#like the thought was ‘oh hey shoes with no socks i know who that is 😀’ LOL

[akkivee]

🤔

[gglitch1dd]

I’ve been wondering… when Toshinori goes to UA and his parents help him unpack in his dorm, does any of this friends or classmates think his mom’s a MILF and comment on how fine she is?

Oh definitely!!! It would drive him mad! Can't invite his friends over or anything because he knows they'll be thirsty for his mom.

"Okay sweetie do you have your toothbrush?"

"Yes mom, it's in the bathroom box."

"Did you also pack all your shoes? I thought you said you were missing a pair of slippers?"

"I found them and I put them in the shoe box."

"What about deodorant? Your bed sheets? I think I only folded like three sets and-"

"Mom!" Toshinori laughed as he took your hands as you and him stood in his dorm room in UA.

You, Izuku and him had been carrying boxes up to his room on the second floor into the room he'd be living in the entire year, outside of holidays. It was no surpise to anyone that the son of the number one hero managed to get into Class A. No surprise at all. You and Izuku were so exceptionally proud of Toshinori.

You eased as you looked at your oldest sprout. You felt tears come to your eyes as you cupped his face looking at him. For a second you saw the little baby you first held in your arms. The little guy who would cling to you and rely on you constantly.

Where did that little sprout go?

You sniffed as you covered your eyes.

"Mom..." Toshinori's shoulder's dropped as he looked at you with a sad smile. "Mom don't cry." He urged.

Izuku walked in with the last two boxes, the heaviest ones so far. "Alright. That's everything out of the car-" He paused as he saw you in tears. He slowly put down the boxes and looked at his son. He motioned to you with one finger. Toshinori nodded. Izuku put on a gentle smile as he chuckled and walked over to you, pulling you into his arms. "He's going to be fine, my love. I had to go to the dorms by myself and so will he. He'll be fine. Shinso said he'd keep an eye on him since he's homeroom teacher for class A."

"I know but Izu..." You dropped your hands and motioned to Toshinori. "My baby... He's gone out of the nest."

Izuku pat your back. "My love, he's just at UA. He isn't that far. We'll see him on holidays." He reminded you. Izuku let go of you as he moved to Toshinori.

He put his hands on the teenagers shoulders. Toshinori was dressed in his UA uniform already, a small red tie around his neck, tied Midoriya style, he stood in gleaming red Jordans, matching to his dad. Izuku looked at his son in front of him and he saw himself, only this time his son had a father to wish him off well.

Izuku opened his mouth to speak but he lost the words. He lifted up a finger and turned away as he tried to fight off the Midoriya sized tears. You weren't the least bit surprised that Izuku was crying.

Toshinori threw his hands up. "Great, now dad is crying too." He moved over to the both of you, pulling the two of you into a hug. Izuku wrapped his arms around the three of you, keeping you all close. "I'm going to be fine." He told you both softly, ignoring the burning in his own eyes.

"We know..." You said softly. "Just... remember to call, okay?"

"I will."

"And don't forget to wash your socks."

"I won't."

"And if you want to sneak alcohol into the dorms, make sure to bribe Hounddog with a Medium Rare steak."

"IZUKU!" You glared at your husband and his so called advice which Toshinori laughed at. Your husband put his hands up in surrender, but personally he believed he was saying the important things to remember.

With all the tears mopped off the floor, Toshinori accompanied you both down the elevators where some of the others were, a lot of them being kids you already knew since they were in your friend group.

"Hey Toshi!" Another first year boy jogged over to Toshinori as you and Izuku headed off towards the doors. He kept his hands in his pockets but nodded towards you. "Who's that lady?"

Toshinori paused for a second. "Oh that's my mom."

"Dude! How could you not know that's his mom?" Kaminari Haiden, Denki's and Jirou's son, commented as he motioned to you. "She's literally always on the news with ProHero Deku."

The guy scratched the back of his head. "I just didn't expect her to be such a MILF."

"EXCUSE ME?!" Toshinori let out loudly with an appalled look on his face.

Haiden sighed as he nodded his head, folding his arms over his chest. His purple hair was styled in the same way as his dad but with a white lightning bolt. "I know right?"

"Are we talking about Aunty Y/N?" Kane asked as he walked over with his hands in his pockets. The other boys hummed in agreement. "I've been telling Toshinori that his mom is hot and he's never believed me."

"That's my MOM!" He reminded his friends motioning to your form. "She isn't hot! She's my mom!"

"Are we talking about Toshi's mom?" Todoroki Keiji asked. He was one of the Todoroki twins, his hair being ice white as he turned to look to where you were. "Yah she's fine."

"HELLO!? CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT MY MOM PLEASE?!"

"Toshinori!" You called at the door. You waved a hand. "Bye, baby. Stay safe!"

Toshinori fought off an embarrassed blush but nodded. "Bye mom."

You smiled. Recognising the boys he was standing with, you waved your hand at them in goodbye. "Goodbye boys."

"Bye Mrs Midoriya." They sang with dopey smiles.

Haiden sighed. "Man, you're dad is one lucky man."

"DUDE!?"

-Glitch1d

[visualbutterflysworld]

Drunk Vinnie | Vhackerr

Warning: vinnie being drunk and clingy

might make a part 2. idk

“I need to text my girl. I want my girl.” Vinnie whined as he leaned onto Jack. “She’s right there Vin.” Jack laughed as he pointed to you, who was preoccupied by ordering a Uber. “That’s….that’s not her! I’m texting Y/n right now.” Vinnie huffed before pulling out his phone. He pulled in his bottom lip. He squinted his eyes trying to successfully type correctly.

In his mind he thought he texted, baby where are you? I miss you!

Instead he actually texted, “biby here ure uuuu( iiiii muss youuu &&”

You chuckled as you read the text before going back to what you were doing. “Why won’t she text me back!? DID SHE DIE?! JACK CALL THE COPS!” Vinnie yelled when he did see those three bubbles pop up. “Vinnie, stop yelling.” You rubbed his arm, trying to sooth him. “No! Who are even you?! I have a girlfriend, lady!” Vinnie quickly gave you a dirty look.

“I am your girlfriend, Vinnie.” You laughed. “No! You don’t look like my Y/n. My pretty Y/n. Where’s my pretty Y/n?” Vinnie’s bottom lip begins to tremble. “Okay, Vinnie, let’s get you home.” You say, “Jack. Help? Uber’s here.” Jack nods before you and him put Vinnie’s arm over your shoulders.

“Y/n! I love Y/n so much! She’s so pretty!” Vinnie yells as you guys walk outside. “Vinnie, shhh.” Jack said. “Jack-o’-lantern, you just don’t understand.” Vinnie lays his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Yeah, man. Here. In you go.” Jack shakes his head before helping you put vinnie in the car.

After a short 15 minute drive you guys are back at your house, knowing Vinnie will be too loud for his apartment. “Honey! I’m home!” Vinnie yells as he stumbles into the house. You shake your head before shutting the door and locking it. “Do you want some water?” You ask. “Yeah, that sounds great random person. Hey, this place looks at lot like my girlfriend’s house?” Vinnie scans the room.

You quickly dash and get him some water. Once he’s handed the glass, the water is gone in a matter of seconds. “Let’s get you to bed.” You say before grabbing his hand. “Okay, but nothing is happening between us! No funny business lady or I’ll tell Y/n!” Vinnie tells you. It was honestly so cute, seeing Vin miss you even though you were there.

Once you reach the bedroom, Vinnie wastes no time collapsing on the bed. “Mm. So comfy.” A happy lazy smile on his face. You take his shoes off and his socks knowing he hates sleeping with his socks on. “Y/n is the best. Do you have a Y/n?” Vinnie asked as you unbuckled his belt. “Sorta. Expect he’s a guy.” You say before pulling his pants down and throwing them somewhere. “That’s good. What’s his name?” Vinnie ask as you pull him to sit up. “Arms up.” You say.

Vinnie puts him arms up and strikes a pose while doing so. You laugh softly before pulling it off as well. Sober vinnie would thank you because he gets hot to easily in his sleep. “The guy! His name!” Vinnie says before falling back. You don’t know how but he somehow knew he wasn’t under the covers so he quickly places himself underneath.

“Vinnie. His name is Vinnie.” You say before grabbing a t shirt to sleep in. “What!? That’s my name! My name is Vinnie!” Vinnie yells. “I know that, Vin.” You quickly toss your hair in a low bun before sliding in bed. “I never asked but, what’s your name?” Vinnie says. “It’s y/n.” You laugh before moving a piece of hair out his face. Vinnie’s face scrunched before his eyes went wide.

“Wait a minute! You’re Y/n! My Y/n! Oh my God! When did you get here baby?!” Vinnie quickly rushes into your arms. You laugh, “I’ve been here the whole time Vin.” “Nuh uh! That other lady was here! I swear.” Vinnie nuzzles his head in your neck. You lay back so that you can both rest comfortably. “Whatever you say, Vin.” You message his head.

“I love you Y/n. Promise to never leave me like that again?” You smile before slowly closing your eyes. “I love you too. I promise to never leave you again.” You feel Vinnie smile and it isn’t long before the both of you are passed out into a bliss.

[luveline]

Hey jade, I hope you had a good Christmas,

Love your writing so much it brings me so much serotonin 🤣🤣 I have a request for hotch if you’d be up to it, I just love this man’s patience and understanding and would love to see him interact with reader who struggles with sex? Or just sexual stuff in general, like maybe she feels really embarrassed about it and doesn’t know how to talk about it with him? Idk if this is something you’d be interested in just thought I’d throw it out there. Regardless, I can’t wait to see what you post next ♥️♥️♥️

hotch lends you some comfort when a certain topic flusters you, 1.1k

cw adult themes, mdni 

“It's almost cheaper to have kids.” 

You scoop your gaze from the deodorants. “What?” you ask, looking first to Hotch, and then to his eyeline. “Oh.” 

The grocery store boasts a few rows of contraceptives. Condoms, dental dams, and under that, lubes and stimulants in candy rainbow colours. Thirty one ninety nine for silicone-free, aloe vera flavoured lube. Twenty seven for o-gel. 

You avert your gaze without fact-checking him on the condoms, laughing awkwardly as your heart races. “Right.” 

“I'm kidding. Just feeding Jack is a surprising expense.” He says surprising like it's delightful. “Good thing we have cushy jobs.” 

Oh, he's feeling funny tonight. Your laugh is authentic as he takes your arm, the basket in his other clinking as he starts forward again. You finish your quick stock up and Hotch pays for your things despite your protests, packing you and the bags into his ‘cushy’ car. 

You're a little embarrassed in the passenger seat. Your relationship with Hotch is complicated in that while you're in the official early days, you pined for a long time. You're undoubtedly in love with him, and though he's your boss and your senior, he seems to have taken a similar liking to you, hence another chilled out date night upon his invitation. And you've you've messed around like teenagers with kisses too hot and hands wandering, but you haven't fucked, and it's a problem, because your usual awkwardness around the subject grows bigger the longer you wait. 

Hotch can wait forever if he wants, you're not trying to rush him. If he wanted to fuck you tonight you'd probably be too nervous anyhow. 

You can't talk about condoms. How are you going to cope when you have to use one? 

Your stomach churns the longer you think about it. Hotch doesn't react at first, but you know he's figured you out when he covers your hand atop your knee and gives it a squeeze. You okay?

“Can we turn on the radio?” you ask. 

His hand lifts away slowly. He turns on the radio, and you think, oh, he's mad. No, not mad. Irritated, maybe, or confused. That's not fair to him. You think it anyway, sick to your stomach as he parks in the parking garage under his building and you make your way up. 

He doesn't pull any punches —as soon as you're inside with your shoes off and the door locked, he puts the groceries on the counter and looks at you until you meet his eyes. 

“I'm sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” you ask, startled. 

“I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to imply anything before you're ready.” He's handsome like this, earnest, his eyebrows raised and an inviting palm held open on the counter beside him. “It was a poorly judged joke.” 

“No, no, I,” —you bring a hand to your mouth, cover it, uncover it— “don't mind if you want to joke about it. It would be weird to care, right?” 

He hears an insecurity in your tone you don't mean to reveal, and he pieces it together swiftly. Understanding lines his eyes. “I don't think so,” he murmurs. 

You're embarrassed beyond words, but he is your boyfriend. He asked with a little expensive bracelet and your favourite baked treat from the bakery near work. You'd only ever mentioned it once, but he remembered. He knows you well, and he's never given you reason to be afraid of his reactions. 

“It's just so embarrassing,” you mumble, staring down at your socks. 

“What is?” he asks, crossing the kitchen to take your hands. “You don't have to be embarrassed about anything, you're perfect.” 

Your breath catches, your neck cracking uncomfortably as you look up. “I– I don't know how to talk about it. I know it's childish.” 

“No, it's not. It's a big thing, and it comes naturally to some people, but not everyone.” His brow furrows a little, the warm depth of his voice working to unspool the tight panic you'd been clinging to, “I'd never push you to do something you're not ready for.” 

“I know that. It's not you. And I don't know if I'm ready or not, it's just–” Your face is hot enough to boil rain. You shake your head. It's too difficult to explain. 

Hotch ushers you into his solid chest. “It's okay,” he says, patting your back gently. “Don't worry about it.” 

“I want us to be like everyone else,” you confess. 

“We are. You're not the first woman to get nervous about the idea of intimacy, sweetheart, I promise. And I'm not the first man to make a bad joke about contraceptives.” He laughs as you laugh, two huffing chuckles as he presses his lips to the top of your head. “You can take as much time as you need to get used to the idea, and if it's still weird when you're ready, does it matter? We'll be weird about it together. Or we won't be. Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay… thank you, Aaron.” 

