#i actually cried a little making these look at his FACE hes fucking buzzing

[crowlixcx]

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm what's known as a newspaperman.

[hairmetal666]

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

[minminyoonjii]

I need birthday triplets Felix Han and reader where the other members worship the three. I’ve seen so many stories where the reader has their brithday and gets all the praise and worshipping, but I know many (me included) who share their birthday with a member

I can’t stop thinking about it 🥹

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: Birthday Babies deserve a thorough pounding, including you. There's no escape once you're in.

🌹CW

Handjob|Squirting|Multiple Orgasms|Very Rough Sex|Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Spitroasting|Dirty Talk|Threesome|Cum Eating|Cum Play|Facials|Untouched Orgasms|Blowjob|Face Fucking|Double Penetration|Orgy|Spanking|Scratching|Mating Press |Coaxing|Teasing|Dom! OT6|Degrading Praise Kink|Free Use Aes|Manhandling|Exhibitionism|Everyone Likes It Rough|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.3K

"Lixxie, did you get any messages from the boys?" you asked, nibbling on your bottom lip. He shook his head, "None, it's like radio silence," he murmured, hooking his leg over your waist. You moved your head, "Sungie, what about you?" you asked, rubbing his cheeks. Jisung gulped, shaking his head, "Nothing from my side either," he said, sulking against your palm. 

All three of you felt your hearts sink, "You don't think they forgot about us right?" you whispered, sighing deeply. Felix clicked his tongue, "No way, Stays have been boasting about it since September began. There's no way right?" he whispered, trying to find hope in your eyes when a soft hic came from Jisung. "What if they actually did?" he cried, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You teared up too, empathy running high, "If you cry I'll cry," you sobbed, burrowing into his chest. Felix's lips wobbled, "You can't have a cry session without me," he hiccuped, clinging close, crying against your neck. Your cries were far from quiet. It was deliberately loud for attention. The boys swung open the door, seeing the three of you bundled together with tears streaming down your puffy cheeks. 

Chan brushed back your hair, "What's wrong, bubs? What's got you so upset?" He asked, giving a give big hug. Felix sniffled, "Not one of you wished us happy birthday," he sulked, squinting at them with his tear brimmed eyes. Seungmin frowned, "We didn't mean to make you feel neglected. It's just that we got distracted by work," he explained, rubbing Felix's nape. Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, "What work? We're off for today," he asked, looking at him. 

Minho stepped in, "Since you three decided to have a cuddle day, we prepared a little something," he said, pinching Jisung's cheek. You perked up, "What is it?" You asked, excitement buzzing through your body. Changbin chuckled, "Why don't you come find out?" he asked, easily carrying Felix in his arms. Chan carried Jisung and Minho carried you, "I swear to God, we leave you alone for a bit and it's suddenly a sob fest," Minho teased, bopping your nose. 

You giggled, nuzzling his shoulder. They walked into the kitchen, the dining table filled with your favorite dishes and cake. "Woah!" Felix exclaimed, seeing everything. The group placed you in your seats, "Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to our Sunshines. Happy Birthday to you," they sang, taking a video of your reactions. 

You beamed, nuzzling your partners, "Thank you," you said, blowing the candles with Jilix. Hyunjin smirked, standing behind the three of you, "Now to make your wishes come through," he teased, locking collars around your necks. You gulped, staring at the hungry gazes watching your every move. You held Jisung and Felix's hand, "We're fucked," you murmured. Jisung nodded, "Totally fucked," he answered.

"Too big, hah hhgh," Felix moaned, clawing Minho's chest. Minho chuckled, keeping his relentless pace, "But you love my big girthy cock," he teased, thrusting his cock deeper past Felix's puffy rim. Felix groaned, tossing his head back as Minho’s throbbing cock head brushed against his prostate, "There, hyung. There," he babbled, digging his nails into Minho's shoulders. 

Minho hooked his arms under Felix's thighs, "Shh, shh. I know," he  growled, pounding his cock at those sensitive bundles of nerves. Felix's back arched, his cock dribbling precum all over his torso, "Hah, fuck, fuck. I'm cumming, hyung," he sobbed, crying out from the constant pleasure buzzing through his body. "Cum for hyung, baby boy. Let hyung see your pretty cock get messy," Minho grunted, pumping Felix's cock in tandem with his thrusts. 

His fingers rubbed the sensitive tissue under Felix's hard red cockhead. Felix released a loud broken moan, cumming hard onto his chest. Streaks of white painted his pale skin. His jaw slacked with drool drying by the sides. Minho cooed, keeping the tip of his cock pressed against Felix's swollen prostate, "Take a breather, baby. Let's hear the others scream," he chuckled, hearing Jisung whine out behind him. 

Seungmin gripped Jisung's hair, his cock buried deep down his throat, "Your throat was just meant for cock, prince," he chuckled, thrusting his hips at a languid pace. Jeongin hissed, his cock clenched hard within Jisung's tight ribbed walls, "Keep praising, he loves it," he groaned, spanking Jisung's plump ass. Seungmin smirked, hearing Jisung gag around his cockhead, "You're doing so well, pretty boy. Warm tight mouth feeling so good around me," he cooed, stroking Jisung's cheek. 

Jeongin picked up his pace, thrusting at a merciless pace. Drawing muffled whines and whimpers from Jisung. "Fuck sake. I don't think I can hold it if you're mmh gonna keep, hah doing that," he growled, thrusting his cock in tandem with Jeongin's pace. "Cumming, fuck, fuck," Jeongin cried out, pumping his hot searing load up Jisung's tight hole. Seungmin hissed, ejaculating down Jisungs throat soon after, "Good job, you did so good," he rasped, stroking Jisung's hard. 

Hyunjin chuckled, "Poor baby, came untouched twice. His poor leaky cock looks spent," he teased, tugging on Jisung's  veiny cock. Jeongin whimpered when Jisung clenched hard around his shaft, "Shit, shit, shit. Hyung!" He exclaimed, swatting at Hyunjin. "Sorry, sorry," Hyunjin cooed, kissing Jisungs forehead. Drool dripped down your lips, your mind hazy and clouded by pleasure overwhelming your senses. 

Chan easily manhandled your body up and down his and Changbin's cock. Your cunt was stuffed to brim with Changbin's girthy wide cock. Chan's cock buried deep up your ass, your holes puffy and swollen from their constant deep thrusts. You stared up at Hyunjin with a dazed look, orgasm after orgasm pulled from your pliant body. "Such a creamy hole, your puffy cunt is just leaking with cum isn't it?" he asked, swiping the ring of cum by the base of Changbin's cock and tasted it. 

Chan groaned, "Go give Lixie some attention, he's been hard since Minho allowed him to rest," he grunted, rubbing your swollen clit from the back. Changbin latched on your nipples, his teeth and tongue stimulating your body to the brink. "Hah, huh, hhgh, hah," you slurred, barely coherent with your words. Hyunjin held your jaw, kissing you softly, "Sweet," he whispered, sucking  on your tongue. Your eyes rolled back, quivering around their cocks as your orgasm squirted onto Changbin's lap. 

Changbin growled, pumping a heavy load up your womb, coating every part white, "Shit, angel. You took me off guard," he chuckled, kissing your jaw. Hyunjin pulled away, "Don't make her pass out," he teased, walking towards Felix. "How's my little boy?" He asked, stroking Felix's leaking cock. Felix bucked his hips, craving the friction, "Feel good, Hyunnie," he slurred, moaning quietly at the pleasing pleasure. 

Hyunjin smiled, aligning his cock with Felix's, "Rest, I'll take care of you," he reassured, pumping his wrist around their cocks. His hand easily held them in between. "Hah, hah, hhgh,”  Felix whined,  clawing the couch below as he obediently took the pleasure Hyunjin gave. Hyunjin groaned, rubbing their slits with his other hand, "Mmh, feels good doesn't it, hah, ah, fuck," he grunted, stroking their cocks at a needy pace. 

Felix whimpered, "Cumming, cumming!" he cried, painting his torso white once more, his cum hitting his chin. Hyunjin growled at the sight, ejaculating hard onto Felix's face. Felix moaned at the warm facial, darting his tongue out to taste. Hyunjin  felt his cock twitch, "Fuck, baby. You're so perfect," he said in awe, kissing Felix's nose.

"Aww, look at them," Chan cooed, tucking the three of you in warm cosy blankets. Minho chuckled, "They look too innocent. It's dangerous," he teased, putting a plush in each of your arms. You whined and squinted at them with tired eyes. Seungmin stroked your hair, "Go back to sleep," he whispered, humming a soft lullaby. It didn't take long for the three of you to melt into the mattress with smiles on your face.

[kaliforniahigh]

Requesting a story about your wedding night with Noah. It's neither of your first time, but your first time as husband and wife so it's more special... a combination of fluff and smut? 🩷

I hope it was a good ratio of fluff and smut. Thank you so much for the request! I really enjoyed writing this one <3 I'm drooling thinking about Noah wearing a suit on your wedding night.

Warnings: 18+ marriage, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap your willy), shower sex, oral (male receiving), fluff, a litte dirty talk, Noah is a little tease. I think that's it.

Requests are closed for now.

WC: 3.1k

You and Noah decided to distance your wedding venue from Los Angeles. The buzz of the busy city too much for such an intimate moment. So you decided to choose a wedding venue up North in the state of California, inviting your friends and closest family only.

The day was beautiful, it was everything you imagined your wedding would be. You cried, you danced, you kissed and called Noah your husband a million times, not getting enough of the fact that you got to marry your best friend in the entire world.

For the party, you changed into a flowy dress and a pair of Converse, feeling like you worn heels for long enough already. Now, though, as you and Noah made your way back to the hotel you were staying at, all you wanted was to take a warm shower to wash your hair and the make up off.

Your hands were intertwined in the middle console of the car, and took the chance to observe your husband. He looked so good the whole night, you actually wanted to drag him into a random room in the venue and have your way with him.

Now the fire burned even brighter inside of you. He discarded his suit jacket, only wearing a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos on his arms on display. And if the lights from the streets illuminated him just right, you could see the tattoos on his chest underneath the fabric of his shirt.

His hair was tousled from his - and your - hands running through it. He played with your wedding ring on your left hand from time to time, and you decided to tease him a little.

Grabbing his hand, you started to move it away from the center console and closer to your thighs. Your dress rode up a little bit from you sitting down, so his hand felt warm on your skin. You turned sideways a little, so you could face him more head on, back partially resting against the car door.

He knew what you were up to. He noticed your looks throughout the whole night, and the way you desperately kissed him on the dance floor one too many times. He was glad the lightning was low, preventing the guests noticing his cock straining against his slacks. He had to go to the bedroom and adjust himself in his pants a couple of times.

The air inside the car got hotter and hotter as the seconds ticked by, even with the AC on blast. He stared briefly at you and saw the sluttiest look taking over your face. His hand on your thigh gripping the flesh tighter.

"What are you doing, princess?", he asked, voice low and eyes focused on the road ahead of him, but his mind was filled of thoughts of you.

"Nothing. Just getting comfy", your voice was sweet, not at all masking the true intentions of your actions.

"Don't act as if you wouldn't like if I slid my had up just a little", he inched his hand a little higher to get his point across, "and buried my fingers inside your sweet little cunt"

His lewd words made your breath come quicker and you spread your legs a little wider.

"Would you do that?", your voice was smooth and a little persuasive, be he wasn't caving in so easily.

"Nah, you're gonna have to be a good little wife and wait to get want you want", he took another look at you and saw your face fall a little, a whine falling from your lips. "Look at you. We haven't even been married for a day and you're already begging to be fucked", his tone was condenscending, but his words were true. You were begging to be fucked by your husband.

"I can be a good wife and wait", you told him.

"I bet you can, baby", his hand smoothed over your skin, caressing it this time, a stark contrast compared to the firm grip he had before. A signal that he was satisfied with your answer.

As soon as he parked the car, you pratically stumbled out the door, hearing Noah laugh behind you. You shared a few kisses in the elevator up to your room. It was late, so you didn't expect anyone to interrupt you.

"Hold on", he said, before you made your way to the door of your room.

You felt your feet leave the ground in a second, Noah scooping you up in his arms, bridal style. You laughed at the sudden motion, but crossed your arms over his neck anyway, gazing lovingly into his eyes that were so full of adoration for you.

The mood from the car shifted from lust to an undeniable sense of love filling both of your hearts. He leaned his head close to yours, giving you a slight eskimo kiss. Neither one of you bothered to be standing on the middle of the corridor.

"Hello, wife", he mumbled, giving you a peck on the lips.

"Hey, husband", you returned the kiss. "It's so high up here", you looked around yourself.

"Ok, smartass. Let's get you inside that room", with that, he started walking down the long hallway.

Getting the card in the door was a little bit of a hassle, but you managed it, and Noah made an exaggerated motion of stepping in the room with his right foot.

The hotel room was cozy. Warm colors adorned the walls, and the lightning added to the ambiance. The king sized bed in the middle.

"I don't know about you, but I'm crazy to try out that shower", Noah said, still holding you in his arms as he walked over to the bathroom, not even waiting for an answer.

"You read my mind. I'm in desperate need for a warm shower", you hummed in satisfaction just thinking about it.

"That's why we got married, babe", he finally put you down on the floor. He started to unbutton his shirt, but you stopped him in his tracks, grabbing his hands and putting them back by his sides.

"Your wife is undressing you today", you said as your nimble fingers started to undo button by button. You took your time, caressing his chest as you went. You saw him close his eyes, just enjoying the feeling of your fingers on him. After you were done with the front buttons, you moved to his sleeves, unrolling them and undoing the buttons there.

