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ghouljams · 17 days

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Lord Mactavish is starting to rub off on you, the terrible corrupting man. None of what the married women in your life told you about sex could have prepared you for him.

cw: does it count as baby trapping if they're already married?

"A woman's pleasure is more delicate than a man's," your mother had told you. Well. You can't see anything delicate about the way Lord Mactavish's fingers plunge into you. Can't find a breath of delicacy in the the quick strokes in and out of your pussy, or in the way they jab at that horrible, blissful, sweet spot near your entrance with pinpoint precision until you're gasping and grabbing at his shoulders. There's certainly nothing delicate in the teeth that dig into your neck, or in the punch of moans out of your body.

No, you find your pleasure to be a visceral, crashing, thing. It always seems to make a mess of your Lord husband's hand, a mess he takes such great pleasure in sucking off his fingers that you're sure that's the only reason he goes to such lengths. Though you're lucky when it's only his fingers that fill you, too often you've been helped out of a carriage with his spend dripping down your thigh. Introduced to members of society while you feel rivulets of pleasure rolling down your leg, your Lord husband bragging about what a test you are, a trial he's so gladly taken on.

You entertain guests with the memory of your husband's tongue still making you squirm. You listen to the man that drags you to bed in the middle of the day laugh boisterously at the assertion that you're sour tempered and prudish. He says nothing in response but you can feel the way his thoughts drip with your slick. You go to parties, and play the part of unwilling socialite, some part of you still desperate to convince Johnny that you're a poor choice for a wife.

Without fail you find yourself in a small space before the night is out, eagerly pressed between cupboard shelves and a taut body, or pushed down behind a bush, or draped over a desk in an all too open library. Punishment, he calls it, but it feels more like a reward for your poor temperament. Your hands twist over your mouth as his hands worm their way under your skirts, and you lose yourself in the pleasure he gives you. It's impossible to ignore the man you've wed, impossible to deny him. Your husband is insatiable, and you quickly find that he's starting to rub off on you.

At a ball he dips his head to ask you, "How's my bonnie wife?" and it curls low in your stomach, the ghosts of his fingers cupping your cunt, bringing up memories of the way his tongue had made a home for itself between your folds mere hours earlier. His voice is always low, always rough on your ear, the same when he speaks to you in the bedroom as it is when he kisses your cheek and tells you he's going off to hunt. You hate when he leaves. The house is too empty with just you and the servants.

Voicing this complaint to him brings a strange fire in his eyes. You hadn't mentioned anything but being bored with just needlepoint(accursed needlepoint) to keep you busy, you can't see any reason for the way he looks at you. He drags you to bed after that, barely makes it up the stairs before he's lifting your skirts.

"Been proper about it," he tells you, though you don't see anything proper in the way his fingers stroke over your slit, or the way he circles your clit until you gasp, "wanted you to ask for 'em before we really started tryin'."

"Trying?" You shiver against the quilt, feeling one of his thick fingers circle your entrance, just barely tapping at the hole before drawing back. Johnny hums, his smile has too many teeth to be friendly. If you were hoping to get an answer out of him it doesn't come quickly. His fingers drag over you, callouses burning a path through your slick folds as he rubs up and down. He has you in such a constant state of need, fucked in the mornings, in the afternoons, fucked over tea and after supper. You're pussy throbs, eager to suck on the thick digits that tease it. Too wet and needy, he's turning you into exactly the same type of beast he is.

You don't know why you keep trying to fight it, why it still makes you feel shy to see him pull his wet fingers over his tongue, or why your stomach still flutters with the fire in his eyes. He encourages you is the problem. He teases you until your cheeks feel like they're burning, pulls at your skirts like a boy with his first crush. He's so eager to see you mad and you give in to it every time. You're rewarded each time you snap at him, finding him dropping to his knees or tugging your skirts up, dragging you to a secluded corner while you kick and fuss. Maybe you're starting to like the game, starting to like the way he chases after you.

Johnny's fingers press into you, two slick digits spreading your sopping cunt while his thumb rubs at your clit. This part you know, but never seem to be able to get used to. The ache and burning drag of his fingers against your entrance, the way they twist with each thrust and spread as he pulls them out. Your hips twitch at the feeling, your hand pressed against your mouth to keep the whimpers he draws from you at bay. You know he likes when you're loud, but that's also part of the game, making him hold you open, making you bare yourself to him.

One sharp curling jab has him hitting your sweet spot. Delicate pleasure it is not, it rushes through you like a tidal wave, making your muscles flinch to tighten with each touch. He doesn't keep you there long, only enough times to hear you moan behind your hand before he's back to stretching you. Giving you enough of a break to hear the wet sucking sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you.

"Be trackin' your monthlies from now on," He tips his head, leans down to kiss your stomach as he rubs at your clit. You arch into the touch, barely hear him murmur, "Have you busy with a bairn in nae time."

Context clues suggest he means a baby. How the fuck did he get a baby out of being bored around the house? You open your mouth and his fingers start their jabbing again. The ache courses through you, your pussy dripping with warmth and your stomach tight. It feels like a something molten is starting to wiggle its way up through you. You feel wetness clinging to your thighs. Johnny looks at you with his cheek pressed to your stomach, his brows drawn together in an expression of desperate want.

"A baby?" You try to sound, well, anything but pleased by the idea. It comes out as a desperate whine, one which only seems to mirror his own feelings.

"Aye love, as many as you want," he coos, "an army of wee ones to chase around."

"Johnny I-" You squeak as his fingers pick up the pace, thrusting into you fast enough to leave you gasping for air. Tight, you're too tight, and you don't have the breath to beg for it to break. You only know that what does break, what feels like a dribble from you, squirts out of you to ruin your husband's coat and leaves you without the words to protest when Johnny sits back and hastily pushes his trousers down.

Your vision is fuzzy, your stomach still tight and your body still buzzing with heat, but you feel good, just barely satiated. Lord he is ruining you. You should close your legs seeing the dark red flush at the head of Johnny's cock, the leaking beads of pre-come that drool from the tip, but they only make you spread them wider. Johnny smacks his cock against your clit, and you hiccup in a breath. He does it again before rubbing his cock against you, watching the way your sopping folds move with the motion and your hips twitch.

By this point you think your insides must have molded to this man. He slips his cock into you like a man coming home. You open so easily for him, let your lashes flutter at the soft stretch as your cunt swallows him whole. He pulls your legs up against his chest, your ankles by his ears and gives a generous thrust, pulling out so just the tip is holding you open before sheathing himself entirely. He hits something deep inside of you that aches with such a pleasant pain that you moan. You tip your head to watch the way his thick cock drives into you, and feel him lean over you, his hands wrapping behind your head to curl you towards him.

The next thrust hits deeper, hurts with more of the flashing pleasure. Deep and dark, the feeling of fullness drips through you following the rolling of Johnny's hips, the thrust of his cock. Your breath hiccups, when you can catch a breath. One of his hands leaves your head to press against your stomach, feeling for himself before skirting lower to thumb at your clit. Your lip wobbles, tears starting to prick your eyes. The attention to your clit makes the tight heat tingle, makes you clench and tighten around him. Johnny moans and pants. His smile is wide and open as the first tear falls from your eye unbidden.

"Oh bonnie," He groans, "it feel that good? You that happy gettin' bred by your husband?" Without reluctance you nod. Your garbled whine for him to slow down goes ignored. Johnny fucks you, toys with your clit, until the pain-pleasure becomes too much and you lose control of the tightness gripping your muscles. Heat pours over you as your legs shake and your cunt flutters, caught between pushing him out and pulling him in. Johnny doesn't do more than lower your legs to wrap around his waist so he can lean down and lick the salty tears off your cheek.

"Have to keep everything in, hen," Johnny mumbles, his hips snapping to yours, "an' thank me for givin' you a load." The hand gripping your head nods it for you as his thrusts start to lose their rhythm. You know the feeling of his cock twitching inside you, the flood of warmth that follows and seems to spurt more out with each drag of his cock, well.

You pout around the soft trickle of tears and Johnny mimics you, pouting right back in a way you don't buy for a moment.

"Thank you," You sniffle. His smile lights up like the sun and leans down to kiss your cheek before the dog of a man drags his tongue across your lips. Perhaps it's your own fault for opening your mouth for him and letting him lick inside. You really over-indulge him, but he always rewards you for it.

"That's my girl," He praises, and it warms sweet in your chest.

Your husband is a terrible rake, but you suppose you like him well enough.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x reader #regency au #regency!soap #oc: moon

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slvttyplum · 2 months

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"im working late, 'cause im a singerrrr"

being a singer is great, you were blessed to with a nice voice, made your own schedule, had a great audience and had the sweetest support from your boyfriend. he always stayed with you on the nights you were having lack of inspiration, or you didn't want to be alone, he was right there with you.

this particular night, something shifted in the air. your legs over his while you repeatedly typed different words into the computer, hoping you would come up with something that slid off your tongue. the only thing that was on sugurus min d at that very moment was you, he couldn't get you out of his mind even when you were right beside him, his hand rubbing over your leg and going up your thigh.

licking his lips a little as he watched you type and sing a few words into the mic in the same pattern, he knew that you needed time to warm up when you came to the studio, butt you were really having a hard time, so why not help you? slowly rubbing his hand over your thigh repeatedly, trying to get you to relax, scooting closer towards you, slowly closing the laptop lying in your lap.