“I waited a long, long time for this,” he says, giving your back a pointed little squeeze. “And it's more than I ever thought I'd get. I'm not worried about the rest. I'm in no rush, and you shouldn't be either.” 

You hide your face in his chest for a while, somehow more embarrassed than when you'd started. He draws lines up and down your back with his palm patiently. “It's okay,” he says again, kissing the side of your face. After a moment, he encourages your head back with a hand on your cheek, checking your expression carefully before leaning in for a kiss. His hair tickles your forehead. 

To your relief, it doesn't make you nervous. He probably never could, not when he's touching you so softly. 

You're feeling a hundred times better when you pull away. A tad mortified still, but relieved to know your struggle with talking about it isn't a turn off. If he can stick with you through this bump in the road, you can try, at least, to overcome it. 

“Is lube really thirty two dollars?” you ask in a whisper. 

“I don't know. I've never needed it.” 

He spends the next ten minutes laughing and apologising sincerely as steam pours out of your ears. 

[transformation4life]

Army, Man

Juan was your average guy before his life was changed forever. Decent grades at his dream college, but no friends to speak of. So when he received a letter to join the US army in his assigned mailbox Juan was very confused. "The army? They must joking." Juan spoke as he looked at the recruitment flyer in his dorm room.

Juan and being enlisted in the army sounded like a twisted joke to him. He was scrawny and could barely do one pushup in gym class. Either way, Juan noticed a number at the bottom of the flyer in big bold letters and some voice in his head was nagging at him to call it.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'll be fun! Who knows!" So Juan grabbed his phone and dialed the number.

Some rings later and it sounded like a guy picked a phone. "Hey there, Name's Gruff, I'm assuming you're calling cause of the flyer you got in the mail, yeah?" Gruff's was deep and masculine. Definitely Juan's type but I bet he was straight.

"Y-Yeah! I thought I'd give it a shot since it's not like I got anything better to do!"

"That's the spirit man! Our army count has been real low due to... events so even one guy joining is great! But first I just need to ask you a few questions..." "A-Alright. Go on ahead..." Juan had to wonder what they would ask. "First question! Are you sure you want to join the army?" Gruff's tone was dead serious on this one and it shook Juan up a bit. "U-Uh... Yeah!" Juan was too far in to quit now at least that was his reasoning.

"Wonderful! Next question. How muscular are you?"

Juan frowned. As mentioned before, he barely had muscle and never went to the gym. Still, he felt the need to answer honestly.

"N-Not really sir. Sorry." "Haha don't worry about it! Alright that's all see you soon!" Gruff hung up before Juan could even say bye.

Juan was a bit shaken but that wasn't too bad. Juan pondered the interaction and something hit him. "Wait... I didn't tell him my address and he said he'll see me soo-" A wave of pain immediately hit Juan and he fell to the floor.

It wasn't before long Juan's body began to grow and get more muscular. Juan's arms became much beefier as his biceps were the size of sports balls. Six perfect abs popped onto Juan's stomach as his nonexistent chest began to inflate and become thick poppable pecs as his back expanded to support his new musculature making his tshirt real tight. Soon after, Juan's neck got thicker as his adam's apple was now ever more prominent than before as he gained some facial hair around his mouth. Juan's legs were next to grow as his thighs became much larger and his legs more defined as feet increased some sizes. Luckily Juan wasn't wearing any shoes but Juan's socks definitely didn't survive the growth. Some more minor changes appeared like a bigger dick and Juan's body aging physically. It's a miracle none of Juan's clothes ripped apart but it's not like it mattered anyway as Juan's apparel began to change.

Juan's graphic tee became more tough material and more generic as it became a dark green. It was still tight around Juan's figure though. Next up was Juan's pants as it gained a camouflage pattern and became cargo pants. A belt magically appeared and looped around the belt holes of his news pants as well as an army hat wrapping around Juan's head. Juan's socks were stitched back together and went a dark black and suddenly army boots were now being worn by Juan. The last change was an army tag appearing around Juan's neck saying "Juan Graham". Juan was now the definition of a buff army man.

Once the pain subsided and Juan regained his bearings he readjusted his glasses and looked at the mirror nearby. "What the- WHAT THE FU- Oh god, my voice... my EVERYTHING!" Juan was amazed but also scared. He gained muscles in seconds but how?

And before Juan could question things further, Juan's phone rang once again. Juan saw that it was the army recruit number. He concluded they must be involved so he answered the call.

"Hey Juan, ready for your first day?" It was Gruff again "First day? You did this to me, didn't you?"

"Not sure what you mean, but you agreed to join the army and we need you now." "But I don't even know anything about how to do anythin-" One more sound of pain hit Juan as memories of years of military training and gym workouts filled his mind. Everything he could ever need to be in the army was now in his brain. Juan now much more confident started a new sentence. "Nevermind. When does the car get here?"

"That's our Juan! Should be there soon. You can walk out and wait already." "Perfect. See you soon." Juan hung up and left his dorm and old life behind. It was probably for the best anyway. He much preferred being a beefcake army man than some twink in college.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Apologies for not posting for a couple months. I got major writer's block but here's a story for you guys hope you like it!

[onlyhaos]

thinking abt being cheols passenger princess rn :p controlling the music and just being cute 😌

I’ve been learning and learning, so sorry that I was literally dead. (due to so much learning I literally have a writing block) this is literally so cute 🥹 let‘s get to it !!

— ౨ৎ

bf!Cheol who picks you up from work every day. Even if he has work again after, he‘ll always try to come and pick you up. Dropping you off at home, kissing you, and then leaving for work again.

“Hey baby” Seungcheol waved, so you’d see him, standing at the car in that classy outfit that you always loved. “Hey, love” You smiled, feeling your man’s lips press onto your forehead, the second you get close to him, as a greeting. Getting in, you’re ready to tell your lover all about your work day, waiting for him to also talk about his, which sadly wasn’t over yet. So when you feel yourself getting fully caught up in the wholesome conversation, you were already in your driveway. Seeing you sulk, Seungcheol began talking with his signature pout. “Baby don’t look at me like that, y’know I have to leave for work again, but I'll be back soon. And I'll also come with a small surprise.” He kissed you, stroking your cheek, which made you smile at him brightly. “Okaaay, I love you, come back home safe later” You smiled, watching your lover getting into the car again. “I love you, too, baby. And will do” Cheol said, waving you goodbye as he drove off again. And in the evening, when your handsome man rings at the doorbell, you're so happy to finally see him. But the first thing you see isn't him, it's the pretty bouquet of flowers that stand in front of his pretty face. It's the kind of bouquet you talked about to Seungcheol. With a sweet smile and a small kiss, you tell your lover to come inside, praising him for being so attentive.

— ౨ৎ

bf!Cheol who always has comfy socks or/and shoes in the backseat. So when you come out of the building, fully exhausted and feet hurting from your heels, he‘s quick to hand you everything you need for even just a bit of comfort.

Sighing loudly, you finally rested in the pre-heated seat of your boyfriend’s car. A whine escaping you, as you, softly, 'complained' “My feet hurt soooo bad” , only waiting for Cheol to get your comfortable sneakers out the backseat. “Are your feet cold too?” Seungcheol asked, looking at you as he bent back to grab the shoes. Seeing you nodding with a humming, quietly, he made sure to also grab your fluffy socks. Handing them to you, he paid attention to you putting on your socks. “Need help, dear?” Your lover asked as he still held your shoes, patiently waiting for you to finish putting on your socks. “Mhm, I don't think I'll be able to get my shoe on, it’s too tight in the passenger seat, and I can barely put on my socks already.” You said, laughing. But before your laugh stopped, Cheol already lifted your legs gently over the console and put on your shoes for you.

— ౨ৎ

bf!Cheol who always lets you control the music. Handing you his phone so you don‘t have to fish yours out and opening the shared playlist that you both always listen to. Every and anywhere.

''You know, when I was at work today, listening to our playlist and this 'songs you might like' thingy, I found a new song. It's really pretty!'' You spoke, happily. Making the man next to you smile. ''Oh, really?'' He said with a small chuckle. ''Do you want to listen to it?'' Cheol asked, ready to get his phone out already. So before you could answer, your boyfriend already handed you his phone. With a quick look at his camera, the phone immediately unlocked. Because, who would've thought, your face was also registered as his face ID. Opening the music app, you searched for the new song you heard today, and began playing it. Listening to it, Seungcheol began speaking, ''It's a really pretty song, my baby, but you do know that you can just connect the phone to the car, then you can enjoy it a bit louder, hm?'' He said, gently as he smiled.

— ౨ৎ

bf!Cheol who always asks you if you want to go and eat out or if you just want some quick takeaway, in case you’re too exhausted to cook for yourself and him.

''Any ideas on what we could make for dinner today?'' Seungcheol asked as you both were driving home from your exhausting work day. ''Not yet, but I'm also not feeling like cooking today, and I don't want you to cook alone.'' You said, feeling a bit guilty for showing your exhaustive self in front of your also hardworking boyfriend. ''That's totally fine, baby. But if we won't cook today, any ideas on where we could eat out? It's friday, we could go out and have a nice dinner together. We deserve it.'' He chuckled, as his hand found it's way to your thigh. ''I saw a new restaurant that I wanted to try with you, they have a nice wine and also very tasty beer. Would you like to go and check it out today, or will it be our standard restaurant?'' You spoke, your hand sneaking up to rest on his. ''Sure, why don't we try something new today. We can go home first, make the reservation, freshen up a bit and then have a nice dinner together.'' He spoke, happily. Not being able to say no to such a nice plan, you agree to it, already feeling excited. As if it was the first time that you and Seungcheol went out for a date.

[togrowoldinv]

Batter, Batter

Jock!Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

On an overnight team trip, Wanda decides to make a move on you. It goes better than she expected

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oblivious reader in the beginning, oral (W and R receiving), fingering, very confident Wanda

Note: I got this idea and couldn’t let it go until I wrote it. Yes, I made them softball players. I know what sports I know. Enjoy!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff is by far and wide your favorite teammate. The girl always cheers you on the loudest and picks you up when you make an error.

So, you weren’t surprised when Wanda was designated as your roommate for the team’s overnight final tournament.

Now, you sit on the hotel bed in your uniform and wait for Wanda to finish getting dressed. She comes out of the bathroom in just her unbuttoned pants and socks with a sports bra on.

“Y/n, have you seen my jersey?” She asks you.

You look up from your phone and your mouth goes dry. Wanda’s abs are on display. You try to avert your gaze, but it’s no use.

“Earth to y/n,” Wanda says, a chuckle escaping from her lips.

“Sorry- uh- yeah I think it’s over on the dresser,” you stumble through your words.

Wanda nods and finds the jersey. She slips it over her head and tucks it into her pants. Then she looks around again.

“Any chance you’ve seen my belt?” Wanda asks.

“By your bag,” you say.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she says. She puts the belt through her pant loops, but she stops short of buckling it. “Could you help me?”

“Oh- um-”

“My hand still hurts from taking that ball to my knuckles yesterday,” Wanda explains.

You’re sure you would remember if that happened, but who are you to deny helping her? You cross the room and buckle her belt. You don’t see how Wanda stares at you as you do it, her eyes searching for the same want in yours.

When you’re done, you step back and look at her face. She smiles and places a hand on your arm.

“We should get going to make team breakfast,” you say.

“Right,” Wanda agrees. “Let’s go.”

The two of you slip on your shoes and go down to the hotel lobby to meet the rest of the team. You greet Natasha and Carol as Wanda walks off to talk to other teammates.

“So, how is it rooming with Maximoff?” Carol asks you, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“It’s cool, yeah,” you say. “We get along.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Natasha teases.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Natasha shares a glance with Carol wondering if she should tell you. She doesn’t get the chance when your coach starts talking to the team.

After listening to the speech, Wanda finds herself sitting next to Monica at breakfast.

“I’m guessing you haven’t made a move yet,” Monica says to her.

Wanda sighs, “No. I can’t tell if it will scare her off if I do.”

“I’ve seen how she looks at you,” Monica says. “She may not know it, but she is definitely in love with you.”

Wanda grins at that.

“I think I’ll do it tonight after the game,” Wanda decides. It’s usually easier than this for her to make moves on girls, but she really likes you and that scares her a bit.

The rest of the day goes by quickly. Both you and Wanda play well, and the team moves on to the next round of playoffs. The team is off celebrating, but you hang back in the hotel room.

You thought Wanda was going out, but she enters the room.

“Oh hey,” she says. “Not going to celebrate?”

“Nah, I’m too tired,” you say. “What about you?”

She shakes her head. “A night in with you sounds better.”

You smile and try to find a movie on the tv. Wanda sits on her bed, but she glances over at you. If she’s going to make a move, she needs to make it now. She stands up and walks to your bed.

“Can I sit with you?” Wanda asks.

“Yeah- okay,” you say.

You scoot over and Wanda sits next to you. She’s close enough that her thigh is brushing against yours. At some point, she places her hand on your thigh and leans her head against your shoulder.

You don’t know why her closeness makes your heart flutter. She stays like that for the whole movie.

Afterward, she sits up straight again and looks at you.

“Y/n,” Wanda begins. She is close to you, close enough that you can see every feature on her face. She is absolutely perfect. Wanda leans her lips closer to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper. All other words escaping you.

Wanda closes the distance between you two. Her fingers brush softly over your cheek as her lips move against yours. You gasp when Wanda deepens the kiss, her tongue entering your mouth.