You untucked the shirt from his slacks and let it fall to the floor. Before moving on to his pants, you planted soft kisses all over his chest, provoking goosebumps all over his arms, hairs standing on end. Smelling his cologne on him and focusing on his breath that was starting to pick up, you fumbled with his belt with your lips still on him.

Pulling it off, it joined the shirt on the floor, and soon his pants were meeting the same fate. He helped you along, taking off his shoes and socks.

His hands went to your hips, as he maneuvered you to turn your back to him. He kissed down the column of your neck, moving your hair to the side with the softest touch, his lips moving over your shoulder blades, lips skimming over your skin. You felt his breath on you, warming you up inside.

He delicately started to zip your dress down, his fingertips grabbing the thin straps that rested on your shoulders, pulling them down. Your dress fell to the floor with ease, slipping down your frame. You turned to look at him in the eyes, gauging his reaction.

The lingerie you had on underneath managed to render Noah speechless. The lace had an intricate pattern, the bra wasn't padded, so he could see your pert nipples underneath. He wanted to bite you.

"You look so fucking good in this, baby", his words were breathless, eyes not able to stay locked on yours, as they wandered all over your body. "But I need you naked right now", his gaze darkened with his words.

He reached behind you to unclasp your bra. He took it off, setting the delicate piece on the counter behind you, hands going to your breasts that were now free for him to palm.

He slid down on the floor to sit on his knees, hands sliding down your torso to hook his finger under the waistband of your panties. Taking the last garment of clothing off your body, he kissed his way back up again, kissing you on the lips and placing you on the bathroom counter.

You hissed at the feeling of the cold marble on your bare ass cheeks, but hooked your legs on Noah's hips nonetheless, feet clawing at his boxers, urging for him to take them off. He complied, parting from your lips briefly.

When he was bare in front of you for the first time that day, you couldn't help but reach for his member, that was already hard and an angry shade of red, desperate for attention.

He threw his head back at the feeling of your small hand working him up and down, entertaining the moment for only a few seconds, before he pulled your hand away from him.

"I'd love to just slide inside of you right about now, but I was serious about that shower", he stepped back a little. "I'l get the water ready in the temperature I know you like. You just sit here and look pretty for me"

You decided to be a little shit and slap his bum lightly just as he moved towards the shower. He yelped a little at the feeling, but laughed at your antics.

Fumbling with the shower handle for a while and putting his hand under the stream of water to test the temperature. You took the time to get some bobby pins out of your hair, setting them on the counter. Shortly after, he beckoned you over, finally finding the perfect warmth.

He let you step in first, the water soaking your hair and your body. He got in after you, hugging your frame from behind, bodies sticking together under the warm water.

Noah reached for the hotel shampoo on the shelf. You brought your own, but it was in your suitcase and you couldn't be bothered to break this moment of pure bliss just to retrieve a bottle of shampoo. So you let him lather it up on his hands and spread it all over your locks.

You loved it when he washed your hair. His strong hands firm on your scalp, giving you a delicious massage, as you closed your eyes and leaned your back on his chest.

He asked you to step back under the water to wash off the suds, and after you were done, you did the same with his hair, struggling a bit with the height difference, but you made it work.

You really had to focus on what you were doing, his hard dick poking your stomach making your mind go to places that would surely deviate you from the task at hand.

After both of your locks were squeaky clean, you couldn't ignore your desires anymore. Softly pushing him against the shower wall, he went without resistance. It was his turn now to hiss at the cold feeling.

You didn't waste any more time, as you sank to your knees in front of him, taking him in your hands once again, giving him a few experimental strokes. He sighed in satisfaction at the feeling.

"Fuck, baby", his right hand went to your head, prompting you to take him into your mouth. "I've been waiting all fucking day for this"

You complied with his request, sucking on his tip first and going down his shaft little by little. His breath was ragged, and you looked up at him, to find his tattoed torso glistening with the water, making him look like a god above you.

He was looking down at you, mouth hanging open and eyes half lidded with desire. This made you work your mouth on him faster, wanting to draw from him the noises you knew he could make.

"Fuck, you're taking me so fucking well", he grunted, his voice already sounding so fucked out. You took him as far down as you could, your gag reflex making you choke on him, saliva dribbling from your chin and tears coating your eyes.

"Fucking look at you. Taking my cock like the good wife that you are", the words falling from his lips made your head feel dizzy. All you've ever wanted was to make your husband feel good.

"Gonna cum in my mouth?", you asked him, eyes red with tears as he ran his hand over your face.

"Hmhm, you gonna swallow everything?", you nodded feverishly, taking him back inside your mouth.

You knew it wasn't gonna take long for him to cum. The grunts and sighs slipping freely from his mouth now, only urging you to take him further down your throat. His grip tightened on your hair and his thighs started to shake. You were a little scared he was going to slip at some point.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum", he said in a high pitched voice, holding your head still as you felt him release inside your mouth with warm spurts. You kept him in your mouth until he let you go, body sagging slightly against the wall. He was mindful to help you up from the floor.

"How's your knee?" he asked you, pulling you in for an embrace. His skin was hot on yours, chest littered with red splotches.

"They'll bruise a little, but it's ok", you caressed his hair as you answered his question.

Turning you both around, he caged you in with one arm resting on the wall, the other going down your side to hitch one of your legs over his hips. He pressed his cock on your center, the feeling making you whimper.

"Noah, please...", you said into the air, your hand gripping his neck.

"What do you need baby? Tell me what you need"

"I need you", you pleaded again.

"Yeah? Need your husband to fuck you real good?", he teased with a smirk on his face. You noticed his hand pumping himself a few times, getting himself ready once again.

The leg that was over his hips nudged him forward.

"Please, need my husband to make me feel good", you emphasized your words with a roll of your hips.

"I'm going to, baby. Hold on to my shoulders", you placed both hands there, planting your feet firmly on the ground beneath you.

You felt him lining himself up with your entrance, a moan already leaving your lips from how sensitive you were.

"Shhh, I'm not even in yet, sweet girl"

"It feels so good", your voice was strained with anticipation.

"I know, baby. I know"

A few seconds later he was all the way inside you, filling you up so nicely you couldn't even fathom words to describe the feeling. He kept himself still for a moment, before rolling his hips at a slow pace.

Despite your desperation, you let him set the rhythm, not wanting to rush anything.

"Shit, I swear you feel even better now that I finally made you my wife", you could only moan in response, agreeing with his statement.

He gripped your bum and pushed your bodies closer together, picking up the pace and hitting that spot inside you perfectly, making your noises grow louder, mixing with the water still falling from above.

"Noah...", you called out his name, he hummed in acknowledgement. "I'm not gonna last long", you let him know, voice breathy and full of need.

"It's ok, babygirl. I'm not gonna last long either"

He slipped in and out easily and you felt everything. His chest, his damp hair on your hand, and his lips as he started to kiss your neck. The sensation was too much for you. You already felt the butterflies swimming in your belly, ready to be released and make you fly into cloud nine.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum", you mumbled almost incoherently. "Please, please, please", you didn't even know what you were begging for, but you kept pleading.

"Cum for me, baby. I'm right there with you", his words were all you needed as you felt the sensation of your orgasm take over your body. Your moans the loudest they've been tonight.

You could hear Noah grunting and cursing under his breath, his hips stilled and he gripped your body tightly, keeping you in place.

The two of you just stood there, reveling in the feeling of one the best sex you've had together.

"I think my legs are gonna give out", you let him know. They felt like jelly under you, as you unhooked the leg that was resting on his hip.

"I got you. I'm holding you. Don't even know how I'm standing myself", he let out a little laugh, still a little out of it.

"Hey", you called for his attention. You took his face in your hands, pushing his hair back on his forehead. "I love you so much. I'm so excited to live the rest of my life with you", he smiled the most beautiful smile you've seen on him, and nuzzled his nose in yours just like earlier in the night.

"You make me the happiest man on this planet. I can't wait to create so many memories together", he kissed your lips passionately.

Regaining a little bit of balance, you bodies disentangled from each other.

"We should probably finish this shower, or they'll curse us for the water bill", he noted and you giggled, not really knowing how long you spent there enjoying each other's bodies.

Minutes later, you both laid in bed, completely spent from the day and the activities that just took place in the shower.

Noah studied your left hand, the one that now carried a beautiful gold band.

"Sometimes I'm scared I won't be a good husband", he thought out loud. You turned your body on the bed to look at him.

"Sometimes I'm also scared I won't be a good wife", you confessed yourself. You haven't seen many happy marriages throughout your life, but you felt from the beginning that you and Noah were different from everyone else, and that's what prompted you to say the next words. "But we're us, and we're gonna figure this out together, no matter what happens. And we'll let each other know if one of us is not being a good partner"

Communication was always key in your relationship from the very beginning. You struggled a bit at first, but soon realized that if you wanted it to last - and you desperatly did - you had to communicate with him, and him with you.

"We have each other, we're gonna be just fine", he decided.

"Yes, we are" you agreed with him.

Turns out you didn't really need the king sized, because you slept snuggled so close together, that most of the space in bed went unused - until you woke up in the morning and Noah decided to have you in every position inaginable.

[shoyoist]

thinking about the blue lock boys buying you a necklace with their jersey number engraved on it :( and writing your initials on their clear but specifically their dominant foot cause they just feel closer to you that way :( like you’re helping guide him to the goal :(

content: gn reader. fluff !! — competitive and possessive dynamics. pro football player! characters (they all made it out of blue lock alive alright). + i added a little bonus section at the end, hehe<3

— . ｡˚ ♡ the whole world watches, while he shows you off as his own <3

BACHIRA, REO, YUKIMIYA, AIKU, KAISER.

a necklace with his jersey number dangling on it, like a charm. he gets it custom made for you, in sterling silver or 24-carat gold, depending on your tastes. but he doesn't let you know that he has it, waits for the perfect moment in which he can surprise you with it.

which happens to be right before his team lines up for a final match, on live TV at the big arena, with all lights, cameras and eyes pointing right at you both.

he's getting in line with the rest of his teammates — the commentators and cameras paying full attention to him, the star and powerhouse of the team, going “there he is. the deity of the field!” as he walks onto the field, smile already on his face when he looks up, for the world to swoon over.

he's handsome. you think, standing at the very front row, dressed in the pretty clothes that he'd got for you just last night, matching the colours of his team. he looks the best when he's on the field, fully confident in the fact that he's going to be going home with a new medal around his neck.

what you don't know is that you're about to get something around your neck too, before he wins his game.

“excuse me,” he says smoothly, to the coach and the few staff members that surround him, glancing knowingly at the cameras recording him (and looking into the eyes of all the fans that are watching him on live TV) before he saunters off, heading to the edge of the field where you're standing behind a display board.

it's clear that he's staring at you as he walks over — gaze softening as he meets your eyes, watching how your own eyes widen with surprise and a hint of shyness, as the surrounding audience erupts into whispers.

“sweetheart,” he grins at you, stopping on the other side of the perimeter board — and you blush when the audience gasps, blush when he gives them all another glance, before smirking down at you. “got something for you.”

he holds his hand out and shows you what he has hidden in his fist — a necklace with his jersey number on it, spelled out on a charm.

the crowd continues to get louder, and you can make out some people's cries; are they dating? god he was taken this whole time? and the commentators join in, declaring into the speakers that your boyfriend seems to be taking a minute to give a gift to a little someone special—

and you blush harder as you stand there, almost frozen as he gently puts the necklace around your neck, the metal chain and charm cold but somehow blooming warmth on your skin as it touches you.

“with that outfit, you're matching the whole team, hm?” he smiles at you, so overwhelmingly charming. “so you keep this necklace on for me. let's everyone know you're here for me. yeah?”

“y—yeah.” you try to look down, so fucking shy under his bright gaze and gorgeous smile, but he grabs your chin and lifts your face back up to give your lips a little kiss.

the whole stadium erupts into cheers and screams. he kissed you on live TV. your face feels hot, you think you're dizzy — but you manage to hear him faintly over the buzz in your head and the screaming of the crowd as he pats your cheek before jogging off back to join his team in line. “cheer for me, won't you? i'll win this game 'n take you out for dinner after.”

SHIDOU, KUNIGAMI, ISAGI, RAICHI, BAROU.

has your initials written on the side of his cleats, on his dominant foot. even better actually — he got you to write it for him. he wants it done with your pretty hands and in your pretty handwriting, that's so much better than his own.

thanks you and gives you a kiss on the side of your forehead, when you finish it and hand the shoe to him. you're both knelt together on the floor of your shared place, and the look in his eyes when he kisses you is so tender. “i'll score every goal with you in mind, a'right?”

and every time he's on the field, fire in his veins and the never ending lust and hunger for a full victory in his soul, he gives you a glance as you jump up and down in your special spot in the stands, cheering for him with all you've got — and that's when he zeroes in on the ball.

the look in his eyes is anything but tender then — hyper-focused, bright and vicious is how he watches the ball as it slips from the opposing player's dribble, and it's impossible for anyone, whether from the other team or his own, to make it to the ball before he does.

he lunges forward once he gains control of the ball, a sort of heat already spreading through his dominant leg as he advances towards the goal to shoot — and with your initials on his cleats and your pretty smile on his mind, he thinks he can break the limit.

he's never scored a goal from this distance before. with the game about to close, it's crucial that he doesn't take any risks and ensures that his shot scores a proper goal.

otherwise, his team might lose. failure was not an option.

but with your presence — both physical and emotional — fueling him, he takes the chance. he takes the chance, puts all the force he has in that sculpted, trained body of his, and he shoots.

he shoots and he scores.

the commentators and crowd go wild alike, screaming in joy over the secured win, because with five minutes left on the clock there's no way the other team can catch up any more — and your boyfriend ignores the cheers of his teammates, turning in place to face you.

