#so if i accidentally mess something up with the tags please tell me and i will fix it post haste

[percki]

on my knees

tags: 18+, mature content, MDNI, Gale x reader, f!Tav, 2nd person pronouns, act 3, semi-public sex, porn w/o plot, lap dance, explicit consent, bondage, restraints, dom/sub, switch Gale, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), lap sex, hand jobs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise kink

ao3 link

“Urgh.” Rolan stands up, wiping a smear of Lorroakan’s blood off the sleeve of his robes. “Your aasimar friend is… violent.”

“I’m so sorry for the mess, Rolan. We can clean everything up –” You glance around the upper level of the tower, at the holy fire, congealed mud, pasty mixture of water and ash, and a fair amount of blood. At the wizard’s broken body, his face swollen with bruises, his mouth agape, sprawled at the foot of his throne of books. “– Um, but it might take a while.”

Rolan waves one long-nailed hand in your direction, his discolored face grateful – if not a bit exasperated. “Don’t worry about it, my friend. You have already done so much for me – consider my debt forgiven, and all will be well.” You smile at that, watching the tiefling wizard grunt with exertion as he hauls Lorroakan’s body towards the portal. “And, erm – help yourself to any treasures you come across, of course. I’ll be… downstairs…” He pushes the corpse through the shimmering portal, and sends you one last earnest, sharp-toothed smile over his shoulder. “...Burying a body.”

With that, Rolan pushes up the sleeves of his robes (sorcerer’s robes, trimmed in silver, unbefitting for a wizard, but they suit him well nonetheless) and steps through the portal, no doubt bracing himself to break the news to his new employees. ‘Hey, so remember those adventurers that just came in? They killed Lorroakan, violently, and I’m your boss now. Surprise!’ You’re sure the staff at Sorcerous Sundries have endured worse surprises; working for Lorroakan sounds akin to an eternity of torture in the Hells.

Aylin sheathes her sword and crosses over to you, removing her helmet. Her ash-blonde hair spills over her shoulders, and her gold-streaked face glistens with blood and sweat. “I shall be at your camp, if you have need of me,” she declares, and inclines her head in gratitude. “You fought well – as you have before. I remain thankful for your assistance.” Less wordy than usual – Lorroakan’s death must be weighing on her. You don’t blame her.

“Thank you, Dame Aylin,” you say, and bow in respect. She smiles at that, silver eyes gleaming.

“Ooh, wait!” Karlach runs up to you, her arms full of wine bottles – no doubt pilfered from Lorroakan’s hidden stash. The woman has a nose for alcohol – she could find a bottle of Baldur’s Grape blindfolded, disoriented, in the middle of a rainstorm. Shadowheart is close behind, a new cloak slung over her shoulders and a fair amount of gold filling her pockets. “We’ll probably go back to camp, too – Fringe and I have to try all this wine.”

“To make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Shadowheart adds, green eyes twinkling with humor. “You can handle yourselves without us, can’t you?”

You grin. “Save a bottle of Mermaid Whiskey for me.”

“Blech. You can have it all.” Karlach sticks out her split tongue, her smile wide. “See ya!” She bolts through the portal head-first: dangerous, with the amount of alcohol in her arms and the fiery infernal engine in her chest. You hear a distant crash, and wince.

Shadowheart follows close behind, calling, “Save the Tyche Pink!”

You hear the rush of wings and look over – Aylin is gone, too, a flash of silver in the clear blue sky. You watch her fly, the wind buffeting her white wings – deva-like, altogether unnatural, inhuman, beautiful in an untouchable, deadly, frightening way – as she soars. The sunlight seems to collect around her, like a remnant of her celestial mother’s power lingers, still, even after the heat and rage of battle is done.

“And then there were two.”

Gale’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up, meeting his eyes. Dark brown, deep, gentle, shining with a light all too familiar. He’s standing by the throne of books, his right hand resting on a copy of Folktales of Faerún: The Angelic Aasimar. 

You kneel over the ashes of the water myrmidon, sifting through the remains for treasure. Nothing. “I suppose Rolan will take a while…” You look around the tower once more, keen eyes picking out chests, display cases, bookshelves – anything that could hide a nice new set of robes for Gale, or a dagger for Astarion, or perhaps some armor for Wyll… “Will you cast Feather Fall? I want to look on the lower levels…” You trail off, reading something in Gale’s eyes. His fingers flex on the spine of the book, his shoulders thrown back, his lilac robes fitting his form well. Is he… posing? You smile and straighten, dusting ash off your sleeves, and move to his side, twining your left arm with his right, leaning comfortably against his side. “The Annals are in the vaults,” you say, knowing his primary objective here, halfheartedly attempting to lift his spirits. Thoughts of the Crown are dangerous – you have seen how easily the lure of power can corrupt, a thousand times (with Kagha in the Emerald Grove, with Minthara at the goblin camp, with Ketheric and Gortash and now Lorroakan). But despite your reservations, you know his ambition fuels him, that it drives his fire, that thoughts of greatness and respect do raise his spirits. “We could go down ourselves…”

Gale turns into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his beard scratching at your neck. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, and sighs deeply, inhaling your scent – blood and smoke and sweat, and the faintest hints of his cologne lingering on your skin. “I… Not yet,” he says vaguely, and kisses your neck again, deeper this time. Your breath hitches as he trails long, searing kisses up your neck, along the line of your jaw, leading up to your lips.

“Gale…” You whisper, voice low. “I –” He nips at your bottom lip, smiling against your chin, and you can feel your face heat up. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says devilishly, oak eyes sparkling, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. “I can’t believe…” He blinks, as if waking from a dream, and cradles your jaw with his hand, straightening to his full height.

You kiss him, this time, tasting blood on his lips, and you stop, examining his face carefully. A bruise is forming at the bridge of his nose, blood tracing a path down the apex of his lips to his chin. You frown, brow creasing in worry. “You’re hurt.”

“Hm?” Gale touches his face gingerly, delicate, careful fingers prodding the quickly-purpling skin. “Oh. Yes. That. It’s quite alright –”

“It’s not alright,” you reply. “Let me heal you.” You take his shoulders in your hands and guide him into a seated position on Lorroakan’s throne, his back reclined against a collection of Ramazith’s annotated tomes. You kneel before him, positioning yourself between his legs, and summon a simple healing incantation, your hand hovering over his nose, the blue glow of the spell reflected in his eyes. “Te curo,” you murmur, and watch as his skin knits itself together, blood drying, swelling fading, the bruise vanishing beneath your fingers. “Better?”

“Better,” he admits, and looks at you with intent in his eyes, his gaze dark and focused on your features. “My love,” he starts, then hesitates. His face turns a delicious shade of pink.

“Yes?” You lean forward, hanging onto his words. He adjusts his legs, his thighs bracketing your shoulders, and you feel the slightest thrill at your compromising position, you in your armor and him in his robes, you kneeling before him like a supplicant at an altar.

“Rolan may not return for some time,” Gale says. “We could…” He stops again, biting his lip.

You guess his meaning immediately – your thoughts are remarkably in-tune. You can’t deny that you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t wished for… Well. For Gale. Your peaceful nights since arriving in the Lower City have been few and far between, interrupted as they are: by vampires, by nightmares, by Orin’s ministrations. It’s been some time since you and Gale had time to yourselves.

And now, it seems, you have all the time in the world.

“Do you want to?” You question, and his eyes darken, his pupils expanding infinitesimally. You lean forward, cupping his cock with your hand, and smile to feel him already half-hard beneath your touch.

“I – yes,” he breathes, and raises his hand to cast Mage Hand, the incantation on his lips, when you catch him by the wrist, holding him still.

“No magic,” you say breathlessly, and straighten back up to your full height, smiling down at him. “As mortals do, remember?”

Gale watches you intently as you undo the first few buckles of your armor, leather slipping between your fingers. He sits up, reaching out his hands to help –

And you push him back.

“Don’t move,” you warn him, and plant one hand securely on his chest, holding him in place, as you draw a piece of silken fabric out of your pack. You hold it up for him to see, and upon realizing your intention, his eyes widen, pupils expanding impossibly wide. “Do you want this?” You ask, and he confirms with a nod of his head. You narrow your eyes and lean in, your face centimeters away from his, your breath ghosting on his lips. “Say it, please, love.”

He swallows thickly, eyes locked on yours, and says, his voice a rumble in his chest, “I want you to tie me up.”

You smile, and reward him with a bruising, biting kiss. “Good boy,” you murmur, and relish the way his face reddens, his jaw going slightly slack at the praise. “Lean forward for me?” He acquiesces, already holding his hands behind his back, and you climb up into his lap to twine the silk around his wrists, your touch featherlight and gentle. You test the knot, and smile. Not too tight – but he certainly won’t get any ideas about spellcasting. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yes,” he says into your shoulder, his voice muffled by the layers of your armor. You stand back up and step completely out of your clothes, metal buckles and buttons clinking as your many layers fall to the floor, and then you stand before Gale in your undergarments, your skin rising with goosebumps from the cool air, his eyes roving a path up and down your figure.

You feel a little warm from the intensity of his gaze, but you steel your nerves and continue. You reach out with your senses, using the knowledge of the Weave that Gale taught you of so long ago, and you can feel a soft tinkling at the edge of your perception, the distant sound of music, and you pull it towards you. In one of the pleasure dens far below, a slow, sensual number starts up, and you filter the sound through the available space, filling the tower with music.

Gale’s lips part as he realizes your plan. “Love,” he starts, “I haven’t –”

You feel a twinge of self-doubt, standing there near-nude before a man who is completely clothed. You have no experience with this whatsoever – apart from what you have read and seen – and you’re not sure that Gale loves you enough to forgive you if you make a total ass of yourself. “This is okay, right?” You rush to ask, holding your hands out for his before realizing that he’s still tied. You tuck them behind your back, straightening your posture. “Um – I know this is probably unusual, but, you know, in the Quarta Sune –”

Gale grins, his dimples making a rare appearance, and the sight of it pulls at your heartstrings. “You are perfect,” he promises, lifting his dark eyes up to your face. “This is perfect. Please, keep going.”

The slight rasp of his voice goes straight to your core, and you step forward before you’re entirely conscious of your movements, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He leans into you with a groan, and you can feel his shoulders move, his hands resisting the bindings, and you pull back. “No touching,” you say softly, “right? This is about you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, his expression adorably resentful, and you laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Later,” you promise, and with that, you stand up, and turn away from him, facing the windows, the setting sun illuminating your skin. The music restarts, strings amping up, and you sway your hips to the tune, letting instinct take over. One, two, three, you breathe, feeling the rhythm run through you, and as the music crescendos, you drop down onto Gale’s lap, your ass just brushing over his thighs, hoping your undulating body looks sensual rather than spasmodic, and your efforts are rewarded with a delicious, blinding groan from behind you. You turn back around to face him – one, two, three – and lean in close, your scent intoxicating, his body warming your skin, and bracket his legs with your knees, one hand carding through his hair and the other slowly unbuttoning his robes, your knuckles barely brushing the velvet-soft hair on his chest. You slide your hands down the planes of his torso, and then, just as he’s leaning forward, again, anticipating your lips on his –

You step back again, turning, lifting your hands over your head and letting your hair down, smiling to yourself as you peek over your shoulder at his exasperated face. One, two, three. You let your ass ghost over his lap again, closer this time, holding there for a few moments longer than he considers tolerable, and just as his patience goes and his hips buck, you return to your starting position, looking down at him chidingly.

“Please,” he whispers, and you raise your brows, your hands going to the clasp of your bra. He watches, rapt, as you slide the fabric off your breasts and let it fall to the ground atop your discarded armor, your nipples peaking in the cool air. You repeat the motion with your panties, and you’re sure Gale catches sight of the soaked fabric as you toss it aside: his face turns a flattering shade of crimson, his arms straining against his silken ropes.

“How can I deny you?” You say, and with smooth, uninterrupted movements, you slide onto his lap, rocking your hips back and forth, tantalizingly slow, atop him. His robes slip open completely, and you can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his undergarments, barely brushing against the skin of your thighs. Your hands roam along the skin of his chest, thumbs swirling careful circles in the dips of his collarbone and shoulders, your palms warm against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praise him, and lean forward to kiss along the line of his clavicle, then slowly up his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, tasting his sandalwood cologne, his soapy shaving cream, the sweat and salt lingering there, your tongue pulsing against his jaw. “So good for me,” you continue, running your hands through his hair, “you’re perfect, Gale.”

And then, surprising him, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees, slotting your body perfectly in between his legs, and in one swift motion, you free his aching cock from his undergarments and lean forward once more, fitting your lips around the head.