She pulls away slightly. Wanda examines your face.

“Have you never had a woman’s tongue in your mouth before?” Wanda asks. Her words have an effect on your body, making you ache for her. You shake your head. “Use your words, baby.”

“No. I haven’t,” you say.

“Just follow my lead, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, anticipation building up in you.

Wanda kisses you again. This time she wastes no moment. She deepens the kiss. Wanda pushes you back onto the bed. Her eyes rake over your body before her hands begin to wander.

“Tell me you want this,” Wanda says, her hand hovering over your shorts. You had changed into them after a quick shower following the game.

“I want this, Wanda,” you say. You never thought this day would come.

Wanda smiles and slips her hand under the waistband of your shorts. She slides the material down your legs, grinning when you aren’t wearing any underwear. Wanda notices the tint of blush on your face. It makes her heart flutter. She sits up and takes her own pants off, leaving her in a t-shirt and panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” you find yourself telling her.

Your hand comes to her thigh as she straddles your waist again. Wanda looks at you with her big, green eyes. They rake over your lower half before making a silent plea for you to remove the rest of your clothing.

While you’re lifting your shirt over your head, Wanda discards her own. She lays on top of you again, and her breasts brush against yours. The material of your bras annoys her. Wanda takes off your bra and her own.

“So good,” Wanda mumbles as she takes your nipple in her mouth. You haven’t felt anything like this before. Your senses are on overload as she licks and sucks you.

“Oh Wanda,” your moan radiates through the room.

She hums and switches to your other nipple. Her hand makes its way down your stomach to your wet folds. Wanda is no stranger to making a woman feel good. She moves two fingers around your pussy and slips a finger in while she’s still paying rapt attention to your breasts.

“So wet and tight,” Wanda moans out.

You take her break from your breasts an opportunity to lean and kiss her. Wanda’s tongue battles with yours in full force this time.

“Fuck,” you say when she pulls away. She adds another finger as she hits you right where you need her. “That feels so good.”

“Yeah?” She asks. You nod. “Am I the only person who’s ever touched you like this?”

“Yes,” you breathe out.

Wanda replies with another kiss before she slides down your body. Her tongue joins her fingers in pleasing you. With every stroke, she sucks on your clit, pulling the loudest moans from you.

“I want you to come for me, y/n,” Wanda says once she feels you’re close. “I want you to shout my name and come.”

“Wanda,” you whimper, almost coming but not quite yet. Wanda picks up her pace, and with a couple more seconds, you’re shouting her name.

“Yes, that’s a good girl,” Wanda coos as you come down from your high. Your body aches in the best way.

You reach for her, and she hovers over you again. Your hands move through her perfect hair as you pull her down for a kiss. It’s slow and sinful. You realize how much you want her to feel the way you do.

“I haven’t done it before, but can I take care of you?” You ask her.

“Of course, baby,” Wanda agrees. The term of endearment slips off her tongue easily.

You kiss her once more before you switch positions. You lay next to her a bit, so you can pay attention to her breasts. Doing as she did, you take your time licking and sucking her perfect nipples. Her moans encourage you to keep going, even daring to bite her nipple softly.

“I need you,” Wanda says. She pushes on your head to kiss a trail down her chest to her stomach and right where she wants you.

“You have me,” you tell her. “Tell me what to do?”

“Lick me,” Wanda says. Sounds simple enough.

You lick her folds, much like she did to you. You try to replicate what she did. Wanda moans and tells you how to proceed. Once you get the hang of it, Wanda lays her head back on the bed in pleasure.

“I’m going to come,” she moans out when she’s close.

You feel yourself pick up the pace. Wanda’s mouth is open as her face is twisted with pleasure. She comes, and you lick her until she’s begging for you to stop.

“Fuck that was so hot,” Wanda says, her voice breathy.

You kiss her and lie on the bed next to her. Both of you catch your breath.

“I’ve peaked,” you say.

Wanda chuckles, turning to look at you again. You take her hand in yours and bring it to your lips. You kiss the back, and Wanda smiles at your sweetness.

“So, what are we?” Wanda asks.

“Teammates with benefits?” You wonder aloud. Wanda’s hand comes to your cheek. She looks over your face. She wants to do this right.

“How about we go on a date? And then I could ask you to be my girlfriend?” Wanda suggests.

“Even better,” you agree.

Wanda kisses your forehead softly. You spend the rest of the night kissing each other, getting to know each other better, and thanking goodness for an out-of-town tournament that brought you two together.

It was better than any win you could’ve ever foreseen. With Wanda by your side, you’re always a winner.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 [Part 2]

Everyone sometimes needs that special push- that one good reason- to break out of old shells, walls and habits, and make that change.

Tags/Warnings: Non-Idol Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, former criminal!Jungkook, mentions of past neglect/abuse, reader has some pretty bad psychological problems (OCD, Anxiety, Selective mutism, hints at an eating disorder), hypersomnia, road to recovery, hurt and lots of comfort, angst, Jungkook has some problems with aggression and swears a lot, more TBA in future chapters

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: You can have early access to this and other selected fics on my Patreon!

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It's right where he thought it might be.

You're basically drowning in the fabric of his sweater, but he's also never seen you so visibly calm during sleep. He can't even be mad about it- even though he usually does get rather irritated about his own clothes being taken by others.

He hates it. But for some reason, if it's you, he doesn't mind.

In fact, he's got to admit that you look cute like this. "We'll take a small walk to the park with the dog hybrids today. They need their time outside." Hana informs him as he puts the card hanging from the red string around his neck, so staff knows who he is. "They're all ready at the front, so you can go and check in with Yoha." Jungkook furrows his brows.

"What about her?" he asks, pointing to you who's still napping in the corner you're usually found in.

"She doesn't tag along." Hana says, as if he should know that. "She's not mentally fit for trips like that."

"I mean, on paper." Jungkook says, almost scoffing. "But like, did you ask her?"

"No, because she never comes along." She says rather defensively now. "Jungkook please, we know her better than you. Just stay here if you don't want to come along, but don't try and lecture me or anyone else here who's worked with her and other hybrids for years." She scolds.

But it seems like she doesn't know Jungkook.

Walking over to you, he's careful not to touch you, well aware that it could freak you out especially if you're asleep.

Doesn't know you, he scoffs to himself. He knows you better than her it seems, that's for sure.

"Hey." he tries, but you're sleeping too deep. "Hey, puppy. Wake up." he demands again, and now he can notice your ears moving, eyes opening after a few seconds, until his eyes widen at the sigh. You're smiling. Your tail is wagging.

You look genuinely happy.

"Hey there." he says, unable to hide his own smile either. "Hana said we're going to the park. You wanna come along?" he wonders, and he can see for a second that you're hesitating. "It's okay if you don't. No hard feelings. Just thought, you know, I should ask." he adds on, when you slowly sit up, playing with the strings of your sweatpants.

Then, you point at your shoes.

"Oh fuck, yeah, I forgot!" he shoots up, running to his bag where he pulls out another plastic bag, before running back to you. "I bought them a size smaller cause those you have seemed to big, but if you wear like, I don't know, socks or some shit in them they might fit." he explains, before pulling out some slip-in chelsea boots with almost no heel. Your eyes are like dinner plates at the sight. "Would be a good chance to try them out, no?" he wonders, nodding towards the small crowd of dog hybrids at the front, Yoha already counting everyone it seems.

So much for 'she doesn't ever come along', he angrily thinks.

And then, you pull on his sweater to get his attention. "Hm?" he wonders, just for you to hesitantly grab his sleeve. "I'll stay with you if that's what you're scared of. And we can go back at any moment." he reassures.

And that's what seems to make it work for you, because you move to slip into your new boots, before you get up and grab your coat from the hangers close by. He wants to say something to the staff-

But he composes himself, bringing you along to the front where Yoha and Hana already wait.

"Here." Hana says, giving him a yellow reflective.. Leash? "It's mandatory for her. I'm sorry, but without it-"

"Yeah yeah fucking protocol crap, I know." he grumbles more or less to himself, snatching the leash from her hands before he carefully clips it onto your collar. He cringes at the sight, hates it, and he hates it even more that somewhere in the backside of the logical part in his brain, he understands it.

He also comforts himself with the fact that you seem perfectly fine with the arrangement. It gives you a sense of security, equal as if holding onto his hand but without physical contact. You're skittish, still very much scared, but walking close to him seems to calm you down enough to make it work.

He didn't think you'd genuinely play at the park like the others do, and you don't- but that's fine.

The fact that you're here, that you're outside and at least attempting to find your way back into life away from your little bubble you've created shows him that you're not a lost case at all. A bit of work, and you could surely be adopted by someone nice who looks past all those issues. But somehow, the thought of you living with someone else makes him upset.

He knows he's not a good fit for someone like you.

He's talked to his best friend about it the night prior. It's a lot of responsibility already to live with a regular hybrid- but you're special needs. And considering his past mistakes and criminal record, there's simply no way to file for emotional support or therapy assistance.

It's beginning to rain a little, and he throws the hood of his sweater over his head before making sure your jacket is zipped up properly as well- like second nature.

You've noticed this before as well. He looks scary, with his piercings and tattoos and bold body and angry gaze. But he only looks that way. He's like a guard dog for you; a protector, because with him at your side nothing bad will ever happen. He's nice, a bit rough, but always friendly in his own way.

You like him.

Meanwhile Jungkook himself can't see what you see in him.

He's not the right person for you.

Next to him, you're perfectly content with your situation. Your tail is wagging sometimes in shared excitement when the hybrids in sight throw and catch a ball, but you also don't look like you actively want to participate. Watching seems to be more than enough, though you do check in if he's still next to you, tail wagging eagerly when he responds with a short smile your way.

He's not the right person for you, and he knows this.

When you walk back, he can feel your fingers grabbing the edge of his sleeve tightly, weighing his arm down a little. He notices the way his skin brushes against your fingers every now and then- feels how you do not react anymore, at all. There's a small moment of pure bravery, the sight of a road ahead, and the view of every hybrid standing in pairs holding hands that leads you to carefully slip your fingers between his. He quietly responds, holding your cold hand in his warmer one, thumb running circles over the soft back of your palm.

He knows he's not the right person for you.

But he wants to be.

[deathbecomesthem]

Ready, Steady, Go

MINORS DNI - STRICTLY 18+

*This is a reupload from my old blog. If you think it looks familiar, it's because it probably is.

Part 2 of Three's Company

wc: 2.8K

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Everyone is about age 30 in this one, think mid to late 90s. This chapter is Steve Harrington x Reader smut.

A/N: This is a Steddie x Reader story, but this chapter is the first time that Steve and the reader are intimate with one another, one on one, without their mutual lover Eddie.

Contains: Poly relationship dynamics, smut (oral and vaginal), and lots of feelings. It's so soft guys.Keep reading

---

Steve and Eddie have maneuvered through their relationship quietly. They’re still long time roommates to many of the people in their lives. They don’t hide themselves away, but they don’t invite many people in either. It’s not just for their personal safety, but their emotional well being is a priority. Sometimes, it’s too much to bear to think about losing a dear friend or family member for just being who they are.

What no one had really considered before opening the relationship to add you in was the fact that you made it possible for them to go places together that otherwise might be viewed with suspicion. There was no point in focusing on the injustice of that, bitterness can turn a good thing sour. No one wants that. The three of you are finding ways to fit your lives together, and so far it’s been shockingly natural. With love at the center, the rest seems to just fall into place.

So, why are you so nervous right now? A weekend alone with Steve isn’t something out of the ordinary - but this is the first time the two of you will be alone since you’ve been intimate. Eddie has always been there until now. What if there’s nothing without your shared love to hold onto? It’s a niggling fear that flits to the forefront of your thoughts when you least expect it. What if this is the way the end begins. 

You’re sitting in the chair in the corner of Eddie’s bedroom watching him pack his bag. He’s leaving in a half an hour, Eddie’s never been good at planning ahead. Unsaid concerns have turned into a lump in your throat. You can only sit and watch him move from the closet to the bed, snapping his fingers together when he remembers an item or two that he almost forgot to pack. And then he breaks the silence.

“What do you and Stevie have planned this weekend? I’ll miss you two so much.” Eddie’s tucking a fourth pair of black jeans into the corner of the suitcase, far too many for the three days he’ll be gone. He’s likely to forget to pack any socks, but have enough pants to last a month.

“Oh,” you pull your legs up to rest your feet on the edge of the chair. You’re pulling yourself in, making yourself small, “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it. I might just spend some time by myself.”

Eddie slows his movements and sighs a little to himself before saying, “I thought it might be nice if you two spent some time alone together.” Eddie moves toward you, and drops down to his knees in front of you. He lays his head in your lap, “I know you both, and I love you both. I see it, ya know? There can be more between the two of you, if you let it happen.”

You don’t respond, but you let the words roll around in your head while you run your fingers through his hair. Yes, he’ll only be gone for a couple of days, a short weekend trip to visit Wayne and go fishing, but you ache at the thought of his absence. He is your heart. For him, you will try. And for yourself, too.

—

Steve comes home an hour after Eddie’s already gone. You make a point to be sitting in the kitchen with a pot of oolong when he walks through the door. A loaf of banana bread is cooling on a wire rack on the counter, a treat you know he can’t resist. 

“Hey,” Steve’s smile is wide when he catches sight of you. He kicks his shoes off by the door and heads over to kiss your head in his usual greeting. “Oh, ho ho, is that what I think it is?” 