“he scored! god, he's undefeatable!” the commentator's voice echoes through the stadium, and he thinks yeah, that's right. he cannot be defeated — not when you're there to guide him to the goal every single time.

he turns to you, and you wave your arms in the air, calling out his name and yelling out an i love you! — and with the TV overhead showing the scorer off we he stands on the field, you can't miss the way the corners of his mouth lift in a smile.

i love you, too. he mouths back to you, with every other person watching the game in the world to see it.

NAGI, CHIGIRI, RIN, OTOYA, SAE.

he kisses you after every game that he wins. and he makes sure he scores the final goal.

it's an elaborate contest that he has with himself, and the rest of the world has joined in on it. you sit and wait in your reserved seat in the stands, the smoothie he had ordered for you sitting empty in your hands as you watch your boyfriend weave past defender after defender — the audience and every other player all focusing more and more on him as time ticks by.

the match is currently at a draw — and the other team is fighting with everything they've got to guard him, trying to prevent him from breaking through and scoring that final goal.

but your boyfriend isn't so easily countered.

even when he's playing laid-back, he's a demon on the playing field. he's fast, agile and he doesn't take any chances. and now? with only a few minutes left before the penalty round, he's set to score the winning goal.

“will he break through? will he be able to make it this time?”

he almost spins around to scoff at the camera. of course he's going to make it. he always does. the other team nearly swarms him as he closes in on his shooting range, but what they aren't aware of is that he doesn't need to be in range to make his shot count.

his play style is all about breaking limits. which is what he does, when he shoots from nearly the other side of the arena and watched the ball curve smoothly yet maintaining an impossible speed, past the goalie's reach and into the net. the timer buzzes only seconds afterwards. “and he scores the final goal yet again!”

the crowd cheers, and while the commentators remark to eachother that they all know what's about to happen next, your boyfriend walks over to where you're still seated expectantly, hopping easily over the perimeter boards to get to you.

you get up then, and he curls a hand around your waist and pulls you in, pressing a kiss into your hair as the audience coos in response to the show all around you. (he'd kiss your lips, but he's sweaty right now and he's not sure you'd appreciate a mouthful of salt).

and he sighs, unresponsive when you chide him for being arrogant, and mutters into the shell of your ear, “mhm. let's go home, baby. 'm tired.”

[stvharrngton]

don’t leave me hangin’ on the telephone

a/n: just a lil somethin somethin i wrote inspired by a certain blondie song :^)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, phone sex, masturbation (both f and m), dirty talk, friends to lovers sorta, hint of perv!steve if you squint

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

Your back hit your bed with a quiet thud, your clothes still stuck to your body, one shoe off, one shoe on. The bottle of wine, or two, you shared with Nancy sounded like a great idea at the time but now the room was spinning and your skin was buzzing, it seemed less so.

Groaning, you managed to get your other shoe off, downing half the glass of water you’d left on your nightstand. You glanced at the red numbers on your alarm clock, 12:02 they read, and then at the phone on the table.

Wine always had you like this. A little needy, a little desperate. Hot under the collar and skin clammy, usually fixed with a cold shower or a hand shoved down your panties.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, toying with the flesh as the scenario you imagined swirled around your brain. He’d been on your mind all night, in fact, he was never off your mind. A crush on your best friend that he was totally oblivious to.

“Fuck it,” you sighed, picking up the phone and dialling the number you had memorised long ago. It rang out a couple times, a part of you hoped that he wouldn’t pick up but another part of you hoped he really fucking did.

“Hello?”

Your heart was in your throat as the person on the end of the line answered, their voice gravelly and rough as if they’d just woken up. 

“Hi, Stevie,” you whispered as innocently as you could. Fingers curling around the phone cord as you try your best to remain calm.

“What time is it, is everything okay?” your heart swooned at the quick change of tone in his voice, the panic evident. Steve knew you were hanging out with Nancy tonight and there would be alcohol involved, he just hoped you hadn’t gotten yourself into any trouble.

“A little after midnight,” you replied, your fingers toying with the strap on your top, thighs squeezing together at the mere sound of Steve’s voice on the other end, “and I’m okay, just wanted to hear your voice s’all.”

Ouch, subtlety was never your thing when tipsy. You could only imagine the look on Steve’s face in the dark of his bedroom, hair still full of sleep, lips soft and pink, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” You could hear the cockyness clear in his voice, the sound making you gnaw on your bottom lip out of arousal.

“No reason.” You lied. There was a reason, a reason that you hoped Steve would be able to pick up on so you wouldn’t have to utter the words yourself. Something told you that you were both on the same page.

Steve thought he was dreaming when he answered the phone and you were on the other line, voice sweet like saccharine. Truth be told you were all Steve thought about. His gaze follows you whenever you aren't looking, thoughts circling his mind about how his life would be ten times better if you were his girl. Innocence interrupted by impure dreams of how good you would look bouncing on his cock whenever you would wear that skimpy red two piece by his pool, or that skirt was a little too short.

“I’ll just hang up then if you won’t tell me, sweetheart.” Steve teased.

“No!” you cried, internally closing in on yourself at how desperate you sounded, “No, please don’t go.” Your fingers were now teasing the waistband of your shorts, your need to keep Steve on the line ever present.

Steve chuckled on the other end, hushing you as you got yourself worked up. “Fine, fine,” he started, “but you gotta give me something here, love.”

You groaned, cursing as you hoped he wouldn’t actually make you say it. “Just keep talking, please?” you asked, fluttering your lashes wishing he could see, “I just need to–” you cut yourself off, preserving your dignity.

Steve played along happily, engaging in small talk until he could hear the quiet breaths and subtle groans coming from the end of the line, “Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” he blurted out.

You could only respond with a small moan, your fingers now situated in your panties, your index finger teasing your throbbing clit. Your eyes shot open as soon as the noise left your mouth, heat rising to your cheeks in total embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Steve whispered under his breath, “are you touching yourself, pretty girl?” he cooed, his attention fully on the sounds you were making on the other end of the line.

“No, I–” your voice quivered, “you think I’m pretty?” you asked innocently, Steve’s words suddenly registering in your foggy brain.

Steve chuckled, running a hand through his messy bed hair, “I do, yeah,” you could hear his breath become a little heavier, a little more shaky, “but I’d think you were a whole lot prettier if your hand was in those panties.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, your clit throbbing beneath your fingers. All you could hear was your racing heart beat, all the blood rushing to the tips of your ears. Steve’s voice rang in your ears when he spoke up again.

“You still there, babe?” He asked, minor concern mixed with self assuredness lacing his voice.

“I’m still here, Stevie,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see you.

“Good girl,” he cooed, “gonna tell me what you’ve been thinkin’ about?” he asked, his own palm running down his chest now, fingers sitting pretty at the waistband of his boxers.

You considered not answering, considered telling him some lie that somehow ended up with your fingers playing with your pussy to the sound of Steve’s voice, but fuck it, you were too far gone.

“Y-you.” Your voice was shaky, full of adrenaline and wracked with nerves. You squeezed your eyes shut as you waited for his response, your thighs clenching as your clit throbbed in anticipation.

“Yeah?” he questioned, “What about me?” 

You sighed in response, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. You cursed Steve at the boldness of his question and you knew he would pull the answer from you one way or another. On the other hand your head was too fuzzy and all you could think about was the tension in your lower stomach and Steve.

“Your fingers.” you breathed, fingers now circling your clit once more.

“Oh yeah?” Steve chuckled, “What about my fingers, pretty girl?”

The pet name made you swoon and your heart beat faster, “How good they’d feel in my pussy,” you whispered down the phone. You were now long past caring about any feelings of embarrassment or preserving any dignity.

You heard Steve mumble out a curse on the other end of the line before he spoke again, “Mm, I bet they would. Why don’t you take your fingers and pretend they’re mine for a minute, hm?”

“Fuck,” you whined as your fingers moved further south, circling your entrance before you plunged a single finger into your cunt. You breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling, a sound that went straight to Steve’s cock.

The boy had his fingers wrapped around his length now, softly tugging as his lips parted, praying to God that this was real and wasn’t some sort of cruel dream. He had the girl of his dreams moaning and whimpering on the end of the phone line, Steve swore he had died and gone to Heaven.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He cooed, his voice sticky sweet and a sexy kind of patronising.

“Y-yes,” you moaned, trying your best to curl your finger like you imagined Steve would, “but it would feel better if it was the real thing.” 

“I’m sure it would, honey,” you heard Steve mumble, before hearing the sound of him clearly spitting into the palm of his hand rang loud in your ear, the sound going straight to your core, your arousal coating your fingers and leaking down onto the sheets, “and I’ll give you the real thing, real soon, I promise, but can you do one thing for me?”

Your fingers slowed as your eyebrows pinched together before you stuttered out, “Yes, Steve, I’ll do anything.”

Steve wished you could see the smirk on his face at your response, his fingers still wrapped firmly around his aching cock as his spoke, “Wanna grab that flesh coloured toy I know you keep in your bottom drawer and fuck yourself with it f’me?”

You gasped at his request, your movements all but stopping in their tracks. You wracked your brain as to how he would know what you kept in that drawer but you were all but stumped. The silence on your end of the line had Steve wondering if he’d crossed a line and taken it too far but he couldn’t help himself.

Truth is, he’d seen the silicone length, complete with veins, tucked away when you’d left the drawer open accidentally when you’d excused yourself to the bathroom a month or so ago. And Steve found it simply impossible to get the image of you filling yourself up with the toy out of his mind.

“Is that okay?” Steve asked, bottom lip held firmly between his teeth now. Heat rising to his cheeks at the thought of being rejected. He could hear you moving and rustling at the other end, the anticipation making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His heart was racing, his hands growing clammy. Saliva thick in his mouth as his stomach churned with nerves.

You settled back against your plump pillows with the dildo in hand, holding the phone to your ear once more. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared at the toy, “I have it.” you squeaked out, feeling yourself get wetter by the second.

“Oh, that’s a good girl,” Steve purred, his fist beginning to pump at his cock once more, “now can you suck on it a little? Get it nice and wet f’me, baby.”

You mumbled a little mhm down the phone and Steve could only imagine what you looked like with, could only dream about what you would like with his own cock in your mouth, bright eyes blinking up at him and spit dripping down your chin. Fuck, what Steve wouldn’t give to see that.

You whined down the receiver as your hand was preoccupied, leaving you to only be able to squeeze your thighs together. The sound of you sucking and slurping on the silicone cock made Steve impossibly harder, his cock now aching and throbbing, the tip angry and leaking precum.

Steve’s jaw went slack at the sound of the dildo hitting the back of your throat, gagging on the toy, a string of spit still attached to the thing as you pulled it from your mouth. You breathed heavy down the line as you regained your composure.

“Christ,” Steve groaned, his stomach tensing as he squeezing his eyes shut, “why don’t you stretch out that little hole for me?”

You gulped at his words, teasing yourself with the toy like you usually did. Letting the tip of the dildo brush over your clit a couple times before you pushed the head into your entrance, wincing at the sweet little stretch it created. You moaned loudly once you sunk the toy a quarter of the way in, moving it in and out slowly.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve cooed, “can you go a little faster for me? Wanna hear how wet that pretty little pussy is.” 

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned before obeying his wishes, speeding up your movements, fucking the dildo in and out of your cunt faster now. In a deliberate attempt to tease the boy, get him real riled up, you pulled on the phone, stretching the cord until the receiver was closer to the apex of your thighs.

The loud sound of the wet slap of your pussy as you fucked yourself with the toy boomed over the line and Steve reacted as expected. Hand tugging on his cock faster now, his feet firmly planted on his mattress as he bucked his hips up into his hand, his breath getting heavier and his moans getting louder.

You brought the phone back to your ear so you could moan out the boy’s name, “Oh, Steve,” you whimpered, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten.

“You’re doing so well, honey, fuck–” Steve groaned, “taking that cock so well, huh? Can’t wait to see you take the real thing, shit, bet that pussy’s just the sweetest little thing, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, yeah, Stevie,” you whined, bucking your hips to match the movements of the toy, “wish you were here. Need your cock so bad.”

Steve wasn’t even here and you were already so fucked out, so close to your orgasm, one you knew was going to wipe you out. The sound of his strained voice over the line, his unruly and raspy moans were driving you insane. 

“Don’t worry pretty girl,” he cooed, “you’ll get it real soon, I’ll fuck you real good, nice and deep. I bet that’s how you like it, hm?” 

Once Steve opened his mouth the words wouldn’t stop. There was no going back now, no hiding any feelings, no sparing himself of any embarrassment. The poor boy was drunk on you, drunk on the sweet little whines and whimpers that found their way down the phone receiver. 

“It is, yes, fuck, it is,” you cried, “I need to cum, Steve, please?” You dropped your grip on the toy, your fingers resuming their circles on your clit, your movements becoming faster, “Oh, please can I cum?”

“Fucking hell,” Steve groaned, his own orgasm around the corner, “yeah, go on baby, cum for me.” 

The boy’s words pushed you over the edge, your legs shaking as you writhed on the bed. Your pussy fluttered as you came, moaning Steve’s name down the receiver like a song, the sweetest melody that Steve had ever heard. 

“That’s my good girl, does that feel good?” Steve’s palm was slick with his own spit as it was wrapped tightly around his cock, pumping his fist harder and faster. Steve moaned loudly as you rode out your high, his own climax a stroke of his cock away.

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, toes curling into the sheets as he came, painting his stomach with ropes of hot cum. Babbling words of praise and incoherent moans into the phone, followed by heavy breaths.