“O-oh,” he moans, straining to keep still as you take him deeper, your hands tracing patterns on the skin of his thighs, reaching up to his hips, your nails scratching lightly, and then, as you adjust yourself and push him back so as to get more leverage, you wrap one hand around his shaft and devote the other one to palm gently at his balls, still a touch too gentle. “Mmm – more,” he sighs, and you obey, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and then fitting it back in your mouth, deep enough to brush the back of your throat, pre-cum salty on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, looking up at him through lowered lashes, and his mouth falls open, releasing the most pleasurable moans and groans, sighs and mewls slipping between his lips, chanted noises that may be words – you catch the sound of your name, and please, and yes, in the chorus of sounds that escape his chest, rising and falling in octave with every swipe of your tongue and bob of your head. “P-please,” he says again, “please, let me –”

You guess his meaning, and reach behind him; the movement sending his cock to the very back of your throat, and his back arches in pleasure; and pull the strings of his bindings, untying his hands. The moment he’s free, he takes your head in his hands, cradling your jaw, and lets his fingers twine in the strands of your hair as you suck with renewed eagerness, sliding back nearly completely only to take him in fully again, the feel of his cock in your mouth dizzying, intoxicating, sending white-hot shivers through your body –

You glance down, and through the haze of pleasure, through the shadows of sunset, through the sweat and slick on your body, you see a flash of blue cupping your cunt, and you can suddenly feel the gentle, not-quite-there brush of the Mage Hand’s fingers against your clit. You war between pleasure and indignation for a moment – and indignation wins. You pull back, Gale’s weeping cock inches away from your mouth but still suspended in midair, and he huffs, putting his hands over his eyes, his pleasure cut short just on the path to climax. “Why did you –”

“No magic,” you repeat, and you can feel the Mage Hand dissolve. Gale peeks out from through his fingers, caught, and not the least bit ashamed. “Do I need to tie you up again? Completely, this time?”

“I –” His cock twitches, beads of precum leaking from the tip, stunning the both of you into silence.

You let a devilish grin slide across your face. “Oh. You want me to tie you up, love? Top to tip, completely trussed up for me?” You pull away from him and reach in your pack for more ribbon. “Red or purple, my sweet?”

Gale manages an arrogant smile, his face still flushed red. “Purple, of course.”

“Good choice,” you grin, and stand, running the ribbons through your hands reverently. “This will only take a minute,” you promise. “Why don’t you take those bothersome clothes off before I get started?”

He does, and you let your eyes run over his figure appreciatively for a minute before going to work. Hands on the ‘arms’ of the throne, the ribbon secured around a stack of encyclopedias. His legs against the respective ‘legs’ of the throne, straining slightly against his bonds. You stand before him, and he angles his hips up slightly, his eyes pleading.

“So cooperative,” you murmur, running your hands gently up his thighs. “So patient. So good.” You lift your hand to your mouth and spit on your fingers, holding eye contact, and he breathes shakily as you wrap your hand around his cock, leaning forward, mouthing kisses along his neck and collarbone. You start slowly, tantalizingly, pumping your hand along his length with a careful, measured speed that makes Gale’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Please – more,” he moans, his lips chasing yours. “Faster.”

You acquiesce, moving quicker, twisting your wrist the way you know that he likes. His breaths come faster, too, a mindless stream of yes and please and more coupled with your name falling from his mouth. You kiss him with bruising intensity, feeling his cock twitch in your fingers, his body straining against his bonds.

He comes with a muffled yell, his eyes rolling completely back in his head, and you kiss him fiercely as his come paints your stomach and thighs where you sit atop him. “Please – gods – please, untie me, let me –”

You smile against his lips and loosen the ribbons, yelping when his arms encircle you with surprising strength, lifting you up by your thighs and laying you out on the tile floor of the tower, the ground cold on your skin, your head canted back as Gale trails kisses down your thighs. “Ah – Gale,” you sigh as his fingers whisper up the inside of your legs, your skin rising with goosebumps. “I can’t –” You try to lift your head, to see where he is and what he’s doing, but your neck won’t cooperate. “What –”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gale murmurs into your thigh, his hand lifting your leg to his lips, his beard tickling your skin pleasantly. “There’s only so long I can go without magic, my love. I thought –” Here, his tongue slides up to your cunt, tracing around your lips gently, and you moan, your boneless body arching in pleasure. “I thought you might enjoy feeling how I felt. Constrained. At my mercy.” His tongue winds a circle around your clit, and your breaths come faster, your thighs shaking madly. “Do you?”

“Do I – ah – what?”

“Enjoy it,” Gale says into your cunt, and the vibration makes you shudder.

“I – yes, I – please, I want to touch you, I want to –”

“Mmm,” Gale hums, his tongue working careful, restrained circles around your clit, dipping down to taste your slick. “Not yet.”

It’s been less than two minutes, and you’re already shaking, riding high, your eyes unfocused, as Gale takes you apart with his tongue. The painted constellations of the ceiling dance in and out of focus, and your moans echo around the circular tower, a mix of yes and please and Gale falling from your mouth, a reminder of the way you coaxed Gale’s orgasm from him with delicate fingers not five minutes before. “Gale, I – oh, gods, I can’t – please, I want to see you, I –”

The spell breaks, and you lift your head to see Gale’s face completely buried in your cunt, his sweaty hair spread out on your thighs, his eyes closed in ecstasy, and the image is enough to send you over the edge, a scream in your throat, your legs shaking wildly as you come, Gale’s tongue still working at you gently, until the sensation is too much and you kick him softly, signaling get off me, because your vocal cords aren’t working at the moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, and crawls up to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, salty-sweet and heady. “But we should probably go before Rolan comes back. I suspect we won’t have an opportunity to take advantage of his hospitality again.”

“Gale…” You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, your eyes fluttering shut. “You might have to Dimension Door us out of here. I don’t think my legs will move.”

“I’ll carry you,” he smiles, and helping you stand, he laces his robes back up and aids you in buckling your armor. “Now come. There’s a bath at the Elfsong that’s calling my name.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head into his shoulder, and watch dreamily as he conjures the portal. “Wait – what about the Annals?”

“Oh.” Gale looks down at the lower levels of the tower. “I suppose we’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He looks almost downcast, but then the expression fades, and he’s just Gale again, smiling at you. “Let’s go.”

[soapsbaby]

Silly Spicy Call of Duty headcanons

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x reader Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: All NSFW but very lighthearted, nothing particularly triggering but ask to tag! Word count: 750ish

These are just silly little headcanons about them, PLEASE if you have any like these send them to me i had such a blast writing them lol!!

Ghost

Sometimes his mask slips a little and he looks goofy as hell, you have to do your best to not laugh into his face because you know he won’t let that slide.

Uses British lingo sometimes. Has called your pussy a “fanny” before. Got mad when that made you giggle.

Once got so frustrated with trying to figure out how to operate one of your vibrators that he broke it. Was very apologetic and immediately ordered you another one afterwards.

Soap

He is clumsy as hell. Every time you have tried to fuck in a position that is anywhere near athletic, something goes wrong. It’s a miracle neither of you have broken your necks trying to get it on in the shower. He will always take the fall though, protecting you with everything he has and curling himself around you even if it means he will end up bruised or bleeding.

Makes a lot of typos when sexting, never notices. Called you “baby gorilla” once (you will never let him live that down).

Gets offended when you call him “Soap” in the bedroom. You know my name, what are you calling me that for? Dummy.

König

He doesn’t usually wear his balaclava under his mask when you have sex since it gets too sweaty but since his mask is pretty loose he will sometimes have to pft-ppf-tpftt when it gets stuck in his mouth. Has almost choked on his mask before.

Gets so flustered that he will just start sputtering nonsense. Has on several occasions been so out of it that he has messed up the nicknames you use for each other. “yes show me that I am your little babygirl, wait- no, you are… I am your boy… you’re… Wait, I’m sorry”. Not a gender or kink thing, which would of course be alright with you, just him being a dummy.

Is a bit of a crier and drooler sometimes which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that he will sometimes accidentally waterboard himself in his mask and not tell you.

Gaz

Has called you mommy once and was mortified. Neither of you have really spoken about it but sometimes you will drop little hints around him to get him flustered.

Likes when you suck him off while he is playing video games but then gets too into the game and genuinely can’t help but get annoyed when he loses because you distract him.

Cpt Price

Is oblivious to any signs that you want him. Will go into Dad story telling mode and completely ignore the effect he is having on you until you grab him by the shirt and just tell him to fuck you.

Has a sex playlist called "sensual" with just the most cliché sex songs on it possible. Can unironically have sex to "Careless Whisper" and “Let’s get it on”.

Has given you rug burn with his beard before. 0/10 very unpleasant experience (you’d do it again, though).

Alejandro

Will say things that could be interpreted as sexist in the moment and then immediately get apologetic. Who’s my good slut? I mean… If you want to be. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… Are you okay with that? Okay. Cool.

Will fuck you in uniform because he knows you’re into that and then get distracted by things he finds in his pockets like shopping receipts. 

Doesn’t care whether or not you understand him, he will speak Spanish to you.

Rudy

Gets tormented by you with new pet names every day. mí amor, I don't know what a Zaddy is. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing.

In the beginning of your relationship he was completely oblivious to most kinks. If you ever expressed anything out of the ordinary to you, he’d raise his eyebrows in confusion and say something like “what? why would anyone want that?” but was always open to trying anything. Now he is probably even more of a deviant than you are.

Valeria

Has this roleplay thing going on where you are a traitor to her cause and she discovers it and gets to “punish” you. You find it a little silly but it gets her super riled up so you play along.

Secretly loves to bottom and to be taken care of by you but would never tell you (you know anyway). Thinks she is being very good at hiding it (she is not).

[jyuansgf]

nsfw content ahead. minors dni.

– how would they react if you ask them to be rough on you as much as they possibly can during sex? with jing yuan, gepard, argenti. + aftercare. cw: rough fucking, overstim, fingering. a bit of fluff on the aftercare. not proofread.

notes: thanks to my friend for terrorising me into doing this /j ^___^ jokes aside, i had fun writing this!! i didn't want to make this too long so i tried my best.. also my rules, tags everything about my blog is up on my pinned. make sure to read them byf please!! if this one actually gets attention more than i intended it to be, i'll make a part two and a genshin one ;___; 

jing yuan — 

i think jing yuan wouldn’t react any differently when you ask him to be rough on you. jing yuan has always been gentle with you ever since you two started dating—jing yuan can be either a gentleman in bed or.. just fuck your brains out? he’s actually anything you can ask for. he prioritises your pleasure and your comfort more than anything else. you want him to fuck you senseless? sure, you want some intense fucking? go for it, you want some gentle fucking as he whispers some sweet praises right next to your ear? or maybe both—he’s just the perfect man for anything. if you want him to bury your head on the pillows as he pulls on your hair and pounds you from behind, he’ll do it, only if you want him to. although he can’t deny the fact that he likes to see you fall apart on his cock, fucking you rough as possible while his fingers are buried deep inside you. as long as he can make you cum before he does, he’s happy. 

after care with jing yuan is one of the things that you two can always look forward to after having your brains fucked out—and trust me, that isn’t the only thing he’s good at. if he’s that good in bed, he’s definitely more than that when it’s after care. first thing he would ask you if there’s anything that hurts or did he go too far on you, he would even prepare a bath for the both of you (no fucking again, he says) and prepare some sweets or your comfort food after your intimate moment with him. ask him to give you a massage or tell you a random story about his childhood then he shall deliver! or if you just want to lay down on bed, he’ll make sure to clean you up if you fall asleep. he just wants the best for you, and he would be willing to give you more. make sure to thank him, the only thing he’ll ask for you is your love and embrace that he can always come home to.

gepard —

i think he would be a bit taken aback by your request, not that he doesn’t want to do it but he’s got some hesitation in him if he can go that far for you. he would be the type to ask you to show him how you want this to happen or set any boundaries, he thinks you’re someone who should be deeply taken care of in bed and he didn’t even think of this doing this with you at all, he does not want to hurt you. but he’s definitely willing to give it to you if you explain to him that this is not going to hurt you in the least.. it is your request after all. rough sex with gepard would definitely start with lots of foreplay, he’ll hesitate but once he gets the hang of it soon enough you’ll also be fucked dumb on the sheets, and he thinks that awakened something in him.. he doesn’t know that you’re the type to like this nor himself. he would often ask you if you can still take more or if you want him to stop, all his pent up frustrations or stress as a captain of belobog guards will all be poured into you that’ll leave you like a panting mess under him. don’t get him wrong though, he prioritises your release more than his, but forgive him if he accidentally cums inside you again and again.. poor guy can’t help himself at all.

after care with gepard would be a 50/50 situation for the both of you, give him time to recollect himself after because he thinks he’s not able to recover after that.. because of how good it felt. he’ll shower you with kisses and praises immediately after and would ask you questions if he did good or if it’s what you asked for. if you assure him that he did not hurt you at all, that’s the only thing he needs to hear. stay for a little chat with him in bed as you both calm down from it, he would start preparing a bath for you two as he changes the bedsheets, a little subtle kisses before going to sleep is how you two would end the night. he would really do anything for you, if you wanted him to. totally thinks he would be up to doing it again some other time. don’t tease him about it though. he’ll blush a bit if you knew how much he liked it, just a bit, he says.

argenti — 

one of the best gentlemen out there, who just aims to make you feel good no matter what. just like jing yuan, i don’t think he’ll mind it. as for someone who just wants to worship your precious body. but of course he would ask you first if you’re sure about doing it, and if you give him a sign that it’s okay, he doesn’t even hesitate on doing so. he’ll be the type to go slow on you at first, tease you until you’re ready to take him inside your warm cunny. then, the next moment you knew, he’s fucking you in such vigorous pace, would make you suck on his fingers as his lips traces over your body, and if he takes you from behind–he would even wrap his hands around your neck just to take a good look at your pretty messy face, he’ll still kiss your tears away even though he’s ramming inside your sopping wet pussy, he’ll switch by using his fingers, cock or his mouth just to overstimulate you. degrading words would definitely come out of his mouth but he does it in his own unique way (if you know, you know). he will definitely tease you but worry not, you don’t even remember how many times he had made you cum already.

aftercare with argenti? my love, you’re in for a treat. i’m sure we all know this man praises everything he sees, but when it comes to you as if he doesn’t run out of words. your afterglow with him would be definitely something, immediately would cradle you in his arm after making your legs tremble from overstimulation, he would press kisses all over your body and not a single spot would be missed. he would even press a chaste kiss on your clit after he cleaned you up, telling you were such a good girl for taking him or any words of praise that he could think of. the bath was already set up even before the two of you started, some bath bombs, scented candles, and petals scattered all over the floor. he’ll bring you some water or any snacks you prefer as he helps you clean up and after the two of you settles in bed, it would always ends with giggles and topics that the both of you share.. and of course, he doesn’t forget to praise you all over again, may he forgive you for falling asleep as he talks about how your body makes him feel good and how ethereal you are. it’s his way of making you fall asleep after all. 