“come here baby.” pulling your arm, and you shuffle around and sit on his lap, his hands rubbing over your ass giving it a light squeeze as he leans in for a kiss, giving you a peck on the lips, a couple more before he fully goes for it, your eyes fluttering and your hand on the back of his head while the other is on his shoulder, his tongue slipping into your mouth and sliding over your tongue, your sweet taste rushing into his mouth.

as suguru is exploring your mouth to the fiftieth time today, his eyes sliding over to the mic laying on the other side of the couch, a blue light on meaning that it was recording, a sly smirk on his face as he gives your ass another squeeze, maybe you needed an extra boost of motivation, he could give that to you.

closing his eyes as he disconnects from the kiss, a spit string connection to the both of you but disappearing when suguru goes for your neck, sliding his tongue over an empty spot making you giggle before slowly rubbing over the bulge that was erupting in his jeans. suguru kissing over the wet spot before giving your jaw a kiss and leaning down giving your chest a kiss, his hands sliding from your ass to your back, sliding his hands under his shirt.

your hands sliding down his chest to his sweatpants, sliding your hands inside and rubbing your hands against his bulge that was already standing up against the fabric, your touch making him jolt, his sliding down from your back to the inside of your pants, messing around with the hem of your panties.

as you were playing around with his bulge, suguru slid his hands back out of your pants and pulled them down, helping you get out of them, your body shifted over weight as you lifted both your knees as suguru slid them off with ease. he couldn't hold back anymore, he wanted you so bad that he couldn't even think about what he wanted to do next, your scent and your warm core hanging over his bulge.

once your pants were off, he wasn't going to wait for one more second to not be inside of you, he had to be inside of you, or he thought he was going to die. pushing his hips up as he takes off his sweatpants along with his briefs, his dick shooting up and his pre-cum coating the tip of his dick. his fingers hooking on your panties and pulling them to the side as you hold his throbbing dick in your hands, your thumb rubbing over the tip of his glistening dick.

“go ahead.” his eyes looking at you intensely as you slowly adjust yourself and slide down on him, a low groan sliding past his lips, his hands gripping your ass with full force making you moan, suguru leaning in kissing your neck, your pace on his dick still slow, you wanted to enjoy every inch that was inside you but you and suguru were on two different speeds, his hips bucking poking your sweet spot.

your hands gripped on his shoulders as he bucks his hips more, his pace so fast you couldn't even think about your next move, the only thing you can do is moan, your body jolting with pleasure and bouncing at rapid speed. each time the tip of his dick hits your sweet spot, your body slouches, your head on his shoulders, your moans spilling onto his neck.

“you can take it. tell me you can take it.” the sounds of your skin slapping against his, your forehead bouncing against his shoulder, trying to keep your moans to a minimum, but you couldn't, his dick slid against your walls with ease, drool slipping out of your mouth and onto his shoulder.

“i can take it.” whimpering out into his neck, but it was loud enough for the mic to hear and that's exactly what he wanted., your walls closing in on his dick, your eyes squeezing shut as you let the pleasure wash over you. suguru letting his cum ooze out inside of you, a low groan escaping out pass his lips, his hand giving your ass one last grip before giving your cheek a kiss.

“you're welcome.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #jjk suguru #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto #suguru geto smut #suguru geto #jujutsu geto #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru

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yourheart-inmyhands · 7 months

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I got one for you. Reader with long hair. Yan zhongli, Childe and Pantalone adore brushing it out or washing it for you, putting pretty (but not pointy) decorations in it. but you HATE them touching it. So one day, maybe when they slip up and leave smth sharp in your abode you grab it and lop off as much as you can before they come back (or stop you if they’re in the room when you do it). What happens afterwards?

Cannot wait to see what you cook with this, I adore your takes.

ah tysm! sorry it took so long to get to this, i took a little bit of a different twist from my normal writing style and did some headcanons and a short blurb! hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against will, mentions of reader almost being hit, zhongli being a softie, delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Pantalone would be furious, as someone with hair of a decent length himself, he knows the time and dedication it takes to grow it out so long.

He also knows how much maintenance it took, which is why he never fussed about helping you with it, often insisting to do it for you.

He saw it as a bonding moment between the two of you, something to help him wake up in the morning as he did your hair and something to unwind to at night as he’d undo the intricate styles he had done it up in that morning.

You cutting off your hair with a letter opener that he’d left in the room by mistake hurts him, upsets him to the point he almost strikes you. To him it’s as if you had cut him, making a statement that you’d rather give up on something you’d dedicated years to, than to allow him the comfort and satisfaction.

Pantalone can’t even bear to look at you for the next few days, sleeping in another room or in his office.

“How could you do something so despicable? Do you even care how this made me feel?” The way Pantalone speaks almost makes it seem like you’d given him an impromptu haircut. With the gorgeous hair that used to reach down the length of your back now sitting in choppy piles on the floor, it almost felt like you had in a way. Your hair was uneven, lopped off sporadically in case he tried to interrupt. You’d just taken off the last few locks when he had noticed the absence of his letter-opener, intending to merely pop into your shared bedroom to grab it. Instead he was met with the grueling sight of you, kneeling before the full length mirror, hand clutching the letter opened as your opposite hand released a fist full of hair, letting it float down to the piles that had formed below.

Yandere!Zhongli would be conflicted. Part of him is upset that you’d make such a hasty decision, not even weighing the outcomes and taking away something from not just yourself but from the both of you.

The other side of him is hurt that you didn’t come to him first. That you didn’t feel comfortable expressing your discomfort with his actions and had taken it to the extreme instead. His heart aches at both thoughts.

You’d managed to pry a sharp piece of stone off the walls of the cave, using it to hastily take off chunks, only for Zhongli to catch you mid way through. His contempt at the situation settles with a sigh as me approaches you, gently prying the rock from your hands before disappearing, leaving you to sit on the floor, half of your hair lopped off just scattered around you.

He returns a short bit later though, bringing with him a large mirror and a sharp pair of scissors. Setting the mirror in front of you, he gently begins correcting your hazardous hack job, carefully trimming off all the missed areas to even it all out.

While his work wasn’t great, it certainly looked a little better than how it had started. Your hair now sitting a few inches above your shoulder, a simple all around cut that was, mostly, even.

Zhongli didn’t say a word as he approached, looking down at you with a blank expression, his calm eyes staring deeply into your wide ones as he gently pried the rock from your hands, leaving you to wallow in a pile of your own hair as he disappears. Upon his return, he places a large, ornate mirror in front of you. It was typically kept in the living room as a decorative piece but he required it’s services here. Pulling from his pocket a pair of sharp scissors, he gently angles your head to be straight before reaching for the areas you hadn’t gotten to yet. Quickly shedding the length of those pieces he gets to work on straightening the rest out, doing an ok job at making it all match up and look decent. “If you wanted me to leave your hair alone you could’ve always asked darling, you know I only want to make you happy in this life of ours.”

Yandere!Childe manages to catch you before the act. You had thought you were sneaky, tiptoeing out of bed early in the morning over to his work clothes that had been hastily shed after his return last night.

You knew he kept a couple different blades on him, having shown you them before. Yet as you checked every pocket, every hidden loop, all the little places he’d shown you that he could be keeping them, you continued to turn up with nothing.

Over and over you checked, an almost pleading in the way your hands silently searched through the crumpled clothing, desperate to find anything even remotely sharp at this point.

You could feel the frustration as well as tears welling up in your eyes, why couldn’t anything ever go your way? First you get stuck with that crazed lunatic, and now that he’s practically taken over your hair you can’t even take some control and rid yourself of it.

As you search, you failed to hear the bed creak, or the soft patter of footsteps behind you. The only two things that tell you he’s awake are his voice whispering in his ear and his hand flaunting the exact thing you’d been looking for.

“I thought you might go looking for this, so I hid it under the pillow. A little cliche but I thought you’d be too stupid to look there, guess I was right~” Childe’s voice comes out in a sing-song tone, almost as if he was bragging about outsmarting you. He could tell from the moment he took an interest in your hair that it made you uncomfortable, just another button of yours to push as he slowly molded you into the perfect spouse for himself. His nimble fingers twirled the simple knife around, flaunting it to you. You could try to grab it, lunge for it even, but it was no use. You wouldn’t be able to get even a strand shortened before Childe would have it back in his possession, especially when the distance between the two of you was so short. Short enough that you could feel his chest pressing against your back, his breath on your neck, and his soft strands of hair brushing against the back of your head.

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tojisun · 7 months

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oki but this is sooo biker!simon after that first hookup you two had!! (this is a silly ramble based on the vid teehee)

biker!simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; D/s; sexting :’> // biker!simon mlist

you left with your number saved in his phone and his number saved in yours – simon having been the one to type it in. he named himself in your contacts as ‘simon 🏍️’ then got too shy at its obnoxiousness so he renamed it to ‘simon’ only.

(you later changed it to ‘si <3’ anyway).

simon sends the first message, unable to wait.

“hope you got home safe.” <

he would’ve dropped you home if he could, but simon understands why you preferred to keep your location a secret from him.

he waits for your reply, which arrives thirty minutes later.

> “thank you!! and i just got home, safe and sound <3”

simon almost chokes at the giddiness that lodged in his throat, his fingers trembling as he sends his reply.

the conversation picks up after that, mutual awkwardness breaking as friendship begins to bloom. you two try to make up plans, but your schedules never synced up and it left simon starving. aching with a heavy desire because he wants to see you again. wants to be with you again.

he wonders if you felt the same way. if you ache for his touch. for his body. if you lay on your bed at night, tracing at your skin, reminiscing the way simon pressed kisses into your soft corners and tender flesh.

simon wonders if you do. hopes that you do.

because even though he knows how much you’ve whispered how you love him, he had chucked it to your delirium; had told himself that it was a spur of the moment thought in fear that you would actually reject him.

so it came to him as a surprise when you sent him a… sensual message. nothing too conspicuous, but something that set him ablaze.

> “i miss the way you held me.”

simon stares at the message, going breathless as the memories return to him full force. it’s not like simon forgot – he knows he can never – but he’s been trying to push it in the back of his mind to pursue a more innocent relationship with you.

because you deserve more than a series of messages full of the ways he’d promise to fuck you – positions, places, and the amount of times he’d make you cum just with his mouth. because you deserve more than just words. words that aren’t even spoken, just typed.

and yet, he couldn’t help himself. he types in his reply, his mind overtaken by a fog that settles within his blood, mingling with reason.

“i miss you too, sweet girl.” <

simon breathes in, his mind shackled by the memory of your heat wrapped around him, and adds:

“miss the way you moaned for me.” <

he doesn’t hesitate when he sends this but simon does feel a twinge of guilt when he finally sees it in the message thread, something that snaps him outside of the fog just long enough to feel the way he’s been tightly gripping on his phone.

because what if this was too much? was he supposed to just hint at what happened? to dance around the tension until you two finally get to meet? to-

> “i miss how you filled me up.”