The line went quiet for a beat, nothing to be heard but the both of you catching your breaths and regaining your composure. Your head became clear now, no longer tipsy, no longer desperate, suddenly realising what had just happened. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you went to speak, before Steve cut you off.

“I think I owe you a real date after that,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “pick you up at 7?”

[tojisun]

sunnyyy!! omg omg okay so idk what you put in your toxic dbf series but im sure its crack cause i know its freaking hurtful but i love it!! ur mind is >>>>>

alsoooo, i have this idea that i plan on writing for miguel but idk where to start SO IM GIVINF IT TO YOUUU!!

so lets call her bunny in this one. say bunny is enough of his shit, won’t let him do her dirty anymore because she refuses to be stupid. she’s no longer cassie howard and moves on to another man. a man who knows what he wants and who isn’t afraid to let her know that he wants her. he’ll cherish her, he adores the fuck out of her, he shows her off and he makes a promise to put a ring on her finger,

but simon doesn’t like that. not even one bit. and it ticks him off because why is he like this? why is he so worked up that she finds someone who finally treats her better than she can? yet, he can’t let it go. he lets her know. she has to know.

and so, at two am he comes knocking at her door. flowers in his hand, nicely dressed for the first time to let her know that he’s doing it for her and only her. not erin.

and it takes a lot in her to not slam the door in his face because she’s happy right now,

“you look at him the way i wanted to be looked by you, sweetheart” he admits, swallowing the lump in his throat. “and i envy that.”

she stares at him with a deadpan look. not really feeling a single thing anymore, leading him to continue.

“i have no right to say that, i know but—“ he pauses to take a deep breath. “i want to be with you. i want to be your man and i want you to let me”

she doesn’t want him to

ANA?? ANA MY LOVE???? THIS MAKES ME VIOLENTLY ILL

thinking about this in the dbf!simon series??? oh but im absolutely sobbing // same timeline as this !!

thinking about how you cry and wail and mourn for the years wasted on simon. thinking about the way you crumple on your bed, curling underneath your sheets, your cries now having been reduced to silent tears—this doesn’t mean you feel any better. instead, you feel even more distraught, upset in a way that feels bigger than yourself.

thinking about the promise you make to yourself. how, when the morning breaks, you will move on. that no matter how painful it may be—and it will be—you will strive to let go of simon. truly and completely this time around.

and that’s what you do. you fall asleep in exhaustion, heart heavy and mind buzzed. in the morning, you blink your eyes open and lay in bed for a few more minutes, suspended above your heartbreak, before it all comes crashing down on you. tears trickle from the corners of your eyes but you stay resolute, strong grip corralling your grief into the corner of your heart, before you get your day going.

you start by throwing everything that reminds you of simon: polaroid pictures and framed photos, shirts and clothes and socks and lingeries, towels and bedsheets, trinkets and accessories from across the globe—little souvenirs he’s brought to appease you.

(in the long haul, many of them were actually donated, while some were sold. but today, as you submerged yourself in your heartache, you dumped everything in a black garbage bag. out of sight, out of mind.)

blocking simon’s number actually turned out to be last. you deleted the pictures you have with simon in your phone prior, and then blocked and deleted his number altogether.

you breathed in deeply once you’re finished and collapsed to your bed again, trying to ignore the bareness of the walls and the emptiness of your room (let alone your heart).

the tears come again—they will come more often than not—and you let them. you open the locked corner of your heart and let the grief out. you mourn for what was lost; for what could’ve been. but most importantly, you mourn for the ways you’ve let yourself be trapped in such an unhappy moment.

moving on comes slowly; it comes so torturously that you thought it would never happen. but it does, and it does so during one quiet afternoon.

on that day, you realize that not once did you think of simon. not once did the memories trickle in to rip you away from the jovial present. and as you stand there in your kitchen, the sounds of the microwave beeps piercing through mutedly, you feel remade.

you feel whole, once again.

-

simon noticed, of course. he noticed the way your messages stopped coming in, or the way you no longer use your dad as an excuse to meet simon, or the way you just fell off the radar.

simon tried to reach out to you once and realized that you’ve got his number blocked.

it’s whatever, he thinks. because simon has never known you well, has never tried to learn more about you, so he thinks that this—your silent treatment and your detachment—is all a ploy. something like you playing hard-to-get.

so simon doesn’t think much about it until days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, and months are slowly building up to turn to a year.

simon doesn’t hear from you and, despite all his posturing, he realizes that he’s missed you. so he decides to drive by to pick you up for dinner and maybe apologize for whatever it is now that he’s done.

he gets to your dorm and rings your room. the intercom scratches awake, the person from the other side, your dorm mate he’s sure, asks who it was, and simon tells them his name. then, he tells them that he’s here for you.

there is silence for a while, almost loaded in a way that simon knows it’s not the intercom breaking up, and he gets his answer when he’s given a curt reply of, “she doesn’t want to see you. bye.” there is the distinct screech and then the line drops before simon could even ask why.

and simon feels lost. untethered.

-

john is a good man. that’s the first thing you realized. it terrified you, at first, how much you looked forward to meeting him. how much of being with him—simon’s friend—makes you happy.

you waited for the other shoe to drop, shoulders perpetually hunched as though that can shield you from the inevitable of john leaving you. of john using you.

but john is so warm. john is so gentle and kind and patient and loving.

john holds your hand and you know he isn’t looking for more. he drops you off at home, tells you to rest well and to say hi to your dorm mates, before taking off on his bike.

john kisses your cheeks and you know he isn’t looking for something more passionate. more heated. and you crave for his touch, yes, but there is something so special in the way john shows his affection—all crinkled smile and quiet chuckles; all whispered words and promises fulfilled; all soft and tender and secure.

it was a love so different, so beautiful, so really it wasn’t surprising at all when your relationship grows, thriving alongside your healing.

(he promised, you know? he promised, as he played with your hand, that he’ll one day put a ring on your finger. your lips wobbled and you told him to stop making loaded promises such as that, but john just turned to you with a soft smile and said, “i look forward to the day we share the same vow, bunny. if you would have me.”

you hiccupped sob and threw your arms over his shoulders, nodding because, “i would. john, i would!”

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and sharing warmth with you. you burrowed your head on the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in, letting his presence wash over you.

john, you thought. johnjohnjohn.)

-

simon drives to you the day after he confronted john. he drives to you with all of his messy heart spilling from the ridges of his ribs, beating only one name—yours.

he’s never felt this way before. not with all the pretty people he’s gone out with, or his first love, or even erin. erin who simon once imagined a future with. erin who simon once loved. not even that could triumph over the expanding turmoil that simon’s basking in.

he calls on the intercom of your dorm again, begs your roommate that may you please hear him out, and then he sees you.

god, you’re just as beautiful as he remembers.

“love–”

“what’re you doing here?”

your words are soft, quiet, but simon isn’t fooled. he sees the anger in your eyes, the hurt having festered into resentment. he wonders how apologies could trickle from his lips—where to even begin?

“please,” you say when simon’s silence stretches on. “just tell me whatever you want and then leave.”

“this. this is what i’m here for. the anger in your eyes– it’s just–…” he breathes in sharply. “i saw you and john, you know? and the way you look at him, it’s how i want to be looked at by you, love.” he swallows the lump in his throat. “i didn’t know what i had until i lost you and i’m so envious of him, i am, so please.”

you stare at him with wide eyes even when your face is smooth of any emotion. simon wonders what you must be thinking but he bulldozes through, hoping that you can give him one last chance.

he promises this time, truly, he’ll be better.

“i have no right to say this, i know, but–” he pauses to take a deep breath, his fists balled tightly. “i want to be with you. i want to be your man and i want you to let me.”

a heartbeat passes, and then, “simon, you are a selfish, selfish man.”

your words are barely louder than a whisper but they scratch at simon’s heart. he looks at you, gaze turning desperate when he sees nothing but bubbling fury and disappointment in your own.

“how dare you,” you say. “you tell me that you saw me and john, and then what? instead of letting me go, instead of letting me move on, you come in here and demand that i return to you?”

“love, i–”

“don’t call me that!”

your anger tips over, now spilling out. he watches the way your eyes glisten, tears dripping to stain your cheeks.

“i’m not your anything, si! not anymore!” you take in a ragged rasp of air, choking on your sob. it tugs at simon’s heartstrings and he moves to comfort you but you pull away, sneering at him in your anger. you wipe at your eyes, scrubbing furiously.

“everything about what you’ve said just now, everything, was all about your wants. all about you. just like how it’s always been,” you murmur, the fight leaving you.

you looked small, hunching into yourself, and simon is hit with this feeling; something that lodges itself in his throat.

“lov–… i’m sorry,” he says because he is.

gods he is.

“just go,” you tell him, meeting his eyes for one last time because he knows that this is the end of it all.

you turn away from him then, closing the building door behind you. he watches from behind he glass doors as you disappear into the hallways and stepped into the elevators and, just like that, simon’s lost his chance of making things right.

ANA MY GOD THIS MADE ME FERAL!! i hope u would like this one bb :(( hope i gave ur vision justice

[snoopyana]

one night.

the sequel.

“can i be with you just one night? i can wear you out inside.”

in which you meet eunseok at a basketball game, after your boyfriend, wonbin, left you alone during a heated argument— and eunseok swoops in to temporarily take his spot.

song eunseok. smut. darkish? eunseok drops his whole “i care for you” facade and blames you for the whole situation in the end.

everyone knew what was going on behind the bleachers. it wasn’t necessarily a private place to argue. definitely not to argue about you eyeing his teammates a bit too long for wonbins liking. you had no ill intention behind your gaze, but he thought otherwise. his voice gradually rising in volume when you denied having any interest in any of the other guys. it was almost as if he wanted to say you had a thing for his members.

“oh my god, what’s your problem??” you cut the man off mid-sentence. the bickering had gone on for so long that his members would peek their heads in to make sure anything was alright. “my problem? my problem is how you were basically glazing them with your eyes.” that was far from the truth, and he knew it. wonbin only said that once he finally saw the other men listening in.

“are you SERIOUS right now? you ASKED me to come and watch you guys practice and that’s what i’m doing. do you expect me to only look you? god forbid i’m not an airhead all the time and actually act interested in what’s happening around me??” wonbin stared at you dumbfounded. his eyes blown, fist clenched. “i’m done.” walking past his teammates, he snatched up his duffel bag before storming out the gym.

rubbing your temple, you finally let go of your emotions. eyes stinging as the argument looped in your mind. “oh my fucking god.” slipped past your lips as you made your way from underneath the bleachers. quickly being were surrounded by the rest of his team and bombarded with “are you okay?” which only tipped you over the edge. going from a small stream running down your cheeks to full crocodile tears.

their words quickly turning into hesitant hugs as you broke down in the middle of the court. eunseok lead you over back to the bleachers, this time to sit down and most importantly — calm down. the others stood in a semicircle around you two. you face falling into the palms of your hands as you continued your small emotional crisis. silence followed as eunseok rubbed your back, the others standing there simply for emotional relief. looking at their phones, sungchan was the first to speak up.

“hey, we gotta get going. but if you ever need anything, i’m pretty sure we’d all be willing to help. right? just call or text.” his sentence was followed by a bunch of “mhms” and head nods. stepping over to your side, sungchan ruffled your hair before walking to pick up his stuff. signaling for the rest to follow. “you coming eunseok?” anton turned back to you two, realizing eunseok was still seated. “no, she still needs a way to get home, wonbin had driven them here and clearly he left already.”

nodding his head, anton waved goodbye to his friend, giving you another glance before letting the door close behind him. the buzz from the overhead lights and your sniffles echoed through the open area. he continued to draw circles on your back until light cries and sniffles turned into light breathing. searching his pockets, eunseok pulled out his phone. ‘8:46PM’ stared back at him. it had been close to an hour since wonbin stormed out, and 20 minutes since the boys left.

as he looked at his screen, he could feel your body shift. finally lifting your head up from your hands — glancing over, eunseok put his phone down to move small pieces of hair that stuck to your face. wiping your cheeks with the back of his hand as well. “you alright now? i can take you home or we can just sit a little longer.” moving his hand from your back to your shoulder. “i don’t wanna,” you spoke in between sniff ,” see him right now.” it had completely slipped his mind, you two lived together. “oh yeah, sorry. i can just drive you around if you want.”

giving him a quick nod, eunseok helped you to your feet — slipping his hand around your waist as he led you out the building and into the parking lot. opening the passenger door for you, he made sure you were situated before going to his respective seat. starting the vehicle, the first part of the drive was filled with silence and eunseok making random turns as you stared out the window.

“so,” he finally decided to break the silence after nearly 10 minutes, “what happened back there?” coming to a stop, the red from the light illuminated your face. “he was being fucking stupid. saying i was ‘checking you guys out’ when i was just watching.” huffing, you let your head fall back onto the seat. “like does he not trust me around other dudes or something? but if i started to act like that when he’s around women i’d be in the wrong!” crossing your arms under your chest as you thought about the whole situation. tears threatening to roll down your face for the second time tonight. “hey its okay, calm down.” reaching over, he rubbed your leg — thinking nothing of it for the time being.

“god. i swear he just wants me to cheat or something.” looking ahead, you took notice to eunseoks’ now still hand. eyes darting over to him, his eyes were glued to the road. “what’s stopping you?” the question caught you by surprise. “because i..”

you wanna say love him. don’t you?

eunseok pulled into a vacant lot. “because you what? you love him?” he was now facing you, waiting for a response. eunseoks hand lingering on your thigh. you sat in silence.

spit it out. you don’t. at least not right now.

