawkins, a night you and your bandmates had been tirelessly preparing for over the last few weeks. four hours away from the small town of hawkins, indiana and filled with the promise of your first big break into the music industry.

yet, no one was more excited than your girlfriend robin. your sweet robin who was so proud to see her girl on that stage, living your dreams as a reality. your sweet robin who would travel to the ends of the earth just to see you perform.

she’s completely enamored by you as she stands in the crowd, steve right by her side. watching the way your hair sticks to your forehead, beads of sweat rolling down your temple as your fingers dance across the strings of your guitar. the way your hips sway, wide grin stamped on your lips as you let the music lead your movements. heavenly, that’s how she’d describe you.

a tight leather corset covered your torso, tits glistening with perspiration and practically spilling out the top. she couldn’t take her eyes off you even if she wanted to. or your smooth legs completely on display from the miniskirt adorning your waist. deep red in colour, which matches the tint of your lips, dripping in chains and safety pins that robin had watched you meticulously place the night before. watching the way the chains bounced with every snap of your hips to the rhythm of the song, she now knew why as the movement seemed almost hypnotic.

from the corner of his eye, steve can’t help but chuckle at the look of pure infatuation glossing over his best friend’s eyes. he nudges her with his elbow, making her reluctantly tear her gaze away from you to look at him with a frown.

“you’re so whipped, man.” he smirks, the freckled girl only rolling her eyes in response, a muttered “shut up.” falling upon deaf ears before turning back to the stage.

every time you lift your head to catch her eyes, your plump lips curl into an amused smile. your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you send her a playful wink before looking away. robin can’t help but let the corners of her mouth twist up into a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes linger down the length of your body. god, was she lucky.

by the end of your set, your chest is heaving with every deep breath that exhales from your mouth. a bright, toothy grin that lit up the room more than the blinding stage lights ever could spread across your lips as you look out at the crowd. with a bow and the sharing of a few final words, it’s finally over. the grin on your lips never leaving as you follow your bandmates off the stage.

“birdie!”

robin’s eyes snap towards your direction upon hearing your voice. she had just found her way backstage, where you stood beside your fellow bandmates a few metres away. your cheeks flushed bright red, panting for breath and veins bursting with adrenaline. beside you, she sees eddie’s lips moving in what she can only assume is a teasing remark by your reaction. you roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder as you rush past him over to your girlfriend, who envelops you in her arms once the gap between you finally closes.

“oh my god, babe!” her hands cradle the sides of your face, beaming down at you as she presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

“you.” she kisses you again. “were.” and again. “so.” and again. “fucking amazing!”

this time, her lips kiss yours deeply, lingering for just a moment before pulling back. your scarlet lipstick is now smudged, making her own lips pretty pink and glossy. you chuckle at the sight, leaning in to press a final kiss to her lips.

her hands slip to your waist, holding you close to her chest. yours wrap around her neck, fiddling with the ends of her hair. “so… you liked it?”

“are you kidding me?” she laughs, tugging you closer until your body is flush against hers. “you know i love watching you perform, you’re so talented baby.” her hands gently lower to your hips, her thumbs rubbing circles on the bone.

“oh yeah?” you raise an eyebrow, a small smile on your lips as you peer up at her through your eyelashes. you tilt your head up, lips inches away from her own. “well, i’m pretty talented at other things too, maybe we coul-“

“hey, ladies!” you groan, pulling your face away from robin’s as eddie slings his arm over your shoulder. a shit-eating grin takes its place on his face, clearly pleased with the flush of embarrassment dusting both yours and your girlfriend’s cheeks. “are you two coming or what?”

you shove his face away from your side, rolling your eyes at his antics. “you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you give him an unimpressed glare, yet the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips gives you away. this only makes his grin widen, winking at you before turning on his heel. “love you too, sweetheart!” he calls over his shoulder, curly mop of hair disappearing into the bar.

robin’s hand returns to its place on your hip. her other hand gently cupping your cheek and tilting your face up towards her. “hey.”

“m’gonna kill him, i swear,” you mumble, gaze softening under her gentle caress. you lean your cheek into her palm, sighing exasperatedly.

“some other time, yeah? gotta celebrate your big show.” robin pats your cheek affectionately before her hand falls to her side, the other slipping to the small of your back to gently guide you in the direction of the green room.