“fuck,” simon whispers to himself as he stares at your message, his voice a ragged timbre of his devastation. he almost drops his phone on the floor, seized by the greatness of his desires that is pumping blood to his ears and into his cock.

he swipes his eyes along your message once again, unearthing the sound of your voice from his memories as he envisions the way you would’ve said this – breathy, whimper-y, broken. your throat having been thoroughly used by simon.

“fuck,” he repeats, adjusting himself underneath his sweats before sending his reply.

“i filled you good, didn’t i, princess? kissed somewhere deep in you. deeper than anyone has ever reached.” <

simon feels like a fucking depraved teenager at the way his cock jumped just at the mere sight of the speech bubble appearing on your end, showing him that you’re typing up a response. he stares at his screen intently as though willing it to finally reveal the earth-shattering reply he knows you’re going to send, only to see the speech bubble disappear completely.

he blinks, confused, and restarts his messaging app at the thought that it’s glitching. when it finally reloads, simon tries not to drown in his disappointment when he sees no new received replies from you.

his fingers twitch, apology already forming from the back of his mind, ready to be typed out. he bounces his legs, worrying over the appropriate words to use because he truly is sorry. he-

a notification ping shakes him from his thoughts and simon realizes that his phone had turned off amidst his spiral. he breathes in shakily, gulping when he sees your contact name flashing on the screen – ‘princess’ – and taps at your icon.

oh.

“oh,” simon repeats out loud, his voice a warbled croak.

because who wouldn’t be breathless at this?

this being an image of you in nothing but simon’s zip-up jacket, the one that he lent you from that one fateful night when you two met up. it falls just past your pelvis, giving him a good glimpse of your thighs only to cut just above your knees, a grave loss that resonated with simon as he honest to god whimpers. it’s not zipped up all the way, stopping like a low v-cut on your chest which shows enough of your cleavage and your pretty tits that simon’s throat constrict in his thirst.

simon’s greedy eyes almost bypass your other message:

> “i wish you can tear my clothes off me again.”

he groans, feeling his cock leak from your message; from seeing you love his rough side.

he has to grip his phone as his unrelenting mind wanders, imagining the way he’d rip that jacket off your beautiful body. the way he wouldn’t even fully shrug it off you because simon wants to take you that way – surrounded with everything of him. his cock buried in your cunt, his hands braced on either side of your face, and his clothes grazing the skin with which his hands can’t caress. simon wants to envelope you with all that he is. with all that you will allow him to give.

fuck. he wants you. he needs you.

simon has to breathe through his mouth as he sends you a reply, choosing careful words to express his intention.

(but not to express the twinge of his darkness. of his possessiveness. not yet, anyway.)

“i’d do that and more, sweetheart.” <

he licks his lips, fingers hovering above his screen. thinking. hesitating. making up his mind. then, sending:

“wanna see what you do to me? how you make me so fucking hard?” <

simon absolutely moans at your beautiful, submissive reply:

> “yes, please.”

(what a good girl. and simon doesn’t even need to teach you how to be one. god, aren’t you just too perfect for him?)

#suns.f #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #clearly my instagram is telling me to get to it (as in replying to asks) but my god this thread is AMAZING #suns

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moonydustx · 5 days

Note

giving them a hickey headcanon (Law,Zoro,Luffy and Mihawk)

Hi Hi! All good? I'll start with a small warning: I know it should have been hc but I think I got mixed up in the format (each story actually came out differently). And each one looked a little NSFW, but I swear there's nothing explicit or very detailed. I hope you enjoy!

Some came out with more dialogue, others with much less. Yeah, I really got lost in the format.

requests here | rules and guides | masterlist

Luffy

warnings: Luffy isn't so innocent in this one. Pre-established relationship. Amor is the equivalent of love in Portuguese-BR.

Not that Luffy was innocent, but he had never paid attention to the fact that hickeys existed and how carnal they could be. And regarding your relationship, things used to be lighter and calmer between the two of you.

The first time he saw it wasn't in you. He was walking around the Sunny's deck and saw Zoro sleeping, as usual. He approached slowly and saw the stain on his neck.

"Who did you fight with that hurt you like that?"

"Don't bother me Luffy." Zoro grumbled, pushing the captain away with his hand.

"Did Zoro get hurt?" Usopp leaned into Luffy's side, as did Chopper. "That's not a bruise."

"It's a bruise, but it's light." Chopper concluded.

"You idiots, have you never seen a hickey in your life?" Nami grumbled.

"I already knew! The great captain Usopp already won one..."

"A hickey?" Luffy asked himself more than the others.

The matter remained forgotten in his mind, until you appeared in front of him later that day. The sun was already setting when you found him sitting on top of the Sunny's bow. With little effort and using his help and elasticity, you soon found yourself sitting between your boyfriend's legs, both of you facing the sea in front of you.

"Amor?" his voice pulled you out of the comfortable silence between you.

"Yes Lu?"

"Can you give me a hickey?" he asked, forcing you to turn over your shoulder and face him. "I don't think you've ever given me a hickey."

“That’s not exactly how it works, but…” you let the words trail off in the air.

Your lips placed a small kiss on his cheek, then on his jaw and finally, a chaste kiss just below his ear. At the same point, you placed another wet kiss and finally gave a strong hickey. As soon as the pressure on your lips was released, you placed another quick kiss.

"Well, you're made of rubber, I don't think you'll get marked." You explained and snuggled back against his chest.

"But it felt good." you felt his hand fix your hair and create a space for him on the back of your neck.

Soon after, one of his hands slid down your thigh while his lips repeated almost the same path you had taken and unlike him, you were sure it would be at least painful to the touch, let alone marked.

"Did you like it?" he asked, still leaning against your shoulder.

"Yes." your slightly shaky voice said more than he could ask. It was supposed to be a simple hickey, but Luffy knew how to mess with you.

"Can I have another one?"

"Later, when everyone is asleep."

That meant that in some hidden corner of the ship, you took part of the night to explore each other. It also meant that the next morning, you had hickeys all over your body.

Law

warnings: pre-established relationship, jealous Law in this one.

He truly believes in that thesis that a strong hickey in the wrong place can be the cause of death, so he will always use small bites, the kind that only serve to make every part of your body shiver - and generate some other reactions too. Except when someone makes him jealous.

Don't misunderstand, Law is a reserved guy, not very interested in public displays of affection, but when you are alone, he is a clingy and extremely affectionate person - after time and time of you trying to win him over to transform the relationship into something more.

He had already shared the fighting field with Kid, victory with Kid, he would never share you, but the pirate seemed insistent on discussing things with you and your laughter echoed anything Kid said. Law already saw red at that moment.

After that, you ended the night in the arms of a version of Law that wasn't so common: jealous, unstoppable and delicious. You were just supposed to take some time and talk in his room. You ended up with all the things from the table on the floor, your panties lost - and probably torn, a trail of hickeys going down to your breasts.

"Trafalgar D. Law..." your voice came out like a scolding as you looked at yourself in the mirror already in his room. "What is that?"

"Just a few marks." he hugged you from behind, kissing one of the purple spots. "Sorry babe, I think I got carried away."

"Don't apologize, other than that, your jealous version brings good results."

"I hope that doesn't mean you're going to let that idiot bother you." he grumbled, placing another kiss on one of the hickeys. "Stay here, I'll get some ointment to ease this."

As soon as he returned, he carefully applied the medicine to each point you pointed out, but with a cynical smile on his lips. He knew the hickeys wouldn't go away fast enough until his next date that day with Kid.

Zoro

warnings: pre-established relationship, some broader mentions of NSFW content, but nothing explicit. Two uncontrollable drunks.

He liked to see the effect he had on you, whether it was the slurred speech when he pinned you against the wall, trying not to get lost between the way he looked at you and the proximity of the two of you, or you getting up with the wobbly legs of his bed and spending the next few hours grumbling about being sore - and you always whispered to him that that wasn't a complaint or when he saw you wearing scarves on hot days, or some accessory that disguised the mark on your skin.

Despite this, he didn't like it or used to leave marks on purpose. Even though he enjoyed seeing his love for you embedded in your skin, he knew that hickeys would only attract more questions about what that was, who did that and lots of jokes about the two of you.

However, on the nights lost between shots of sake, hidden in a dark corner and with the two of you numb from the alcohol in your blood, Zoro didn't worry about it. Or with almost nothing.

"Zo, control yourself, this is going to be marked." you lost it in a moan when you felt him capture your skin between his lips.

"Don't tell me you don't like it." he whispered, his lips running down your neck and leaving another mark. "You're mine, aren't you? Let me make that clear to everyone."

The next morning, in addition to the hangover that took over you, you could see the hickeys on your skin. However, this time, you could see the same hickeys in Zoro's.

Mihawk

warnings: brief mentions of NSFW here, this time F!Reader is the "jealous" one in the relationship. In my hc, Mihawk continues to speak Spanish/being Latino.

He could see your sullen face from meters away and couldn't contain a brief laugh. He knew you hated it when he had to be away to take care of his responsibilities as a shichibukai, but it was a necessary. Knowing it was just a small tantrum from you, he approached slowly, stopping at the edge of the bed and looking at you.

"Still mad that I have to go?"

"Of course! You barely stayed home for two weeks before you had to leave again. They really can't pick another guy?" you grumbled, seeing him shake his head. "I'm sorry I seem frustrated about this."

"Please don't apologize for this." he asked, seeing you drop your sullen expression and crawl over the bed, to where he was standing. "However, it seems my dear wife has some plan."

"Is that pretty girl going to be there?" you asked referring to Boa Hancock and he nodded. "I know there's nothing to be jealous of, but lately you've been spending more time with her than with me."

"And you're right not to be jealous." As soon as you knelt in front of him, your arms hung on his shoulder, sliding through the lined fabric of his white shirt. "No other woman interests me other than you, cariña."

"I know, like I said, I'm just letting my frustrations get louder." your lips began to distribute kisses along his jaw, going down to the back of his neck with white skin. Almost automatically, you sucked, seeing a small hickey appear. "I'm sorry." You pulled away, a cynical smile on your lips.