[cosmal]

Hi, could i make a request for Eddie Munson, an angst/comfort one where he cries the first time reader kisses him? Because he's never ever been loved like that, and he didn't realize how touch starved he was until the gesture overwhelmed him? 🥺❤️ Love your writing

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 — 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

thank you!!!

summary — eddies first date with you doesn't go how he'd planned and he hadn't even expected a kiss. still, you kiss him because you want to.

warnings/tags — fem!reader, touch starved!eddie, eddie's never been on a first date before

word count — 2.3k

In Eddie’s opinion, his first date with you goes to shit.

If he could sit here and say that he’s surprised, he would. But he’s not. He’s Eddie Munson, things don’t go to plan for him like they should.

He was a nervous wreck to begin with, how he’d even scored a date with you in the first place is beyond him. Though he can’t attribute much credit to himself anyways, you had asked him out.

Sitting in Steve Harrington’s backyard after a swim, you start to tell him about this new, fancy restaurant up behind the arcade. It’s just opened and,

“Would you want to go there sometime? I heard their pasta is delicious.”

He had to get you to repeat the question, his ears were full of water and he was sure he’d heard you wrong.

He psychs himself out for the better half of his afternoon, so not only is he late to pick you up, his old, dingy, stupid van breaks down before it can even make it out your drive. You tell him it’s okay, it’s a nice night, we should walk. Eddie tells you that he shouldn’t have you walking all the way into town in those shoes.

“What’s a few blisters if it means I get to spend more time with you?”

Your kindness does nothing for his thrumming heart.

Once you’re at the restaurant he forgets to open the door for you. You don’t seem to mind, of course, you don’t, but Eddie has a checklist of gentlemanly dues he feels he must achieve to impress you. It’s stupid, really stupid, but he’d be damned if he messed up such an amazing opportunity.

You sit and chat for a while, waiting for your meals, and the entire time he thinks you want to hold his hand. Your manicured hand keeps inching closer to his over the white tablecloth, knuckles almost brushing, and he’s too nervous about making the final move to tangle his fingers through yours.

Then you say something terribly, awfully kind to him. Something about his hair, how it looks really nice tonight. How you’ve always loved his hair.

Eddie spurts his soda out over his glass and gets it all down his white shirt. Yeah, his white shirt. Something he’d begged Harrington to let him wear.

“Please, man. I don’t have anything nice to wear tonight. I can’t exactly show up in my Judas Priest shirt that’s covered in bleach.”

“You could show up in a brown paper bag and she’d still think you were the hottest thing out.”

“It’s not that easy for me. I need to impress her.”

Eddie had wiped the soda from Steve’s shirt, feeling utterly stupid and you had laughed like it was the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

You’d laughed when he’d choked on his spaghetti. Smiled kindly when he offered you to try his food and you’d reminded him for the second time that night that you were allergic to tomatoes. To top it off, you’d pretended it was no big deal that he had accidentally left his wallet in his van and that you had no problems paying for dinner.

“Really, Eddie. It’s fine. Just get me back next time.”

The thought of a next time was enough to stop his racing thoughts for just a moment. Not for long though, because watching you pretend like your feet weren’t aching on the way home had Eddie cursing himself the entire walk.

How could he fuck up so badly and how could you be so calm and kind about it?

Now, standing at your front landing, he’s apologising profusely for how horrible he’s made your night.

“Horrible?” you question, eyebrows raised and skin glowing if it's entirely possible. The setting sun casts you amber.

“I don’t know,” Eddie stammers, “It didn’t go how I wanted it to.”

“It didn’t?” you question again. Your voice is pitched up and its melody has his brain spinning, “How were you expecting it to go?”

“I’d have expected not to forget my wallet. And maybe have a van that works,” Eddie can’t help but laugh at his stupidity. Especially when you’re making the same face you have been all night. A smile that looks like it could ruin him.

“I don’t know,” You reach forward and take the hem of his shirt in your fingers, playing with the thread. “I had a really good time.”

“You- you did?” Eddie stammers. Suddenly you’re really close, if it’s because he’s been too deep inside his own head he hasn’t noticed you inching closer, he’s not sure.

“Yeah,” you nod gleefully, hair bouncing.

“Yeah,” he echoes. More to set it in stone himself.

Eddie watches where your fingers play with his shirt, the closer they inch towards his skin, the louder he thinks his heart becomes in his ears.

There’s a silence that you hate, “Hey, Eds?”

Eddie’s breath hitches. You’ve never called him that before.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. Voice quieter than he’d like to admit. Any louder and he feels as if you’d step back from him.

He looks up and catches your gaze before you speak, “Can I kiss you?”

Eddie doesn’t know how to reply. He’s never even been asked such a question before so he can’t even pretend he’s got an answer somewhere in the back of his numb mind.

His heart thrums in his throat, feels as if it might escape, “You want to kiss me?”

You nod like it’s the most obvious thing ever. To you, it is, to Eddie it’s unimaginable.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

The moment your lips press into his, he freezes. Not in a bad sense, his mouth still moves. He still shows you how much he wants to kiss you with his tentative and loving lips. But he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. They flex at your side until you’re cradling his face in your own.

Your touch is warm, warmer than your lips and it almost burns. Burns so much that his eyes well with tears and he gasps into your opening mouth.

Your face suddenly feels wet and you can feel a sob making its way through Eddie's throat. You pull away, “Eddie? You okay?”

He slams his eyes shut to will away the tears, fisting at his hair when he pushes it behind his ears, “M’sorry,” he sniffles.

You reach up to cradle his face again, wiping hot tears away from his flushed cheeks, “Hey, it’s alright. I had a great night. Promise.”

He shakes his head, “No,” he swallows, “No, it’s not that. I’ve just. I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

“Oh.”

Eddie feels stupid. That is until you say,

“Oh, Eddie. Hey, c’mere.”

Eddie lets himself fall too willingly into your arms. Has no problems this time when you wrap your arms around his back and pull him as close as possible. Close enough that his hair presses so hard into the skin of your neck that he expects it to be embossed.

He grasps at the back of your shirt a little too hard. Pressing his nose into the skin behind your ear, sniffling wetly.

“It’s okay,” you murmur into his head, “I had I really good night and I think,” you pause and let him rub his cheek into your shoulder, “I think I’ve wanted to kiss you for a really long time.”

He pulls back and you think he has the prettiest eyes. Despite them being glassy and the tiniest bloodshot. “Yeah?”

You lean in and peck him right above his top lip, overthe plush of his cupid's bow, "Yeah."

“You think you'll want to try it again sometime?"

You smile brightly, "I think I do. More than you think."

"Way more than I think."

[papurgaatika]

Scarcely Can Speak For My Thinking, What You’d Do To Me Tonight

Pairing: VA! Joel Miller x f! reader 

Minors DNI with my work please!!

A/N: howdy howdy my lovelies. I know what yall are thinking: papaya didn't you post a fic literally less than two weeks ago? And to that I would say yes, yes I did. However, I have been working on this one for a while and somehow managed to finish it on the plane! Thank you as always to my lovely beta readers @carlynkurin and @joelsdagger The title is a Hozier lyric (are yall really surprised?) This is officially dedicated to my beloved @joeloverture and despite my darling vetty's step off of tumblr, she truly deserves the world. also if you're mean to her i will find you. that is a threat

I hope y'all enjoy the read, and that the filth keeps you going in times of need. Peace and love on the planet Earth from me!!! Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!!

Tags: Erotic voice actor Joel! AU, Young Joel, No outbreak AU, smut, condescension, degradation, f! masturbation, praise, squirting, smut, LOTS of dirty talk, oral (f receiving) friends to lovers, fingering, voice kink, Joel loves thighs, Joel Miller arm appreciation, the reader is a mess, no use of y/n, Joel can pick reader up but he’s HUGE so it makes sense, no description of reader, 18+ Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: you have been using audio erotica to get off for a month, and manage to accidentally let it play in Joel's car, leading to an awkward night in 

You let out an exhausted huff as the dim light of your phone reflected on your face. Your headphones connected, your vibrator was charged, but in some godforsaken twist of fate, there was not a single thing worth listening to on the newest audio erotica page you could find. Videos hadn’t been doing it for you, the ethical concerns were too high for you to be horny, and as much as you liked a good fanfic, you had gone through most of the ones you liked and needed something new.  You click on a post with semi intriguing tags, immediately rolling your eyes and exiting out of it when you hear the all too familiar vocal fry of men trying to sound hotter. News flash: you don't. 

You were moments away from calling it a night and opening your backlog of smutty ao3 fics when another post caught your eye. You let out a snort at the username save_a_horse and glance at the tags. Okay you were definitely interested now, a degrading instructional… you hit play with baited breath, prepping for the worst, but you were so mistaken. 

“Filthy little thing aint ya?” the voice rings in your ears, heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly quickly. “Must be so pathetic if you’re clicking on a mean stranger's voice to get ya’self off” his voice was like hot honey. Sickly sweet and keeping you waiting for his every word but with an edge that stung in the best way. You shuffle yourself back onto the pillows and throw your covers off, fully prepared to enjoy this rare gem. Your breathing picks up, heavy with want as the man in your ears calls you a desperate little slut. 

“Go on, get your toy wet slut” his voice croons out at you “know ya have one, too fuckin’ needy not to.'' Always eager to please, your lips find the base of your curved g-spot vibrator and let the soft plastic fill your mouth, drawing sounds that were almost too debauched for you to be sitting in bed alone. “Bet you love havin your mouth filled like that.. Lord, I'd love to have your pretty little lips around my cock” your eyes practically roll back at that, spit running down the base of your toy before he finally tells you to put it in.  

“Atta girl, such an eager thing” The toy sinks into your sopping cunt with ease as the voice envelops your mind, solely focusing on him. You listen with intense obedience as he tells you how deep, how quick, how much you were allowed. “Go on then, fuck yourself on it. We both know you want to” 

You let out a soft cry as you slip the toy in and out, the curve just hitting the spot that makes your back arch. Your breathing hitches as you press down on the button to turn the vibrations on. “Creamin’ all over yourself I bet,” it was like he could see you. Like he was able to see your arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, how the damp sheets clung to your thighs as they shook and twitched with pleasure. 

“Bet you’re so damn close.. Go on then slut, cum while listenin’ to me'' he taunts slightly as your orgasm washes over you in waves. “Gonna ruin ya,” his words are assertive, less of a promise and almost a threat “ain’t gonna cum unless it's to my voice anymore. Good fuckin’ girl”  You take a few steadying breaths as the audio clicks off, and you blink up at your ceiling unsure of how to go on from there. You glance down at your phone which has made its way to the opposite side of your bed and move to grab it.

You hit play on another audio. 

As the weeks go on, you and the mysterious cowboy in your ears have an immensely good time together. You practically spend every night listening to every one of his audios, leaving silly comments on the ones that make you cum particularly hard. It might have been an issue, how often you found yourself waiting for him to upload, how quickly you would pause your tasks to listen to new updates, but you were having fun and it wasn’t like you were hurting anyone in the process. 

You had just finished an audio before the blaring noise of a horn outside your door rattled you. The clock on your phone taunts you as do the several missed calls and texts from your best friend. “Fuck. fuck okay” you grumble, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off before tossing a pair of comfy shorts on and grabbing your bag, and heading outside “have you never heard of a virtue called patience miller?” you quip as you slide into the passenger seat of his truck 

“Had it for the first five minutes, but about 10 minutes after that, I was damn ready to break your door down myself” he scoffs “what took you so damn long?” he rolls his eyes as you fiddle with the bluetooth in his car, not wanting to be stuck with what you call ‘old home music’ 

“I was just finishi-” your words are cut off when the sound of a moan plays over the speaker. Just your luck. You kept the grumpiest man alive waiting and then played porn in his car. Hooray for you. “Jesus fucking-” you squeak, fiddling with your phone and closing out of the app “Joel-” you start, cheeks burning and excuses already at the tip of your tongue, before he silently shakes his head and puts the car in reverse. 

The ride back to his house is awkward to say the least. “Joel listen I didn't mean for-” you mumble out meekly, but his sharp gaze on yours has you clamping your mouth closed immediately. You fiddle with your fingers, thinking about playing music, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore. The grip Joel has on the steering wheel is practically iron-clad, his knuckles almost white with the tension as he pulls into his driveway and puts the car in park. You walk into his house with a huff, your weekly game nights off to a bit of a rocky start, but you’ve had to deal with worse with him. Joel had given you moral support when your menstrual cup had gotten “stuck” during one of your first times using it, he could deal with knowing you listened to porn. 