“Mmm, yes it is. Fresh out of the oven. Look at what a good little homemaker I am.” You flutter your eyes at him and smile. “Let’s have some and spoil our dinner. I made tea.”

Steve immediately gets to work pulling out small plates from the overhead cupboard, and setting the butter dish on the kitchen table. You see him breathe in the smell of the bread deeply when he cuts the first slice, it’s still warm enough that steam rises from the loaf when the knife cuts through it.

You love seeing him like this. Steve finds the joy in these little things, and even before the dynamic shifted between the two of you, offering Steve little treats was always one of your favorite things. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m not complaining.” He sits down and melts into the chair. His glasses fog when he takes his first sip of tea. You’re studying him, watching the way he tastes the bread and drinks his tea. You watch the muscles in his jaw. You watch him suck the crumbs off his thumb. He really is very pretty.

You ignore the fear inside you, and do what feels natural. You sneak your foot over to his, and rub the arch of his foot with your big toe. He grins at you through the still foggy lenses. His other foot rubs the side of yours. This game of footsie while you eat banana bread at 5:30 on a Friday evening feels more intimate than when you swallow each other's moans under the covers of Eddie’s bed.

“What do you want to do tonight, Steve?” You pinch the top of his foot with your toes in conjunction with the question. Playful and light to hide the anxiety. Because you don’t have plans with Steve tonight, and you don’t have the kind of comfortable relationship that you and Eddie share where time together is a natural thing that just happens.

“Tonight? Oh, I don’t know,” there’s genuine surprise in his voice, as if the idea that the night might come never occurred to him. “What about you, Honey? Think you might want some company?”

Honey. The name is warm and sticky, it sends a tingle down your spine. It’s better suited for the man sitting across from you, with his gold flecked irises and the amber highlights threading through his graying hair. Never mind his sticky sweet nature.

“That would be just the thing, Stevie. I’m already lonely with our sweet muppet gone. We can keep each other company, hm?” 

Steve sits up straight, lighting striking him, “Oh! I know what we can do.” He jumps out of his chair and strides over to the drawer next to the dishwasher. He fiddles around in it, and pulls out a paper menu. It’s the place around the corner that Eddie hates. You tried to make him love the unique dish that reminds you of home, but he turned his nose up at it. The same man that eats Vienna sausages and Velvetta won’t even try a plate of the surprisingly complex dish that is Cincinnati chili.

“You just scored big points, Stevie. Throw in a couple of cannoli from Angelo’s, and I’m yours forever.” 

—

With full bellies, it was natural the way you fit into his side while the blue glow of the television screen played your favorite John Hughes film. Steve’s hand runs up and down your arm, but his eyes stay on the screen - he loves these kinds of movies, and it’s rare when he can enjoy them without the moaning of your shared boyfriend. For you and Steve, this is an experience neither of you realized you were missing. It’s warm and lovely to be with him like this. Quiet and secure. Held. And you want him more than you thought was possible. You want his hands on you. 

You’ve been in the dark with Steve and Eddie. You’ve shared the heights of pleasure with them both. But you and Steve have yet to cross the line into lovers. You’ve mapped Steve’s beautiful body with your eyes, your mouths have met in passionate kisses while Steve’s cock is inside of your boyfriend. You wonder, will he have you?

This is when you decide it’s worth the risk of rejection to see if he also wants to see where the night could take you. You turn your head and look up at his face. You can see the moles scattered across his skin under that blue light, and you speak.

“Stevie,” your voice is a whine, betraying the sudden need that’s building in your gut, “you look so pretty right now.”

The blue light of the television screen across the room flashes in the lenses of his glasses when he whips his head to face you. You can’t see his eyes, they’re obscured by the glare. Steve leaves nothing to the imagination, he doesn’t make you wonder. He takes off the acrylic frames and searches your eyes. Satisfied with what he sees, he smiles as he cups your face and leans down to kiss you.

Slow. The eagerness is there, it would be a disappointment if it was missing, but it’s slow. He’s tasting you, savoring the flavor of your lips - red wine, salty popcorn, and mint lip gloss. You think you could stay like this, open mouths searching one another, teeth scraping soft lips, forever and never tire of it. A wide palm instinctively finds the bare skin at the small of your back, a thumb strokes your spine.

“Steve,” the word released into the air between your mouths makes him dizzy. “Stevie, please.”

Steve breaks the kiss to rest his head on your forehead. The air between you is heavy and humid. Your eyes, blurry from the closeness of your faces, bore into his. Any question either  of you may have had about whether there is something between the two of you without the affection of your shared lover evaporates into the air with your shared breaths. 

“I want to see you, Honey. You’re so pretty.” Steve closes his eyes when he tells you this. And you think, how could I deny a request like that from this man. 

His eyes remain closed as you stand. You take your hand in his, and pull him to his feet. Neither of you realizes the film is still playing on the screen in the living room as you lead him down to the room at the end of the hallway. Your room. 

Steve stands and watches you while you undress. He’s seen you this way before, many times. He’s never failed to see the beauty in your form, but it’s different right now. Quiet. He can watch the way your hands move. He can see the muscles flex in your shoulder as you reach behind your back to unhook your bra. He can see each soft curve of your skin and admire them. 

Eddie isn’t a distraction. Eddie is a force of nature. Eddie is the sun. It’s easy to be blinded by him. His absence tonight allows the light to stay low, it allows movements to slow. It allows you and Steve the space to look at each other and spend the time. Your only regret is that Eddie can’t be a fly on the wall to see these quiet moments between the two loves of his life. 

You don’t feel insecure as you kick off the small piece of fabric from your ankle, letting your black panties hit the shin of Steve’s jeans. You feel powerful. He’s eating you up with his eyes. You can practically see smoke leave his nostrils when he huffs through them, lips tight. His jaw is clamped, while you crawl onto the bed, allowing him a full view of your slowly swaying ass.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna kill me.” Steve is still standing at the end of the bed as you present yourself, laying on your back, legs spread. Your hand roams your chest and stomach, dipping to the soft pubic hair - touching the places where you wish his hands would search.

“Stevie. Are you just gonna stand there?” Your words are soft. A hand grasps one of your breasts, squeezing it. Desperate to feel something. The open air between the two of you is too much. Steve doesn’t bother with his own clothes, his fingers are aching. They’re empty, and are desperate to feel your soft skin.

Slow. Deliberate. A steady hand travels down the valley of your chest, long fingers brushing gently across your skin. Gooseflesh erupts along their path. You’ve been holding your breath in anticipation of his touch. His attention. He’s focused on only you tonight for the first time, and you are full.

“Your skin is so soft.” Steve’s voice breaks the silence, and you release the air from your lungs. “Look at you.”

You can’t look at yourself, so you look at him. The moonlight sneaks through the blinds, reaching out for him. Bathed in moonlight, you see everything. You see him. You smell him. You feel him. Even now with his lust clouded mind, his hands are steady and searching. 

Featherlight touches travel past your navel. Your breathing hitches when he gently strokes against your already swollen clit. He continues to the silky smooth lips below, and runs up and down. He delights in every one of your hitching breaths, a crooked smile spreads across his lips.

“You’re wet, Honey, and I’m so thirsty. Can I have a drink?” 

You open your mouth to respond, but you have no words. He doesn’t wait for them, he dips his head down. He smells you. He’s smelled you before against Eddie’s skin, but from the source it’s intoxicating. He opens his mouth and keeps his eyes on you while he takes his first taste.

Steve hasn’t tasted a woman in years. He hasn’t missed it, not really. Right now, though, he cannot believe how sweet you taste. How soft your thighs feel. He can’t get over the way the fine hairs on your skin stand up with every little touch he offers. His fingers sink into the flesh of your ass as his tongue moves. You’re so slick. He can feel the way your little button grows under his tongue. His cock aches to feel you around him. 

Not yet, Steve, he reminds himself. He can feel you shuddering under him. He can see your eyes flutter. He needs you to come. You’re close. He closes his lips against your clit, and sucks gently while running his tongue against you with a persistent pressure.

Gone. You’re gone. You can feel fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, keeping you from floating off the bed and into the air. You can imagine yourself drifting off through the vastness of space fueled by the ecstasy you feel. Your body trembles. You cry out for him, you cry out for your Stevie. Your sweet boy. 

Your cries of his name undo him. His lips are still attached to you, still letting you ride out your orgasm while one of his hands unzips his pants. His cock aches. The immediate need, releasing the painful constriction of his jeans, isn’t enough. He needs to be inside of you. Your eyes finally meet his again. 

“Please, Steve. Please. I need you inside me.” Your begging is met with a groan against your cunt. His lips let go, and you see how red they are. Swollen from their work. You rock against nothing at the sight. The slow and steady movements are gone now. Steve throws his shirt - pants - socks - boxers - to the side with speed. He’s laid bare in front of you, a marble statue brought to life. 

Your legs open to receive him, and he slots between them. Steve fills you up with the first thrust, and you’re seeing stars. You’re vaguely aware of the sound leaving your throat, something between a moan and a cry. Steve’s hand is in yours, a thumb runs against a finger in a soothing way. You both sink into each other. You both feel everything.

“You’re so soft.” Steve’s soft whisper against your neck vibrates against your skin. “So soft. You feel so good.” 

Soft words are contrasted by rough thrusts of hips desperate to push your bodies to connect as deeply as possible. Mmm, so good. So fucking good, Stevie. Steve is gone. He can’t be reached now. He’s lost in the soft flesh of your body under him. He’s used to the sharp angles of Eddie. His mind is gone, his body is moving on its own. He can feel how close he is already, lost in your warmth. 

It’s not a lightning crash. Not an earthquake. It’s soft, like every other moment between the two of you. Steve’s face in your neck, his hand gripping yours. He comes undone with your scent in his nose, and your taste on his lips. His hips slow, and you pull him tighter. You hold him close to your sweat slicked chest. You let him rest there, on your pillowy skin, bodies still joined. 

That’s how you stay that night. Holding one another, leaving the mess you both made for the daylight hours. When you wake in the morning, you find that Steve’s hand is still holding yours.

[cupid-styles]

A frat boy alpha Harry and omega y/n blurb perhaps l👀 only if you have motivation bestie<3

based on this blurb (and this part two!)

word count: 866

content warnings: none!

. . .

Harry tries not to worry.

And really, he hasn't had to worry very much throughout his life. He's been fortunate in that way, but then he met Y/N, his mate, and things just... changed. Now, whenever they're apart, he feels like there's a string tied around his heart, tugging at whatever direction she's in. She's all he can think about, as if half of his brain is solely dedicated to thoughts about her.

He tries to keep it under control. The primal alpha part of him is always threatening to break out when it comes to her, and he has to double-down on his efforts to suppress it. But when he doesn't hear from her all day — something that rarely occurs; even given their busy schedules filled with classes and lectures and studying and homework, at the very least there's a few texts, something along the lines of hope you're having a good day ! :) — he can't help the anxiety that creeps into his stomach, spreading to his chest and throat.

At around 7 pm, he calls her, desperately hoping that maybe she's just had a busy day, but he's met with her voicemail. He continues laying in his bed, ignoring the sounds of his annoying housemates celebrating their weekly Thirsty Thursday downstairs, bottom lip wedged between his teeth. He doesn't want to overwhelm her; it's only been a few months since they decided they were really gonna do this, give into the whole backwards mate thing neither of them cared for until they met, but he's lying if he sometimes doesn't worry that he'll end up losing her somehow.

He decides he'll give it until 9 pm. By then, there's nothing school-related she could be working on, since he's learned that she tries to put her assignments away before she gets too tired. She has to text him or return his call by then.

. . .

At 9:02 pm, he's come to terms with the fact that he's probably insane, that Y/N will likely break up with him after this because he looks like an obsessive boyfriend.

He's using his spare key to gently unlock her front door, tip-toeing through the entryway and listening for any sign of her. All her lights are on, he notices, as he toes his shoes off.

"Y/N?" he calls out, tugging his jacket off and hanging it on the hook by the door, "Baby, are you here?"

When Harry doesn't receive an answer, his chest twists, sock-clad feet taking long strides as he passes the empty kitchen. His stomach drops when he finally finds her in the living room, her hunched over form wrapped up in her favorite fuzzy throw blanket. Study materials are strewn across the surface of the coffee table, papers, highlighters, and pens covering every inch of the wood. Her head is tucked into her arms as she sleeps, steady puffs of air leaving her nose.

He coos to himself, kneeling down next to her body and placing a soothing hand between her shoulder blades.

"Sweetheart," he murmurs in attempt to wake her up. She stirs, blinking her eyes open. They widen immediately when she realizes who's next to her, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Hey," Harry greets with a soft smile, "You alright?"

Y/N groans, lifting her head from the coffee table and groaning out from the ache in her neck and back.

"Oh god— did I sleep all day?"

"'m not sure," he replies as he helps her sit up, "I didn't hear from you all day and I was worried. I, um, used my spare key to come check up on you. I hope that's okay."

"Shit, I'm so sorry, H," she sighs, rubbing her hand over her forehead. "You must have been so worried. I've been so stressed with midterms— I-I think I stayed up all night studying and I must've... I don't know, I must have slept all day somehow."

"It's okay, don't apologize," he hushes her comfortingly, an overwhelming feeling of relief washing over him. "You shouldn't pull all-nighters like that, though. 's not healthy, bub."

"I just have so much going on!" Y/N whines, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close to his body. He won't say it right now, but he's so elated to have her here, knowing she's absolutely fine.