"If you plan to leave me marked with your love..."

Mihawk began to slowly unbutton his shirt, knowing how much it would excite you. Your hands soon helped him finish the job and your nails slid down his defined abdomen, stopping near the waistband of his pants.

"Make a mess, leave your hickeys on me and I will use them as a reminder of the incredible woman waiting for me at home." He bent down, finding the sensitive spot on your neck and placing a kiss. Soon, his mouth stopped immediately next to your ear, whispering in an almost tasteful way. "And when I come back, it will be my turn to mark you."

a/n: that's it, now my mind will be stuck on Mihawk walking around with his clothes open and hitting everyone's vision with scratches and hickeys.

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #requests open #trafalgar d law x reader #law x you #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x you #luffy x you #luffy x reader #mihawk x you #mihawk x reader

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pseudowho · 1 month

Text

Monster

Your colleague, Higuruma Hiromi, has seemed so tired, for so long. You'd do anything to help him...right?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Higuruma, blood consumption, male masturbation, female masturbation, thigh fucking, PIV, m!receiving oral, f!receiving oral, sex-pollenish/aphrodisiac effects and vampirism

(dis)honourable mention to @delirious-donna for helping me to decide on the location of this flagrant sluttiness.

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Higuruma Hiromi was driven to skin-clawing distraction by daydreams of the taste of you, in more ways than one.

You never knew this, of course. Late-nights alone in the office invariably turned into debauched scenes of Hiromi, fucking into his fist and wishing it was your pussy instead; teeth piercing his own blood from his hand and being lapped up by his whining mouth, wishing it was your throat instead. Too many times had he needed to wipe droplets of blood and milky cum off his paperwork, shuddering with the remnants of his orgasm, his cock still semi-hard in his fist.

His latest cunning plan to sate this desperate hunger, had been unsuccessful. Sat at your desk, and breathing deeply of one of the scarves you had left in your drawer, had set his cock hardening against his thigh humiliatingly fast. Hiromi had tugged at the roots of his own hair, head thrown back and growling in frustration. Fumbling around in his bag, he had clumsily slopped lube into a pocket-pussy, and withdrawn the unit of packed red blood cells he had managed to steal from the local hospital.

Messy, and sweaty, Hiromi had drunk from this pack, while the slick sounds of his frantic self-pleasuring and fractured, sandy moans filled the empty office. Your scarf, steeped in the smell of you, remained draped over his face and nose the whole time.

With each passing day you grew sweeter, and riper. He could not cope. He could not cope. He would not last.

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One day, you hoped, you might arrive in the office before Hiromi. Whatever the time of year, he arrived before the break of dawn, and left after the sun had set. Vitamin D supplements had entered into your head as the next possible way to help him, and you shook yourself for being so ridiculous-- although...

"I...you don't have to buy me coffee every morning," Hiromi whispered, something tender coiling in his belly when you slipped a large black coffee and a bagged pastry onto his desk, "let alone breakfast."

"Well," you hummed, benign, "would you eat or drink if I didn't feed you?" Hiromi narrowed his eyes, a challenging little smile within them. A scoff.

"If I lied to you, would you believe me?"

"You're a great lawyer, Hiromi. But not smart enough to lie to me."

His laughter, rich and genuine, burst in you, a stunning puff of petals. You couldn't laugh with him, as your heart stalled in place. How could you not help him, when a match struck in his eyes, just from looking at you?

"Not that I ever would." Hiromi assured, low and smooth. His eyes never left yours once. His gravity threatened to pull you straight into his arms. "Lie to you, that is. You're the only thing that..." Hiromi trailed off, clearing his throat. He looked back to his papers, pale. You missed the tremor in his hands. You couldn't feel how he held himself back from taking you, in every way, here on his desk.

If only he knew you would let him.

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How the fuck did he find himself in the driving rain, three floors up, looking through your balcony windows? How the fuck had it gotten this bad? You were a drug. Forbidden fruit. Hiromi had not drunk from a person in so long, instead surviving on a knife's edge, from stolen blood bags and wild deer. He couldn't recall what came first; needing to be inside you, or needing you inside him. It all equated to hunger, anyway. He was starved.

Even a morsel would do. That's how he found himself outside your bedroom, in a storm, watching you fuck yourself in your bedroom when you should have been sleeping. The rainwater seeped through his black suit, doing nothing to cool the hot, velvet throb between his legs. His hair was swept back off his forehead, drenched, squinting against the biting wind as he marvelled at the image of you.

Clearly, you were unable to distract yourself from the ache in your belly, and the little memories of past orgasms that throbbed through your clit. Every time the thought of Hiromi fucking into you had crossed your mind, you reached for something in your drawer that would never satisfy that urge like he would.

You lay on your belly, stretched and stuffed all the way to your cervix with a dildo and rabbit. You had spent your generous paycheck on an expensive toy, one that thrusted. You knew, deep down, humping the dildo inside you with a pillow between your legs, that it would never be able to replicate the real thing. You felt the blunt little punch of the mechanical dildo against your belly, fucking it into you, as if it would soothe your spiritual famine. Your pleasure was dulled, without the accompanying tenderness of the man that you wanted...needed.

You wore an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else, and Hiromi watched how your back arched and undulated, rolling your cunt against the pillow. You gripped another pillow between your arms, biting into it, mewling at the deliciousness of being filled with something, anything. Hiromi's animalistic senses could hear your little cries, and the muffled buzz of your toys. He could smell the silky arousal that spilled out around your dildo. He could taste you on the air, almost.

It took every ounce of self-restraint not to allow his inhuman strength to take over, punch a hole through the glass and step in, silhouetted against the moonlight. Hiromi would allow his own musk, a curious trap in the art of seduction and predation, to seep over you. Hiromi would watch as you became pliable, supple. You wouldn't fight as he shushed you, pulling the dildo from you and licking it clean. You would whimper for him to replace the emptiness he had left behind, and he would, of course, oblige you. He would press you down by the back of your neck, as if you would ever resist him, and promise you that it wouldn't hurt. He would drink down your cries and your blood as he fucked you down against the sheets, his mouth lapping so fervently at your throat.

He hadn't even noticed how close to his own peak he had come, but as you tensed and keened against your pillow, he felt the dangerous tug of his balls tightening against the base of his cock. He wasn't even touching himself, how could he possibly--

"...H-Hiromi...haaaaah please please fuck me please...oooooohhhh 'm cumming--"

Hiromi came with a shout, with next to no warning, to hear you cry out his name. He convulsed, hunched and doubled-over, cursing and feeling thick ropes of his seed pulse through his jerking cock, diluting with rainwater and trickling down his thighs. He was stunned, panting against the glass, and he nearly swallowed his own heart when he heard the rustle of sheets, and a timid little voice pipe through the dark.

"Hello? Who's there?"

By the time you had pulled the dildo from yourself with a shiver, and opened the balcony door, there was nothing left behind but the churning storm. Clinging to the underside of your balcony, still panting and covered in his own cum, Hiromi knew that something deep within him had fractured completely.

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You were astounded to find yourself alone in the office as the sun set. Hiromi had left before you, with a sickly-looking smile, and a languid wave of that long, pale hand. While you were thrilled that he was going home at a normal time, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He knew you were staying to work late on a case...and had, apparently, chosen this one night to leave before nightfall.

Night had, indeed, fallen fast. The sunset blotted out quickly behind grey rolling clouds. Another storm swept in, dragging the night along with it. You opened a window, seeking the earthy petrichor to balm your weary soul. You sunk your lovesickness into a bitter coffee, as if it was enough to replace the lackadaisical cleverness of the man who haunted your every waking moment.

You tried to distract yourself, awash in case notes. The hours dragged, long and lonely. Rubbing your eyes as the clock struck midnight, you stood to collect the key to lock the office, only to find it missing.

"Shit..." you murmured, sitting back at your desk to rummage in the drawers. You rummaged in all the drawers-- your boss's, your colleagues, Hiromi's...

The lights above you went out with a click. One by one, throughout the length of the office, the lights went out, out, out, and you were plunged into darkness. You felt a lick of ice down the nape of your neck, and every hair stood on end. You were being watched.

"Shit...shit... where's the key... where's the fucking key?" You hissed to yourself, terror crawling across your skin.

Hiromi was barely himself anymore as he stalked you from the shadows. His belly was a cavernous pit. The unholy combination of starvation and desire stirred the monster within. He lay in waiting, allowing you to be drawn in, running to him while you thought you were running away.

You had tried every nook, every pigeon hole, every secret hook throughout the office, but fear made you sloppy. You couldn't go home too late, when the streets were empty. Not with all the tales of hungry beasts hunting for lone prey in the night.

Why, then, as you approached the expansive boardroom at the end of the corridor, did you find yourself becoming so...mellow? You felt light, airy. You floated on an otherworldly, heady musk, so alluring. It reminded you of someone...but who? You couldn't remember, so many drinks deep into this odd botanical tonic. It throbbed through you, intoxicating and warm and your heart was beating between your legs by the time you swayed into the boardroom, undoing your hair, loosening the buttons of your blouse--

"...I'm sorry. I can't let you leave."

You blinked, slow and drunk. Frowning as your vision cleared, you saw Hiromi, illuminated by moonlight. He sat in the executive's chair, at the head of the great boardroom table. A flash of lightning set his features in dramatic clarity, his Roman nose casting deep shadows across his profile. Still, you thought, with your little hum or surprise, he looked pale. Tense. Tortured.

"...Hiromi...Hiro..." you whispered, padding over to him, barefoot. You couldn't remember when you had shed your shoes. Hiromi's skin prickled. The way your voice, sweet and breathy, ran straight to his cock, had him biting one finger between gradually lengthening canines, his other fingertips steepled against his deeply frowning forehead.

"...wouldn't leave anyway...not when I've...finally got you all to myself..." You slurred, grinning, a happy drunk. Hiromi couldn't help but bite one lip, smiling back at you, as you sat with a thud on his lap. His deadly, predatory pheromones increased against his will, to feel your soft, plush curves pressed to his lap. Hiromi trailed one arm around your waist. The part of him that screamed for him to stop, was trapped in a glass box in his mind.