“no. i.. i don’t.” humming in response, eunseok leaned over the center console. lips ghosting yours. he stayed like that in silence, his eyes glued to your lips. you were quick to close the distance. lips colliding with his.

when was the last time you felt this way? this desperate. how would wonbin feel if he saw you right now?

eunseoks hands found their way your neck, pushing you closer into him. his lips curling into a smile when you whined. pulling away, a quiet snicker slipped from his lips as you caught your breath. eyes blown and lips already puffy. “get in the back.” opening the car door, eunseok walked to the back while you quickly crawled through the center. once he was seated, he tapped his lap — which you eagerly sat down in. thighs on the sides of his while his arms stretched over your waist.

it’s not too late to stop you know.

pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, his lips found their way back to yours. feeling a little more relaxed, arms wrapping around his neck. a few minutes passed before the sound of your phone buzzing snapped you out of your trance. reaching for your purse, eunseok started to grind his hips into yours.

it’s him, isn’t it?

guilt started to kick in, this is cheating. “he’s asking where i am..” looking at eunseok, your eyes quickly started to gloss over. “tell him you went to a friends house. he doesn’t need to know you’re with me.” there was hesitation in your eyes, but you did as he said. throwing your phone to the side, his lips found yours again. a slight tremble in your touch while your hands snaked through his hair, and he noticed. his hand slipped under your shirt, massaging the skin — while his other cupped your cheeks.

it felt so intimate. would wonbin do this? did wonbin do this?

that feeling would quickly fade as eunseoks’ once gentle hands roughly pulled at your jeans. helping him, you tugged at the material, pushing it down until they laid on the car seat. pushing you to sit on his knees, the man pulled his sweats down just enough for his dick to spring up. “come on, we gotta make it quick.”

he seemed so much pushier now, what happened?

shuffling up to his lap once more, eunseok spits in his palm. giving his cock a few pumps before tapping onto your thighs — causing your body to automatically hover over his. lining himself up, the male pushed you down onto his hard-on. the stretch being even more intense from the lack of prep.

seems like he doesn’t care anymore.

he was now buried deep inside your cunt, giving you the bare minimum of time to adjust before snapping his hips into yours. eunseoks head resting in the nook of your neck — biting at the skin. “hey, no.. no marks.” but did he listen? of course not. biting harder as his pace increased. he didn’t even bother to talk to you. wasn’t this supposed to be distressing you? why aren’t you enjoying it as much now?

he was quick to finish, pulling out and jerking his way to his own climax. but you hadn’t reached yours. opening your mouth to speak, your words were cut off before they could even come out. “he’s outside, hurry up and get out so you can go home.” pushing your body onto the seat next to him, eunseok was quick to stuff himself back into his pants. opening the car door, wonbin stood just outside. eunseok slipped out, standing next to the other male. a small smile plastered on his lips — your lip gloss coating his face.

“this is your fault by the way. should have gone home.”

note- hii. i wanted to try and venture out of my comfort zone a little with my writing style AND themes. nothing too intense for now. i kinda liked writing this though. i will say it’s not one of my best works but hey, we live and we learn. if you guys enjoyed, please do tell me. i’d love to hear some feedback. also, can we tell i’m a little head-over-heels for car sex? like woah.

note 2- ALSO, took me less than 10 days to write another fic? are we proud of me guys? i feel like thats an accomplishment, im getting more confident in my craft.

[dwritesit]

mount

inspired by this post i hope its okay! its very short...

Summary: Mountain crying and begging to breed Dewdrop. yeah.

Tags: breeding, begging, crying, size kink..., dirty talk, trans dewdrop

Read below the cut or on AO3

...

Mountain feels like he might die. It's hot, he's drenched in sweat, his chest squeezed tight like a vice as he pants and sobs for air. The world is hazy, steamy, all he knows is that he wants something he can't have. At least not yet. 

“Please, please, Dewdrop,” He says again, unsure of how many times the words have left his mouth at this point. Dewdrop’s smirk in response makes Mountain's stomach flip and twist, and his cock he's been sliding against the little fire ghoul’s thigh for the last… however long… kicks and spurts more pre-cum over that rose gold skin. 

“What do you need, Mounty?” Dewdrop asks from his place below the large ghoul. He's trapped beneath him, both his wrists pressed tight against the mattress above his head in just one of the earth ghoul’s hands. A buzz tingles under Dew’s skin at the sight of Mountain above him; the large frame, the way his muscles from hours of outdoor labor ripple as he continues jerking his hips for friction. Mountain could take what he wants. With one movement, he could have Dew on his stomach, ass in the air, and pound into him with little to no effort, but here he is instead. Begging, whining, desperate for Dewdrop’s permission.

“Please, fuck, Dewy- firelily, I need to breed you. I need it, Ineedit Ineedit Ineedit,” Mountain sobs. Dewdrop looks down to that huge, angry, red cock against his thigh. It looks painful, like one more slide might make him pop and cover Dew’s stomach. But he's being so good, so obedient for his lover. 

“You need to breed me, pebble?” Dew asks, “You think you deserve to fill me up?” 

Mounty shakes his head, tears streaming down his face and dripping onto Dewdrop’s collar bones as he leans down to lap at the plethora of bruises and bite marks he'd left all over Dew’s neck and shoulders, “Been good, been a good boy,” He says.

“You've been so good for me, baby,” Dew agrees, biting his lip to hold back a moan as Mountain sucks yet another mark onto his neck, kitten licking at the skin as an apology, “Such a good boy for me.”

Mountain cries out at the praise, kissing up Dew’s neck until he's reached his lips and captures him in a heated kiss. Dew wastes no time in diving his tongue into Mountain’s mouth, tasting his lovely earth ghoul and pulling the sweetest moans out of his chest. 

“Can I please?” Mounty asks again, “It hurts, please, I need to be inside you. Need to cum inside you!” 

Dewdrop can't help but moan lewdly at the words. He needs it just as badly, his cunt has been aching ever since he smelled Mountain’s familiar heat from down the hall in his own room. He had followed that evergreen and floral scent expecting to be fucked within an inch of his life - the way Mountain’s heats usually turned to just instinct and raw need and lust. Instead he found the other ghoul writhing on his bed, already in tears as he jerked himself over the edge, begging as soon as he smelled Dewdrop enter the room. 

“Please, please, need to breed you. Let me breed you, baby,” Mountain continues the barrage of requests, whispering hoarse against Dewdrop’s neck as he keeps licking and sucking and biting, always missing the place where he's meant to mark the fire ghoul, “Need to see you full of me, I've been good, please.” 

“ Fuck, Mounty,” Dewdrop isn't sure how much longer he can keep holding off himself. He's already cum so many times, either from Mountain's greedy mouth, or his long thick fingers, but it's nothing compared to actually being filled by the other ghoul, “Fuck me.”

Mountain stops mid-lick up the side of Dewdrop’s face, even his hips freezing, cock twitching again over Dew’s skin.

Dew knows he's waiting for clearer permission, “You're such a good boy, Mounty. Fuck me, fill me, breed me.” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Mountain gasped out as he pulled back slightly, hand still firm around Dewdrop’s wrists while he settled between those rose gold thighs. He only let go so he could push Dewdrop’s legs forward, encouraging the fire ghoul to hold them, to hold himself open for him. Dew is happy to oblige, barring his soaked cunt completely as his fingers dimple into the backs of his thighs. Mountain groans, sobs , again at the sight.

“Come on, Mounty, fuck me,” Dew’s voice is raspy and dripping with desperation as he stares up at his mate. 

Mountain finally lines himself up with Dewdrop’s hole, bowing forward as soon as the tip is against the entrance, claws gripping and tearing holes into the mattress, his forehead pressed against the fire ghoul’s as he tries to control his release. He needs to be inside. Needs to cum inside of Dewdrop’s heat. 

Slowly, he sinks inside, Dewdrop’s back arches off the bed at the delicious stretch - no matter how Mountain worked him open, how wet Dew became, the sweet burn was always there and he lived for it. Craved it.

“Dew, Dew ,” Mountain wails, finally seating himself fully inside of the fire ghoul, “Need more, please. Please take all of me!”

Dewdrop groans and presses sweet kisses on Mountain’s face, licks at his tears and traces their trails with his tongue. He already feels so full, there's no way there's anything else to take. It's enough to stop any sort of response in his throat, as he gasps around the sensation.

“Let me knot you, take my knot, spitfire,” Mountain returns Dewdrop’s kisses with kisses of his own. Wetter, sloppier, making Dew's face glisten with sweat and spit. 

“Always,” Dew gasps out, feeling the knot forming where they're pressed together. He's not sure he can take it but he will...

[rockingrobin69]

Honourable Defeat

Harry bumped his hip into the chest of drawers in the usual place he normally bumped it. The corridor was narrow, but that wasn’t the problem: from this spot you could see into the living room, and on the rug was a sight so fucking impossible Harry normally lost a bit of, er. Focus. No, he had to focus, because he was carrying two cups of very-very hot tea (Draco doesn’t take it unless it can seriously damage his tongue). Had to focus, because this would be happening a lot now, every day even. Grinning, buzzing with all this giddy—excitement—bumping into the cabinet too, whatever, breathlessly spilling into the room.

“Hello there,” said a voice so soft that Harry had to spit out, “Malfoy. Malfoys.”

To the lump on the rug, wrapped in blue, sticky-smile smeared all across his face and a tuft of blond hair in his fist.

“Darling,” Draco said, half a laugh and half a cry, and Harry didn’t know if he meant him or the baby before, “sweetheart, that rather hurts. Ow. Please, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Scorpius must have minded, because all he did was giggle. Looked up at Harry, sharing the incredulity, probably, the absolute gob-smacking heart-crushing delight at seeing Draco like this. Sprawled on the floor in his crisp trousers and vest still buttoned, his face soft with laughter. Harry—erm. Was, erm. Not invincible.

“What?” Draco cried, or demanded, looking up at Harry now with that terrible smile, “not you, too? I was looking forward to having a conversation with at least one intelligent adult today.”

“The meeting,” Harry groaned. “They didn’t approve your request?”

Draco sighed, rolled so he lay on his back, hair still caught in Scorp’s fist. “No. It seems that adding a nursery is simply not feasible for the company at this time. The board suggested I gave up my position.”

“And?”

He snorted. “And nothing. I spent the afternoon trying to teach Scorpius how to curse. Nothing severe, maybe just jelly-legs, or, calling our CEO a bloody wanker would be nice.”

“Draco!” dropping to his elbows, helplessly drawn closer, “is that the kind of language—”

“Oh come on, Potter, he’s not even one. He doesn’t know what the word means.”

He smelled like Scorp’s lavender shampoo. His eyes, when they landed on Harry, grey and warm. “What?” Harry asked, voice thick with a smile, and Draco shook his head, then winced.

“Ow—Merlin’s sake, Scorp, you have the grip of a giant. Hey, maybe he’d end up a Catcher.” Turning back to Harry, the tiniest movement, “I thought you went to make tea?”

The cups were cooling on the table. “Forget tea, we’re not rooting for our son ending up a Catcher.”

“Any position in a Quidditch team,” Draco said in his dry tone, but his whole face lit up like a spark, making Harry hear what he actually said, making him—choke on something in his throat. “It’s the game that matters, Harry.”

“The game,” he agreed nonsensically. “Draco—”

“We’ll have to find a solution, of course. For the nursery situation. Now that my bloody wanker of a boss made taking Scorp to work impossible.”

Scorpius made a bright sound, something like laughter, and both of them turned to him, this little lump of a smiling face. “Well done, my love,” Draco cooed, and Harry—erm—didn’t cry or anything, but he did make a sort of sniffling sound, “Smith is a bloody wanker, hmm?”

“Draco!” Harry squealed, and he looked back with a devilish grin.

“Apologies. I wouldn’t want to teach… our son such language.”

They lay just lay there for a moment. Draco’s chest going with Harry’s rhythm, up, down, and this thing on his face, uncertain and—happy. Harry took his hand.

“Exactly. I’d expect you on your best behaviour from now on, Malfoy.”

“Of course,” with a flutter of those endless lashes. Scooting a touch closer on the rug. It carried the table, the one with the tea, another possible future disaster: Harry didn’t care about this either.

“Come here,” hand behind Draco’s head, another hand coming to cup his cheek. “You gorgeous, silly thing.”

“Harry,” half a moan, half a whisper, and his eyes closing, delicate lashes on Harry’s face, mouth coming up for a kiss. “Ha—ow!” and then started laughing, hysterical waves of it, loud in Harry’s ear: “Scorp, love, you have to let go, ha ha, ow, that really does, ha, hurt, you scoundrel,” and Harry was laughing too, was weak, in fact, in the centre of his core was weak for this, was defeated.

“You two,” he mumbled, swallowed, are my whole heart, a little frightened and deliriously overjoyed. On the rug, Scorp continued making nonsensical sounds, and Harry and Draco kept laughing.

(Flufftober day 17. Find the soft AO3 collection here).

[formula1fanfiction]

Arthur Leclerc / Logan Sargeant / Pierre Gasly

Title: Bottoming struggles

Pairing: Arthur Leclerc / Logan Sargeant / Pierre Gasly

Characters: Arthur Leclerc, Logan Sargeant, Pierre Gasly

Prompt: Hey can I request a hot Arthur Leclerc x Pierre x Logan threesome?

"Surprise." Arthur walks into the hotel room, a satisfied grin on his face, Logan's mouth falls open in shock from where he's sat on the bed. "I told you, I could convince him to spend the night with us. Logan forces his eyes from Arthur to look at none other than Pierre Gasly, what the actual fuck?

Arthur licks his lips from where he's still standing in the doorway, his pupils are fully dilated."How did you convince him?" Logan asks, seemingly breaking Arthur from his trance. Pierre still hasn't said anything, just smirking like that cat who got all the cream, maybe he has?