"I know, baby, it's a tough time in the semester. You gotta take care of yourself first though," he murmurs, tucking his hands under her thighs and lifting her to the couch. Her limbs readily wrap around his body, happy to allow him to move her however he wants. "Listen, how about this? I'll run you a nice warm bath, tuck you into bed, and tomorrow morning, we'll come up with a plan to make sure you get everything done."

She nods into his neck, pressing a light kiss to his skin. "Yes. Yes, please."

He smiles gently, "Alright, good."

"Will you stay?" she asks, backing away slightly to look up at him, "Stay with me tonight? I just... I missed you."

He swears his heart may burst at her soft and sleepy tone.

"I can't imagine spending my night any other way, baby."

[poisonlove]

a macchiato, please | j.o

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

"STOP," Tim shouts with satisfaction.

I involuntarily smile as I watch Jenna emerge from the bathtub after filming her scene. My eyes mischievously scan her curves highlighted by the wet clothing, and my cheeks flush from the thoughts that come to mind.

"Hey..." I timidly smile at Jenna, who looks at me with a smile on her lips.

Several drops slowly descend down her jaw, ending on her neck. Her eyes watch me, with wet eyelashes.

I swallow.

"Hello," Jenna says, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face.

A crew member approaches and hands Jenna a robe. Jenna silently thanks and turns her attention back to me.

"So, what did you think?" she asks, and I laugh at her expression.

"Truly magnificent," I confess with a small smile. "If it were up to me, I would have screamed because of the cold water," I laugh.

"Yeah... the idea crossed my mind," Jenna admits, clutching her robe around her, closing her eyes, and shivering from the cold.

"Listen... do you want to change, maybe have something warm? You're shivering from the cold," I ask, concerned.

Jenna shakes her head, looking at me seriously.

"Can I do something for you? Maybe I can fetch a sweater... I don't know..." I suggest and Jenna genuinely smiles, shaking her head.

"Well, you can actually do something," she says with a trembling voice, approaching.

I smile as I see Jenna wrap her arms around my waist, seeking as much warmth as possible. I start gently playing with her wet hair, moving some strands away from her face.

Jenna tilts her chin and looks at me with a small smile on her lips.

"Am I getting you wet?" she asks shyly, and I shake my head.

"You have the robe," I reply, obviously.

"God, my feet are so cold," Jenna murmurs. I can feel the girl shivering against my body.

"Take off your shoes," I say seriously, "and the socks," I add.

Jenna breaks the embrace and looks at me confused.

"What?" she says, smiling, watching as I bend down to remove her wet Dr. Martens boots.

"Wait," she exclaims with laughter, leaning on my shoulders to keep her balance.

"Come on, take off the other one," I say with a smile, taking off my own black Adidas. I remove my socks and place my bare feet on the floor, feeling a few shivers.

"I'm not used to being barefoot," Jenna shakes her head, and I roll my eyes at her comment.

"Sit down, okay?" I point to the chair with my gaze.

Jenna, resigned, walks to the chair, hopping on one foot and removes the other shoe.

"Okay, now put these on," I say seriously, placing my shoes in front of her.

"You're amazing," Jenna murmurs, surprised. "Really?" she says with bright eyes.

I nod, and she slowly puts on the shoes.

In the distance, I see Emma approaching with Georgie. Emma looks at us with a smile on her face.

"What's going on here?" Emma asks, confused, looking at my bare feet on the floor.

"Oh, nothing... Jenna had cold feet so I gave her my shoes," I reply, and Emma raises an eyebrow seeing how the shoes are slightly big on Jenna.

"Now you're barefoot?" Georgie asks with curiosity but a disgusted expression. "I can't imagine how uncomfortable that is," he says, shivering.

I laugh at his expression.

"But no, wait," Emma sighs and turns to a crew member. "Excuse me, sorry," Emma calls out kindly.

The guy turns around and looks at her curiously.

"Could you bring my friend some slippers?" Emma absentmindedly points to my feet, and I blush violently.

"Uh... sure," the guy responds with a touch of uncertainty.

"And tell me, would you like to come to my trailer during this break?" Georgie suggests enthusiastically. "A horror movie marathon," he concludes with a smile on her face.

Meanwhile, my slippers arrive.

"That would be great," I say, putting on the slippers and looking at Jenna. She gives me a quick glance before smiling at his friend. "Okay, but first, I'll shower and change. See you there," she adds, cinching her robe at the waist.

I take a few steps following Emma and Georgie, who are talking to each other when I suddenly feel a weight on my back.

"JENNA!" I say, surprised.

The girl has her arms around my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist, hugging me like a koala.

"What are you doing?" I ask, laughing.

Emma and Georgie have turned around to hear my scream and burst into laughter.

"Come on, accompany me," Jenna smiles genuinely, resting her head against my neck. I shiver as I feel her wet hair against my body.

"I'm tired of walking," she murmurs, getting comfortable.

"I'm going to take the princess to her dressing room. Can you just tell me the number of yours?" I say sarcastically and Emma and Georgie look at us with mischievous eyes.

I put my arms around Jenna's legs to keep her from falling.

"Sure... it's 77," he says and smiles. "See you there," he adds, waving her hand and resuming the conversation with Emma.

I start walking.

"You're my savior, you know?" Jenna says with a slight smile.

She squeezes her hands around my neck.

"It's not a problem, princess," I joke, making Jenna laugh. "And I don't want to keep you waiting too long; Georgie is waiting for us for the movie marathon," I add.

During the walk to her dressing room, we laugh and joke about the strange and funny situations of the day on the set.

"I hope I didn't stress you out too much," Jenna says, undoing her smile.

"Absolutely not, everything was fun and a great break from work," I reply sincerely.

We arrive in front of her trailer and I lower Jenna from my shoulders. She looks at me with gratitude, taking the keys to her trailer from her robe.

"Thank you," Jenna says, touching my arm lightly.

"I didn't do anything extraordinary," I confess with a nervous smile.

Jenna opens the door and leans against the frame, looking at me with bright eyes.

"So... see you with Georgie," she murmurs softly, absentmindedly biting her lower lip.

"Yes... and you can keep the shoes," I mumble, glancing at her feet for a moment.

"I will," Jenna laughs softly.

Jenna leans in, placing her lips on my cheek and giving me a gentle kiss. My cheeks turn red, and I smile unconsciously at her gesture.

"See you later," Jenna smiles, tilting her head and closing the door to her trailer.

My heart is pounding.

"Fuck... fuck!" I murmur to myself, smiling again at the thought of what just happened a few seconds ago. "This girl will be my downfall," I whisper and smile unconsciously

[juneknight]

•.Be Lost.• 2

Chapter One | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter Two | Chapter 2.5

*

“You talk about them often enough. I feel like we should formally meet. What’s the equivalent of putting a face to a name, but with sex toys?” Marc asks, voice warm with mirth from the other end of the phone. It’s the only thing warm about living up here in the constant snowstorms. Your feet ache today from stomping around in the fields on the frozen earth. Even though Spring approaches on the calendar, you don’t yet feel it in the air. 

You dread the thought of possibly having to delay your return home, to Marc, because of the weather. 

Your box of sex toys (it’s a shoe box, yes, some nice Cat’s boots with steel in the toes and thick insulated soles, a half-size larger than usual to allow for thick wooly socks which you favored) sits on the bed. You no longer even owned the shoes, but the box was heavy, the lid bulging from two years of collecting an eclectic set of sex toys. 

“I’ll show you. But I have rules,” you say, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear. 

“I’m listening.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and it drives you nuts. 

“One–absolutely no naming them. I’m serious. The last thing I want is to be trying to get off and remember that you named a certain dildo Colonel Mustard.” 

“I’m more of a Professor Plum kind of guy anyway, but consider your objection noted.” 

“No making fun of me of any kind. Not even light teasing.” 

“Agreed.” 

“And no questions.” 

“That’s…yeah, I don’t think I can agree to that,” he says, surprising you given how amicable he’s been so far. “Can we agree on premeditated questions? Some basics that you answer for each of them?” 

You purse your lips and sit down heavily on your bed. The box rattles beside you, lid almost coming off. “Depends on the questions, I guess.” 

“When was the last time you used it, and your personal rating out of ten.”

You relax somewhat. Whatever you had been worried about Marc wanting to know—’gross, why that?’ or ‘who used that on you?’—disappears. Maybe it says something about the men you’ve been with lately that your first fear is that Marc will become jealous or judgemental. You should have known that Marc would be different. “Yeah, okay. That’s fine.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice growing firm. “I don’t want you to say something’s okay when it isn’t. That’s a big deal to me.”

“I’m sure, dad.” 

Marc snorts. “Okay, champ. FaceTime. Let’s go.”

You press the button, and while it connects, you experience all five stages of grief, chewing on one of your thumbnails as you shift from one socked foot to the other. At last his face appears, and it’s like a punch to the gut. Marc is so handsome: his brows, the curve of his nose, his whiskey-warm eyes, the curls spilling onto his forehead. His hair is longer now than the last time you saw him, and it makes your heart clench. You find yourself smiling without meaning to. 

“Hey, beautiful,” Marc says, eyes squinting with his smile. “Long time no see.” 

“Too long,” you admit. You study the picture in the background, trying to piece together where he is in his apartment. Judging by the lighting (warm but dark) and the lamp in the background, he is in his bedroom. This is confirmed when he rolls over onto his side and props himself up onto his elbow on one of the fluffy pillows. 

Once, you had gotten too drunk to drive home and Marc had let you sleep in his bed. You had spent the whole night rolling around on the soft sheets, breathing in his scent, aching but too guilty to touch yourself. 

“You okay?” he asks, brows lifting. His mouth settles into a soft, more neutral position, like he is being careful not to convince you one way or another. His lips are so full and soft looking… “If you don’t want to do this, we can say forget it. I just like to know what my options are.”

His options—oh fuck. 

Your face burns hot. You slap one palm against your cheek, feeling the heat your skin gives off, knowing that Marc is watching you (which makes your face burn all the hotter). Fuck, how can he just say stuff like that, calm and casual in his soft, warm voice? You think about turning the camera away for a moment just to catch your breath. 

“You’re so shy right now,” Marc says, a hint of laughter in his voice. “God. It’s cute.” 

“Quit,” you groan, parting your fingers so you can glare at the phone. His grin just grows. “I’m not shy, I have a strap-on.” 

“If you think having six inches between your legs makes you immune to shyness, I’ve got news for you.”

“Is that all you’ve got? Six inches?” 

“You want to see?” The way he raises his brow, the way he so expertly calls your bluff makes your thighs clench together. Like a great neon sign flashing behind your eyes right now are the words MARC’S COCK. You’ve never seen it, but you know Marc is well hung. You’ve seen him adjust his hard ons before—in the morning after waking up, during a particularly steamy scene on Netflix. The bulge in his sweats has made an appearance or two in your dreams, yes. 

“Maybe,” you admit, wondering if he’ll show you. Right now. On FaceTime. Just whip his dick out for you to drool over. 

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” he says, mouth quirking into a smirk. “But really. Go on. I have work in the morning, and I want to see every last toy.” 

You bring out plenty of things that are “normal”. G-spot vibrators. Clitoral vibrators. Rabbit vibes, and pretty glass dildos. Most of the items get a high score—you have narrowed them down to your favorites. A natural selection amongst sex toys, if you will. 

Sometimes you glance to Marc and get flustered at the solemn, studious expression on his face. He hangs on your every word, committing the things you say to memory. No man has ever given you attention the way Marc does: whole-heartedly. Singularly. Unconditionally. 

Your throat gets choked up for a moment at the thought. God, you’re falling in love with him, you think in terror to yourself, as if you haven’t already. As if your knees aren’t skinned and palms bloody from the fall. 

“You okay, honey?”

You jump a little, having gotten lost in your own thoughts. You clear your throat. 

“Yeah, no, I’m good.” You pick up the next item, a candle. When he asks you what scent it is, you laugh a little. “The wax melts at a safe temperature for wax play. You know. Pouring wax on somebody.” 

“Rate it.” 

“It’s…maybe a four. May-be.” 

Massage oil (8), cuffs (10), collapsible spreader bar (9), bite gag (5), blindfold (10), harness (7), all come and go. It is easier to continue once you get talking, and by the end you feel like late night Dr. Ruth. 

At last, the box is empty. 

“That’s all she wrote,” you tell Marc. He looks a little sleepy, though his eyes are still sharp where they focus on you, tracing over your features. He is quiet. You prod: “Well?” 

“I’m going to have to use every last one on you,” he says, eyes on your own. “And until I can, I’m going to be thinking about you using every last one on yourself.”

His shoulder shifts, arm moving off screen—adjusting his hard cock. 

“Fuck, Marc,” you sigh brokenly. “You can’t say shit like that.” 

“That wasn’t one of your rules,” he says, eyes going heavy-lidded. You thought he was just adjusting himself, but the motion continues. Not enough for him to be full-fledged jerking off, but you think that’s he’s teasing himself. Massaging himself maybe. Your thighs squeeze together. Would he notice if you did the same? “Thank you for the show-and-tell. You’re such a good girl for me.” 

You groan. 

He laughs, the sound gentle and teasing. “That gets you, huh?” 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you bark, endeavoring to cover your face as best as you can with one hand. The truth of his observation doesn’t matter; it’s the principle of the thing. Peeking through your fingers, you catch his expression, and your breath hitches. Marc looks at the phone screen with something unbearably tender in his eyes, something so terribly soft. 

Marc looks at you like he loves you. 

“Which one’s your favorite? Let me see it again.” 

Your favorite. Hmm. You step back from your bed and look at the toys spread out so neatly, your brain turning over the question. All of them get you hot in one way or another, but there is one that stands out. You end up choosing a relatively simple rabbit vibrator. It’s ol’ Faithful; what else can you say? 