You plop down onto his couch, stretching your legs out on the coffee table while he gets you a glass of iced tea. You take a sip of your drink and mentally prepare yourself for how bad he was going to tease you about this, but are met with shocking amounts of silence. For a man who is ruthless on game nights, the lack of trash talk and absolute avoidance was almost irritating you. Finally, after you beat him in uno for a third time in a row, you snap “What is your issue tonight miller?” you groan, placing a +2 card down “Listen I know that was awkward but we’re both adults I don't see what the big deal is'' 

Joel groans and places another +2, changing the color (much to your annoyance,) “just drop it, nothin’s the issue”  You, petulant and stubborn as ever, did not drop it. You huff as you have to take like 5 cards from the deck before getting one that you can play, and narrow your eyes at him. 

“Bullshit” you move to sit cross-legged on the couch “I never beat you in this game, something is wrong with you tonight,”  it was almost as if nobody had ever taught you not to poke a sleeping bear. Or maybe you figured that the bear was your best friend and probably wouldn't bite your head off… probably. 

“Just drop it peaches,” his words are terse, hands gripping his, now slowly diminishing, uno cards much tighter than he needed to. You groan again when you have to get another few cards. The irritation at his childish behavior, coupled with the stack of 20 cards in your hand makes you more of a menace than you probably should. 

“Don't be such a baby, Miller,” you poke his leg with your foot knowing full well he hates it, a yelp leaving your lips as he grabs your ankle and pulls you forward “Joel!” Your cards fly out of your hand 

“Told you to fuckin’ quit it peach.” His voice is a low timber, stirring something deep in your belly. “Never fuckin’ listen to me” 

You just snort at him when he releases your ankle, moving to pick up your cards, “you suck at uno today Joel” you hmph, rising to your feet “'m gonna get something else” you hear Joel protest and try to grab at your arm but you’re too determined and he’s far too comfy to get up quick enough.  You manage to make it to his spare room, swinging the door open, imagining you’d see a shelf with his board games only to stop dead in your tracks, “what the fuck-”

What you had always assumed was just his spare junk room or random linen closet, was what looked like an at home recording studio. A desk with a PC and speakers, full microphone set up, and what you could only assume was something to help with soundproofing  “What the fuck Miller?” Your voice is slightly full of awe, “are you recording shitty male superiority podcasts now?” you tease, a sly grin on your face. 

Despite how pleased you are with that crack at him, he looks absolutely unamused. He practically clomps over at you, big finger poking your ribs ``you know damn well I ain't doin’ that shit.” He rolls his eyes at your teasing. The idea of Joel Miller getting on the internet to talk about women in a way that wasn't him sitting at his desk going ‘they’re the best damn thing’ was laughable. He was a perfect gentleman to everyone, except maybe to you, but frankly you deserved it for all the shit you gave him. 

You squeak when his finger prods at your skin “okay, okay well what creepy shit are you doing in here then?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, sauntering to his PC set up. The computer and speakers were calling out to you like a siren, and you did not have the common sense to plug your ears. 

Joel knew you. He could read you like a fucking book with how close the two of you were. He used to say that the one braincell you had spent fifty percent of its time inside his mind with how predictable you were to him. “Peach do not fuckin’ dare-” his voice is low, warning you. 

If you had better self preservation skills you would have probably heard the alarm bells ringing in your head telling you that he was serious, or paid better attention to the way his sweats were a little more tight. But you unfortunately were a complete menace, so neither of those items really registered to you. You clap your hands in an evil little giggle when you move the mouse “still no password? Shit you make my life so fucking easy-” you grin as you see the different clips of audio layered together in whatever program he uses 

Joel has somehow silently appeared behind you, his hand pulling you away from the computer. “Quit it peach, I’m not fuckin’ around,” he grits out, the hold on your wrist almost impossibly tight. He means business this time, and despite how much of a hellion you can be to him, you didn’t have a death wish. 

You scrunch your nose at him trying to pull your wrist out of his grip “okay jesus chri-” you yank your hand away from his, elbow bumping into the keyboard and are cut off with the sound of a gravely moan coming out of the speaker. Both you and Joel look like deer caught in the headlights. Your eyes flick between Joel, whose face has gone impressively red, and the screen of his computer.  “I- joel this is-” you stumble over your words, unsure of what to say in this situation. 

“Not a fuckin’ peep.” he practically growls at you. Your mouth clamps shut as he leans over you and presses pause on the audio. Your mouth is drier than it had ever been. That was a clip of your best friend, the one who was looming over you at this very moment, moaning into a microphone. You were certain that if you had listened any closer you would have been able to hear the sounds of his hand stroking his cock. The slight creak of his chair, the wet noise of the lube, or was he a spit guy? He however, was not interested in sharing any more of the audio with you, and you would deny it if anyone asked, you were a little disappointed. 

You need to say something, you had to, and despite your better judgment telling you not to, you do. “I mean you sound nice-” You sound nice?? You were so fucking ridiculous, even you knew that wasn’t the thing to say. Joel’s eyes darken at your words, and for a moment you fear he’s going to kick you out, to get truly pissed off at you for the first time since you finished his Dr. Pepper stash.  “I didn't mean-” you try to backtrack “I just meant- it... You sounded like you were enjoying yourself at least-'' you were actively digging the hole that you were in deeper, rambling and stuttering, all while Joel just stared at you silently, his eyes burning into you

You swallow hard, his eyes still not leaving yours “listen I can go I'm sorry I shouldn't have-” you go to make a beeline out of the room but a firm hand pulling you back into the chair stops you. You fall back with an oof and look up at Joel, who by all accounts looked pissed but there was something else. His pupils were blown and his eyes trace every single one of your movements. The bear had managed to lock in the own cage you had set out for him. 

“Didn't tell you to leave.” he practically grunts at you. Ladies and gentlemen, your best friend, always the most well spoken person in the room. You move to protest again, but the look he gives you stops the words before they even form on your tongue.  you bite your lip and fiddle with your fingers unsure what to do “think I sound nice peaches?” his voice cuts through the anxious rambling in your brain and you're almost certain you've heard him wrong 

“Huh?” you look back up at him through your lashes. He was leaning against the wall where his microphone was set up. His sweats were riding low on his hips and his hoodie covered the toned muscles of his arms, that if anyone asked you had never stared at. The tanned skin you never dared to fantasize about in your bed. The hair that covered his arms, the veins that often made more appearances when you asked forced him to do manual labor that you refused to do yourself. 

“Asked if you think I sound nice, Peaches?” he hums, raising a questioning brow at you. your mouth opens and closes ridiculously a few times before you simply just nod at him  “that's good..” he muses as he comes back up to you “do you think about me?” he prods, a patronizing pout on his lips as you gape up at him. “when you're listening to those dirty little audios and lettin’ your fingers touch that needy cunt?”  you can't help but squeak at his words. the way he said them, the way he spoke was just so… familiar  “come on, pretty peach, tell daddy what you think about when you're fingering that slutty little pussy” he practically grins at you and it fucking clicks. 

Daddy. Daddy. It was him. The stupid cowboy, the random man whose voice sent your tummy into knots, the one who had been getting you off for weeks now was your best friend.  “Joel-” you practically whimper at him. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and also very distinctly between your legs. “Listen i didn’t know it was you-” there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, one that you would have told him to wipe off his face before you smack it off in any other scenario. 

“No?” he hums at you, his brow quirked up as he towers over you in that stupid recording chair “didn't know it was me when you were commenting all those pretty little reviews?” You whimper out a noise, somewhere between a no and a general sound of timidity, as his hand tilts your chin up to meet his eyes  “Lemme see if I can remember what it was you said before I got you in the car today peach?” he takes a moment to obnoxiously tap his forehead mocking the way you recall things “what was it you said? ‘This made me late to see my friend, but it also made me ruin my sheets’? Was that it peaches?” 

You take a shaky breath, your skin burning under his intense gaze, chin still in his hands. You nod softly at his question, knowing that if you didn't, he would just push you until you did. His grin turns wolfish at your confirmation, and you feel him shift his legs between yours, pushing them apart “yeah peach?” he tuts at you “made me wait for almost 20 minutes outside your house. just so you could cum to my voice… ain’t real nice of you” You take a wobbly breath at his words and try to reply, unsure of what you would even say. An apology maybe, an explanation? But before you can even move to open your mouth he’s cutting you off again 

“Woulda just given you the real thing baby,” he tuts at you “all you had to do was ask.'' His voice is low and almost condescending. You shouldn’t let it turn you on, you should tell him to fuck off, but you feel yourself gush at his tone, your bottom lip getting caught between you teeth. He whistles at the look on your face, his cock practically straining against his sweats, “bet you’re just creamin’ in those slutty little shorts baby'' his words aren’t a question, he’s stating it like he can read you like a book because he knows he can. His legs shift to press your legs further apart until your knees are bumping into the arm rests, your eyes unwavering from his.

Your breath is caught in your throat as he leans down to you, his lips pressed up by one of your ears “Listen to me like this peaches?” he whispers into your ear, a warm breath making you shiver before he moves to the other side “like having me in your ears with your legs spread?” 

“Yes.. fuck yes yes I do-” your words are rushed and lustful as you feel his hands dip into the waistband of your panties. Your hips jolt up into his touch, panties absolutely drenched with your arousal. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, lips parting with a silent cry of pleasure. 

“Knew she’d be droolin’ all over” he hums as he brings his slick covered finger up to his lips and tastes you with delectable pop when he pulls off. “Tastes like I fuckin’ imagined. Like a fuckin’ peach” he groans and for a moment you swear you could cum just like that. 

“Shit Joel please-” he cuts you off with a shake of his head and a shushing noise, as he steps away from you. Your legs are still spread against the chair and you practically whine when he moves away from you, flicking on his recording set up. “Joel what-” he shushes you again, giving you a look that leaves no room for argument. 

“Quiet,” he mumbles, fiddling with the mic and pulling the rolling chair closer to it. “Like listenin’ to me so much, thought i’d use you for better effects. You okay with that peaches?” he asks, looking down at you. Despite the teasing and the mockery, you knew he would stop if you told him you didn't want it. But the idea of him stopping, even for a moment was going to make you explode. You nod, maybe too eagerly for someone about to get fucked on microphone, and he grins. 

“God always knew you were fuckin’ desperate for it” he kneels between your legs, and you stifle a giggle when his knees pop.  “Quit it you menace” He swats at your thigh playful smirk on his lips, making you jump slightly. “Gotta stay real quiet for me, understand?” you watch with bated breath as he moves the mic so it rests delicately in the tension filled space between your spread thighs and his face. 

You nod, lips parted, pupils blown, cunt practically dripping for him. He lets out a soft hum of approval, lips pressing a soft kiss to your thighs “nothing fuckin’ softer than a pair of soft thighs” he muses, half to himself, half to you and the mic “could just live between them forever, die happy if a girl pretty as a peach would let me bury my face there.” You feel yourself clench around nothing, feeling maddeningly empty all of a sudden. You shift to try to gain some friction, the chair giving a slight creak at the change in position. Joel looks up and glares at you, your body going still immediately under the intensity of his eyes. 

He sticks his hand out behind him, pausing the microphone from recording. “You need to stay. still.” he grits out at you “don't need the whole internet hearing how much of a desperate little thing you are.” You nod at his words, hands gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles turn white. He flicks the mic back on and his lips find your thighs again. Nipping and kissing the soft flesh just below the hem of your shorts. He slides his hands further up, popping the button open and you have to bite down on your fist not to moan when he drags the zipper down with his teeth. He shimmies you out of your shorts, leaving your bottom half clad in your embarrassingly wet panties. 

He lets out a growl at the sight of your cunt, clothed and practically dripping for him. “Look at her… practically creaming already and I ain’t even touched you yet” He lets his thumb press against the wet spot the slight pressure just barely teasing your sopping hole dragging a breathy sigh out of you. You look down at him, eyes hooded and lips parting, practically begging for him without uttering a damn word. 

He looks up at you as he slides your panties to the side, blowing a stream of cold air straight onto your clit, making you jump. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy…” he practically salivates at the sight of you “nothin’ fucking better than seein’ a drippy, needy, little cunt in front of me…” he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right next to where you want him, where you need his lips 

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words. Somehow it felt filthier being able to see the look on his face, the absolute need he had to taste you. The grip he had on your thighs was bruisingly tight, not helping your arousal die down in the slightest. His mouth finally finds your slit, tongue licking a hot wet stripe at an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a guttural moan and practically salivates at the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet” he groans, tongue dipping back down to taste more of your slick. One of your hands leaves the armrest of the chair and moves to cover your mouth when his lips place three gentle kisses around your clit before relenting and wrapping his lips around the aching bud, with a quiet hum. 

You bite down on your hand to stifle the moans threatening to spill, desperate and eager to please him. Your thighs shake when he slips a finger into your dripping cunt and curls them to hit that spot. He lets out a chuckle, lips still sucking on your clit. The vibrations of his warm breath on your aching clit elicited a desperate wine from your mouth, despite how hard you were trying to be quiet for him “Ffffuck-” 

He raises a brow at you, not even pulling away from your skin, his baby eyes just gazing at you from between your legs as his fingers work at you. Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth in an effort to stop your sounds, but your attempts seem futile as your climax starts to draw near. Joel slips a second finger inside of you with embarrassing ease, the sound of his fingers curling inside you, joined only by your soft little breaths and his lips on your clit. His fingers stretch you in ways your fingers never have, scissoring and sliding inside of you with practiced precision. “Atta fuckin’ girl..” he growls as your toes curl instinctively, heels digging into his shoulder blades as the coil inside of you finally snaps. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, your thighs clamping around his head as he works you through it “squirtin’ all over daddy’s face huh like the needy thing you are.” 