“fine, fine.” you roll your eyes a final time, a playful smile on your lips as you lean your head against her shoulder.

you spend the next few hours surrounded by your friends, rejoicing in the simmering adrenaline in your veins and the pungent smell of weed. the worn loveseat in the corner of the green room is occupied by you and your girlfriend, sat side by side. your legs drape across her lap, propping your elbow up on the back of the couch. her palm settles on your plush thigh, fingers fidgeting with the chains dangling from your skirt.

you bring the joint in between your fingers to your lips and inhale the smoke into your lungs, before exhaling. your body relaxes back into the chair, letting the drug take its effect on your body. she takes the joint from you, taking a hit herself.

you admire the way her lips wrap around it, held between her slim fingers. your mind can’t help but stray, already fuzzy from the high clouding your mind. you shift a little in your seat, an uncomfortable ache growing between your legs. her eyes meet yours, catching your movements as smoke spills from her lips. she glances around before leaning her head down so only you could hear her.

“something wrong, doll?” her voice drops down to a low, husky hum making the pool of arousal between your legs harder to ignore. her fingers trail up further to fiddle with the hem of your skirt before slipping underneath, feeling the plush skin of your inner thighs.

you shake your head, breath hitching as her fingertips inch closer and closer to where you were begging for her. she kisses her teeth, pinching the inside of your thigh before pulling her hand away. a small whine escapes your throat before you're biting down on your tongue, eyes darting around to see if any of your friends noticed. they didn’t, too immersed in their conversations to pay the two of you any mind.

you hear robin chuckle from beside you, turning to her with a glare. your bottom lip juts out into a pout, only causing your girlfriend’s lips to curl into an amused smirk. “don’t be pouty, baby. you’ll get what you want later.”

your eyes widen, sitting up straighter as you lean in closer to her. “whatever i want?” the curious tilt of your head as your chin rests on her shoulder and the glimmer of excitement sparkling in your eyes almost persuades her to take you to your car that minute. god, she didn’t even think you’d make it to the car and make use of the shitty public restrooms of the gross, dingy bar you were in. but no, that’s not what robin wanted. you deserved the best that night.

“mhm hm. like i said, we gotta celebrate your big show.” she smiles with a shrug of her shoulders, leaning back against the couch as she takes another long drag from the blunt. you can’t help but squirm in your seat, eyes fixated on her for the rest of the night.

robin loved a woman who knew what she wanted, someone who would stop at nothing to achieve their dreams. she loved seeing you on stage, exuding dominance that certainly earned you a dedicated fan base. she loved your flirty and confident nature that could make anyone swoon, her included. and fuck, did she think you looked pretty when you were in your element, fingers wrapped around the neck of your guitar.

but looking at you now, robin thought you never looked prettier than in moments like these.

legs spread wide open in the backseat of your car, skirt bunched up around your waist and lace panties discarded as two long fingers curl inside your plush walls. the leather corset long forgotten, your tits lightly bouncing with every buck of your hips.

your hands grip her wrist, nails digging into her skin as her fingers pump in and out of you at a relentless pace. eyes half-lidded, swollen lips parted. your pussy drools onto the leather seat below you, your inner thighs glistening with your arousal but you’re too far gone to care. as pathetic moans spill from your throat, your hips mindlessly roll against her hand, silently begging for more.

“such a greedy girl, aren’t you? look at you, two fingers stuffed in your needy cunt and you still want more.” she chuckles, eyes darkened with lust as she stares down at you. if she thought you looked heavenly earlier, the image before her now would put that to shame. chest rising and falling with every pant that leaves your puffy, glossy lips, eyes struggling to stay open as she pushes your body closer to pleasure.

her condescending tone goes straight to your head, making your mind even more fuzzy and a whine fall from your lips. the only thing worth thinking about is her and the feeling of her fingers pushing inside of you. your free hand flails to find something to grab onto, landing on her shoulder with a firm grip as she reaches that spongy spot deep inside of you. the car fills with the filthy sounds of her fingers pumping inside of you, along with the broken cries of her name.