“Is this what you grab when you want to blow your own mind, or is this what you grab any old night?” 

“I want to blow my own mind every old night, Spector.” 

“Noted. But you’re not pouring hot wax on yourself every old night,” he says. It is utterly distracting how his shoulder still tenses periodically, hand moving off-screen. You spend an inordinate amount of time watching those small muscles flex, trying to recreate the image of what his hand must be doing in your mind. “What is it about this one? What do you like about it?” 

“I like that it fills me up,” you admit. It is a little easier to talk when you’re so distracted by him. “I like that I can use it without hands. Sometimes I put the spreader bar on and bind my hands to the headboard so I can feel like—” 

Marc’s arm has stopped moving. His eyes are sharp, burning hot, like iron from the furnace. How voice is quiet but brooks no room for avoiding the question when he asks: “So you can feel like what, baby?” 

“I…I don’t know,” you say. It isn’t a lie, either. You aren’t sure where the sentence was heading, and so much about your relationship with being submissive eludes you when you try to put it into words. You chew on the inside of your cheek while you think, and Marc is utterly quiet and still while you contemplate. “Like…like I’m suffering for somebody. Like my pleasure belongs to somebody else. Whoever tied me up. I don’t know.” 

Marc nods a little, quiet for a moment himself. “From now on, it belongs to me, yeah? Even if you’re the one tying yourself up—you’ll be doing it because I tell you to, alright? And you’ll be doing it safely. It’s dangerous to tie yourself up when you’re alone. That’s not like my good girl. I don’t want to hear you doing that again.” 

“Sorry,” you whisper. You kneel on the floor, bed too covered in toys to lay on. You rest your head against the edge of the mattress, adjusting the phone so that he can still see your face. 

“I’ll forgive you when I hear that you won’t do it anymore,” he says. His hand is moving again. Maybe he is jerking off. “Promise me.” 

“I won’t tie myself up when I’m alone. I promise.” 

Marc lets out a breath, a literal sigh of relief. His eyes go squinty as he smiles, pride evident in the curve of his lips. “There’s my good girl.” 

You groan again, turning to bury your face in the mattress. 

“Are you on the floor right now?” he laughs. 

You groan in an affirmative. 

“Kneeling for me?” 

You hadn’t intended it that way, but now that he says it, you realize that you are. You nod your head, face still hidden. 

“Thighs apart?”

You peek an eye at him and hope he can tell that you’re scowling. Determined to follow his rules (even if your sex positively aches between your thighs) you shift your legs apart. 

“You make me feel so powerful,” he says, voice a little shaky. His eyes are looking just off screen, like he can’t make eye-contact with you right now. “Kneeling for me, following my orders. So powerful. But so, so small. You know that? Because you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. And I like it.” 

“I like it too,” you murmur, head a little foggy. 

“Why?” 

“It feels real safe,” you admit. “Like you’ll take care of me. Like you’d never have me do something that might hurt me or embarrass myself.” 

“I wouldn’t, baby, I swear I wouldn’t,” he says. Then he sighs. “You’re driving me fucking crazy. I’m jerking off twice a day just to function.” 

“Marc,” you say, your voice literally shaking. “Are you—right now?” 

He hums and lets his arm grow bolder. The motion is unmistakable now. Marc Spector is masturbating on the phone with you—because of you. The knowledge is like an electric zap that you feel from your head to your toes. Is his dick out? Does he have a hand beneath his sweats? All of this is too much; your own hand falls between your thighs. 

“At-at,” says Marc. His shoulder stops moving. “No touching yourself.” 

“What?” you whine. “That’s not fair!” 

“I stopped too!” 

“You’ve been jerking off for twenty minutes though, you owe me!” 

“That’s not how this works,” he laughs. “Not to mention, there isn’t a chance in hell you’d last twenty minutes even if I did let you touch yourself. No—we’re going to wait.” 

“Til when?” 

“Spring. The first time I hear you cum, it’s going to be with my fingers tucked inside you. I want to kiss you and swallow every sound.” 

“Then can we hang up?” you ask, shifting on your knees. “I need to touch myself.” 

“Use your cute little vibrator,” he murmurs. You both hang up. 

He’s right. There’s no way you could have lasted twenty minutes when you barely make it to two. 

Spring is never going to come. 

*

Except it does. Of course it does. There is still the occasional snowstorm, but they are irregular enough that you are no longer needed. You book a flight back home, and send Marc a screenshot of your ticket. 

I’ll pick you up. 

The thought makes your belly flip with nerves. You decide that as eager as you are to see Marc, you are just as anxious too. You would rather prolong it a fraction more, would rather it took place on more familiar turf (outside your apartment rather than the strange unfamiliar-familiarity of an airport). So instead you tell him to meet you back at your apartment. If he brings some basic groceries, bonus points for him. 

Though planes don’t often make you nervous anymore, you find yourself gripping your folded hands so tight that you leave marks from your fingernails. What are you doing, agreeing to have sex with Marc? This could ruin everything: your most valuable friendship. The one person in the world who had stuck beside you through thick and thin, even when you had lost people you thought you’d die without. 

Even more frightening: what if everything goes right? 

Landed, see you soon!! You hope that your exclamation points cover up your anxiety. 

Don’t be nervous, he sends back. Fuck. 

The Uber is the longest of your life, familiar scenery passing by as you leave the airport and enter the city you’ve called home for so many years. The city where you met Marc. The city where you meet him again and again in the spring, like Persephone coming home. It always happens like this too. 

The Uber pulls up to the curb outside your apartment, and Marc is sitting there on the steps. Today is only different because he’s pacing—maybe you aren’t the only one who’s nervous. He’s dressed for spring in just a light jacket, t-shirt, and his jeans. He doesn’t recognize the car when it pulls up, but he recognizes you in the passenger seat. God. His face lights up. Marc goes to the car door and opens it for you, draws you out and into his arms. The first hug he always gives you is bone crushing. He lifts you off the ground and twirls you in his arms before helping you regain your footing. 

“Long time, no see,” he says—like always. 

“Too long,” you say, clinging to him. 

“Uh. Don’t forget your bags,” your Uber driver calls through the open window. 

“I got them,” says Marc. He insists on carrying them inside and up the stairs—nice to see that the elevator is still out of order even after the winter. On the way up, Marc fills you in an the uneventful time he spent popping into your apartment every other day to collect your mail, to dust, to water your plants. 

You wonder if he slept in your bed. If he laid amongst the scent of you and wanted to touch himself, like you had that night you were too drunk to drive home from his place. You hope that he did—you hope that he touched himself. You—

“Bed,” he says, giving you a jumpscare. At the wide-eyed expression on your face, he misunderstands. “Not for sex! Just—your exhausted. That’s what you get for taking such an early flight. You should nap. Then we should get dinner, my treat. Then we should—”

“Talk.” 

“Exactly.” 

At his mention of it, your exhaustion (which you had been adamantly pushing back with nerves and adrenalin) resurfaces. He’s right; you always take the earliest flights you can manage, to get home as soon as possible, and yes you arrive to the airport way too early. You’re a woman with anxiety; it’s a given. But the last thing you want to do right now is part ways with Marc. A part of you believes that if he leaves, then you might chicken out. You might never let him back in…

“Stay?” you ask. 

“For a nap?” he wonders, mouth stretching in a grin that reeks of fondness for you. 

“Sure.” 

“In your bed?”

You swallow past the sudden knot in your throat. Fuck, it feels so real. You’re going to have Marc in your bed tonight—for more than just a nap. You push the thoughts away with violence, feeling the way heat rises in your face at the thought alone. Come on, get it together! The way you’re pining for this guy is ridiculous, like you’re a virgin on her wedding night!

Fuck, but can you help it? 

“Just sleep,” Marc says, interrupting your spiraling. “Then, dinner. Then…we’ll talk.” 

Something inside you relaxes, your shoulders drifting away from where they had been climbing to your ears. Just sleep. You can do that. You’re certainly exhausted enough. A trail of you is formed throughout the apartment: your keys left in the dish by the door, shoes toed off at the shoe-rack, suitcase left haphazardly outside your bedroom door. 

Inside, your room is as pristine as you had left it. The sheets are fresh. You have suddenly never been more tired in your life. Taking the last few steps to your bed—a full, larger than the twin you had suffered on during the winter—you collapse on top of the blankets. Who needs to be underneath them? You’re tired enough to sleep just like this. 

But Marc pulls the blankets and the sheets back, working them free from beneath your body. He tucks you in, and he climbs into the bed on the other side. Peeking one eye open, you see that he is on his side, watching you. He grins when he catches you looking. 

“Sleep tight,” he says sweetly. 

God, you do. 

When you wake up, the shadows have changed on the wall. It is early evening, your sleep schedule properly fucked. Marc has come to spoon you sometime during your sleep, and you relish the feel of his strong arm looped around your waist, his warm chest pressed flush against your back. The both of you had fallen asleep in your jeans and socks, and neither one cared. For a moment, you let yourself lay there, enjoying the intimacy. It’s easy to pretend you are lovers when he holds you like this. 

Then his nose brushes a line up the side of your neck and his breath is hot against your ear as he whispers: “Sleep good?” 

“Holy shit, I didn’t know you were awake.” 

He snickers, unapologetic. 

“Yes,” you say, twisting in his arms. “I slept great. But now I’m starv—...ing.” 

As soon as you had turned in his arms, Marc’s eyes had gone molten. Outside, a car alarm goes off. There are horns honking. Someone plays music, but it doesn’t matter. Inside you room, the only sound is the heaving of near-silent breaths as you both lean precariously over the ledge of friendship—whatever rests below, who knows!

“I’m hungry too,” he says, innuendo in his words. His hand on your back traces a line down to the curve of your hip and then up to your ribs. His thumb barely brushes the space beneath your bra. He whispers your name. 

He kisses you, a soft press of lips on lips. Again, heads tilted a little differently. Again, noses brushing in a way that has him smiling against your mouth. You part for a single heartbeat before he is leaning back in and kissing you deeper, tasting the seam of your lips with his tongue. Eager, you part your mouth and let him in. Fuck the uncomfortable angle of your neck—you’re kissing Marc Spector. 

And God, what a kiss it is. He explores you in a way you hadn’t been explored before. Oh yes, you’d been plundered: had men whose tongues were like their cocks, thrusting away at your mouth, no finesse, no savoring of the moment. Marc kisses you like this is the first and last time he might get to. He traces the line of your teeth with his tongue. He softly nips your bottom lip. He coaxes your tongue into his mouth just to suck at it sweetly. Never have you felt so worshiped from a single kiss—nor so aroused. 

Your hips rock against him, finding that he is already erect. You manage to loop one leg around his waist before he breaks the kiss, laughing breathlessly. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he teases. 

“Aren’t we—?” you blink. 

“I said dinner first.” 

“But I’m hungry,” you remind him, arching your back to drag your sex over his hard cock. You’ll never forget the sight of his eyes rolling back, his mouth going a little slack as he takes a shuddering breath. 

He rolls you over and straddles your hips, hands finding your wrists and pinning you to the bed. His cock tents the seam of his jeans. Like this, you suddenly feel so small. Something inside you gets small and soft and says, ‘Be good for him. Do as he wants.’ You have long come to terms with the instincts inside you that make you crave this, knowing that they do not make you less of a modern woman but God, it’s still so embarrassing how easily you want to fold!

You argue instead, arching up to rub yourself against him, a spark in your eyes. A challenge. Marc’s own eyes narrow. He kneels up off of one of your legs, gripping your thigh to push it up-and-out, spreading you open for him, and God for a moment you think that you’ve convinced him, swayed him with just a wiggle of your hips, and the coming satisfaction will be (almost) as strong as your disappointment. 

Instead, he brings his hand down on your pussy in a spank. You yelp. Muffled as it was through the denim, you could still feel the strength in his hand, and you are sensitive enough that it leaves you with a brief, stinging ache. He cups your sex with his palm, soothing it with the warmth of his hand. 

“Dinner first. Where’s my good girl at? The girl who fell to her knees a thousand miles away without me even having to ask her, huh?”

You’d cover your face, if your hands were free. Suddenly you are shy and embarrassed at your own behavior. You don’t even allow yourself to rub up against his touch, light though it may be. Looking at him through your lashes, you say: “I’m sorry, I just…” 

“You need it,” he says, thumb smoothing along the sensitive stretch of your inner thigh. “I understand, baby. Was I harsh?” 

“No.” 

“No, what?”

“No sir,” you whisper shyly. 

His grin is broad, beatific. It turns teasing almost right away. He leans down and brushes his nose against yours before releasing your wrists and rolling off of you. 

“I want to be just friends for just a while longer,” he admits in a whisper. “Throughout dinner. There’s something important I need to tell you.” 

[str4wb3rr1e]

Laundry Mat

tokio hotel x reader

the sound of the led lights buzzing over took the yellow lit room, the white walls that have faded into a dark grey color over time screaming for restoration, the white tiles on the ground having permanent shoe marks tattooed on them.

you sat there quietly, back leaned against the old washing machine, loudly tumbling your laundry.

your mascara was smudged, lipstick everywhere but your lips, eyeshadow staining your under eyes and was probably going to stay that way for at least a day.

the metal door creaked open, ‘who would do their laundry so late at night?’ you thought but yet, here you were, doing your laundry at the 24/7 open mat at 2 in the morning.

lucky for you it was your next door neighbor, at least he wasn’t a stranger. “hey…” he whispered, his voice echoed on the quiet room, “hey.” you whispered back with a soft smile.

you watched as he placed his laundry in an empty machine and threw some cents from his pockets before sliding down and sitting down in front of you.