He pulls your legs off from his legs and hits save on the audio, before glancing back at you with a smirk. “Ain’t posting that anywhere..” he whispers, the gentleness a shocking turn around from the filth he whispered to you earlier. Your breath is still coming out in shaky pants, looking up at him through hazy lids “keepin’ that all to myself” he hums, pressing a little kiss on your head. 

He scoops you up like you’re a ragdoll and practically clomps over to his bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. His fingers work deftly at the tie of his sweats, pushing them off. You squeak softly when you see the trail of hair going down his pelvis, the lack of boxers making heat rise to your chest. You work your top off, while he throws his hoodie across the room, a guttural groan leaving his mouth as he sees your breasts. “Fuckin’ perfect..'' His words aren’t necessarily for you, his thoughts just find themselves being voiced aloud. His calloused hands grope and knead at the softness of your tits before he presses wet kisses to each of your nipples. “Need to be inside ya” he practically begs, cock hard against his stomach leaking pre-cum. 

You could salivate at the sight, hell you truly might have a little bit. “Fuck me, Daddy, need you to fuck me Joel, please i can be good im ready, I'm on the pill-” your words were babbled, fast and rushed together, your intense desire for the man in front of you the only thing your brain could comprehend. Your legs part on the bed, your arousal dripping down your thighs calling to him like flowers call to a honeybee. 

“Christ, baby,” he groans before grabbing your legs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He fists his cock and slides it through your aching pussy, both of you letting out simultaneous cries of shit when your wetness coats his length. He slides into you with gentle thrusts, letting you adjust to his size slowly, before sinking in all the way with a soft whimper “take me so good…” his words are quiet and breathless, almost as if he was in awe of how your body made room for him. 

“Oh my god-” you cry out, your hands fisting in the dark sheets under your skin. “so fucking big joel..” you clench around him, body on fire with how good he felt inside you, with how perfect it was. It was like you were made to take him like this. His thrusts get faster and your legs curl around his waist, pulling him in as deep as you possibly could. The feeling of his hand pressing on your lower stomach has you arching your back into his touch. 

“Perfect fucking thing,” he grits huskier than usual, with a thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. “Feel me peaches?” he thrusts into you again and presses on your tummy “right fuckin’ there.. Right where I god damn belong…” his words were lust filled and hazy, his own need and orgasm clouding all judgment. Your hips roll against his, the coarse hair brushing up against you, and your head lolls back into the mattress as his thrusts get sloppier. 

“Inside, Joel fuck-” you whimper at him, eyes wide and pleading as your second orgasm builds in the pits of your belly “please cum inside me, wanna feel you please..” for a moment he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. The sounds of your pretty little moans and begging are like a dream come true for him. He just nodded and shifted so he was practically cradling your body under his, cock buried so deep inside you that you knew you’d be feeling it for days afterward. 

He grinds his hips lazily against yours while his thrusts are shallow and pointed. Your legs shake while you meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth as you both fall apart practically molded together. “Jesus christ-” his breathing is ragged and hoarse “takin’ me so damn good, gonna fuckin’ fill you up” he gives a few more thrusts before he pulls out of your quivering pussy, your own orgasm sending stars into your eyes. 

You both stay like that for a moment, Joel's forehead resting softly on your shoulder as his cum spills out onto his bed. You shift softly to pull him next to you and curl into his touch, giving him a cheeky smile as you tilt his face to meet your eyes. “You…” a breathless little laugh escapes your lips “how long did you know I was commenting on your posts?” you ask softly, brows raised at him. 

He snorts at the question and flicks your forehead gently, earning a playful pout to be thrown in his direction. “Bout damn near two weeks ago” he replies, classic shit eating grin plastered to his face. “Figured it was you when you came over lookin’ like you’d won the damn Powerball and some little fan called peaches_and_cream left a comment about cummin’ three times to one damn post” you let out a muffled groan and bury your head into his chest, mumbling something about him being an asshole before you both shift into a comfortable silence. 

He moves, patting your hip and telling you to go use the bathroom after a few minutes, preaching his favorite safe sex speech and you roll your eyes at him before you saunter over to his bathroom. “Oh and Joel-” you call out before you walk in, eyes meeting his as he waits for you to finish your sentence “send me that audio, would ya?” 

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. 

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

jealousy, jealousy || Lee Know x Reader

Summary: "Sure, Minho missed an opportunity to spend more time around you in a relaxed setting, but is he upset about it? Does he get annoyed when he hears you talk with the guy behind him? Does hearing you chuckle at the guy’s stupid jokes, probably just to be polite, ‘cause he’s not that funny, make him want to claw the dude’s eyes out?

Well. Yes."

Or: You're working with a different partner for a group assignment, and Minho's totally chill about it.

Word count: 4.9k

Genres: college AU, coffee shop AU, strangers to lovers

Warnings & Tags: jealousy, kissing, minor language, tooth-rotting fluff, seriously this is so fluffy, reader is implied to have social anxiety, Thunderstorm

series masterlist

A/N: This is the second story I've written where Lee Know's a barista and cats are involved. It probably says something deep about me, but what? I hope you'll enjoy the fic, please consider letting me know your thoughts and reblogging the fic if you do~

Minho doesn't know exactly when he noticed you, or when you started appearing in his life. It’s kind of annoying actually, because he knows he noticed you because he kept seeing you around, but he has no way of pinpointing it. What he does know is that you started showing up at the coffee shop where he worked, twice every week. That wasn’t that big a deal, you were far from being the only one the only one, but it was a shop that was pretty out of the way, near an old building that was only used for a few classes, as far as he knew, so it wasn’t that frequented.

In fact, you could almost say that the people who bothered to come here were the weirdos who wanted to avoid the other permanently full coffee shops on campus. Which was fine by Minho, who wasn’t paid enough to deal with that sort of crowd.

Anyway, at some point, Minho’s brain had to have put together he was seeing you around quite a bit, and finally he managed to figure out that it was because you were in one of the classes he was rudely forced to take outside of his major. In his defense, it took him so long because he didn’t really like people, as a rule, and he paid as little attention to them as possible. His friends were enough of a hassle to deal with already.

It makes it all the more frustrating that he can’t tell what it was about you that caught his attention. It has to have been something. Once he starts trying to understand it, more things come to light. Like the fact that your lips move but your voice doesn’t come out when you thank him for giving you your order, or the sigh of relief you always seem to heave out when you let yourself fall at your favorite table, the one in the corner, where you sit with your back to the window.

Actually, from what he can see, you appear to do your best to stay out of people’s way. It’s a multitude of little things, from how you always sit in the middle of rows in the amphitheater and wait until everyone’s cleared out to leave, to how you keep close to the walls in the hallways, eyes usually on the floor, to how, on the couple of occasions when your voice can be heard in class, it’s only after the professor’s been waiting for an answer for an increasingly embarrassing amount of time.

The first time it happens — the first time Minho notices it happening, anyway — he has to make you repeat yourself louder, and it seems almost painful for you to raise your voice.

Then there’s that time when someone accidentally backs into you and the books and papers you’re carrying spill onto the floor.

“Shit, sorry,” they say, and you reply immediately, like it’s a reflex, “Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it”, but afterwards, as you kneel next to the papers, you let out a defeated sigh, just staring at the mess for a few seconds. And that’s when Minho can’t stay in place anymore.

“Oh, thanks, you don’t have to do that,” you say, again, with that cadence that makes him feel like these are sentences that pour out of you without you getting much of say, so deeply ingrained in you that you can’t control them.

Then you glance up at him, and your eyes widen, little mouse caught in the cat’s gaze. He feels his lips curving into a grin. You recognize him, and you’re being very obvious about it too.

Cute.

“Thank you,” you repeat, taking your stuff from his hands and dipping your head to stop looking at him once you get control of yourself again.

“Vanilla latte, right?” he asks, and he probably shouldn’t be this amused by the way your head snaps back up and you freeze, but it’s— It’s kind of adorable. Though you’re obviously trying to reign yourself in, there is something so sincere about it that he can’t help but be enticed by it.

“Um,” you say. “Yes.” And then you visibly search for something to say next, rolling your lips together as if they’ll figure something out of a list of socially acceptable answers. As fun as this is, Minho decides to put you out of your misery.

For now anyway.

“I’ll give you a discount on the next one,” he says, and then he’s gone before you can start saying “You don’t have to do that”.

He actually slides the next one to you over the counter and tells you that it’s ‘on the house’. You hesitate for a few seconds, and he thinks you’re going to refuse, before you bow your head politely and thank him for it. You don’t quite look up at him after that, but a bright smile has spread on your lips.

Cute, he thinks, again, and then he doesn't think of it much at all. A part of his brain was intrigued by the novelty that you represented, and that part has been satiated now.

At least, that’s what he assumes.

You get his attention again a few weeks later. It’s fairly early in the morning and, as Minho does whenever he gets a chance, he’s behind the half abandoned building near the café, setting up some food for the cats that have taken residence here. It’s something he’s not really allowed to do, but also he’s never asked permission, so no one's told him that yet, which means that he’s not not allowed to do it either.

Still, when he hears footsteps approaching as he’s surrounded by a chorus of meows, there’s a part of him that considers making a run for it.

But then he’d have to run.

Which he doesn’t like doing.

You appear at the corner of the building before he’s made his decision. When your eyes meet, he half expects you to turn around and pretend you haven’t seen him. He’s pretty sure you’ve done that after a class, recently. You swallow, but you keep walking towards him, kneeling by his side and petting the cats as the braver ones rub themselves against your legs.

Whoever said that the surest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach clearly wasn’t obsessed with cats, because liking cats is maybe the most important requirement for Minho.

“Hi,” you say, at a surprisingly normal volume, and then, cadence a little too fast, “I have some cat food.”

Is it weird that he finds that attractive? It’s probably weird.

“Have you been stalking me?” he says more than he asks, vaguely aware of the fact that there’s something ironic about him saying those words.

Your eyes widen and you quickly shake your head.

“No! I— have classes in there,” you point at the building, “and I’ve— seen you come around here. We’ve been told we couldn’t feed the cats,” you add with a slight pout. “We still do it when we can get away with it, but it's good that someone is also taking care of them.”

And you break the law for the sake of cats. Isn’t this amazing.

“I can help you buy food,” you say. “If you’d like.”

He doesn't reply right away, and when the silence stretches a second too long, you start speaking again, faster and your voice lower now.

“Or not, you know, I don’t want to impose anything, I mean, I didn’t want to intrude—”

On the one hand, that seems more like you, based on the glimpses of you he’s been getting, and on the other, he’s not sure how to shut that down. The truth is, he can barely fit the expenses in his budget. He literally can't afford to refuse your help — but he doesn't think he’d do it if he could.

“You can help,” he says, interrupting you in the middle of a sentence where you’re basically apologizing for existing, and that seems to knock the breath out of you.

“Oh,” you say, “that’s good.”

He wonders if you walk into interactions with a prepared set of sentences and panic when anyone goes off script. That sounds kind of exhausting.

“I’ll bill you,” he adds, and the feeling he gets when you let out a light laugh is one he can’t quite explain. There’s a sense of pride in it, but also some much deeper satisfaction at the feeling of having gotten you to let that guard slip, even for just a few seconds.

“I have to go to class,” you say, getting up while you rummage through your tote bag to hand him a package of dry food. “But I’ll, uh, see you around?”

There’s an expectancy to your tone, a hope even. He wonders if you’re aware of it. Either way, that sincerity, which he’d noticed before, remains pleasantly refreshing.

“Sure,” he says.

The next time you show up at the coffee shop, Friday a few minutes after six, like always, he has your vanilla latte ready.

After that, Minho finds it fascinating to see how differently you react to him, depending on the situation. Every now and then, you meet him behind the building, usually early in the morning, before there are too many people around. They would probably recognize you, and then you’d get in trouble, you explain. Your voice is lighter then, your body more relaxed. You manage to chat with him, to make small talk.

‘Manage’ really is the word for it, because your behavior is worlds apart when he sees you in class. It’s clear by now that this just isn’t your element, so you stick to your script, and Minho just isn’t a part of it. He doesn’t take it too personally, considering that no one else seems to be either.

It’s obvious to him that you get there with the objective of being in and out of the building as efficiently as possible, and with as little interaction with others as you can get away with. He does approach you still on a couple of occasions, one of them being when the classes before yours ran late and everyone was waiting in the hallway. You're focused on your phone then, and you jump when he says your name.

“How are you doing?” he asks, leaning against the wall next to you.

“Oh,” you say, which he thinks is just your filler word to give yourself time to figure out what to say next. “Um. Good. How are you?”

“Good.”

Someone else would bristle at the awkwardness of the exchange, but Minho is mostly amused by it. After a few seconds of very visibly searching for something to say, you come up with “…and how are the cats?”, though your tone is hesitant, unsure.