“yeah? that feel good? come on, pretty girl. tell me what you want.” her lips graze the shell of your ear, voice a sensual whisper but her words are truly cruel. with the way her fingers are fucking into you, it’s impossible to think let alone speak. your eyes snap up to look at her, brows laced together in a pleading expression as incoherent whimpers leave your lips.

she chuckles, the sound taunting in your ear. “don’t be shy now, i just wanna make you feel good, baby. be a good girl and tell me.” she coos, pressing her lips against your jaw. her fingers continue their merciless pace, her thumb beginning to rub torturous circles on your poor, neglected clit.

“r-robbie please!” you let out a choked gasp as her thumb presses against your clit, a loud moan falling from your lips. your breathing becomes heavier, clenching around her fingers as she pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “god, fuck! baby, m’gonna-“

“yeah? you gonna cum for me?” robin’s almost as breathless as you, her finger hooking under your chin to force your gaze to lock onto hers. as much as your girlfriend loved to tease you and wanted to make you beg for it, tonight was about rewarding you. she looks down at you, eyes hooded with a smirk tugging at her lips when you nod desperately. “go ahead, doll. cum all over my fingers.”

a choked moan leaves your lips, eyes almost rolling back into your head as you gush around her fingers. your thighs tremble uncontrollably, hips involuntarily rolling against her hand as you ride your high. robin feels her own cunt throb as she watches you reach your climax. your face scrunched up in pleasure, walls clamped down around her fingers as they slow, prolonging your pleasure.

“holy shit.” you pant heavily, gasping for breath. your grip on her shoulder loosens, slumping back against the leather seats. a dazed smile rests on your lips, eyelashes fluttering as you come down from your intense orgasm.

“look at you, my gorgeous girl.” she sighs dreamily, nose grazing your cheek as she eases her fingers out of you. she could almost moan from the sight of your juices dripping down her hand, lifting her head to look directly at you as she slips them into her mouth, making a show of licking them clean.

you watch her with bated breath, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you watch her. pink lips wrapping around slick fingers, her eyes boring into yours as she does so. your trembling thighs press together, a new wave of arousal washing over your body despite how sensitive you were.

her eyes flutter shut, a satisfied groan leaving her lips as her tongue swirls around her fingers. she pulls them out of her mouth with an audible pop, a small smirk tugging at her lips as she sees the way your body reacts. her head tilts down, hot breath tickling your cheek. “you taste so fucking good, baby. you drive me insane.” she mumbles, eyes blown wide with lust as she cradles your jaw.

another pathetic whimper barely escapes from your lips before she’s silencing you with her own. the kiss is sloppy, tongues swirling together hungrily.

when she finally pulls away, her forehead presses against yours as she gazes down at you, smirking at the sight of your flushed cheeks and the uneven rise and fall of your breath, all just for her to see. the hand on the side of your neck shifts to wrap around your throat, a sharp gasp leaving you at the action.

she chuckles, applying a small amount of pressure around your neck, just enough to have a small mewl escape your throat. “yeah? is this what you wanted, doll?” her voice is a seductive rasp, breath fanning across your face. “poor baby just wanted me to treat her like a dirty whore, hm?”

the frantic nod of your head is a clear answer for her. her lips twitch in amusement. “that’s what i thought.”

her grip tightens, pushing your head up with a gentle squeeze. her gaze locks onto yours, half-lidded eyes staring deeply into your own. “you look so pathetic like this. what would they say, baby? what would all those people say if they knew how much of a slut you were for me, hm?”

you whine, an arm lifting up to hide your face in your elbow as her words fill you with embarrassment.

she shushes you, gently guiding your arm back down to your side. “i know, sweet girl… only i can see you like this.” she whispers, her hand moving away to instead grip your thighs firmly.

her lips slowly make their way down your body, shuffling down the backseat of your car. they skim down the valley of your tits, down your stomach. travelling further and further down until they ghost over the inside of your thighs.

your eyes widen as she hooks your legs over her shoulders. she smirks when she comes face to face with your pussy, eyes trained on yours as she leans down.

her tongue slowly slides through your folds, coating it with your slick. she groans, eyelashes momentarily fluttering as she laps up your juices. you let out a high-pitched moan, hand flying to her hair to stable yourself. the vibrations of her grunts and hums make your grip tighten, grabbing fistfuls of her hair.

she’s merciless. tongue licking and sucking like a woman starved. her hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer as her tongue flattens against your folds, slowly dragging up and up until she reaches your clit. her eyes stare up into yours, watching your face twist in pleasure, jaw becoming slack as she wraps her lips around your puffy clit. it elicits a sharp whine from your throat. your hands run through her hair, unable to decide between tugging her away from your sensitive cunt or pushing her head closer.