"oh, I just said do you want a fun night with two guys who can't decide who bottoms." Arthur gestures wildly with his hands, he looks adorable. Pierre decides this is the moment to join the party, he pushes Arthur into the room, towards the bed.

"Now the both of you strip and get down onto your knees in front of me." Uhm okay? Logan wasn't really expecting this, but Arthur moans and quickly gets to work, so Logan does the same thing. He watches Arthur rips off his clothes and leaves them in a messy pile on the floor.     

Logan can't help but feel a little shy, undressing in front of Pierre. He does want this, so he slowly makes a move, slowly fingering the hem of his Williams T-Shirt. Arthur smiles at him. "Don't worry, I will help you." Arthur tears the shirt off his head, throwing it into the same pile, before turning his attention to Logan's jeans, pushing his fingers into the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, he slowly lowers them enough for Logan to kick them off. Pierre gives a satisfied purr, seeing the both of them completely naked, for him.

Pierre stares at the both of them, naked and rock hard despite nothing happening yet. "What two needy sluts I have here." Arthur gives an excited little chuckle, Logan shivers, he's really not sure what to expect from this. "Hands and knees on the floor, facing away from each other."

Arthur gives a little shrug, still smiling then turns around, Logan does the same. "I'm glad I came prepared for this, you two look so good like this." Pierre gives a little whistle, taking a bottle of lube from somewhere. He pours a generous amount onto his fingers then sits down between them, still fully clothed which Logan takes note of.  

Logan almost feel the buzz of excitement from Arthur, Logan only can shiver as he feels Pierre's finger grazing over his rim. Pierre seems intent on teasing him for a few seconds, slowly circling his entrance, then unexpectedly slamming in. Logan cries out in surprise, Arthur makes a similar noise, he must be doing this to them at the same time.  

Pierre gets to work instantly, twisting and turning his finger, the quickly adding a second one, slowly thrusting them in and out. Pleasure erupts through Logan's system as Pierre finds his prostate, and slowly massages it, Arthur cannot keep quiet, he's clearly enjoying himself.

Mats found both prostates easily and gave them both a quick rub. Eventually Pierre works his way up to four fingers and only then does he pull them out judging them open enough, for who knows what?

"I have a surprise for the both of you." The pure mischief is evident in Pierre's voice, how did he have the time to find something.. Logan glances at the item in his hands, to find a double ended dildo on such short notice?  

"This should help your bottoming situation, no?" Pierre chuckles, slapping the dildo against the palm of his hand. "Let's get to work then, shall we?"

Pierre nudges the head of the dildo against Logan's slick entrance and slowly pushes it inside. Logan has no idea what's going on behind him, but he's only heard Arthur moaning like that, when he gets his own way and Logan fucks him. Logan can't take the bitter jealousy rising in the pit of his stomach, so he takes matters into his own hands and pushes himself back, until he's completely filled up with the dildo, making sure to moan as loud and as pornographic as possible.

"Oooh naughty." Arthur chuckles and mirrors Logan's actions, so they both of them are slowly fucking themselves on the dildo. Pierre's moaning join their own. "You two, look so hot like this. Move, come on, give me more."  

Pierre's eyes are locked on them, his hand disappearing into his own jeans as both men slide up and down the dildo with ease, letting their moans and whimpers escape with each movement.  

"Okay, enough of that." Pierre growls, pushing down his own jeans and boxers. "Logan, I want you on your stomach on the bed." Logan lets the dildo slide out of him and lays down on his stomach, pushing his ass high into the air. He's no idea what's about to happen.

Logan can only watch in jealousy as Pierre makes his way over to Arthur, he presses a kiss against his lips as he whispers something in French, that makes Arthur turn red. Pierre slides the dildo out of Arthur. "I'm going to watch you fucking him and if you're a good boy, i'll fuck you." Pierre reverts back to English so Logan can understand.

Arthur happily jumps onto the bed, he helps Logan onto his hands and knees. He bumps the head of his cock against Logan's hole, this is what he wanted right, for Arthur to fuck him? "Spank him Arthur, he's been a naughty boy."

Logan lets out a pathetic squeak as Arthur does slap his exposed butt cheek. Arthur laughs, then presses a hard kiss onto Logan's temple. "I love you."

"Fuck him, Arthur come on." Pierre growls from behind them, the bid dips as the Frenchman joins them on the bed. Arthur wastes no time and slams inside Logan with one swift move. Logan can't help the cry of pleasure, escaping his mouth at finally getting he wants. Arthur gives him a few seconds to adjust, then starts up a rough pace, snapping up his hips and pounding into Logan.  

Pierre settles himself down between the pillows, taking his large cock into his hands and strokes himself, while watching Arthur fucking Logan. "Loving the show boys." Pierre uses his own pre cum as slick.

Arthur can clearly see Pierre and obviously enjoys what he sees as he grips tightly onto Logan's hips, probably bruising them as he fucking into Logan even harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the room. Logan is really enjoying himself, but he refuses to moan out loud and feed Arthur the satisfaction, it seems he only has eyes for Pierre fucking Gasly.  

"I thinks about time, I joined this party." Pierre chuckles and slips behind Arthur, it sends Logan sprawling onto his stomach, Arthur on his knees behind him while Pierre exposes Arthur's hole. "I'm going to fuck you now."

Arthur stops thrusting inside of Logan, as Pierre slides inside of him, he's moaning loudly as scratching at Logan's skin, as the French man bottoms out inside of him. "So full." Arthur squeaks.

Pierre starts to thrust inside of him instantly, not bothering to go slow or take it easy on him. It's hard and deep and every thrust sends Logan sprawling further and further up the bed and Arthur hasn't even started moving again, just yet.

"Please." Logan begs the bed sheets below him. "Sorry, my love." Arthur kisses the back of his head and picks up the pace again. It doesn't take long for Arthur to find his prostate and soon sparks of pure pleasure are running through his core. Arthur doesn't take it easy after that, he fucks into Logan with all his might. it feels so good, just what he needs.

It feels weird to the bottom of this threesome, Pierre is slamming to Arthur, with such intensity it feels like he's being fucked twice. Pierre must have found Arthur's prostate judging by the sounds he's makes above him.

Logan's cock is angry red and dripping with Pre cum and his hips are angled in a way that he can't rub himself against the bed sheets below him. "Please." Logan cries again and Arthur does slam into his prostate with every thrust now. It only takes three more hard thrusts and Logan's coming hard into the sheets below him.  

Logan pulls Arthur's cock out of his arse and goes to curl up in a depressing ball. "Come on Logie, suck your boyfriend off." Logan's eyes go wide, but he does as he's told, shuffling over and taking Arthur's cock into his hand.

 Logan licks at the head, teasing him with little kitten licks. Arthur growls in frustration and slams his cock into the back of Logan's throat. Arthur must feel f guilty and runs a hand through Logan's hair. Logan doesn't mind at all and bobs his head up and down Arthur shaft with finesse.

"fuck yes, this is what I wanted." Arthur cries out, he looks like he has no idea if he wants to thrust forward into Logan's throat or back into Pierre's erratic thrusting. "I can't, I can't." Arthur grips the back of Logan's neck and holds him there as he comes, filling Logan's throat with his hot cum. Arthur only lets him up once the shocks off his orgasm has worn off.

"let me see." Pierre pants, Logan opens his mouth and shows him Arthur's seed before swallowing it all. "Dirty boy." Arthur laughs, pressing another kiss onto Logan, while Pierre is still brutally fucking into him, his own orgasm is close now.

Pierre slowly downs his thrusts, as he nears his own orgasm. He only mange's a few more thrusts, before he swears in French and paints Arthur's walls ilky white. "Fuck, that was something." Pierre chuckles, slipping out.

"let me cuddle both of my boys." Pierre opens his arms and pulls Arthur and Logan in for a cuddle. "Don't worry Logan, we'll switch you both around next time."  

And that's enough to ease Logan's jealously, at least a little bit.

[closetnerd62]

Brotherly Advice

A Lautski + Spankoffski Bros Fic inspired by Writing Prompt #2504 from @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

Summary: after months of watching Pete fail to actually make a move with Steph, Ted refuses to let history repeat itself and offers some brotherly advice

“Bye!” Pete said shyly, holding the door for Steph.

“Bye!” She smiled.

“Bye!” He repeated dreamily.

“You already said that.” She giggled.

“Oh! My bad.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly with a blush.

“See you later Spankoffski!” Steph shook her head with a smile.

“Yea- yeah,” he stuttered as she descended the apartment stairs. “Definitely.”

As he shut the door, Pete pressed his forehead to the door with a groan.

“That. Was painful.” Ted cringed. “You two have been ‘hanging out’ for three months now without making a move. Look, if you ever wanna get with her you have to be smoother than that.”

“I’m not like you Ted,” Pete snapped. “I don’t just want to ‘get with her’ asshole. I really like her. But there’s no way she’d ever actually reciprocate.”

“You’ve gotta play the field pal.” Ted said, slapping Pete on the back. “Go find another girl and take her home with you. Then little Lauter here will get all jealous and when you play hard to get, she’ll be on her knees practically begging for you.”

“No-NO! She’s not like that,” Pete interjected defensively. “Sure, she acts like she doesn’t care but she can be so incredibly passionate and she makes me feel like I’m worth something for once! I know you wouldn’t understand but I would be willing to suffer if it meant that she got to be happy!”

Ted was hit with a wave of recognition. He was amazed. He himself had only ever experienced a feeling that strong once, for one girl… Jenny.

“Holy shit.” Ted softened. “Pete, are you in love with this girl?”

“What? No!” Pete hissed.

“Yes, the fuck you are.” Ted pressed. “I can see it!”

“Then maybe you need to get glasses too, dickhead!”

“Listen to what you just said jackass! You love her!”

“No I don’t!” Pete cried, “I can’t!”

A memory flashed in Ted’s mind. He could see himself in college, laying on his dorm room bed saying the same thing about Jenny.

“I shouldn’t.” Pete continued.

“Maybe.” Ted offered. “Maybe it is the worst thing you could possibly do. But I’m sorry buddy, you do. You love her. And there’s no moving forward until you admit that to yourself.”

The brothers sat in a heavy silence. Ted could see the gears moving in Peter’s head, the calculations being made. A look of defeat slowly crept across his face. Mournful of the bliss of willful ignorance.

“I love her.” Pete breathed, miserably.

“You gotta tell her Pete.” Ted sighed.

“See you don’t understand Ted!” Pete thundered. “I can’t!”

“You have to.”

“No!” Pete insisted. “It feels safer to love her from a distance.” His face twisted as if he was trying to work up the ability to face his worst fear. “I can’t lose her if she doesn’t know.”

He looked exhausted. As if the mere thought of her not being in his life had drained him. Ted stared at him, as if looking in a mirror to his past self. Spankoffski’s had a knack for making history repeat itself, but Ted refused to let that happen this time. This time he had been given the chance to go back and save his brother from everything he had done wrong.

“I’ve made that mistake before.” Ted admitted. “Don’t do it.” This was the most sincere that Peter had ever heard his brother speak. “Anyone worth loving should know the truth.”

Pete nodded.

“I’ve gotta tell her.” he confessed, rising from the couch and grabbing his coat. “I’ll be back in a bit Ted.”

“Go get her!” Ted called as Pete rushed out the door of their apartment and into the hall, heart pounding against his chest. He barreled down the stairs, tearing through the halls, fueled by intent and need and yearning. He yanked open the door, ready to race to the Lauter house, only to find his mark already at the door, about to press the button to be buzzed in. He stared at her in amazement.

“Oh Pete! I was just about to call up, I accidentally took your calculator with me.” Steph’s face was pink from the outside cold. Peter stared, soaking up everything that was the girl before him.

“Pete?” she repeated.

“I have something I need to tell you.” He said breathlessly.

“Okay?” she prompted, intrigued.

“I- um…” He stuttered. “Uh… we’ve been hanging out for so long and well… after everything we’ve been through together, I just- I-”

“Take your time.” Steph encouraged, placing a supportive hand on his arm.

“I think I’m in love with you.” he blurted.

Shock plastered itself across Steph’s face. She blinked, trying to process.

“I’m sorry,” Pete rambled. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way and I don’t expect anything from you, I just thought it’d only be fair to let you know and I understand if you don’t ever want to hangout again or talk or-”

“Pete!” She cut him off. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize.” And with that she grabbed the collar of his button up and pulled him into a kiss.

As Ted glanced through the window he was filled with pride. Even though he knew it was too late to go back and get it right himself, the satisfaction of knowing maybe eventually he could, if he could only be more like his kid brother, gave him a new hope. He meandered his way over to the phone in the kitchen, dialed a number, and listened as someone picked up on the other end.

“Hey Char,” He murmured, “I need to tell you something.”

[spoonsock]

Soft

1610e Miles x gn. Reader

Synopsis: Miles with a super sensitive reader,, :,)

Warnings: well none I think? Reader has unstable mental health tho and is easily hurt I guess? I dunno I honestly d u n n o what this is.

Not proofread boo fucking hoo.

You didn’t know why you were the way you were. Whether it started when you hit puberty or maybe it was always like this? It didn’t matter anyway. All you knew was that you were very emotional.

And ever since you realized that it wasn’t quite normal for someone to react so much to things that seemed so little and simple to others, you worried that no one could take care of you properly and you’ll live your life unlovable and alone because, well, nobody will care enough to comfort you about stupid shit that upset you.

That was until you met Miles.

And you swear, you’ve never met anyone with such a kind soul. Funny enough, he swears the same for you.

Even though your friendship was never just a friendship, but always something more, Miles was, from the very beginning, a great friend. I mean he had an awesome personality, he was smart and funny and nice and practically perfect.