“They’re good too,” he grins. “Went to visit them this morning. Also, I might have found an association that could them spayed.” He certainly can’t afford to pay for it.

“That’s great,” you say.

This time, he’s the one who takes it upon himself to save the conversation, casually pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Wanna see my cats?”

You light up at the question, and Minho feels the same sort of pride he does when Dori jumps into his lap to ask for pets — instead of ungratefully evading him like the little shit he is.

It doesn’t last long, the class before yours ends soon, and after that you get back to your ‘just getting in and out’ state. It’s almost physical when it happens. The smile disappears from your lips as you press them together, you straighten your back, but the most impressive change is the way your eyebrows tighten, a small line forming between them. Minho almost wants to reach out to wipe it from your forehead, but he doesn’t. Baby steps, that’s what you need, not him invading your personal space by that much.

He doesn’t ask himself, even for a second, why he’s willing to go through that much trouble to get closer to you. He just goes with the flow, as he always has, and that works fine for him.

He doesn’t sit next to you in class, thinks it would only stress you out more, make you too aware of his presence and of how you react to it. Instead, he takes a spot right in front of you, where he can’t see you but can easily check on you if he wants to — which he does. He refrains from doing it too much though, because on more than one occasion, he caught you looking at him, and you averted your eyes quickly, acting a little too invested in your note taking.

He still thinks it’s cute, but he doesn’t want to make you go in hiding, so he holds himself back.

Which comes back to bite him in the ass, rudely, when the teacher announces that he wants people to work in pair for an assignment.

He turns around to ask you to work with him, and sees, right in front of his eyes, as the guy sitting next to you asks you the same thing in a casual manner. You reply too fast, one of your knee-jerk answers, he can tell, but it’s still done before he even got the time to open his mouth. He also knows, instinctively, that you’ll feel embarrassed if he asks you now, so he doesn’t, turning to his own neighbor while holding back the strange urge to hiss at the guy.

…maybe he spends too much time with cats, actually.

Minho’s fine with the situation. He is. He still gets to be around you some mornings, and you now look him in the eye when you place your order at the coffee shop. You also don’t recoil as much as you used to when he leans over the counter, ostensibly to flirt with you — though he’s like, 98% sure you haven’t realized that’s what he’s doing. He’s making progress in getting you to feel more comfortable around him.

Sure, he missed an opportunity to spend more time around you in a relaxed setting, but is he upset about it? Does he get annoyed when he hears you talk with the guy behind him? Does hearing you chuckle at the guy’s stupid jokes, probably just to be polite, ‘cause he’s not that funny, make him want to claw the dude’s eyes out?

Well. Yes.

He’s been moody about it for days, to the point that Jisung pouted at him, asking him “what was wrong with him these days”, and Changbin looked him dead in the eyes to ask him if he needed help to get a girl, because he clearly needed to get laid.

A conversation he got out of by replying “do you want to die”, which is a card he’s maybe been playing a little too much these days.

He’s been in a good mood today, though. He’d seen you in the morning, and you’d helped him try to make a small shelter for the cats, because it had been announced that there would be heavy rain over the whole week-end. It had been a fun time, and maybe he’d used the opportunity to get closer to you than usual, enjoying how flustered it made you. Just brushing against you as he grabbed some planks you’d sneaked out of the building, totally accidentally touching your hand when you handed him something, that kind of things.

He had somewhat ruined the effect by accidentally dropping a plank on his foot, but that had made you laugh, so, it was— No, it still wasn’t worth it, he didn’t enjoy pain, but it made him slightly less annoyed about it.

So, as he waited for you in the coffee shop, as the skies outside darkened and fewer people than usual showed up, he wasn’t in as bad a mood as he’d been lately.

It started to rain at around half past five. He would have loved to run to get you with an umbrella, but he, unfortunately, needed his job. He did get a towel ready to hand to you, in case you didn’t have anything to protect yourself from the rain.

And then you came in.

Under an umbrella.

Which was in the hands of the one guy that was your partner in that one class.

Violent thoughts of murder flash before Minho’s eyes.

“Hey,” you say as you walk to the counter, giving him a bright smile, “this is Jooyeon, he’s in—”

“Class with us,” Minho completes with a smile that’s very much fake, “yes, I recognize him.”

Actually, technically, Jooyeon hasn’t done anything wrong, but it doesn’t help that he’s been looking at you and following you around like a damn puppy. What annoys Minho the most is probably the fact that you seem a lot chiller around him, a lot more natural than you are whenever Minho’s around. That’s— upsetting. He wants to see these sides of you, too, and not just from afar.

One vanilla latte and an americano later, you and Jooyeon sit by the window, in your usual spot, and Minho can’t stop himself from glaring. Jisung, or anyone, really, would call him out on it in a matter of seconds, because he’s not being subtle about it, but there’s no one around right now. The room, which is rarely full, is emptier than usual because most people rushed to get home to try to avoid the downpour.

That means that there is nothing to distract him from the intrusive thoughts that are trying to convince him to just throw something at Jooyeon. Anything would do.

When it starts becoming a little too tempting, and considering that he doubts anyone would brave the rain that’s falling at the moment, as thick as a curtain separating the coffee shop from the outside world, he decides to grab his computer and try to get some work done.

Of course, because some divinity out there must have decided to target him today, he’s just getting started and finding his rhythm when the lights flicker above him. He glances up. In the distance, the thunder rumbles.

There’s a flash outside.

And everything goes dark.

Fuck. His. Life.

With a sigh, he pulls out his phone to turn on his flashlight. At least, in this day and age, most people in the shop have the same idea, and soon enough he can see what’s happening.

“It’s probably just a power cut because of the storm,” he announces loudly, because it’s his responsibility to reassure the clients — if that had been something they’d tested for when he was interviewed, he would never have gotten the job. “Lights might come back on soon.” Or not, how would he know. “No reason to panic.”

He scans the faces of students, though he’s not sure what he’s looking for. Some people look worried, others, no doubt those who know that this happens semi-regularly on campus when there’s a storm, because why would your tuition pay to ensure that you have reliable electricity in here, just seem prepared to wait it out. Someone’s already gone back to tapping on their keyboard, though the sound of it is swallowed by that of the rain.

But then, he does a double-take, just to check on an impression that he had, and that confirms what he thought.

You’re not in the room. Most likely explanation is that you’re in the bathroom, but he has to imagine that it’s a pretty freaky experience, when all the lights turn off without warning and you’re all alone.

So, without thinking much about it, he makes his way in that direction. He’s hesitating in front of the door when it pushes open, and he’s suddenly blinded by cellphone light.

“Sorry!” he hears you apologize before he can make out your face. “I, uh, is the power out?”

“It looks like it,” he answers, and then his tone softens. “Are you okay?”

There’s a few seconds of silence, and he can’t quite discern your expression, because you’ve both lowered your lights. He resists the urge to reach for you, to inspect you to see for himself that everything is fine.

“I’m fine,” you answer. “I just—”

Then there’s the crack of thunder, and you jump, gasping, before closing your eyes in obvious annoyance.

“Fuck,” you say, and he wonders if it’s the first time that he’s ever heard you swear. And if it’s weird that he’s kinda into it.

“You scared of storms?” he asks, trying his best to contain the amusement in his voice.

“No,” you protest, a little defensively. “I don’t like being surprised— Fuck!”

Minho knows he shouldn’t laugh, that making fun of you could ruin the trust he’s been trying to build this past month, but at your annoyance for letting yourself be taken by surprise, and considering your obvious lack of fear, he can’t help it. It comes out higher than his usual pitch, a little airy. You roll your eyes at it, but you don’t seem to miss the humor in the situation, because a smile forms on your lips as well.

At that point, because he isn’t one to let an opportunity slip, he reaches out to take your hand in his. Your palm is soft, if somewhat calloused on the spot under your fingers, and after the first moment of surprise, you squeeze his hand in response.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It should be over soon.” Then a pause. “Or maybe we’ll be stuck here until we have to decide who we’re going to eat.”

You laugh at that, brief and light, and as cliché as it is, Minho thinks that is quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds in the world. Especially when he’s the one making you laugh, and not that jackass Joo— Ah, the kid hasn’t technically done anything, and it feels silly to blame him when you’re here with your hand in his.

So he’ll let it go. For now.

As much as he would like to stay here with you, in the dark, away from everyone else, Minho unfortunately has stuff he needs to take care of right now.

“Wanna go back with the others? I think I have to keep an eye on them.”

“Sure,” you say. You don’t attempt to take your hand from his, and so he pulls you along with him. He’s not going to let go if you won’t.

Things in the café are still quiet, and people don’t pay a lot of attention when the two of you come back, except for Jooyeon, who gets up from his seat.

“That must have taken you by surprise,” he says with empathy. “Everything okay?”

“All good,” you reply warmly, and there’s a pinch in Minho’s chest again. “I think we’ll have to postpone the session though. I’ll let you know when I’m free, if that’s okay with you?”

Ugh. Minho tunes Jooyeon’s response out, only waiting for an opportunity to whisk you away. He probably shouldn’t feel this strongly about it, is aware that you’re entirely within your own rights if you want to pick Jooyeon over him, but from his perspective, that doesn’t mean he has to let it be an easy decision to make. He’s not the type to lie down and just watch as that happens.

So the second Jooyeon’s eyes flick back to his computer, Minho’s taking you towards the counter with him. He checks the register once he’s there — which he definitely shouldn’t have let unattended without verifying that it couldn’t be accessed without electricity, oops, his bad — and after having confirmed that everything’s fine, his eyes go back to you.

The spike in his heart rate when he finds you already staring at him surprises him a little. He supposes that he can’t be that jealous without also having that sort of reaction to you. It’s not… unpleasant, actually, though the strength of it surprises him. It’s not the kind of emotion he usually welcomes, he’s used to them feeling less sharp, duller. But he doesn’t reject that one.

Gently, he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, enjoying the feeling of your skin against his.

“Is there an issue between him and Jooyeon?” you ask, voice soft.

Ah. For someone who’s so completely oblivious about his interest in you, you were sure quick to notice that.

“You could say that,” he replies, and you frown.

“I didn’t know that,” you say, words coming out slow, like you’re figuring out what to say as you go, instead of defaulting to your usual pre-built answers. “Can I ask why?”

Minho raises an eyebrow. Then, wordlessly, he shifts himself so that you’re against the counter, with him standing in front of you. It’s interesting, because he’s almost exactly in the spot where he is every day, and every time he steals glances at you to make his day marginally better. He puts his hands on either side of you, hears you take a sharp breath.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

His voice comes out soft and muted, and as he asks, he feels something squeeze at his heart. Maybe because he’s not sure of what you'll answer. Maybe because he could have misread you, thought that you were oblivious when the truth was that you weren't interested. He could be keeping you away from your one true love, Jooyeon, who you’re going to go on to marry and have three k—

“Yes,” you squeak.

Ok, never mind.

Technically you’re in public, but it’s not like anyone’s looking your way, or like they'd see something other than silhouettes when he leans towards you.

It feels so natural when he kisses you. You lift your arms to wrap them around his neck, his hands find their place on your hips. Much to his surprise, you’re the one who presses yourself into him, lips moving softly against his, and it sends a jolt of electricity through his body. Suddenly there’s urgency running through his veins, desire, and his fingers dig harder into you. He kisses you with more intensity, like he’s trying to get rid of any space left between the two of you, and the soft sigh you let out only spurs him on further.

He’s seconds — fractions of seconds — away from doing something stupid when laughter and claps fill the room.

He parts from you, feeling his ears and cheeks turning red already, and discovers that the lights treacherously turned back on, and everyone is looking at the two of you. Protectiveness rushes through him, and he’s about to say something snappy, thinking that you’d be uncomfortable with it, when he realizes that you’re doubled over in laughter. Yes, you look a little embarrassed, but mostly, you seem fine with it.

Which is good, because otherwise he thinks he might have lost the shop a number of customers.

Everyone looks amused and happy for the two of you. Even Jooyeon’s grinning, though the look he gives Minho says, essentially, “Oh that was your problem”. It doesn’t capture people’s attention very long, but there’s something very sweet and human about the moment and how happy it seems to make everyone. Some regulars even exchange glances that seem to mean ‘I told you so’. Ha, he didn’t think he’d ever become campus gossip.

Once there are fewer eyes on the two of you, Minho leans towards you.

“I’ll take you on a date anywhere, as long as it’s not to get coffee.”

Your face lights up.

“I’d love that.”

Working at a coffee shop is not something that Minho finds very fun. Someone who enjoys human interactions more than him might, but it just feels very repetitive to him. Doing the same movements, asking the same questions, having to deal with the same issues from asshole customers who are different but also fundamentally the same person. The ding of cash register, the one of no contact credit cards, the buzzing of the coffee machine. It’s repetitive, but in a way that fills and numbs the mind.

There’s just one sound that he minds a little less now, and it’s the one the door makes when it opens.

Because, every now and again, it means that you’ve just come in.

“Hey,” you say as you reach the counter. You’re smiling so bright, and he loves it because he knows that it’s another one of those things that you can’t help. You’re smiling because he makes you happy, and isn’t that the best thing in the world?

“Dating the barista doesn’t entitle you to free coffee,” he says as he slides your vanilla latte over to you, though he has used his employee discount on everything you’ve ordered lately and he would very much give it to you for free if you didn’t insist on paying for your own stuff.

“We’re still on for tonight?” you ask, taking the coffee from the table.