“fuck, fuck, fuck! ohmygod, r-robs!” the words spilling from your lips are nothing but incoherent whimpers, babbling uncontrollably as she sucks harshly on your clit. hips mindlessly rutting against her face, hands feverishly tugging strands of her hair. you feel her lips curl into a smirk against you, blue eyes piercing through your half-lidded ones.

your thoughts are practically mush, consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that drives you closer and closer to another orgasm. robin can tell, by the way your trembling thighs clench around her head, pushing her even further between your legs, and the way your moans get more breathless and whiny.

she reluctantly pulls her mouth away. the hot breath hitting your pussy, making you squirm. “come on, pretty girl. you gonna give me another one, hm?” she peers up at you, watching your vigorous nod and the desperate buck of your hips. a small chuckle leaves her before she’s burying her head between your thighs once more, eating you out as if her life depended on it.

it’s not long until your back arches off the leather seat, a final broken cry of her name spilling from your lips as you cum on her tongue. she lets out a soft groan, greedily lapping up everything you give her.

“b-baby s’too much!” you whine as her tongue continues to glide through your folds. your thighs tremble with sensitivity around her head, inevitably pulling her mouth away with a harsh tug to her hair.

her mouth detaches from you with a soft laugh. your feet landing on the floor with a soft thud as she sits up on her knees, your legs slipping from her shoulders. “i know, i know. i’m sorry, sweet girl.” she chuckles, patting your thigh comfortingly.

she leans down, resting her forehead against yours as her hands trail up your sides. her touch admiring every dip and curve of your body. there’s a moment of silence between you both, only your heavy breaths filling the void. she tilts her head, pressing her lips against your forehead before leaning back. her back hits the car door, hands finding purchase on your hips as she pulls you into her lap.

her arms wrap around your waist, holding you close to her chest as your face nuzzles into the crook of her neck. she sighs contentedly, nails grazing over the bare skin of your back as your breath tickles her collarbones.

“i’m so proud of you, baby,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against your temple. you hum in response, shuddering as her nails rake over your spine.

“thank you…” you mumble, breath fanning across her neck as you place a tender kiss to her collarbones. her lips curl into a smile, feeling your own smile against her skin.

she puts both her hands on either side of your head, gently lifting it up to look at her. she gazes down at you with pure adoration in her eyes, fingertips grazing your cheekbones as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“my gorgeous, talented girl.” she smiles fondly, touch lingering on your face before she’s pulling you into a sweet kiss.

you could get used to this kind of post-show celebration.

[wayfayrr]

I've been on a little bit of a first kick recently - so here's a first meeting of reader and him based on this piece of the dolls au by @ovegakart (this amazing comic piece in particular) and on the topic of tagging people I've got some new friends on discord who have a love of first so consider this a gift <3 @fanfic-fairy-fountain @dreaming-of-lu @angry-trashcan @neverchecking <333 enjoy!

[masterlist]

“Hello..? Time… Sky… Link? Is anyone there?”

As if being forced into Hyrule wasn’t bad enough when I was with the chain, now that cursed shadow decides to push it even further by separating me from them? Why not just kill me outright… Is it to try to give the heroes hope? Wouldn’t it be worse for them for it to kill me outright than string them along with false hope?

“IS ANYONE HERE? HELLO??”

Where even am I? It looks like… Oh. Alone in catacombs, yeah if there’s anywhere to be killed by a malicious shadowy entity it would be in catacombs. Are there going to be redeads here?  If the rest of the monsters are anything to go off of it’s going to be much worse dealing with them now. They can’t handle sunlight though, can they? 

Then that means the pile of rubble in the centre here should be the safest place for me to think through the best way to handle all of this. If the shadow really wants to get to me then of course that won’t stop it but I have to try something right? Is sitting on top of what looks like a grave a little disrespectful? Yes. Do I have many options at the minute? No.

“-Wait-!”

WHY IS THE GRAVE SLIDING OPEN - WHAT WAS THAT!? WHY DOES IT SOUND LIKE SOMEONE IS YELLING?? 

“What… happened? Where is this place?”