“Too good to be true”, how you described it then. Because no matter how sweet he was, you always waited for that moment. The moment he accidentally does something that upsets you and you isolate yourself and he realizes how sensitive you are over dumb things and calls you an melodramatic overthinker.

When something you thought would be that moment happened, you already braced yourself for the worst. You remember it all too well actually.

Miles had to cancel your plans to hang out for the third time. And guess what? You cried. As soon as you read the “Y/N iam so sprry i camt rn” message, you burst into tears. The other two times before that he promised he’ll make it, but he never did. Why? Hé obviously sent that message in a hurry anyway, proves just how much “important” you are to him. He really couldn’t even write a normal sentence huh?

Maybe he was mad at you? Maybe he didn’t want to be your friend anymore? He probably realized how boring you are. He realized you’re not special. You don’t mean shit to him.

And so you cried your heart out.

Unbeknownst to you, our beloved super hero was trying to beat a random super villain. After successfully webbing them up, the first thing he thought of was to come to you. He sent you a million messages of apologizing over and over, but you didn’t see any of them, so he sent one last thing before making a move.

“I’m coming over”

Your phone buzzed for the trillionth time that evening and you couldn’t muster up the strength to open it and read the texts he sent you. You knew it was him. And you felt bad for not answering, but you just couldn’t do it. You cried harder at the feeling of guilt that built up inside you.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your window. You thought it was probably a bird or something, not wanting to get up from your position on the bed. You head was buried into the pillows and you practically couldn’t breathe, but you definitely couldn’t- wouldn’t move so it was the most comfortable you’ll get.

Another knock. Actually a few of them. Each louder than the previous one. As much as you wanted to scream at the mysterious source of the knocks, you got up and opened it. Not really expecting to see Miles. Not hoping to see him.

But there he was, an apologetic look on his face which was replaced by a kinda shocked one at the sight of your own. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy, cheeks flushed and wet, nose runny, lips swollen. You doubted you were a sight for sore eyes.

“Can I come in?”, he asked quietly. You hesitated for a moment before nodding and moving aside so he can pull himself into your room.

He came in and sat on your bed, but you sat on the floor, as far away from him as possible. He, of course, noticed. “Are you okay?”, you nodded again.

“Y/N, pleas-“

“Look, Miles-“

You both started at the same time. He chuckled and you smiled shyly, before telling him to go first.

“Y/N, I am so so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you! Whenever or wherever you want, we’ll hang out, just say it and I’ll be there!”, he finished, looking at you expectantly.

“I get it, Miles. It’s okay, I-I just overreacted and-“

“Were you crying?”

“..Yeah”, you answered slowly, expecting him to laugh at you or get angry. “But that’s just how I am! I cry over stupid things, I get upset over stupid things and I can’t control it and I don’t know why!”, you started tearing up again. But before you could continue, Miles sat down on the floor next to you and embraced you tightly. You grabbed his neck and cried into his shoulder before realizing you are wetting his shirt.

“Your shirt”, you pointed at it, trying to pull yourself together and wiping your eyes. Suddenly, he held your chin so lightly you could barely feel it, wiping away your tears with his thumb. You felt your face heat up at that, as if it wasn’t flushed enough already.

“I could care less about my shirt right now”, he told you seriously and you couldn’t help but giggle. You hugged him again, appreciating the comfort he was providing you. No one ever made you feel this way.

The two of you just sat in silence, holding each other.

Needless to say, from that day Miles started seeing you more. He almost never canceled his plans with you, and when he did, which was SUUUUPER rare, he would try to make it up for you by buying you your favorite candy and flowers. You couldn’t help but think about how that was a bit too…not platonic for a pair of friends.

Anyhow, as if he wasn’t caring enough before, he started being even more gentle with you. Constantly texting you to see if you were okay and if you needed anything. Sending you the silliest, cutest and kindest photos just to try to make your day.

Even if he had a bad day, he would try to be cheery around you. He wouldn’t want to affect you with his bad mood. And at the end of the day, acting happy for you turned into actually being happy. It was just something about you, maybe about your aura or whatever energy was surrounding you, that always made him feel better. Perhaps it was your empathetic and tender nature.

Oh and by the way, you were right. About the “too not platonic for just friends” thing, because after a few months of getting to know you, caring about you and constantly thinking of you, Miles realized he had to confess. And so he did.

He invited you to hang out, bought you your favorite ice cream and a rose, before telling you how he feels. About how happy you make him and how you never leave his mind. About how he wants to take care of you and how he’s willing to give you the world.

And guess what? You cried. Happy tears of course. You were just so overwhelmed with joy and how.. nice he was. At that moment you felt so loved and blissful and, in the heat of that very moment, you grabbed the collar of his hoodie and kissed him. Gently, of course. He wrapped one arm around you waist and the other one caressed your jaw.

Your eyelashes brushed against his cheek and one of your tears fell on his face. You noticed as you pulled away before apologizing, but he just laughed and pulled you back in.

As your relationship progressed, everyday you appreciated how much of a great boyfriend he was. He was flawless, quite literally. He never made you feel like your feelings were not valid, even when you thought so yourself. He was just so thoughtful and loving and perfect. The most perfect boy you could have ever asked for.

Guys this is so poorly written, but it has been in my drafts for weeks, I had to finish it. I do not know how to write for men. 😭

[cricketnationrise]

Congratulations on 500!!! 🎉🎉 Extremely well deserved!

How about Zahra, 9:37pm, somewhere in England (I leave where exactly entirely up you)?

I'm on ao3 as hwaelweg 💙

for you my lovely, I have a lil date night moment for Zahra and Shaan. hope you love it, and thanks for being AMAZING and screaming about books with me 💜🦗

want your own ficlet? my followers can submit prompts based on these guidelines through January 31, 2024

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

9:37pm, london

Zahra looks around from her perch at the bar. The pub is all dark wood and the smell of decades of smoke sunk into the furniture. It’s the most stereotypical English pub she could ever have pictured, and she’d never admit it out loud, but she fucking loves it. There’s classic rock playing quietly over the speakers, often drowned out by the laughter of the group of students in one corner. A pair of old men, who look like they might be part of the architecture, are putting away more Guinness than she’s ever seen in one sitting. Someone’s playing darts near the back, for fuck’s sake.

She’d love the place even more if her goddamn fianceé was here with her, but she of all people understands an unconventional working schedule. Especially when the Claremont-Diaz family is even tangentially involved. If she had a nickel for everytime she dismissed that little annoying popup in Outlook that says “Send during normal working hours instead?” she’d be set for life. 

“Another round, dear?”

“I—” A buzz from her phone interrupts and she glances at it, heart giving an excited little wriggle when she sees Shaan’s name pop up. (Well actually he’s saved as “Shawn S” in her phone—a preventative measure against overly-curious June, never-me-a-boundary-he-didn’t-try-to-cross Alex, and too-smart-for-her-own-good Nora. She’ll change it once Ellen’s second term ends and she doesn’t have to interact with those assholes in person on a regular basis. (Shaan had laughed so hard he cried when he found out—Zahra had hit him with a pillow.))

5 minutes. See you soon, love.

>move that perfect ass srivastava >i miss you and stuff

“Sorry about that,” she says to the bartender, a no-nonsense older woman. She runs the pub with kindness hiding an iron fist and Zahra liked her from the moment she sat down. “I will take another round, and can I also get a whiskey ginger?”

“Jack Daniels okay?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect.”

Another burst of screaming laughter covers the tinkle of the bell above the door, but the chilly gust of air at her back makes Zahra turn around. The smile that stretches her mouth at the sight of Shann is soft, loving, and completely involuntary. Thank fucking god Alex isn’t here right now. He’d never let her hear the end of how sappy she looks right now. (Alex once tried to high-five her for locking down that suave motherfucker and Zahra had given him a look that made him hide behind Henry.)

“Everything sorted then?” she asks, tipping her face up to meet Shaan’s. He kisses her quickly and sits on the stool next to her.

“Yeah. I finally got a hold of Gavin so that Alex can “sneak out” to the V&A with Henry tonight.”

“Thank god. Now I won’t have to listen to him freak out about the logistics of proposing anymore.”

Shaan just raises an eyebrow as he sips his drink. “He’ll just bother you about wedding details instead.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“I am sorry I kept you waiting tonight.”

Zahra tips her head onto Shaan’s shoulder. “I’ve done it to you enough times. I get it.”

Shaan slings the hand not holding his glass around her waist. Zahra can feel the warmth of him even through their layers of clothing and slumps a little further into his space, utterly trusting him to keep them both upright. They stay like that for a while, not talking, just basking in the fact that they are together and free of their charges for the night. So often they are only in the same country because of some international policy issue. Zahra lets herself sink into the moment, reveling in the rare chance to just sit quietly at a bar with the man she loves.

“This is a good spot. Cozy. Quaint,” she eventually says, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.

“I’m glad you think so. It’s one of my favorite pubs in London.” He hesitates, eyes distant, then drops his voice and continues. “Arthur and Catherine used to sneak out and come here on dates, actually.” 

“Oh?” Zahra sits up so she can look at him properly. He doesn’t talk about the time he was Arthur’s equerry that often, and she doesn’t want to miss anything. From what he has said, she can tell it was a similar relationship to the one she has with Ellen. Close friendship, fierce protectiveness, and a hold-nothing-back, bantering sense of humor—closer to family than employee and employer.

“They’d put on casual clothes and ballcaps and make a break for it when her mother got particularly overbearing. I followed discreetly—”

“Of course.”

“To make sure they had a back up plan. And then once Catherine got pregnant, they stopped pretending they didn’t know I was there and invited me to join them. The three of us spent many a late night here, just talking.”

“Sounds great.”

“It was. I—I miss him a lot. But it’s been a pleasure to watch Henry grow into himself. He’s more like Arthur than even he knows.”

He falls silent again, and Zahra smiles at the soft look on his face. He really is disgustingly handsome, people should be absurdly jealous of her life. She kisses the side of his neck, unable—unwilling—to hold in her affection any longer.

“Take me home?” she asks. “I want to not be wearing clothes with a zipper any more.”

“I’d be delighted, Ms. Bankston.”

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

I adore your works! Maybe some aftercare for Izzy? It’s the first time one of his partners stuck around afterwards and Reader just gently cleans him up and wants to cuddle and Izzy’s incredibly confused (so is reader, since they’re stunned that no one’s ever given Izzy any aftercare).

Izzy experiences aftercare for the first time and cries about it a little.

Warnings: Starts just after a NSFW scene but there is no NSFW content, illusions of Izzy's bad past sexual experiences. Hurt/Comfort.

Aftercare:

White dots danced behind his eyelids, the buzzing in his ears fading enough for him to hear the way your breathing mixed together. Every inch of Izzy’s skin buzzed, warm and flushed, and prickling under the cool air.

The goosebumps were soothed away by your hands. It was only as your hand caressed over his chest that he realised you were still there, still touching him. Izzy braced himself for your retreat, for the cold that came once your body slipped from the cot and inevitably from his cabin. That was the part that came next.

Then your body was gone, just as he anticipated. Your hands were gone and the cot shifted as you moved. He finally blinked his eyes open, not wanting to show too much weakness, but kept his gaze on the ceiling. He didn’t want to watch you leave, normally it didn’t impact him too much to see his partner leave without even glancing back, but he didn’t think he could bear watching you leave. Not after the mess you had made out of him.

Something warm and damp touched the inside of his thigh, making him flinch. He relaxed a little at the gentle sound of your laugh, pushing himself up onto his elbows to look at you.

“Relax, love. Just a cloth, just want to clean you up a little.” 

You were sitting on the edge of the cot, carefully stroking a damp cloth over the inside of his thigh, wiping away the evidence of what just happened.

“That looked pretty intense. Just lay back, let me take care of you.”

Izzy wanted to scoff. Of course it looked intense, he couldn’t count the number of times you brought him to the edge of damnation only to deny him again. What he did know was that afterward he had come so hard he thought he blacked out, he actually might have a little bit.

Izzy didn’t do that though. He just nodded dumbly and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling and focusing on the feeling of your hands on his body. 

“You did so good, Izzy. Took it all so well, so beautiful,” you murmured as you worked, every word tugging at his heart.

You finished wiping down his thighs and tenderly cleaned over the place that was most sensitive, shushing him when he let out a little whine.

“Almost done, Iz,” you assured as you wiped the cloth over his stomach. “There we go, got the most of it.”

He nearly sobbed when you stood from the cot again, feeling the sudden need to have you close. Nobody had ever stayed so long after fucking him, nevermind took the time to clean him up.

But you returned before he could dwell on your absence for too long. “Don’t worry, it’s a fresh cloth.” Your reassurance confused him until he felt the damp corner of a cloth touch his cheek.

You tenderly wiped his face and neck, freshing him up and ridding him of dried sweat and tears. Then you were gone again but only for a moment.

“How are you feeling?” you asked gently, hand caressing his cheek. Izzy couldn’t quite answer but he did find himself leaning into your touch.

“Does anything hurt or ache?” He shook his head, unable to find his words.

“Do you want a drink?” He nodded before he realised he was even doing it, only just realising how scratchy his throat felt.

You were almost immediately pressing a cup of water to his lips, helping him drink from it. Once the cup was empty you placed it back down and fixed the pillow under Izzy’s head.

He could only watch you, unsure of what you were doing or how to react. He had never found himself in this situation before.

You slipped into the empty space beside him and fixed the blanket so it was draped over you both. His gaze flickered over to your face as you combed your fingers through his hair, your adoring smile and soft eyes making his breath catch.

“Can I stay the night?” you asked. Your relationship with Izzy is yet to be defined so you didn’t want to cross any boundaries but the thought of leaving him right now maybe you ache.