"Yeah?" Hiromi whispered, one pale hand cupping your jaw. "You've been wanting me all alone? Tell me." She wants this it's okay it's not a trap she'll help me she'd always help me god she's so beautiful--

"I have. For months. I dream about you." The words left your mouth unbidden, dragged from you by some irresistible force. Hiromi drank them down, needing to hear you confess your desire for him.

"And what do you do?" Hiromi urged, his voice rough with need. "What do you do, when you dream of me? Tell me. Now."

"I touch myself and...and wish it was you, instead." Hiromi shivered.

"Until you cum? To the thought of my cock inside you? Until you're calling out for me?" You nodded, hurried and floppy. Hiromi cursed under his breath, a thumb brushing over your lips, salivating at the memory of you on your bed, crying out his name.

"Yeah," you promised, almost tearful now with the weight of your confessions, "I do, I cum so hard, but it's not enough, it's not the same as-- as--"

You slid a hand up Hiromi's chest, his sloppy tie and partially unbuttoned shirt, and were surprised by how cool he felt. He groaned beneath your touch, and you shivered, turning and pressing your chest to his. Hiromi panted beneath you, his face contorted, barely restrained. His hands felt so strong, trapping you to him by your waist, and you were sure there would be bruises left behind.

"Let me taste you," Hiromi convinced, his voice low and persuasive, "just once...you're going to help me." His fingers tangled in your hair now, angling your face up, and you blinked slowly, dazed and unquestioning. His teeth were sharp, bared. You could feel the length of his cock, throbbing against your belly. The frantic rise and fall of his chest made you feel like you were on a little boat, rocking over waves.

You had barely begun to nod, before he pulled you in for a kiss so deep, your head swam. Hiromi groaned into your mouth, forcing your lips to part with his own, devouring you with bliss and fervour. You had never felt so alive, your little heart beating like hummingbird wings. The taste of him was sinful. He wanted to carve out your soul and tie it to his, enshrined, fit for worship. By the time his tongue had plunged into your mouth, you were loose and supple on his lap.

Every ounce of uncertainty had left you. Just as Hiromi's mouth began to trail across your jaw, towards your neck, your hand slipped beneath his belt. Hiromi's lips released the lovebite he had just made above your pulse point with a pop, and his head flung back against the executive's chair's headrest. The moan that left his lips was more pornographic than you had ever dreamt. His silky foreskin seared beneath your touch.

"--f-fuck, god, I-- squeeze me harde--- oooohh-ooohhh shit...hnnnn--'

Hiromi's hands gripped the armrests, white-knuckled, and the two monsters inside him fought a bloody fight to see you slip to your knees between his own, batting his thighs aside. Your hand had released his cock, and if he didn't have it back again, or your blood in his mouth, he would break.

"Will you help me, or not?" He hissed at you, imploring you to spill your soul to him. Lost in this curious haze, you found yourself unable to refuse him an answer.

"...always help you, Hiromi." You mumbled, your fingers deftly undoing his belt. Your teeth unzipped his trousers, and the way Hiromi blushed when your eyes shot him such a filthy look, made you giggle. Maybe I'm the one in danger, he thought vaguely. You hummed, rubbing the pre-cum wet tip of his freed cock against your lips, glossing them. Hiromi's teeth bared again in a snarl, and he panted, bucking up into your hand. You teased him, stroking his length slowly, rolling his aching balls in one hand. Hiromi was frayed, furious with so many unfulfilled needs. He snapped.

"Open your mouth and let me fuck it or I swear--" Hiromi's uncharacteristic threats broke off into a strangled moan, when you took him into your mouth, hot and wet and all at once. Sucking at the tip, curling your tongue to cup the underside of his cockhead, you let the bobs of your head, and swirls of your tongue run smooth and sloppy.

The very air around you felt steeped in wildflowers, and the bizarre pseudo-alcoholic rush heightened every sensation. Even though there was clearly something very wrong with the man you had lusted after for so long, his taste his moans his fingers in your hair his trembling thrusts into your mouth, felt so right.

"--more tongue...deeper deeper yesssss...good girl, fuck-- f-fuck, good girl...wanna come in your mouth-- swallow it-- swallow me--"

You obliged him, and your consciousness remained dragged just a millisecond after your movements as you sunk your mouth lower, swallowing around his cockhead until your nose brushed his downy black happy-trail, and your throat constricted around his tip. Hiromi felt a slam of pleasure behind his navel as his orgasm hit, everything in him tightening with his release.

Hiromi's cries, so frantic and needy, crescendoed through the boardroom, and you felt cool ropes of cum spurt against the back of your tongue. Hiromi watched you swallow around his jerking cock, certain he must be dreaming the eroticism of this. By the time your dewy eyes opened again to look up at him, his cock still hard against your white-spattered tongue, Hiromi had lost all composure. Something white-hot and terrifying rolled off him, and you pulled away, spit and semen connecting you in a thread to his twitching cockhead. Your heart clenched, suddenly feeling a flicker of fear.

"...Hiromi? What's wrong?" You asked, cautious as you rose, scooting backwards onto the boardroom table and sliding yourself away from him. Hiromi stood, slow and deliberate. Something had changed within him. Every action of his seemed clipped, hyper-efficient and intentional. You felt your heady drunkenness increase, a thick pulse of desire shooting through your core, and you tried to ignore it with a whimper.

A flash of lightning illuminated you both-- for the briefest moment, you swore you could see the shadow of great wings behind Hiromi's lean, predatory form. A rumble of thunder rattled the boardroom. Drifts of rain swept the glass wall.

"...knew you'd work it out in the end." Hiromi cooed, his words licking at you, coaxing you back. "Clever girl. I told you I couldn't let you leave, didn't I?" He began to crawl along the table towards you, seemingly weightless, his movement so fluid-- so inhuman.

"You won't-- you won't kill me." You stated, as much to convince him as yourself. Hiromi swallowed, his pupils dilated, still crawling to catch up with you. As you darted back, he leapt forwards, dragging you to him by your ankle and caging you against the table beneath him. Only then, did you see the turmoil in him.

"I'd never. I could never. I wouldn't, ever." Hiromi spat, beseeching. You softened. He saw how you squirmed beneath him, knew how his hormones had ensnared you, making you desperate. Seeing you clutch your thighs together for relief, your nipples pebbled and almost freed beneath your blouse, Hiromi gulped again.

"I'm so-- so hungry." Hiromi growled, canines sharp against his lower lip, "And I need-- need-- I can make this good...for both of us. I can make you, if I need to, but I-- I'd rather not. Trust me. Please." He did not need to beg or force, when you were already undressing beneath him, as if you hadn't been waiting for him to take you since the first time your name had fallen from his lips.

"I trust you. Just...just...please." You begged now, and Hiromi shuddered, his eyes black as another flash of lightning flashed on his exquisite profile. He watched you, breasts heaving, now in just your bra and underwear. A burst of pheromones from him left you whimpering, your neck stretched to the side. He raised one strong, fine-boned hand to circle your throat, protecting it from himself as his mouth moved down your body.

"...so close already, aren't you? My beauty...best thing I've ever tasted." Hiromi whispered, his lips ghosting over one freed nipple, pre-cum dripping where his cock dragged against your thighs, "Need you sweeter...before I drink you." You whimpered beneath his mouth, suckling on your nipple until you cried out, your hands tangling in his inky, grey-streaked locks of hair. His hand kneaded at your other breast, relishing the softly yielding squish beneath his fingers.

Your thighs parted for just long enough to clamp Hiromi's cock between them, slick with his dripping pre-cum and your arousal. Hiromi gasped, canines grazing against your nipple, and your thighs clamped harder, Hiromi jerking with a cursing groan above you. He rutted spontaneously, sliding his cock between the plush of your thighs with a shaky, prolonged moan. Hiromi stayed this way for a few minutes, lapping and kneading at your breasts, fucking himself between your thighs. His pleasure threatened to peak again, and he hissed, slipping his cock free of the hot glove your thighs had made for him.

"Don't...don't." Hiromi growled, nipping your belly in warning as he slid himself down, shooting you a look to burn. "I'm not cumming on this fucking table, when I could cum inside you." Your breath hitched with the promise, feeling so weightless as Hiromi stripped your underwear from you. He took a moment to admire the glistening petals around your core, before sinking his tongue and nose between them with a moan.

Hiromi didn't allow you to last. Already so close to your peak, Hiromi's essence pulsed through you with your taste on his tongue. You were washed through with a skin-prickling, burning orgasm, plundering through you like wildfire. Hiromi had gripped you, and would not let you go, and with his mouth desperately lapping at your clit, your orgasm simply did not end.

You were a wreck, writhing and twisting and begging, all frantic cries of his name, alternately trying to shove Hiromi's head away and pull him closer. With one particularly hard push against him, Hiromi drew away, and bit onto the soft inside of your thigh in warning. You squealed as he drew blood.

You almost heard his heartbeat stop, enthralled by the droplets of blood running down your thigh. His tongue darted out, capturing them before they hit the table, your blood and arousal mixing on his tongue. You suddenly felt the danger you were in, in the jaws of a god as Hiromi's eyes turned up to you, settling on your neck. His eyes stayed fixed, his mouth puckering around the bite wound on your thigh, sucking just once before sealing the wound with a trembling tongue.

"...I'm going to fuck you, now." Hiromi stated, blunt, in warning, as he crawled back up your body. His cockhead grazed over your folds, and Hiromi grasped himself, lining his cock up with your fluttering core. "And you'll stay still...or I...I can't...you'll get hurt."

You couldn't possibly have refused at this stage. Hiromi was possessed by something stronger than himself, and you yearned to heal the fractured core of him. Grasping your wrists in one of his hands, and pressing them above your head, Hiromi coiled one hand in your hair, tilting your neck to the side.

You felt the insistent press of his cock filling you, as his teeth punctured your skin. You jolted, crying out, and Hiromi snarled against you, gripping you tighter. Hiromi felt the hot, salty, copper tang of your blood flooding his tongue, and his hips took on a life of their own. He slammed into you, again, and again, tasting your delicious little squeaks, bound beneath him with no means of escape. The human core of him was disgusted; the monster relished every second.