“you alright?” he asked pulling out a cigarette from his pocket. “I don’t know… do I look alright?” you asked wiping some of the lipstick off your cheeks.

“don’t know,” he shrugged “I don’t know what ‘alright’ looks like”. he slid the cigarette pack on the floor tiles, the pack flying over towards you and hitting the bottom of your shoes. “I quit.” you mumbled sliding the pack back.

“good for you.” he chuckled trying to light his cigarette with a cheap lighter, “shoot, you have a lighter I can borrow?”.

you reached for your pocket and slid the lighter across the room, “thought you said you quit?” he smiled, “I did, yesterday.” you smiled.

“what’s up with you?” you asked as he slid the lighter back to you, “returned home late from tour.” he replied taking a long drag. you chuckled “oh yeah, forgot you’re famous.” with air quotes on ‘famous’.

“okay, just because your music taste sucks doesn’t mean we’re shit.” he chuckled throwing a lost sock towards you way, “ew!” you squealed as the sock hit the sleeve of your jacket.

you fixed your hair as your laughs faded into the room, “I’ve never heard your music anyway…” you teased, “oh yeah?” he pulled out an mp3 player from his pocket.

“you want to?” he asked plugging headphones in, “yeah, sure.” you nodded as he reached over to hand you the small device. you picked it up from his hand and put on the headphones in.

to be honest, they were good, really good. “mmm, not really my style.” you muttered, that was a lie and you knew damn well you would go home and blast the same music your called shit the whole night.

“well, everyones style is different.” he shrugged as you handed the mp3 player back. you felt bad about lying and decided to fix it by saying “but you are good, really good…”.

“yeah,” he snickered, “thanks.”

“no problem.” you chirped. the timer of the machine behind you went off, covering the entire room with a simple yet loud tune.

“my uh… my stuff is done.” you mumbled with a small smile as you stood up to gather your fresh laundry.

“hey uh,” he called behind you, “how about we go for coffee this weekend?”. you stuffed your laundry in your backpack and turned around to face him. “coffee?” you sneered, “I mean, it could be something else too, dinner maybe?” he added shoving his hands deep in his jeans front pockets.

“sure,” you replied, “dinner sounds nice.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: writing isn’t enough I need to make a short film 😭 this can be imagined as any one of the members 💜 💜

I forgot to mention that this isn’t from the winter series, that series is going to be longer and placed in high school (older grades tho dw)

[zweetpea]

Contracts or Biddability? Part 2 of 2

Cw: cringe, swears, innuendos. warning ⚠️ before you proceed there will be very foul language alluding to less than appropriate content! It’s only like a few lines of dialogue but I will mark them with ❌ around them if you want to skip. Liyue arc has concluded. Don’t know when the next chapter will be up but I can say it’s another interlude and it will have Xiao

“Excuse me? Mis… ter…? Ahem. Gen. Excuse me, Gen? You said you were looking for me. What is it that you would like to discuss.”

“Um, uh… I.” Shit! Don’t F this up. Don’t be a Wattpad Y/n girl. “Mr. Zhongli, I would like to be your friend and/or maybe go on a date with you.”

“Uh-um, thank you but I’m not looking for love at the moment.”

fu- “That’s fine. I’m fine with just being friends. Please just forget I asked. Welp, I’ll be leaving then!” You say embarrassed. Face hot, head empty. F this shit I’m out! I guess I can try again with Neuvillette. I never actually thought about what I’d do once I met Zhongli.

You walk out Liyue Harbor and down to the beach. You sit on down and take off your shoes and socks and just let the ocean flow over your feet. So cold but so nice. You think to yourself.

“Coco goat. Coco goat. Where are you?” You hear a faint voice call from behind you.

“Was that Qiqi?” You look behind and don’t see anyone. Until a little blue hat falls out of a bush.

“No. Qiqi’s hat.” She cries in soft dismay.

“Hey!” You call to her. She freezes. “Oh sorry. It’s okay I’m not mad.”

“Hello, adored one.” She says, grabbing her hat and moving closer to you.

“You know me?”

“Qiqi sees you in her dreams. Baizhu doesn’t believe Qiqi when she says that you are real.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Qiqi. If it’s easier for you to remember, you can call me Gen. But please try to remember that it’s with a G ‘Kay?” You shift to sit on your knees.

“You know about Qiqi’s memory problems?” She asks.

“Mhm. Let’s go back to Baizhu okay?”

“Okay. Mx. Adored Gen, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” You say as you put your socks and shoes back on.

“Why don’t people from your home like me? Why do you?” She looks down sadly 

“What?”

“In my dreams Qiqi hears you saying things like, I don’t get why people hate Qiqi. She’s adorable. And recently I heard you cheering and laughing about how you finally got her.” 

You did recently loose a 50/50 but you finally got Qiqi for the first time. “Sweetheart, look… they don’t mean it; and if they do then they don’t deserve you. You are an adorable, sweet, incredible person. It doesn’t matter what they say, because so many people love you. Baizhu, YaoYao, and me for example.”

“Okay. We can go back now.” She says as you pick her up and bring her back to Bubu Pharmacy.

“Listen, no one’s gonna hurt you while I’m here.” You console her as she rests in your arms.

“Baizhu! Qiqi told you that the adored one exists!” She shouts as you set her down and she runs into the Pharmacy.

“Qiqi. I’m so glad that you’re back, but what on earth are you talking about?”

“Hey! I’m Harry Styles!” You giggle. “Just a little joke, would’ve killed where I’m from. You can call me Gen with a G.” You extend your hand and Baizhu shakes it.

As he pulls his hand away he looks down at it the back at you. “You… really exist.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head with a smile.

“Come to the back with me. I’d like to talk in private.”

“Okay?” Well it’s not like I can die. I just hope that if this escalates it’s more like 50 shades and less like Dr Frankenstein.

“You too Qiqi.” Dang it! Cock blocked again?! I’ve gotten one kiss and it was from Dainsleif! He brings you into his office and you sit down on a couch. He closes the door and the windows and sits behind his desk.

“She’s been telling me for a while now about you.”

“Really?”

“Hm, she said that you’d descend from Celestia and you would have healing abilities far beyond what Teyvat has seen.”

“Well in all honesty that’s only because I met someone in celestia who gave me their powers. I’m just a normal human.”

“Well in any case I’m grateful for you looking out for Qiqi. Your kindness in her dreams has been an invaluable resource.”

“Of course!” You smile. Qiqi comes over and hugs you.

“Thank you, but Qiqi has to go tend to the reception.” She leaves, closing the door on her way out. 

“Now that she’s gone there’s something I wanted to talk to you about Dr.”

“Of course. Ask me anything that you’d like, I’ll help anyway I can to repay what you’ve done for Qiqi.”

“You don’t have to just because I helped Qiqi. You can say no if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“A beautiful person like you couldn’t make me uncomfortable.” He smiles.

❌

You smirk and walk over to straddle him. “Good because I’ve been having trouble for a while now. My ass is too tight. I need a smart, handsome doctor to stretch it out.”

He blushes.  “This is highly inappropriate… make it quick.”

❌

“Baizhu. I can’t feel my legs.”

“You were the one who asked me to do this.” He smirks. 

“Okay feeling is coming back. Thank goodness for my healing.”

He kisses your lips and you return with more passion and fire. “Come back anytime.”

“You shouldn’t be saying that as a doctor.” You tease. 

“You’re not one of my patients though.” He smirks back.

You got up and walked out of his office. You gave Qiqi a goodbye hug and left for the mountains to see what your new Geo Delusion can do.

“Okay so what can I do?” You hold up your hand with the delusion on it and a clay circlet appears in front of you. You take it in your hand and golden ring surrounds you. “Badass!” You say as you run towards the mountains and look for someone to fight.

Running through the mountains you were filled with a sense of wonder and excitement. ‘I haven’t seen a screen in what has to be a week or two, it feels strangely amazing. The grass feels soft and fresh under my skin.’

As you wander around, you hear something  whoosh and thunk behind you. You look behind you and see a treasure hoarder reloading his crossbow. He fires another one at you and you try to dodge but it just stops a few inches away from you. You raise the clay circlet in your hand and the gold ring around you shines brighter

“I can do this all day.” You hold out your delusion and shoot a slew jagged spall shoots towards him. Backup arrives and chases you away. “Okay no I can’t.”

You run as fast as you can trying to find somewhere to hide but they’re hot on your tail. Eventually they back you into a corner, you knocked to the ground by one of them holding an oar.

“Hehe, no where to run kid.”

‘What do I do? I don’t want to be kidnapped again. I am in Liyue, I wonder…’

“Xiao… please help me.” You whisper, while you squeeze your eyes shut.

 …Before you know it you hear a whoosh and the hoarders groans. You slowly open your eyes and see Xiao standing over you.

“Who are you? How do you know me?”

“I…” You felt so relieved that your body just fell back on the grass and you couldn’t move. You’re too tired from the events of the day and the absolute fear his presence left in you.

“HEY!! Get up!” You hear him say before you drift away from the conscious world.

[leossmoonn]

“Just” Sex

masterlist

pairing - steve harrington x fem!reader

type - fluff, angst, smut, 16+

summary - friends with benefits used to be fun for you and steve, until staying one night leads to months of being in love

warnings / includes - language, fighting, crying, suggestive, making out, not full on sex, but it’s still descriptive and touchy and feely, friends to lovers, lots of internal feelings descriptions, changes pov, during s1-2

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“I better get going,” you sigh, shimming your jeans up your thighs. You button them, not bothering to zip up. You grab your blouse, slipping it onto your shoulders and snapping the middle button. You pick up your bra from his floor, stuffing it into your purse.

Steve rolls off the other side of the bed, pulling his boxers up. He puts on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. He peers outside his window, watching the lightning illuminate the sky, and feeling the thunder rumble his house. Rain beats down on his window, wind blowing and making an eerie whistle noise.

He looks back to you who is putting your jacket on, searching the room for your socks and shoes. He looks back at his window, biting his lip in contemplation. What kind of person would he be to let you drive in this mess?

He feels nervous to ask. You two are exclusively friends with benefits. The only time you two hang out is for sex, otherwise you two just talk at school. Both of you can carry a conversation, but you’ve never had to do it after a long night of sex. Steve knows he would feel bad letting you leave, though. Even if you said no, the least he could do is offer.

“Hey,” he says softly, walking over to you.

“Hm?” you look over your shoulder, smiling at him. You finish putting your socks on, turning around to face him. “Looking for a compliment, Harrington?”

He laughs breathily, his heart pounding in his chest. His throat becomes dry and a crease develops in the middle of his eyebrows. He looks like he’s going to pass out.

“Hey, are you okay?” you worry. “Did we go too rough?”

“No, no. It was perfect. You were perfect,” he rambles. “I was just wondering… what would you think about staying the night? Or at least until the storm passes. It’s pretty nasty out there and I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

“In case we can never have sex again?” you smirk.

He rolls his eyes with a smile. “No. That’s not what I meant. I just… don’t want to see you in an accident on the news. Especially if it’s from leaving my house.”

You want to make another joke, but you chose to stay silent. You’re shocked. Steve has always been a nice guy. He’s a good boy, to you, anyways. He’s always been respectful of you and your boundaries, puts you first — not just while having sex — and makes sure you’re feeling good and enjoying everything. But you never thought Steve would actually suggest you staying after a session. It’s not like you two weren’t friendly. It’s just never been part of the deal.

You hear the thunder and can see the lightning from his curtains. You can only imagine how slippery the roads are and how bad your visibility would be. You honestly have no choice but to stay.

“Sure,” you answer. “Thank you, Steve. You’re very kind.”

“Of course,” he smiles.

It’s so awkward between you now. You feel an urge to kiss him, to have sex with him again. That’s all you two do when you’re in his room. But your body is tired and slightly sore. Steve looks alert and awake, but you know he’s ready to go to bed as soon as the lights are off.

You know you’ll just have to endure the awkwardness until the morning, or at least until the storm is over.

“Do you have an extra toothbrush or anything?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah,” he nods quickly. “I’ll set up the bathroom for you.” He hurries past you, opening his door. “Do you want anything to eat or drink? We have chips and soda and popcorn. We also have some frozen food, too.”

You smile at his eagerness to treat you. “Can I get a soda and a water? And maybe some chips?”

“Of course. Just wait here and get comfortable. You can, uh, wear my clothes to sleep in,” he says, eyes darting to his closet.

“Okay,” you nod.

He stares at you for an extra couple of seconds before slipping out of his room and to the bathroom. You slip out of the clothes you just out on, folding them and setting them on his desk. You slide open his closet, seeing a bunch of polos and khakis. You decide to look in his drawers, finding old t-shirts and basketball shorts and sweatpants. You pick out a Star Wars tee and a pair of shorts, knowing you’ll get too hot once you go to sleep.

You hear Steve climb down the stairs, taking your chance and going to the bathroom. You’re pleasantly surprised when you see moisturizer and makeup remover. He must have stolen these from his mom, you think. You’re appreciative nonetheless.

You meet him back in his room. He’s setting a tall glass of water and a can of soda on his nightstand. He has a small bowl of pretzels and potato chips in each hand.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I grabbed these. If you want something completely different, I can go back and —” he turns around, becoming speechless. His eyes grow wide as he looks at you in his clothes.