“You think I’d let you get out of it?” he replies, and you laugh, before taking off to go to your usual table.

After that, he keeps going, keeps doing the same movements, asking the same questions, hearing the same noises. But sometimes, he glances in your direction and finds you focused on your computer, biting your lower lip as you’re deep in thought, or looking at him with a smile, and it makes it all more bearable.

Because you give him something to look forward to.

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

[etfrin]

All Good Boys Go To Heaven — Sejanus Plinth ⁠♡

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Losing virginity, pinv sex, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, premature ejaculation | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: Virgin! Sejanus Plinth x Virgin! Fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: uhm... Just first times with each other <3

⇢☾A/N: this damn website needs more content about this man, and why is there NO ICONS of his character djjdksks

< masterlist > ⁠♡ < tag list >

Sejanus wanted to learn. He wanted to learn your thoughts, he wanted to learn every secret your soul hid. Most importantly he wanted to learn your body. Everything that made you heat, your breath hitch, your eyes widen and glaze and your lips moan. He wanted-, no, he needed to know.

His fingers ghost over your skin, his fingertips grazing your skin until it's just above your cunt. “Tell me what feels good, baby,” he whispered, breathless from the kissing that had occurred moments ago. “Everything, anything, Sajanus please,” you plead, your tone heated and needy.

Both of you were so new at this. Something sacred was going to take place. You would connect your bodies, and exchange your hearts and hopefully, it would be the start of forever.

You don't know how you end up under him when all both of you were doing was sharing your thoughts, which lead to confessions and messy kisses, disorganized thoughts with fumbling hands, a wet cunt, and a hard cock.

Seems like a perfect combo. A perfect night if you will. His room was lit up with moonlight, the lamp turned off long ago. Sajanus had you pinned down on his bed, looming over you, his breath hitting your lips as his fingers trace your cunt lips. He pulls at your pussy lips, before dipping his fingers onto your cunt, his digits getting soaked with your juices. He rubs his fingertips all over your aroused flesh, accidentally swiping over your clit several times. The action made you jolt and moan every time he did it. “Feels good? Gonna make you feel better. I swear, baby.” He groans into your ear, his lips placing a wet kiss on your cheek.

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to find the source of your pleasure before he found the existence of your bud. “This here, right?” He questioned, his fingers curiously pinching the bud making you moan louder than previously. “Sev!” You gasp and you can hear him grin in his reply, “That's it, baby. Take it.” He rolls the bud between, relentlessly as your clit puffs and swells, if there was light you could have sworn it was getting red from stimulation.

Meanwhile, your cunt was attention deprived despite being a drooling mess. You sneak your hand onto your inner thigh, your fingers inching closer until it meets your wet cunt. You begin to swipe your fingers onto your heat, just like he had. The sensation makes your thighs twitch and your toes curl. Your fingers swipe with his, him now paying attention to your wet cunt while you play with your bud.

A whimper escapes when one of his fingers slips in and he lets out a groan as he feels your hot, wet walls surrounding his single digit. “Fuck, fuck, baby. This pussy is gonna make me a wild man,” he whispered, as he made his finger breach inside of you deeper, curious movements of his digits around your walls, trying to find that one spot he heard so much about.

You were becoming a mess of soft moans under him. Despite being a virgin, your pussy was not a stranger to pleasure (but you have never cum before). You knew how sensitive you were down there, even if Sejanus wasn't able to find your g-spot, it still felt so good with your sensitive walls clenching around his digit.

But, bless him he does it find it. The spongy spot that made him as curious as he was about your swollen clit (which you were playing with, and it hurt with how attention the bundle of nerves was getting but you couldn't stop). He begins to press on it, making you gasp and arch your back, your hip trying to ride his finger but stopped with the hold of his opposite hand pinning you down.

“That's it, isn't it? Hmm, baby,” he whispered, his face nuzzling into your neck, his tongue coming out to lick a strip of your skin. “It is! Fuck, Sej!” You whimper, your fingers abandoning your clit out of overwhelm and twisting the sheets instead, your opposite hand buried in his dark curls.

“Don't be too loud,” he whispered to you, his lips brushing against your skin. “They'll wake up,” he groans, as he adds in a second finger and a third (without even thinking that it might be too much for you) making you gasp and squeeze his fingers, your walls stretching to their limits.

“Too much,” you mewl, trying to get used to the feeling of being stuffed, “too much, Sej!” His fingers continue to twist and press against your walls, his finger pad grazing the spongy spot repeatedly making you gush juices onto his hands. “Sorry,” he said, his voice muffled as he continued to press his lips onto your neck, sucking the flesh like he was a vampire desperate for a drop of blood. “Gotta stretch you out for my cock, baby. It's big so please, please be patient, sweetheart. It's gonna feel good. I want to be good for you,” he pleads, his voice whiny and sending shocks to your core.

A heat that you knew all too well begins to form in your lower tummy. A heat that always faded before you could do anything about it. You didn't want it to fade, you wanted it to spread all over your body. “Yes, yes,” you purr, “Faster, Sejanus. Ah- deeper. Fuck. Fuck, press into it more.”

“Like that?” He inquired as his fingers pressed into the spot, he kept flexing them into the spot, not bothering with thrusting his digits into you anymore. “Yes, like that!” You moan, your body squirming, unable to be still from the pleasure, not even the looming comforting weight of Sajanus kept you in place.

Then it happened, your movements caused him to touch, barely, but his pads teased the deepest part of your insides. A hint of pain rushed in your veins but the ecstasy of cumming for the first time was so much better. Nothing could compare to it at all.

Even Sejanus groans as he feels your wet pussy gushing with juices and spasming around his thick digits. It was a miracle, a mercy from above that he hadn't come just from your sounds, from the way your gummy walls feel around his fingers, and how warm and snuggly your cunt will be for his cock when he finally fucks you.

“Need you to cum around my cock like this,” he whispered, as he kissed your lips. “Please,” he keens. “Can I? I can't- darling please.” He whines as his hand that was previously fucking you wraps itself around his cock. He begins to stroke his length, pre-cum being used a lube will each rough stroke.

“You can,” you said to him, confirming your consent. “I want this, Sejanus.” You reassure him by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer for a sloppy kiss. It didn't matter to either of you that there was no finesse, too much tongue and teeth, clumsily meeting and swirling around. But he tasted like the boy you loved and to him, you tasted like the forever he read about.

And that's enough.

He settled himself between your legs, your legs around his waist locking him in. The smell of sweet sex and salty sweat assaulted the air. He pressed his forehead against yours as he whispered, “Gonna push in, sweetheart. Tell me if there's anything wrong.”

You give a hum in response, your mind blanking out as you feel his thick cockhead popping inside your pussy. You whimper from the stretch, your walls taking him and begging for more. You could feel yourself clench involuntarily as inch by inch your cunt takes him. His cock getting hugged by your pussy. It was heaven for him. Sejanus bit his lower lip to stop his whimpers, his eyes watering because of this. . . Oh, this is perfect.

So. Fucking. Perfect.

You couldn't blame the boy for what happened next, he wasn't fully in, half of his girth left to be pushed inside you as he shattered. Thick, hot cum fills your womb as he finally whimpers. “Sorry, sorry,” he whines, “Thought I could- your pussy is so good.” Despite cumming, he was hard and his hips had begun to rut into you, his dick stroking your insides, deeper with each sloppy thrust.

You couldn't say anything, no words of reassurance nor words of praise of how good he made you feel could be uttered. Your lips were parted only to moan, saliva dripping down your chin as he went faster and faster. Sejanus doesn't even realize how brutal his pace is, he keeps going because it feels so good for him and you're moaning loudly so it must be good for you too.

Your blunt nails end up scratching his back as his thrusts get deeper and slower, his cock despite being sensitive getting used to slick, tight walls. “You're perfect. This is perfect,” he whines, his lips gliding against yours, tongues entangling for a slow, indulgent kiss. “You're doing amazing,” you manage to purr to him. His brown doe eyes look into yours for validation. “Yeah?” He whimpers, and one of your hands goes to caress his cheek, “Yeah.”

He lets out a groan and his hips begin to lose pace again. Clumsily, he keeps fucking into you, sometimes by luck his cockhead grazed your g-spot, making you jolt and moan louder. Even with a couple of hits and misses, you could feel tension coil up again, and so close to snapping.

He felt it too, your cunt twitching around his cock, tightening and becoming impossibly warm. “Please,” he grunts, “Cum on my cock.”

You whimper in response, your hand finding the way down your body where your clit is. You gasp when you begin to play with the bud, rolling the bundle of nerves between your fingers. You feel the coil getting tighter, tension getting stiffer as you get close to snapping.

With a particular thrust that pressed right onto your spongy spot, combined with your fingers with your sensitive bud. It was enough to have your gummy walls spasming around his walls. His hips stutter, his cock pressed deeply inside of you as he stops thrusting altogether, as he feels you cum around him. He lets out a groan as he feels his release wash over him, filling you up with his cum again.

“That's it, baby,” he whispered, “I love you.”

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @@dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964 @skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness @hansbasement @louweasleymalfoy @lettersandwhiteroses @arzua10 @wotcherpeak @ever8ea @daughter-of-the-stars11 @blippys-blog @iguanagwen @moonlight-by-the-sea @snowlandstop @badbleep88 @hobireasns @fartinglaterxoxo

[scoonsalicious]

6.2 Lily

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, toxic plants being manipulative and toxic.

Word Count: Bucky done fucked up.

Previously On...: 2.5k

A/N: Please note: I will be taking a one week break from posting starting on Thursday, May 16th, to focus on writing. I will resume posting on Thursday, May 23rd.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

He was on his way! 

After disconnecting from her call with Bucky, Lily bent down to her front driver’s side tire and, using her car key, pried out the nail she’d run over to ensure it would go flat while she ran the trail. Walking to the edge of the parking lot, she hurled the nail into the woods, getting rid of any evidence that she’d manufactured the current predicament she “accidentally” found herself in.

It didn’t matter if Bucky hadn’t come home from his date last night. Hadn’t told her that he’d even been on a date to begin with. What mattered was that, when Lily had called, Bucky had left the bitch behind and had come running. To her.

And that meant something. 

Right?

Bucky could go out with some slut if he wanted to, but when Lily had needed him, Bucky had dropped everything to be there for her, and that knowledge made Lily’s insides glow with warmth. She was still his number one girl; she shouldn’t have let herself get worked up over one date that probably didn’t mean anything. Bucky had dated before, and Lily had made sure none of them stuck around for very long. This time wouldn’t be any different.

So, Lily waited. She checked her email, she played some games on her phone, she listened to a podcast. Finally, a little over an hour after she’d hung up with Bucky, she saw one of Tony’s sportscars speed into the parking lot and make its way to the trailhead.

Her heart sank at the thought of Bucky sending Tony Stark to help her in his stead, so it was quite a shock to her system when the car pulled up next to hers, turned its engine off, and Bucky himself stepped out. He wasn’t wearing his usual tshirt and jeans, no– he was wearing a rumpled burgundy button-up, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the first couple of buttons left undone at his neck, and a pair of fitted, black trousers. 

Lily swallowed. His hair was a mess, but she could imagine how put together he must have looked the night before, and that made her stomach twist. He’d made an effort. He’d made a real, genuine effort to dress up for this date that he lied to her about.

“Hey, Lil,” he said, once she got out of her car to meet him. He smiled, but she’d known him long enough to be able to tell when his smiles weren’t genuine, and this one didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey, Jamie,” she said, offering him a fake smile  of her own to hide her distress. “Thank you so much for coming out. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“I’m sure Steve or Sam or anyone from the Compound would have been more than willing to help you out, Lil,” Bucky said as he walked to the back of her car. “Could you pop the trunk for me so I can get your jack and the spare?”

Lily bent her head back inside to unlock the trunk, rolling her eyes as she did so. If she’d wanted someone else to change her tire, she’d have just done it herself. Or, you know, not popped her own tire to begin with. But that was beside the point.

She walked around to the back of the car so she could help Bucky move things around in her trunk to get to her spare. “You’re dressed awfully fancy for a Sunday morning,” she said, watching him out of the side of her eye. “You find God and suddenly decide to start going to church?”

Bucky chuckled. “Something like that,” he said. Lily stole a glance in his direction and caught him smiling softly to himself as he pulled her spare out from the trunk with his vibranium hand. Taking her car jack in the other, he moved around to the driver’s side and began loosening the lug nuts with his left hand. Lily shivered when she considered how strong he was, how much power that one hand contained.

Once all the nuts were loosened, he slid the jack under the frame of the car and began raising it. He was annoyingly efficient at this, Lily thought, and she realized her window of time with him wasn’t as big as she had originally anticipated.

“So, where were you when I called this morning, really?” she asked, leaning up against the side of Tony’s car as she watched him work. She just wanted him to be honest with her. She didn’t think she could take it if he continued to lie.

Bucky stilled in his motions. “I… I, uh, had a date,” he said after a moment.

Lily paused, playing confused. “A date on a Sunday morning?” she asked him. “That’s a really weird—oh.” Bucky left the car suspended on the jack and turned to face her, hands shoved into his pockets, and the guilt in his eyes nearly palpable. 

Good, Lily thought. Let him be guilty, now that he realizes I know he lied to me. “I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone, Jamie,” she said, voice deliberately meek and soft. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Bucky sighed and leaned back against her car. “It’s new,” he said. “Like, really new.”