Allowing his otherworldly bliss to roll over you again, Hiromi felt you go languid and supple, your pussy clenching involuntarily around the bullying pace of his cockhead against your belly. Breathless moans muffled into your neck, interspersed with his gulps. Hiromi burst with adoration for you, and how well you were taking him. He had never felt so alive.

Hiromi felt your pulse fluttering in your wrists, and, convinced it was growing weaker, released your throat with a whine and a gasp, pressing his tongue against you again to seal the wounds. Hesitating only briefly, Hiromi fucked into you harder, faster, crimson dripping down his chin, dopey and lovesick. His hand tangled in your hair, pressing a bloody kiss to your cheek, feeling his orgasm creep up his back. His fingers plaited with your own above your head.

You were his, completely, happy to be used. The fervent thrust of his blunt, leaking cockhead against your sweet spot, his sandy whispers and gasps-- "...the best fucking medicine...I swear to god-- keep me forever, please, shit-- cum inside you, gonna cum inside you-- fffuck--" -- and the waves of Hiromi's strange, floral aphrodisiac, sent you tumbling over the edge again. Hiromi cursed, moaning, to feel you clench, writhing and arching beneath him, your cries rising in pitch as Hiromi fucked into you with total abandon, mesmerised by you.

"--more more moremoremore please-- Hiromi-- don't stop--"

Hiromi gritted his teeth, drawing himself out for as long as he could. Feeling the pummel and stretch of his cock inside you, slick and wet, set your eyes rolling back. When you bit into Hiromi's shoulder, he broke, buckling onto his elbows with a roar. His second orgasm blinded him, his balls emptying in violent contractions, thick white seed filling your belly and cunt in long, agonisingly pleasurable spurts. Hiromi swore, cursing and convulsing, crushing your body beneath his.

By the time Hiromi's vision returned, he was more human than he'd felt in months, as if giving into the monster was the only thing keeping him at bay. You floated back down to earth with him, feathersoft, on your bed of meadowsweet. A faint blush spread across Hiromi's nose at the sight of you, fucked-out, messy and spread beneath him.

"...I understand we have some important things to talk about," Hiromi said, bizarrely formal for a man whose cock was still inside you, "and I understand if you don't want to see me again after this, so we can organise a public date and time--"

Hiromi's voice muffled, still trying to talk as you pulled him to you by his tie, shutting him up with a kiss.

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angelicdanvers · 6 months

Text

STRAWBERRIES & CIGARETTES | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: y/n and luke share strawberries and sweet moments together. the events of the series do not occur; 'tis essentially an au :) inspired by strawberries and cigarettes by troye sivan. wc: 2.1k key: n/n = nickname

taglist: @repostingmyfavs @rinisfruity14 @soobin-chois @alorastvr @amortencjja | pm or comment to be added <3

a/n: this is just pure fluff! i hope you have a great day/night <3

“n/n, babe, we’re here.” luke gently tapped his girl’s shoulder, watching the moonlight elucidate her features.

stirring awake, y/n turned towards her boy, a soft yawn escaping her lips. “was i asleep for too long?”

luke shrugged, “just enough i’d say. i don’t mind, it was peaceful.”

“hey!” she feigned offence, whacking him lightly on the arm. “that’s very rude.”

“hey,” he sarcastically deepened his voice, “not my fault you talk nonsense, lass.”

y/n stared at luke for a good minute before cringing. “don’t do that again, i beg of you.”

“you beg of me?” luke smirked, tilting his head down slightly, the shadows contouring his face.

“SHUT UP,” y/n practically yelled, fluster running through her body. “i’m gonna stash you in the trunk and drive back to camp.”

“too bad,” luke said, taking the keys out of the ignition and dangling them in front of her face. chris recently taught him a magic trick and this was the perfect moment to make use of it.

“the keys,” he quickly performed the trick, “are gone.”

y/n sent him a blank expression. “okay.”

“hey! that was a great magic trick!” he defended, knowing underneath her stoic look rested a look of adoration.

all in the meanwhile, y/n turned around and began shuffling into the backseat through the gap between her and luke. “are you gonna join me back here or not, lukey?”

“once your ass is out of my face, yes.”

rolling her eyes, y/n situated herself in the back of the camaro, leaning her back against the door and folding her knees up on the seat. she watched as her boyfriend lightly struggled to get through, but quickly caught onto her method of adjusting the seat first to allow more room.

within seconds, luke was in back, resting his head on y/n’s chest as she played with his hair. luke slowly slipped his arms around the girl’s waist, holding her tight as he focused on the sound of her breathing.

carefully looking up, he placed a soft kiss to her collarbone, bringing a slight tinge of red across her cheeks. it wasn’t as visible, but luke could feel her body warmth fluctuating.

“you’re beautiful,” he muttered against her skin. “you’re so damn beautiful.”

“you’re handsome,” y/n replied. “i’m surprised they’re letting you walk free when being this handsome’s illegal.”

luke grinned idiotically against her skin. without thinking twice, he hauled himself up along with y/n, placing her on his lap. looking up at her, he admired the way her eyes engulfed his, how her lips pursed, how her nose had a light scrunch when she grinned.

y/n could never understand the hold luke had on her. she was infatuated with his every move, her love growing everyday despite reaching the max a very long time ago.

pulling him closer, y/n feathered a kiss upon his lips, to which he responded eagerly. as they fell into a comfortable embrace, the two couldn’t fathom leaving each other’s lips for even a second.

but as time dwindled on, they knew they couldn’t get too comfortable else they’d lose focus on their surroundings and any incoming danger. breaking their session, luke leaned his head into y/n’s chest, now focusing on the rhythm of her heartbeat.

“want some strawberries? mr. d’s kids gave me two pints of them and some melted chocolate. hopefully it hasn't solidified by now,” y/n asked, realization hitting along the process.

luke nodded, a toothy smile playing on his lips. he carefully shuffled to the left side of the car as y/n moved to the right, grabbing the little picnic basket resting on the floor. “wanna take it outdoors?”

luke looked outside, scanning the area for any obvious threats. so far, nothing. “sure, i’ll grab the blanket from the trunk.” the couple ventured out and onto the grass with their necessities, unable to pry their eyes away from each other and/or the beautiful stream and meadow before them.

placing the picnic blanket down, luke grabbed the basket from y/n and began sorting things out. “y’know,” she started, watching him carefully, “i can’t wait to do this once we have kids, too.”

a visible blush overtook luke’s cheeks, and he fought back a gigantic smile. “why is that?”

“i don’t know, something about you looking like a 1950’s housewife right now is making me go feral.”

luke paused and raised an eyebrow, both of them stifling a little cackle before y/n contained herself and continued. “no, i guess just thinking about us having our own little family and being able to do things like this is a very sweet thought. they’d be all over us and give us absolutely no privacy, but they are a symbol of our love.”

luke couldn’t hold back his grin as he looked up at his girl. he has, unapologetically, always thought of how their kids would look like, what their names would be, the little trips and things they’d do as a family — and he’d tell all of this to chris.

after all, he was the one who played cupid and got them together. luke couldn’t help but still have him as his best-best man.

“i’d love nothing more than that,” he laughed, reaching for y/n’s hand which she accepted immediately. “they’d be very sweet children. crazy, but sweet.”

y/n’s smile stretched from ear to ear, and she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on luke’s forehead. “one day, castellan.”

“one day that’ll be your name, too, l/n.”

y/n softly giggled, trying to hide her excitement and happiness. biting her bottom lip to refrain herself from going even more ballistic, she reached over and dipped a strawberry into the chocolate. “oh wow, this isn’t dry yet.”

luke wiggled his fingers in front of her, “magic.”

shaking her head and laughing, the two began snacking on the berries and talking about the latest news on olympus, in camp, and even american politics.

“wait, so clarisse and chris might be a thing?” y/n gasped as luke filled her in on the latest camp news. “how did i not notice,” she deadpanned, gawking at the news after.

luke nodded, his eyes wide. “honestly, i think they’d be cute.” y/n agreed, laying down on her side and leaning on her elbow to prop her head up. “i think percy may like annabeth.”

luke stared dead ahead at her, raising his brow seriously this time. “what?”

“hey, i think it’s probably a mere crush,” she defended. “plus, they’re little, they won’t care about any of that until they’re older.”

“percy better treat her right if that is the case,” luke warned. “that is if annabeth reciprocates, too.”

“good point,” y/n noted, “but do keep in mind that this is the same boy who will do anything for his mother. he’s bound to treat a girl right.”

luke smiled at that, interlocking his fingers with y/n’s. “he is a great kid.”

“he definitely is.”

luke looked down at his wrist, the watch reading nine, realizing it was a bit past the time they were planning to leave. “we should get going now, love.”

y/n pulled a face, “oh shoot, you’re right.” she quickly got up and packed the food, tossing the car keys to luke.

luke was puzzled. “wait, how’d you get the keys?”

she smirked, mocking his finger wiggles, “magic.”

“there’s no way you outsmarted the son of the god of thieves —“

“suck it up, buttercup,” y/n responded, walking away with the basket and leaving him dumbfounded.

luke rushed after her with the blanket, and they carefully placed their stuff in the trunk. the sudden chill in the air brought goosebumps to y/n’s arms, but she paid no mind to it. her boyfriend, on the other hand, did notice.

“okay, off we go,” luke said, both of them entering the car. just as he turned on the ignition, there was a low rumble alerting them. “was that the car or something else?” y/n cautiously asked, looking outside.

“i’ll check it out, stay here,” luke’s voice was low as he hopped out. y/n rolled her eyes as she followed after — there was no way she’d let her boyfriend go out alone when there was potential danger around them.

“y/n, really?” he cocked his head to the side.

she shrugged, moving to stand beside him. listening carefully while staring at luke, her mouth formed into an ‘o’. “it’s the car. we gotta check the hood.”