You smile awkwardly, putting your hands behind your back. He’s seen you naked multiple times, but you’ve never felt as vulnerable and exposed as now. His jaw is slacked, eyes scanning your outfit many times.

“I-Is it okay if I wear this?” you ask, worrying if these are the clothes he didn’t want you to wear.

“No, no, yeah,” he nods. “Totally fine.”

He’s still staring.

“What’s wrong then?”

He forces himself to snap out of his daze. He feels embarrassed and quite frankly weird. Seeing you in his clothes shouldn’t have made him drop his jaw like that. It’s just clothes, he thinks. “Nothing, nothing. Um, so, pretzels or potato chips?”

You end up falling asleep in his bed, both bowls empty and at the end of the bed. When you wake up, you’re all tangled in his covers. You’re back is facing him, your arms hugging the pillow underneath your head. Steve’s on his back, head turned the other way, but his arm is underneath your body. His hand is interlocked with yours under the pillow.

You sit up on your elbows, slowly prying your eyes open. You stretch on your stomach, flopping back down on your bed in exhaustion. You switch sides, now facing Steve. You smile at his sleeping face. He’s so peaceful and handsome. You always wondered what he’d look like in the morning. You’re happy you stayed.

You rest your head on his chest, cuddling up to his side. His bare skin is so warm, you love it. You close your eyes, drifting off to sleep. But you’re awoken when Steve speaks.

“Y/n?” he asks groggily. “What are you doing?”

You open your eyes, becoming more alert now. You sit up immediately, embarrassed when you realize you were cuddling him. It just felt so natural, you didn’t notice.

“Sorry,” you mumble. You get up, dragging your tired body to your clothes. You strip off his clothes, quickly getting dressed.

Steve rubs the sleep out of his eyes, rolling over in his bed to face you. “Where are you going?”

The look on your face worries him. You look so distressed, so regretful and guilty. He doesn’t understand why. He’s honestly too tired to know what’s on. It felt nice to hold you, though, and he wants to do it again.

“Thank you for letting me stay the night. It was really sweet.” you then flee, taking your car keys out of your purse.

Steve gets up, yawning as he walks to his window. He watches you get into your car, not wasting a moment and speeding off. He’s a little disappointed. He wanted you to stay.

You don’t talk to him for the rest of the weekend. Your body needed the time to recover, anyways. Not like he would have called you up the day after and been ready for sex, either.

“How did you do on the physics quiz?” Tina asks.

“I think I got a B, what about you?” you ask.

“I think I bombed it,” she pouts. “We can study together, you know,” you offer.

“Where would be the fun in that?” Tina grins. You roll your eyes with a smile. “Your grades, then.”

She giggles in reply, taking a bite of her apple. Her eyes wander the cafeteria, smirking suddenly. “Guess who decided to show up.”

You look over your shoulder, your stomach churning once you see Steve. You quickly look away once he makes eye contact with you.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to see him?” Tina questions.

“I am, I just… it’s always awkward seeing the person you have sex with every week at school,” you lie. Well, it wasn’t entirely a lie. It is awkward seeing your fuck buddy after you cuddled with them the whole night.

“Was he bad or something?” Tina asks. “No! No,” you shake your head. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” she pesters. You roll your eyes, huffing in frustration. Tina, like all the other girls, love drama and would stop at nothing to get it. You would have to feed her some explanation before you end up slapping her.

“He owes me money for getting take out, is all.”

“Oh! Well, why don’t you just get it from him now?”

You roll your eyes. She’s so naïve.

“Seems so simple, doesn’t it?” you remark. You take the last sip of your water, grabbing your backpack and lunch tray. You throw away your trash, slipping your backpack onto your shoulders. You walk towards the exit, needing to use the bathroom. You plug your earbuds into your walkman, blasting your music as you walk out of the cafeteria.

Steve’s eyes follow you as you turn the corner. He gets up immediately, leaving his food at the table and taking his bag. He sneaks into the girl’s restroom, waiting for you to come out of the stall.

You open the stall door, your eyes staying to the floor. You don’t even notice Steve until you look in the mirror. Your jump, your hand smacking your chest.

“Steve! What the hell!” you exclaim.

He leans against the wall, giving you a small smile. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you kept your head down while in the bathroom.”

“I do it so I don’t make eye contact with anybody and interact with them,” you snort, beginning to wash your hands.

“Well, I’m not just anybody,” Steve remarks, walking over slowly.

You look at him through the mirror, drying your hands off. You turn around and throw away the paper towel. “Are you sure about that?”

Steve scoffs, looking offended. “Is that how you talk to the guy who let you eat pretzels and chips in his bed?”

You laugh, a bright smile lighting up your face. He smiles wider at your smile. He loves how he never fails to make you smile and laugh, no matter what mood you’re in.

“That was very kind of you. No guy has ever let me do that.”

“Consider me one of a kind.”

“Well, it was nice seeing you in the bathroom. Steve. Maybe I’ll see you in class?” you hum.

“No promises,” he winks. You chuckle softly, moving to the exit, but he blocks you. You huff and glare at him. “I need to go to class. I hate being late, unlike you.”

“Wait, I want to talk,” he says. “Okay. Make it quick,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You lean against the wall, waiting impatiently.

“Are we okay?”

His question makes you confused. “What do you mean are we okay? Yeah, of course we are.”

“Okay. I mean, you just haven’t been returning my calls and you’ve been ignoring me the whole morning. Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Nothing is wrong. We are okay.”

“Okay. I know it might seem silly that I’m worried, but I like you. And not just for being the girl who comes to my house naked at three in the morning.”

“Well, I appreciate your worry, but you forget I am only the girl who comes to your house naked at there in the morning.”

Hurt flashes through his eyes. He looks so disappointed and sad, like a wounded puppy. He recovers, though, standing up straighter and smiling. “Right, yeah. So… we’re good?”

“Yep. We are great,” you nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you say, moving past him.

“Can you come over tonight?” he asks.

You smirk a little. “We had sex for two hours Friday and you miss me already?”

He shrugs with a shy smile. “What can I say? You’re amazing.”

“I’ll let you know if I can,” you say, leaving the bathroom.

Steve watches you walk away, his heart dropping to his feet. He comes out of the bathroom, his head hanging low. He can feel it in his chest that something is wrong. You’re acting different. Distant and cold. More than usual, at least. He hopes tonight will fix any bad feelings.

“Honey, are you going to Steve’s tonight?” your mom asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “You two seem to be getting friendly,” she remarks.

“Yep, we are just friends,” you say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“He seems like a nice boy. His parents are very generous for letting you stay the night Friday.”

“Yeah, they’re cool.”

Your mom goes silent, staring at you with a worried face. You smile reassuringly at her. “Steve and I are just friends, Mom.”

“That’s fine. And I don’t care if you two were to date. I’d just like to know.”

You nod, feeling penitent. You’ve been lying to your parents for the last six months, and it’s starting to effect you. You hate doing it, but they would never be okay with you two being friends with benefits. And if you told your mom, she would just suggest you two start dating. But you can’t. You shouldn’t.

“The moment we start dating, I’ll call you.”

She chuckles, “give it some time to breathe, honey.”

You nod again with a smile. “I’ll be home at ten.”

“Okay,” she says. “Have fun, but not too much!”

You grin, “no promises.”

You lay in Steve’s bed, breathless and sweaty. Your jaw is sore and your neck tense.

“You feeling alright?” he asks. “Yeah,” you take a deep breath in.

He puts his boxers on, sitting down next to your legs. He rests his hand on your knee, his thumb stroking your lower thigh.

“Do you want some Advil or Tylenol?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” he goes silent, staring at the floor. You can see the wheels turning in his head. His eyes dart from you to everywhere else. He looks like he wants to ask you something, and you dread what questions he may have. You decide it’s time to leave now. You get up, tugging your sweatpants on and sweatshirt.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks.

You glance at the clock, seeing that it’s only 8:30. “Um, yeah. My mom made dinner for me, and I’d hate to keep her waiting.”

“Alright,” he nods. “Let me walk you to your car.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you smile. “I want to. It’s dark,” he says, looking at his window.

You swallow hard and nod. “Okay.”

He’s never once offered to walk you to your car. He’s told you to call him when you get home to make sure you’re okay, but he usually takes a shower or gets something to eat when you leave.

It’s nice for him to offer, but it makes your stomach flip in a way you don’t want it to.

He carries your purse and a bottle of water out to your car. He even opens the door for you. You climb in, buckling your seatbelt. It’s awkward again between you two, and you hate it.

“Thanks,” you say quickly. You start your car, beginning to close the door, but he stops you. You sigh impatiently, your knee bouncing up and down. “Do you need something?”

“No, I just,” he trials off, sighing loudly. He chews on the inside of his cheek, his heart pounding as he thinks of what he wants to say. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but he’s not sure if he should say it or not. After a few moments, he decides not to. “Have a safe drive.”

Your eyes soften and you give him a kind smile. “Thank you, Steve. Have a good night. Get some sleep, okay?”

He nods and gives you a small, forced smile. “Yeah. You, too.”

You close your door, putting your car in drive and taking off.

A sinking feeling fills his chest. He hates feeling this way. He used to feel happy, satisfied, complete after sex with you. But now he feels depressed, sad, worthless. He craves for something more than just sex with you. He has the urge to hug you after you’re finished. He imagines kissing your head and holding your hand while you two watch a movie. But then he reminds himself he can’t do that. He shouldn’t. He needs to stop thinking about you like this.

When he gets back into his house, he goes up to his bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror.

“You two are just friends. Barely that. It’s just sex. Nothing more.”

————

Part Two

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[hotchfiles]

hey, congrats on 100!! wanted to request seth cohen with the prompt “i would do anything not to give a shit, but i do” thanks so much!!

lari's 100th follower bash + send me a prompt and one of my boys for a blurb

seth + “i would do anything not to give a shit, but i do”

his eyes haven't left you from the moment he barged into your room, the close friendship you shared allowing him to be as impertinent as he wished. your own glanced him from time to time through your mirror as you worked on your makeup. you had a date. an actual date. cohen was not going to ruin that for you.

"so you're actually doing this, you're really going out with him." if you allowed yourself to delve more into the terrible heart wrenching crush you had on the curly boy laying your bed, you would tell yourself his voice sounded disappointed, sad even. but you promised yourself you wouldn't do that anymore. not holding your love life back because seth might look at you softly once in a while, or because he would sleep on your lap while showing you one of his underrated tv shows that would surely be canceled in two seasons max.

"oh no, i just enjoy uncomfortable clothes and spending two hours on my makeup. the usual." seth's response to your sarcasm was to scoff annoyingly loud and roll on your bed to look up your ceiling, trying to think of anything he could say or do that could stop you.

he couldn't just lock the door and swallow the keys even though that was the first option to come to mind. a fake allergy attack wouldn't work, you knew of everything he was allergic to. he could just ask you not to—but then you'd ask why.

and he didn't know why. he just didn't want you to. it was unnerving to think of you having fun with another guy with your silly pretty dress and your red lipstick he never saw you wear before. and he couldn't even blame on your date. he was a cool normal guy, not some kind of awful jock.

"well, i mean, it's firefly night, you never miss firefly night. are you coming home before it airs or—" seth didn't finish his pleads, the way you looked at him was enough of an answer, you didn't even like firefly that much, your biggest enjoyment out of it was nathan fillion being a hottie and... cohen's company. you sigh deeply, avoiding his gaze as you went directly to your shoes, trying to find something remotely elegant for a dinner.

of course you would rather be laying on his couch, eating popcorn, cozy on his blanket that always smells like him, laughing at his jokes and pretending to be offended when he thought you didn't understand one of them. but the more you did that, the more you lost precious opportunities to find someone to actually be with you. love you.

"but like, you don't even know him." not true, he was older than you both, but he graduated from the same high school only months before. "and he's not even tall." he was taller than you though. "and he has a terrible taste in socks."

"socks, cohen? really?" you groan in frustration, at him and at the fact not one of your heels matched your dress. too high, too black, too thin, too tall. nothing matched. "why do you care?" you ask finally, your hands on your hips as you looked over at him, who, sensing you were getting madder by the second, decided to get up and just sit on your bed, looking into your eyes. "do i need your blessing? do i have to ask you before going out with someone? why, why do you care?"

"i don't know! okay. i don't know." his body jumps from your bed, pacing out through your room, avoiding your eyes at all costs. “i would do anything not to give a shit, but i do.” he stops on his tracks, his breathing is loud, was it ever that loud? or were you both just too quiet?

you think you're gonna regret this, but you step even closer to him, planning to possibly ruin your friendship but to at least get a single kiss before it happened. seth looks at your lips and like many times before he wonders how soft they are, if the lipstick you had on tastes like cherries like your balm you usually wear and forces on his lips with your fingers. would your thighs be warm around his waist? would his cold hands on your cheeks scare you away? just the usual stuff a good friend would think about his friend who is also a girl.

he acts on impulse as do you, both of you going for a kiss at the same time, laughing at how uncoordinated it felt because of it, noses hitting before your lips could touch. but they do eventually. and seth notices the lipstick does not taste like cherries on your soft lips, it actually tastes awful, but he doesn't care. your makeup is getting completely ruined, his fingers firm on your cheeks, but you're more than happy to let that happen.

the kiss doesn't linger, the need for air even stronger due to the surprise of it all, his forehead touches yours lightly, his hands never leave your face. "firefly night is just... very important to me." you nod at his joke, too stunned to even laugh.

"your house then." it's not a question, you let go of him and he groans missing how warm you felt. you put on the first pair of slippers you can find and pull his hand as you left your room. not a single plan to watch the stupid show in mind.