Izzy, feeling just as dumb and confused as when you first touched that cloth to his skin, just nodded. You smiled and actually thanked him as you lay down properly beside him.

“Are you alright? You’re a little tense,” you worried, stroking a hand over his flushed skin. Over his chest and down his arm, just wanting him to relax.

“‘M’fine,” Izzy slurred, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

“Just sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Izzy couldn’t fight you as you guided him closer, letting him lay his head against your chest as you wrapped your arms around him. Perfectly comfortable on his little cot. One hand stroked up and down his arm, your other tangled loosely in his hair.

You felt electric, holding the first mate to your chest, body and mind sated. You could have drifted off to sleep in that moment, until you felt something wet against your chest. You frowned a little in confusion but ignored it, then smiled at the thought that Izzy had already fallen asleep and was possibly drooling on you. It should have been a little gross but you thought it was adorable.

Then Izzy’s shoulders shook. It wasn’t even visible, if you hadn’t been holding him you wouldn’t have noticed. But you were, and you did.

“Izzy?” you asked quietly, realising that the man was crying. Suddenly, sleep was the last thing on your mind.

“Izzy?” you eased yourself up into a sitting position so as to not disturb Izzy too much. He sniffled and instinctively tried to turn his head away, but you tenderly took his face in your hands to keep him focused on you. “What’s wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like? How can I fix it?”

You kept your voice calm and steady despite your frantic worrying. Everything had seemed perfectly fine, better than fine actually, it all seemed to go incredibly well. You wracked your brain, trying to find where you went wrong.

Your thumbs wiped away his tears but apparently that only made him cry more, a broken little sob escaping his kiss bitten lips. “Izzy, sweetheart, please speak to me.”

“Why?” Izzy croaked. At least he was speaking.

“Why?” you repeated quietly, trying to understand the question. “Why what?”

You waited patiently as Izzy swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why are you doing…this?” he asked.

“This?” you frowned, eyebrows pinching together. You knew you were pretty much just repeating everything he said so far but you couldn’t be sure of what he was asking. Why had you slept with him? Why had you made sure he was comfortable afterwards? Surely that wasn’t what he meant…

“Cleaning and…holding me. Why are you staying?”

Oh…so that was what he meant…

“...do you want me to leave?” you asked carefully, pulling back just enough to give him some space without taking your hands away from his face.

You were glad you left your hands where they were because the desperate way Izzy shook his head and how a sob built up in his throat made your chest ache. Though, not as much as when he grabbed your wrists, holding them nearly tight enough to hurt. The plea was silent but more than loud enough for you. Don’t leave.

“It’s alright, Izzy. I’m not going anywhere, not unless you want me too,” you promised him, leaning in closer again. Once he appeared to calm down a little, you asked, “you want to know why I’m looking after you?”

Izzy nodded, eyes glistening and vulnerable. You had never seen him like this before, even if you had only known him since he and Blackbeard boarded the Revenge, even if you had only been intimate a handful of times. This was different.

Your thumb brushed along his cheekbone. “Izzy, I…has nobody ever stayed afterwards before?” It was becoming more challenging to keep your voice steady. You wanted to cry for him.

Izzy just stared at you, like the question was in some way confusing. “Why would they?”

“Oh…oh love,” your heart just broke for him, and you suddenly wanted to hurt anyone who had ever laid their hands on him, who didn’t deserve him. But Izzy was more important than all of that right now, and you wanted to keep all of your attention on him. “Well, I want to stay. I want to make sure you’re alright. That you’re happy and comfortable. I want to make sure you don’t regret anything we did and still feel good. I want to hold you and care for you. For me, it’s just as important as the sex. More so, even.”

As you spoke, you absently petted at his hair, face, and neck. Just wanting to offer some comforting touches, and it seemed somewhat effective. He kept leaning into your touches, nuzzling into your palms and sighing under your touches. Even if he didn’t realise he was doing it.

“What do you get out of it?” Izzy asked.

You didn’t think you’d have to be describing the point of aftercare or the desire to cuddle tonight, but here you were.

“I get to know that you’re satisfied and happy, that I haven’t left you hurt or wanting. The best part is just getting to hold you and be close to you, though, if I’m being honest,” you told him evenly. “But even if I didn’t get anything out of it, I would still do it. It’s just as much about what you need as about what I need.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, carefully kissing away the fresh tears that had fallen over his cheeks. When you pulled away enough to get a better look at his face, you could see that he just looked drained.

“Do you want to sleep, love?” you asked, gently scratching your nails over his scalp.

Izzy sighed at the feeling before nodding. He felt absolutely exhausted, even more so than before.

“How about this? We make ourselves comfortable again and get some sleep, and then we can talk more tomorrow,” you suggested. Right now it looked like Izzy just needed some proper rest.

“Do we have to talk?” he grumbled. You couldn’t help but smile a little bit at the slight glimpse at the Izzy you were used to, grumpy and so very against talking things through.

“Yeah, love, I think we do,” you smiled sympathetically. “But we don’t have to talk until you’re ready, okay?”

Izzy assessed your expression for something, maybe trying to tell if you were being honest. “...okay,” he nodded.

You lent in to press a few kisses to his face, on his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally the corner of his mouth. Letting the tension seep from his body, Izzy let you guide him back down onto the cot. Let you bring him back down against your body again and pull the blanket over your bodies.

This time, Izzy was shameless in the way he clung to you, nuzzling his face against your neck. You felt him exhale against your skin, his body melting against yours. 

“I like it…this…what you were doing,” Izzy confessed quietly.

“Good, love. That’s kinda the point,” you smiled, hoping he didn’t mind the gentle teasing. “You tell me what you like and I’ll do more of it. Tell me you don’t like something and I’ll stop. That’s the deal.” Your fingers found their place in his hair again, massaging his scalp, it was something he seemed to like a lot.

Izzy nuzzled closer, huffing when it caused your hand to still. You just chuckled to yourself fondly, pressing your fingers into his scalp again.

“Feel like I’ve ruined it,” he whispered.

“No, Izzy. You haven’t ruined anything. You were wonderful, so perfect. Thank you so much for telling me what was wrong and talking to me about it, thank you for letting me help,” you praised, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, holding him a little tighter. “You did so perfectly, love. You’re perfect.”

Izzy felt the tears welling again but they were…good tears, he thinks.

And then he was falling into a peaceful deep sleep to your gentle praise and loving touches, knowing that he was safe and cared for. Almost completely certain that you would still be there, still be holding him, when he woke up.

[japhan2024]

THE ISLAND

Chapter 7: The inauguration

Read the whole fic on AO3

As Ian is about to be inaugurated as president of the USA, he reflects on how it could have ever gotten this far.

Author's note: I wrote this before the actual elections took a turn(tm). I hope nobody is offended!!

Author's note 2: this chapter is almost a carbon copy of my own daydream so of course pentatonix is there too lmao

Chapter word count: 1.528

Rating: general

Ian looked in the mirror of the hotel’s bathroom. His hair stuck to his forehead, his complexion paler than usual with a bit of a green hue to it. He ran back to the toilet again.

“Ffffuck. Fucking hell…”

Ian had always loved history. But he had never wanted to be part of it. And tomorrow, he’d be inaugurated as president of the United States of America.

Could he even be honest with himself at this point? He’d pushed his feelings away for so long. Few people knew his secret: he didn’t want to be president.

He sank onto the tiled floor. “How could I have let it get this far?” Head in hands, he silently cried.

It all started with a guy. Ian only vaguely remembered his name. He was still in high school. Being the class clown, he always tried to make people laugh. But there was one boy who laughed the hardest and did so at his every joke.

Ian remembered how that felt. It was like a drug. Fleeting, but oh so good. If he could get that guy to really lose it, throw his head back and fall out of his chair… That was a little piece of Nirvana right there.

After high school, he never saw him again. But he’d sharpened his skills a lot and thought about pursuing a career in comedy. Eventually though, he decided to do community organizing for his political party. And he became popular so fast that he rose through the ranks like it was nothing.

But he never heard that laugh again. And he kept trying to be funnier, to be more liked. In every crowd he addressed, he searched for that one voice. It nearly drove him insane. Or maybe it had, Ian didn’t know for sure, especially now.

Eventually , the president died of old age and a rushed primary was held. Pushed forward by his peers and the party alike, Ian threw his hat in the ring. He beat everyone in the debates, easily. Only after that had happened, did he realize what it would mean.

After flushing down the sick, he collapsed again. Tears streamed down his tired face.

“Oh god. I’m so alone…”

~

“Ian, you are ready for this,” Shayne and Courtney were trying to hype him up.

“You’ve really got this, buddy! You’ve done so well! This is your party, and everyone is coming wearing their best suit, trying to impress you.”

They were slowly driving through Washington.

“I know…” Ian was hyper-aware of the police parade in front and behind the car. He felt stuck. And even though he appreciated the effort, Shayne nor Courtney could get him out of his head.

The car stopped and as they got out of the car, the heat searing down like a heavy blanket, Ian looked up at the stately building. There was so much he had to do, and he probably only had a very short amount of time to do it.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Ian was greeted with a delegation of the former president. They shook hands ceremoniously and walked inside. Ian supported the widow of the former president as she had difficulty walking and was still overcome with grief.

Even though the hall was very large, it had a homely feeling with its red velvet floor and many tables. It was jam-packed with Ian’s party’s members and donors. The air was jubilant, not at all matching Ian’s dread and anxiety. He almost felt like throwing up again. Luckily, it was just a couple of burps.

He sat down, because there was a short musical performance preceding the inauguration. This was all Ian’s doing, he’d requested the group himself.

The buzzing of voices died down as six people walked in front of the crowd and underneath the red drapes. They began to sing. It was acapella. They had two bass singers. One had long hair and a long beard. The other’s hair was short and his beard trimmed. Even without amplification, they made the entire room vibrate pleasantly with their low tones. It eased at least a few of Ian’s nerves.

Then there was the baritone, a tall, blonde man with a raspy voice that you rarely found in acapella. He sounded like a rockstar. Yet, his voice blended in perfectly with the group.

A beautiful woman with shiny hair, colored in balayage, stood firmly on high heels. Still, she was the shortest one of them all. But her voice was big and strong, complimented perfectly by the velvety high tones of the countertenor, an angelic looking, slender brunette guy.

The beats were produced by a handsome black man beatboxing and clapping. It was mesmerizing how he could make himself sound just like several different kinds of drums and percussion.

Together, this group looked like a representation of America. Diverse, energetic, emanating positive energy. Ian wanted them here, for this moment, to convey his idea for the country.

They started with ‘Amazing Grace’. People were in ecstasy listening to the angelic voices of the singers. And the song was perfect for this audience. They ate it up.

But the group followed it up with Imagine by John Lennon. And with lyrics like “Imagine there’s no countries,” some people shifted awkwardly in their seats. Ian smirked when he noticed. He was glad they felt just a bit of unease.

But as the group sang the famous lines “be as one,” the six voices melted together, and formed a harmony so urgent, so commanding, it left the crowd completely silent, after which a big applause erupted. Ian smiled, content with the whole thing.

But now, it was his turn.

He tentatively stood up and slowly made his way up to the Chief Justice. He swallowed. He put his hand on the constitution, which lay on top of a mandatory bible. He repeated the words the justice told him, and that was it. Ian Hecox was now president of the United States.

People were about to commence the festivities, but Ian held up his hand.

“I’d like to take this opportunity, while all eyes are still on me…” His own words made him realize what he was doing. Everyone looked at him.

“As president of the United States, I am declaring a state of emergency-”

People gasped.

“That is twofold. Firstly, there is a health emergency going on in this country. Too many people die every day of preventable causes. And this is because healthcare is just too expensive. And unfairly so. So, I invoke section 1881A of the Affordable Care Act-”

More gasps.

“Which grants Medicare coverage for people exposed to environmental health hazards. Seeing as Covid has reached just about everyone in the country, not to mention a whole bunch of other toxic health hazards which affect our people every day, all American citizens are eligible for Medicare. Right now.”

There was complete silence except for some douchebag in the back who started to say “But who will pay fo-”

“Secondly, we are deep in the downward spiral of climate disaster. Our fellow citizens are dying from it every day. So, I’m declaring a climate emergency. I will hold a press conference on it later today.”

People were starting to buzz indignantly now.

“Thank you all for coming.”

Ian shut off the mic and walked straight to Shayne and Courtney, who shielded him from crowd and the press as they made their way outside again, into the car and to the White House.

“Ian, I had no idea you were planning all that,” Shayne said incredulously while they were driving. “That was… impressive.”

“Yeah… I am not sure when I’ll get murked for this, so I better act fast. Lots more things to do! Next on the list is Iran.”

“Iran?!”

“Yes! Get me on the phone with them as soon as you can!”

“Yes sir. Although I have to say…”

“What, Shayne?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t book Chumbawamba instead.”

~

Ian did not waste time marveling at the Oval Office. The place where all former presidents had made their most important decisions. He knew that time was running out for him, but he was determined to give it his all while he still could.

“Hello, this is president Hecox speaking. Yes, you are my first call indeed. So, uhm, about our nuclear deal…”

And thus, Ian’s short and let’s just say peculiar term began. He visited world leaders, ended wars and improved relations with most countries on terms that were favorable to the United States.

He issued some executive orders, he strong-armed congress and got them to vote for some very incremental improvements, it wasn’t much. But in terms of congress, it was really the best he could do.

His emergency-invoked orders were viciously attacked in the courts, and some had to be rolled back, but others remained in place.

Generally, the people loved him and were thankful he was facing the whole of the elite basically, to make life a little easier for the normal person. But if things were this easy, the world would be a better place already. Wouldn’t it?