“damn, nice ears,” he complimented, unclasping the hood and looking closely at the engine. y/n raised a brow, “would be sad if i didn’t considering dad’s hephaestus.”

luke paused, “oh yeeeah!” y/n shook her head and whacked his arm again with the back of her hand, chuckling lightly. moving closer to look at the engine, she muttered a quick “ah.”

“are we screwed?”

“nah, bud needs an oil change. we got any?”

luke nodded slowly. “i think we do in the back?”

y/n sprinted to the trunk, popping it open and looking closely. in the far back rested the oil, and just enough of it. she was terrified there wouldn’t be enough for a good second.

grabbing the jug and funnel, she ran back to her boyfriend, lightly shoving him out of her way. luke was mesmerized as he watched his girlfriend work away on something that was effortless for her.

despite the heat of the engine, the goosebumps didn’t leave y/n’s skin. luke felt like a shitty boyfriend for not doing so sooner, thus he instantly took off his blue flannel and rested it on her shoulders, letting it wrap around her body on it’s own. y/n smiled at the gesture, soaking in the warmth.

“okay, i think we should be good to go,” y/n commented after a brief moment of silence. luke went ahead to put the items away as y/n ran to the stream to quickly cleanse her hands.

“i’ve got your handkerchief, by the way, babe!” luke yelled, letting his girl know in case she forgot.

“thank you, love!”

y/n sprinted towards luke, opening her arms a little. he could tell what she was up to instantaneously; he stashed her handkerchief in his pocket and stepped a metre or so away from the car.

just as she neared him, luke opened his arms and ran to her, catching her as she jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist. their laughter filled the air as he spun her around, both their smiles illuminated by the moonlight.

luke softly placed y/n down against the car door, leaning down and pressing his lips against her’s. responding without hesitation, the two kissed for a mere moment, pulling away and resting their foreheads on each other’s.

“this is nice,” y/n whispered. “we should do this more often.”

“we should,” luke agreed, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose.

the drive back to camp was amicable, but the second they entered the big house, they were met with a confused mr. d and percy.

“why do you guys smell like cigarettes?” the latter asked, his blue eyes full of curiosity.

“why are you with mr. d?” y/n lightly retorted.

mr. d rolled his eyes at percy, “that’s not tobacco smoke, peter, that’s car smoke. what’d you two do to the car?”

“nothing!” luke chimed, “it’s perfectly fine. just needed an oil change is all.”

“the oil was fine, did you do anything on the hood?” he asked, trying not to be exposed near chiron for failing to commit to his duty; he was ordered to let the hephaestus kids know half the vans and cars needed an oil change three weeks ago.

“gods, no!” percy responded horrifically for them, “not this here, not right now!”

“nonono nothing happened!” y/n reassured, but before she could say anything more, luke stepped in. “why lie, n/n? you know it’s true.”

he had a smirk growing on his face, one y/n was terrified to see but could tell there was a reason beneath the layer of insinuation.

“bah, forget it. that car belongs to you two, i don’t even wanna be near it!" mr. d cringed as he left the room, unwilling to hear any more.

percy’s eyes darted back and forth between the two, suspicion rising. he lowered his voice, “you guys lied just to keep the car didn’t you?”

“no, not at all,” luke replied convincingly, following with a quick wink.

y/n laughed at both the boys, the three soon walking down towards camp.

that long night felt like an endless daydream.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan oneshot #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjotv #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #pjo x you

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writtenbymoonflower · 1 month

Note

Hi! Do you think you could write fem!reader with poly!marauders and their first time having sex? If I’m making you uncomfortable let me know and I’ll apologize. Sorry if I sound weird I’m autistic and don’t know how to phrase things sometimes. Thank you.

hi hunny! you didn't make me uncomfortable at all and you worded this great! thank you for requesting!! fem!reader x poly!marauders

cw: explicit smut, slight d/s dynamic, swearing, everything is consensual obviously

1.7k words

The fact that you were the only one breathing heavily was a crime. It was pathetic, really. You felt borderline depraved, considering the innocence of the situation. Your head was in Sirius’ lap, his fingers nothing short of magical against your scalp. You could feel the slight vibration of his voice every time he spoke. Remus’ hand was lazily rubbing your bare thigh, occasionally dipping his fingers under the hem of your shorts, and you were praying that he couldn’t feel the growing heat in dangerous proximity to his hands. James was looking unfairly gorgeous for someone winding down for the night. He was fresh from the shower, his clean scent wafting over to you on the bed as he styled his hair in the mirror.

You were tightly wound from months of tension. While there had been no shortage of heat-stoking intimacy and dizzying kisses leaving you whiny and breathy, it had always stopped of anything that would actually satisfy the growing beast in your core. And while you hoped you were successfully hiding how much it affected you, part of you wished they would notice it. You closed your eyes, taking a shaky breath. The boyish laughter in the background was not helping with your growing affliction.

“Angel?” James chuckled, damp hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Yeah?” You turned your head in Sirius’ lap.

“We’ve been trying to get your attention, lovely.” James crawled on top of you, muscles shifting intricately under his white tank. You noticed how he was careful not to pile too much weight onto Sirius. He slid down, laying his head on your stomach and wrapped an arm around Remus, making the tall boy begrudgingly put his book down.

“Oh, sorry. I was distracted.” You ran your hands through James’ hair.

“Distracted?” Sirius drawled. He was trailing his fingers teasingly on your neck now. You repressed the urge to shiver.

“Distracted.” You parroted back awkwardly. You couldn’t tell if the heat was from the amount of bodies crammed into the bed or the effect that they were having on you. James looked up at you with a playful grin. He reached a hand up to caress your cheek. His grin grew wider.

“Your face is warm, darling.” Mirth was dripping from his eyes.

“Is it?” You swallowed hard. Sirius’ painted digits pressed into your jaw. He chuckled darkly at what he found.

“Her pulse is fucking hammering” His wicked fingers dipped under the collar of your shirt.

“Oh,” Remus cooed, tone indicating that he didn’t feel that bad. “What’s the matter, dovey?”

“Nothing.” You choked out, knowing that your body was completely betraying you.

“I don’t know,” Sirius provoked. “I think it’s something. Don’t you, Prongs?” He moved to pet James’ head.

“Oh, you’re definitely right.” James kissed your exposed collarbone. “C’mon, sweetheart. Talk to us.”

You wanted to laugh. If they really wanted you to talk, couldn’t they make it a bit easier? You just groaned, hiding your face in Sirius’ thigh.

“No. None of that.” Remus gripped your chin to move your face, not letting you be shielded. “Use your words.”

“You’re so mean.” You whined.

“Aw, baby.” James cooed. “We’re just trying to help you. We can’t know what you want if you don’t tell us.” He slipped his hand under the hem of your shirt, gripping your waist lovingly.

“You know what you’re doing.” You narrowed your eyes. You were trying to look intimidating but failing miserably. Remus turned your face towards his, capturing you in a kiss. You moaned against your will, arching your back up. All your muscles felt so tense, begging for release. Sirius kept stroking your hair.

“Just tell us what’s wrong.” Sirius’ grin was all teeth when you looked up at him.

“Gah.” You groaned in failure. “I don’t even know. I’m just so worked up and you’re not helping.” You pouted.

“Aw, I’m sorry dove.” Remus clearly did not feel bad. “Want us to make it better?”

You nodded rapidly, eyes wide. Remus cocked an eyebrow at you. “Yes, please. Make it better.” You all but begged.

“Alright, baby dove.” Remus laughed. "We'll be nice." He kissed you again, moving over your cheeks and neck. James was kissing your chest, tugging the collar of your shirt down to expose more skin. You struggled to hold back wanton moans.

“Can I lift this up, angel?” James tugged at your shirt, looking pointedly at your nipples peaking through your shirt.

“Yes please.”

He tugged you away from Sirius and Remus, though the boys didn’t complain. Sirius was tugging Remus up by his mousy hair to kiss him aggressively, while James lifted your shirt to your collarbone, exposing your chest to his ministrations. He grabbed at your breast with one hand, kissing over your nipple until you were dizzy. He then moved down, kissing lower and lower.

“Christ, just get this shit off.” Sirius growled at you. He impatiently moved you to sit up, tugging your shirt off the rest of the way. “You too, Prongs.”

His eyebrows flew up behind his glasses. “Someone’s demanding today.” He complied though, pulling his white undershirt off and flinging it somewhere across the room. Sirius just narrowed his eyes at James and tried to pull Remus back.

“The two of you.” Remus shook his head disapprovingly but you could see the affection swirling in his irises. “Do I have to tell you what to do with your mouths?”

“I think I know exactly what to do with my mouth.” Sirius sassed, moving down to Remus' neck.

“I know what I want to do with my mouth.” James tugged at your shorts, looking up at you with huge pupils. You choked back a moan.

“Is that okay with you, honey?” Remus asked you gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Just say the word and we stop, okay?”

“I would like that.” You said, barely more than a whisper. James gave you another boyish grin and went back to kissing down your torso.

“On second thought, I don't think I know what to do.” Sirius tested. He crawled off of the mattress, standing at the foot of the bed. He batted his lashes at Remus, clearly testing the tall boys patience. He stalked over to where Sirius was standing, looking down at him.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” He kissed him roughly before getting on his knees in front of him. Your attention was pulled back to the boy between your legs when you felt thick fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts.

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” James waited for you to nod before he pulled them off. He crawled off the bed, pulling your ankles to tug you right to the end of the mattress. Your underwear was removed before he opened your legs wider. This situation was too much in the best way. James was kissing down to your waiting pussy, glasses being knocked up his nose and hair messy while you were being stared down by Sirius, who was close enough to massage your thigh while he was being sucked off, his moans ringing deliciously through your ears.

James’ tongue met your clit, making you throw your head back in ecstasy. “Oh, shit.” You whined. He was gentle as he pleasured you, wiggling his tongue softly into your pussy, flicking up towards your swollen bead and then back down to your hole. Your thighs started to tense. You knew you were getting there embarrassingly fast, both from James’ expertise and the arousal that had been building in your body. You fought to close your legs around James' head, but he held fast, keeping you spread open for him.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Sirius groaned. “You should fucking see yourself, babydoll.” He knotted his fingers in Remus’ fluffy hair, rutting his hips to chase his high. “Godammit.” He grunted, cumming down Remus’ throat. You hid behind your hands to protect yourself from his voyeuristic gaze.