I think without a doubt the sound I’ve just made is the most blood-curdling scream I’ve ever let out and - WHY IS HE COVERING MY MOUTH!?

“I’m sorry I know you’re confus- ACK.”

Was biting him the right option? Probably not! But it’s the only thing I could think of to do seeing as well, I'm not exactly calm at this moment in time. Despite the fact that this man has known me for, what, the span of less than a minute, he seems to have at the very least noticed my panic. Backing off like you would with a scared animal - do I really look that petrified? It’s taking everything in me now to not give into my racing heart. 

“I’m sorry, I must’ve overstepped your boundaries. But please can you not be so loud?”

“....”

“... yeah. Yeah I can be a bit quieter”

“So you uhhh-”

Where do I even start - this man just - He just crawled out of a grave. What do you even respond to that with??? 

“...You come round here often?”

[name]. [name] what the heck was that. That's how you flirt with someone at a bar not speak to a living corpse.

“No, I don’t really?”

“Yeah, I figured. I -”

“Are you alright?”

“Look I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I was separated from my group and dropped here then you- You crawled out of a grave and now I’m just?? I’m just stressed and this is only things that have happened today. Now I know that you’re probably more stressed for obvious reasons, but I’m just - I’m sorry for screaming.”

He took a step closer to me at that, not trying to be intimidating, but more cautious. Asking for permission to touch me with an invitingly open outstretched arm, one that seemed to promise some sort of salvation from all the stress I’ve been feeling. One that I was embarrassingly quick to accept. His touch - His hold, is so warm for someone who should really be so cold, there’s definite comfort in feeling his heart beating as well something that proves he’s alive. It didn’t last for long though, as he pulled himself away, reluctantly if I were being bold in how I was to describe it. His fingers lingered, resting on my arm in such a teasingly wanting way. He’s definitely a link thats for sure, that helps me to be more comfortable around him than I would have been with anyone else. He looks like he’s about to start crying.

I - oh god I’m the first person he’s seen since he came back to life. 

“Are you alright link?”

Was that the wrong thing to say? He hasn’t introduced himself to me,  I shouldn’t have said that. It seems like now it’s his turn to look confused - more so than he already was. 

“you how do you know my name?”

“I just guessed, the group I was with before they - well they all looked similar and went by the same name ‘link’ so I just assumed it was the same with you. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“No it doesn’t.” Why is he reaching for my face? He’s got such a soft look on his face, do I remind him of someone? He’s been dead so it could be possible I guess, but it feels like there’s more to how he said it than just something that simple. 

“Oh my dearest love...”

His hands are so soft… it’s hard not to just lean into his touch and stay there, but there are more important things to be dealing with right now. As much as I’d prefer to not have these questions answered. 

“What do you mean by that link? I don’t - I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

He’s so warm, I hate the fact that he’s most likely going to stop holding me when he realises I’m not the person he’s really ever going to want in a relationship. 

“You haven’t but, I can already tell that you’ll be my beloved soon enough.”

“I’m sorry? We’ve only just met how can you tell s- ACK”

This has to just be a link thing. What is it that makes them fall so quickly? But to hold someone so tightly when you've only just met them - when you’ve only just come back from death?  That doesn’t seem like a healthy thing for him, not in the slightest. 

Is my shoulder wet?

Why would it be wet - he was tearing up earlier and - no there it is he’s sniffling as if he’s trying his hardest not to cry. Even if he’s mildly delusional how cruel would you have to be to not help someone go through something as tough as this clearly is. It’s not hard to gently rub his back as he cries onto me, it’s not hard to hum to him as he clutches me like a lifeline, it’s not hard to be here for him when I have to do so little for him. 

“Link? Would you like to talk about it? I don’t know you but - but I’ll be here to listen to you.”

“Thank you. It’s simply that I - I don’t know why or how I got here, It’s simply that I woke up in there after everything then I saw you -”

“[name]”

“[name] and well you know what has happened since. I have to thank you for being here though, there’s something about you, some kind of energy that just feels like a part of myself that I lost. You feel like home to me [name]”

With that last sentence, he burrows his head even further into my neck seeking what I can only guess is comfort. He’s probably just desperate for another person's touch right now, rather than him having fallen in love with me from the briefest interaction that didn’t even go that well.   There’s no harm in waiting here with him for a moment though. What could go wrong in this amount of time?