When Remus got up, James pulled his lips off of your clit with a lewd popping sound, making you cry out. You bucked your hips back up, chasing for more pleasure.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” James chuckled, rubbing your hip comfortingly. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, curling them up. Remus' attention was now on you as he leant over you, kissing your neck.

“How does her pussy taste, Prongs?” Sirius drawled, petting your thigh with a blissful look in his eyes.

“So fucking good.” James kept his fingers working a perfect motion.

“Alright, give me a try.” Sirius pulled James up impatiently. James brought his fingers up to the shorter boy’s mouth, the same fingers that were just inside you. Without hesitation Sirius sucked them into his mouth, moaning around the digits. You whined at the spectacle in front of you.

“Christ, lads. She’s halfway to death over here.” Remus chuckled, palming at your breast.

“Alright.” Sirius rolled his eyes, getting on his knees in front of you. “Are you gonna let me have a turn, sweet girl?” He pinched your side affectionately.

“Yes please.” You moaned.

Sirius laughed at you, pressing his face into your cunt. You almost screamed in ecstasy. He wasted no time with teasing, licking into you with vigorous hunger as his gray eyes bore into you. Remus and James moved to hold your legs apart, spreading you open completely before Sirius. “Fuck, such a sweet little pussy.” He groaned, before returning to his work.

“That’s a good boy.” Remus groaned, putting his hand on the back of Sirius’ head to push him further into your cunt. “Y’ making her feel so good.” Sirius moaned into your pussy, doubling down.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Your thighs shook hard, spasms flowing through your whole body.

“That’s it, angel. Come for us.” James kissed your cheek. It didn’t take long to follow his directions, tumbling off the edge of pleasure. Your moans were shameless, slipping into incoherent whines when you got to be too sensitive. Sirius licked his fingers as he came up for air, face flushed and eyes starry.

“Fuck, gorgeous. You’re killer.” He praised. Pleasurable embarrassment washed over you. You shut your legs, looking up at the three boys.

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” Remus stroked your jaw, all feigned sternness void from his face.

“I’m brain dead.” You giggled.

“I think that’s a job well done then.” James grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth to adorn it with kisses. You looked between him and Remus, playful hesitancy written in your features.

“What about you two?” You questioned.

“You still got some steam in you?” James looked at you wide-eyed. You nodded.

“Good, because I’m nowhere near done with you.” Remus opened your legs again.

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dearwysteria · 2 years

Note

I thought you were an aspec cinthean for the longest time and I don’t know why 😭

Haha, I am in fact not cinthean, but aro/ace and of female gender with a preference for she/they pronouns (any other pronouns are fine tho).

I'm not quite sure what an aspec cinthean is, my knowledge on this stuff isn't quite big enough

Anyways, thanks for the ask anon :D

#anon <3 #hi anon :D #good morning/night/day #hope you have/had a great day!#*gives virtual hug*

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hotpinkstars · 2 months

Text

PREGNANCY CONFLICTS - boothill x reader

- boothill "passes" a few days after you announce your pregnancy. he's soon returned to you as a cyborg, and has a rough time with all of the realizations he discovers during your pregnancy.

- thank u guys sm for all the compliments im getting in my inbox about my idea and my writing i love every single one of u guysssss 💋 💋 and now the fic for my idea is finally here! i hope you guys enjoyyyyy

- mentions of insecurity, PREGNANCY, boothill is sad in this shdjfjsks so pretty much hurt no comfort in a very mild way, "M,d,y" means month, day, year, his way of death is not canon i made something up!!! wc 1.5k

Boothill has always talked about being a father. With how optimistic about your guys’ future he was, you could already tell he’d be a great, great father. So when you announced your pregnancy to him, he was ecstatic.

He spun you around in the air, putting you down to kiss you passionately. To him, all of his dreams have come true. As if you’ve given him a strong purpose in life, to not only protect you but to protect his little, and hopefully more to come.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he held you tightly. “Thank you for giving me such an opportunity.”

But then a few days after you announced it to him, he went missing. You spent day and night trying to contact people, get cops on the case, and go out there with someone yourself and try to find him. The cops brought a necklace, splotched in blood, with your initials on it. Saying they found his body and it was barely recognizable. They knew it was him because of the necklace around his neck and the wedding band that was stuck on a stray tree branch.

As both of those were returned back to you, you felt as if you couldn’t look at them without absolutely breaking down. You were set under the impression that he was gone forever. You felt horrible- not only for yourself, but the life you assumed your baby would have, being born into a world where they only have a mother who's trying her absolute best to provide and make sure their life goes as smoothly as possible.

On the 16th week of your pregnancy was when you heard a knock on the door late at night. Who could it be at this hour? You irritatingly got up and walked over to see who would be there.

It was who you were least expecting.

Boothill.

You stood there, unable to register what was happening. You had a hand on your stomach and the other was gripping the door handle. He stopped and stared at you back before beginning to speak.

“Y/n,” he said, nearly a whisper before he took a step closer to you. You didn’t step back, which was a good thing in his eyes.

“Boothill? What- how- huh?” You were absolutely speechless, unable to register the man standing in front of you. He’s dressed a lot differently then how you last saw him- he looked so western. He was western before he was pronounced dead, the accent is what got you in the first place. He’d always go to bars and all of that.

But he never looked so… out of place.

You’ve never seen the boots he had on before. You’ve never seen those pants (why do they look so slutty?) and his shirt was a whole other thing.

But the thing that intrigued you the most was that he was still standing, alive in front of you, but with a fully metal body.

“Come in and explain yourself,” you sighed, turning around and leading him into the all-too-familiar place. It still smelled the same way it used to, flowers and vanilla. He sat down on the white couch, leaning back into the same fabric he knew all that time ago.

But the difference was, he couldn’t feel it.

“How are you here? There's no way you’re real,” you shake your head, standing up and leaning into his face. You grab his chin lightly, turning his head both way before running your hands through his still silky hair. “Answer my questions.”

“Alright, shoot em.”

“When did you get me pregnant?” You ask, still looking into his now different eyes.

“Four months ago. You should be 16 weeks now.”

You nodded. “When's my birthday…?”

“M,d,y.”

You nodded. He was on it, and it’s convincing you even more that he was your Boothill.

“Lastly, why are you metal?”

“My body was destroyed. Y’ probably remember it,” he looked down at his hands before bringing them up to your cheek. You slightly flinched from the chill before nodding for him to continue his story. “I don’t remember th’ exact details, but jus’ say it was a failed mission.”

You looked at him up and down before sitting beside him.

“D’you still… love me?” He mumbled, almost soft enough that you’d miss it if you weren’t paying attention.

You took a moment of silence before responding to his question. “Of course I do. You’re my husband, Boothill.”

To that he smiled and brought you into a strong kiss. One passionate and greedy- he’s been starved of you as you have of him for the past four months. Once he broke it off, you both connected your foreheads before going back into a full blown make out session.

Your pregnancy is incredibly taxing for the cyborg to handle. Instead of flesh and blood he has metal. He can’t feel you, and to him, it’s the worst feeling in the world. He truly wishes he could turn back time to right before the night of the accident.

He wishes he was able to return home safe, so he could be there for your whole pregnancy. He basically missed the entire first trimester!

At this point, you marked 32 weeks. Your pregnancy was very noticeable and Boothill took a lot of pride in being alongside you, shedding his insecurities as soon as he left the house.

He’s always been a very clingy man. He’s always wanted your touch and attention whenever he’d get home from whatever it was he’d do for work during the day, and he’d always receive it.

But now, he needs to use his head to feel you. He’s always found lying down on your stomach in his free time, so he can feel his child. He is unable to feel kicks with any other parts of his body, so he relies on that.

“‘Hill, I need to go to the bathroom. You might need to move in a second here-” you started, but he looked up at you and began to speak over you.

“Alright, alright… but’cha better come right back, please?”

You nodded before shuffling out of the bed, motioning for him to get up and help you off of the mattress and up on your feet. Once he easily pulls you up, he flops back down as he watches you close the door connected to your room.

He thought hard in those two minutes you were gone. Very hard. To the point he thought he was going to have a breakdown.

He regretted everything. He regretted engaging in the enemy's tricks. He regretted leaving you lonely for so long. And what he regrets most is returning to you like this.

A hunk of metal, who can be destroyed as many times as possible. He’ll always be able to have his body replaced. His head and hair were the only human thing about the man.

He believes you deserve so, so much better. You deserve a man who can live his life to the fullest and actually be able to be there for you during your vulnerable times, and not let grief get in the way. You deserve someone capable of giving you more children in the future, and he believes your baby deserves a dad who can be there for him and be normal.

He might even be worried about judgment. He’s not sure. He feels so emotional yet so dull at the same time.

“Boothill? Is everything alright? You’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for the past minute,” you said from next to him. How did he not even realize your presence?

“Hah? Yea, I’m fine. How’re ya’ feeling?” He says in his usual tone, trying to swiftly play off his thoughts not even ten seconds ago. “How’s baby doin’ in there?”

You let out a soft giggle before placing your hand on his cold knee. “We’re well. I’m concerned about what just happened with you though. Tell me, what is on your mind?”

The man sighs and shakes his head before resting it back on your belly. “Nothin’ to worry your pretty head off about.” He simply left it at that and nothing more.

When it came time for labor, he was truly nervous. Every attempt he made at trying to make physical contact with you in that time failed, because his hands were either too hard or too cold. He backed off and watched from the sidelines as you brought his little baby girl into the world.

He so desperately wanted to hold her, and you could see the urge in his eyes. She looked so much like him. She had his gorgeous silky black and white hair with your eyes. He thought she was an angel brought from heaven.

Once he finally got to hold her, he was told to keep her swaddled in the blanket she was wrapped in. All was well until she started crying due to the cold of his arms, and the baby was taken off into tests before he could even blink.

#boothill #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai #star rail #boothill x reader #tw pregnancy #cw pregnancy #angst #boothill angst

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headkiss · 1 year

Text

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

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The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

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