Good, she thought. This hasn’t been going on for a long time. There was still a good chance she could nip it in the bud before it grew into a real problem. “So, when you said you were out with Sam last night…” She left it hanging in the air. Let him be the one to say the word.

“I lied to you,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Why, Jamie?” she asked him. “I didn’t think we lied to one another.” She thought about the hole she’d punched in her own tire. Well, she didn’t think he lied to her.

“We don’t, Lil,” he said. “I just… It seems like whenever I start seeing someone new, you just…” he paused to consider his words, and Lily started to get nervous. Did he know… did he suspect the things she’d done in the past to keep other girls away from him? He couldn’t. She’d been so careful… “You just form a lot of opinions on them, really quickly,” he said, and she released a breath. He didn’t know anything. She was safe. “I wanted to get to know this girl on my own, without any outside influences, before I decided to find out what everyone else thought about her.”

“I only tell you what I think because I care about you, Jamie,” Lily protested in her gentlest voice. She was going to have to walk a very delicate line here, between stressing her point and sounding sympathetic. “I’m just trying to look out for you, that’s all.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I know you are, and I do appreciate it, but… I want to be able to figure out how I feel about this one before I start soliciting opinions about her from everyone else. Does that make sense?”

It did. Fuck, it did. Usually, Bucky was so eager to talk about the new girls he was dating, to introduce him to his best friends and find out what they thought about her, to get their opinions. If he was reticent this time, it could only mean one, horrible thing:

“You really like this girl, don’t you, Jamie?” Lily asked, trying so hard to keep her voice light, when inside, she felt like she was dying.

Bucky looked up at her. “Yeah, Lil,” he said, his dazzling white smile beaming at her and making her heart stop. “I really do.”

“That’s great,” Lily choked out. She turned back to the trunk of her car, pretending to busy herself with its contents so she didn’t have to look at him. “That’s really great.”

She heard Bucky move around and start working on the tire again. “Not really,” he said, his voice sounding dejected. Lily moved her head around from the back of the trunk to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, a spark of hope coming to life in her chest. 

Bucky let out a long sigh. “I think I might have blown it with her,” he said as he worked to take the flat tire off of her car. 

“Oh no,” Lily said, trying to keep the smile out of her voice. Maybe she wouldn’t have to do anything, afterall. Maybe Bucky had managed to fuck it up on his own. “What happened?”

Bucky was silent for a moment as he replaced the tire with ease. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said eventually. “Let’s just say that we left things very… ambiguously. I asked her if I could call her later, she didn’t really give me an answer either way. Just kind of shrugged. If she wanted me to call her, she would have just said so, right?”

Lily felt her stomach do a happy flip, but she put on a fake pout. “Oh, Jamie,” she said, fake sympathy oozing over her words, “please don’t tell me she’s playing mind games like that with you already! If a girl wants you to call her, she’ll tell you to call her, not play hard to get.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Bucky said defensively as he began re-tightening the lugnuts on the tire. “I just… I did something she didn’t like, is all. And she’s probably rightly pissed about it.”

Lily walked around the car to stand next to him as he finished up. “I don’t think I like this, Jamie,” she said cautiously. “You’ve barely started dating this girl, and already she thinks she can dictate your actions? That doesn’t seem healthy to me, at all.”

Bucky stood, running a hand across his face. “Nah, Lil– you’re… you’re getting it twisted. I made a mistake. I know I did, and she’s got every right to be mad at me about it. I need to talk to her, to sort it out.” Lily was losing ground; thankfully, she’d come prepared.

“Listen, Jamie,” she said, abruptly changing the topic in the hopes of getting his mind off this mysterious skank, “I was planning on having lunch up here today, since it’s so gorgeous out. I probably overdid it when I packed my food. Do you want to join me?”

Bucky heaved a sigh and looked like he was about to decline.

“Consider it my way of saying ‘thank you’ for you coming all the way out here to rescue me,” she added, knowing that she was laying it on thick, but not wanting him to walk away. “Come on, we’ll make a picnic of it. It’ll be fun!”

“Yeah, alright,” Bucky said, letting a smile cross his face. “I could eat.”

Bucky Barnes always did have a soft spot for a damsel in distress. With a grin, Lily opened the backseat of her car and pulled out the cooler she’d preemptively packed in the hope that just such an opportunity would arise. Lily was nothing if not prepared. 

Bucky reached for it. “Here, let me,” he said, taking it from her. Lily smiled to herself as she reached back into the car to pull out the picnic blanket she’d packed. 

“Such a gentleman,” she said as she closed the car door and led Bucky down one of the trails. It was a gorgeous late-summer day, and Lily could almost convince herself they were on a real date together. Almost. God, what she wouldn’t give for this to be the real thing. 

After they’d walked for about fifteen minutes, Lily veered left off of the trail and into the woods. “You bringing me back here to kill me?” Bucky asked in a playful tone as he followed her with the cooler.

“Yup,” Lily teased right back. “I definitely have faith in my ability to take out a super soldier on my own.” Her heart swelled when she was rewarded with an amused chuckle from Bucky. 

Soon, they reached her destination: a cozy clearing that sat along the bank of a creek that ran through the park, with a small waterfall that fed a crystal clear pool below.

“This is nice,” Bucky said, coming up behind Lily as she fanned out the blanket. “How’d you find this spot?”

Lily sat down and reached to take the cooler from Bucky, beckoning him to join her. “I was scouting some potential off-trail runs for the recruits and just kind of stumbled upon it,” she told him. She opened up the cooler and began taking out the food she’d brought– all of Bucky’s favorites.

Bucky nodded, then looked at the spread with wide eyes. “You packed all of this for yourself, Lil?”

Lily felt a slight blush creep up her cheeks– she had not, in fact, packed it all for herself, but specifically in the hope that he would end up joining her, though he could never know that. “I guess I just overestimated how hungry I’d be after my run,” she told him as she handed him a bottle of water. “Thanks for joining me so that all this food doesn’t go to waste.”

“No problem,” he said as he began to tear into the food she’d brought. “Thanks for getting a flat tire, I guess,” he added with a laugh.

They ate amicably, making small talk about their upcoming plans for the week, and how Lily’s latest batch of recruits looked. Lily was itching to ask Bucky more about his mystery date, to find out who she was, if she was someone Lily knew; but she didn’t want to bring it up– the less Bucky talked about her, the more likely he was to just forget about her all together, right? Especially if he’d done something to piss her off. Better to keep him distracted so that the window of opportunity for any reconciliation closed without him noticing it.

Soon, the food was gone, the sun high in the sky. Lily and Bucky both lay back on the picnic blanket, staring lazily up into the blue sky. “We should do something today,” Lily suggested, trying not to sound too eager.

Bucky chuckled. “Aren’t we doing something now, Lil?” he asked.

She playfully shoved his shoulder. “Later, I mean. Like, we’re having a good time; we should continue it. Go somewhere nice for dinner, do something after, like go to a club or see a show or something. Make a whole ‘friend-date’ night out of it!” Anything, she thought to herself. I’ll do anything, as long as I’m doing it with you. And who knew what could happen in the right romantic setting?

“Yeah, that sounds like it could be fun,” Bucky mused. “Sure.”

“Really?” Lily couldn’t believe her luck. “Leave all the planning to me, then!” She’d make sure she got a table at the most romantic restaurant she could find, and get them tickets to something steamy that would put Bucky in the right mood… She knew just what dress to wear, to show just enough skin to be tantalizing…

Yes, tonight, things were going to change. Lily could feel it.

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[leclsrc]

hi, could you please do the five confessions prompt with charles?

proving my devotion – cl16

genre: fluff, sry charles is a pining yearning mess, title from this

send for five times the receiver almost says ‘i love you’ and the one time they do.

The plates clack against each other, dissonant in the otherwise still evening. Charles stacks one atop the other, awaits his mother’s nosy questioning—the inevitable gamble, every time he brings a girl home—but she’s quiet, humming a song under her breath, the one she always sings when she’s doing the dishes. Something’s different tonight, a slight change he can’t name.

“So,” he starts, because she won’t and the curiosity kills him. His eyes find you, with the ease he’s adopted in the months of knowing you, dancing with Lorenzo on the patio to a Luther Vandross song. “Thoughts?”

“Hmm. Tu es fouineur.” She teases, a glint in her eye. How the tables have turned, she seems to say.

Silently, over the dirty dishes, they both recount the day gone: the lunch moved from noon to half-past-three because Arthur burned the turkey, the dropped bottle of wine you’d gifted because one of Charles’ uncles accidentally let it slip from his hand (you said it was okay, it was just a hundred euros when it was closer to one grand), the guitar performance from Charles.

The way the sun had drowned in a sea of Monaco orange, and with it the stories of weddings, Jules, and Hervé, and the affair moved outside to the patio so Lorenzo could boast his brand new speaker that was so worth the many zeroes on the price tag, maman! And you had quickly found out Charles’ inability to dance was, in fact, genetic.

It’s a new sensation for Charles, a thrilling one, a frightening one even. He squeezes the sponge and watches soap filter through his fingers. He turns, lets his green eyes meet your soft ones. It’s an exhausting effort but he says it anyway, wrenches it out quietly: “I think… I think I…”

“I know,” Pascale says. She presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I see it.”

—

You’d taken home a frayed copy of The Little Prince you bought at a garage sale.

It’s so old, its pages have long yellowed and there’s evidence of past ownership all over it. Most notable of them is a name on the front page, along with a number that’s probably unused now. Isn’t it so quaint—and the words, babe, you’d said with conviction when he questioned your purchase, the words are in French!

You’ve been trying your luck with the language for a good few weeks, but it’s a brick wall—mur de briques, if you go by the textbook on your bedside table. You huff when you can’t translate the last lines of the passage you’re reading, tossing the book onto the empty space beside you that is quickly occupied by Charles’ bulky figure.

“Stuck again?” He asks, opening the dog-eared pages to find where your bookmark is nestled. Under your palms, you groan and nod with frustration.

“Don’t try me,” you say, voice gravelly. “I can’t translate it.”

The rough pad of his index finger traces the yellowed page, and he smiles softly at your many annotations. Verb conjugation, words you found easy, words you still forget now.

His eyes flicker up, to your lying figure, the freckles on your arms, the mole on your hip he can only see because your shorts have ridden down low. His heart swells, seizes, his mind rampant with thoughts of you. Please tell her, he says to himself. Tell her everything. Tell her how you find her in all the passages, in all the French words, in all the books, in all the times she says your name. She’s everywhere, she’s everything. Tell her tell her tell her you lo—

But the realness of it all chokes him, and he says instead, placing a big palm on your abdomen, “I’ll read it for you.”

—

There are few sentences considered odd on a paddock. People say anything on it—driver gossip, car gossip, celebrity gossip, engineer gossip. Charles can guarantee he’s heard some of the weirdest statements and Freudian slips (the one time Christian Horner called Toto ‘dad’) on a paddock. 

“Carlos—pshhfhf—sprayed—pfffsh—whip cream—on my face!” …Okay, that’s. That’s different.

He turns, eyes wide. “What?!”

You stand in the doorway, frozen.

Your face is almost completely covered in white, and bits of your hair have fallen victim to the sweet spray of whip, too. You look frazzled and freaked. “I just got my hair blown out. I did my makeup. Dude. I look like a clown.”

“Oh, my God,” he says, already unable to contain his laughter. “I love you—!”

A millisecond passes him by like an hour. “—r uh, your new makeup hairdo, thing, a-ling. Thing-a-ling. Makeup. Your new makeup.” 

—

There is an angel in Charles’ bed. She leaves a lovebite on his neck.

“Good morning,” he says, gruff. I love— but it stops itself before he can even open his mouth.

—

You get into a minor fight about cooking music.

Charles waves the whisk in the air, claims he will die on the hill of cooking to French jazz. You call it pretentious and crank up the Stevie Wonder. Eventually you fall into a repeated pattern of songs that satisfy the both of you.

“I read somewhere that if you roll basil up,” you say, chewing on a rogue leaf of mint from your pre-dinner mojito and walking up to him, “and chop it, it saves time trying to cut it up by itself.”

“Does it?” Charles asks, entertaining you. You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. He raises the knife in his hand, mumbles careful, baby under his breath. You insist he try, so he rolls up two leaves. Unfortunately, you’re right.

“So now we get to have pesto in five minutes instead of five hours,” you tease, kissing him. It’s minty, there’s French jazz in the background, and you’ve taught him to chop basil in the most affectionate soft-spoken way possible. It’s sacred. He’s afraid, he’s always been, that he would never be able to say it, that it would always be a losing game of wrestling words out of his throat—but now he’s not. 

“I love you,” he mutters. It’s easy, unforced, natural. The words find solace, find home in the warm kitchen. He refuses to open his eyes because God knows what you’ll say then. Run away maybe? Throw all the basil to the ground? Down the entire cooler of mojito?

Your silence is deafening. “Did you hear me?” He opens his eyes.

A foolishly pretty smile greets him. “I got it the first five times.”

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Six

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 8.1k

Chapter 6 Summary: Just as your husband promised, your birthday is far from over with yet...

Notes: This chapter is a direct continuation of Chapter 5. It was a lot of fun to write because there's just so much like domestic fluff and playfulness in this chapter between these 3 (and yes, smut, duh!). And for all of you who voiced your opinions last time that you want more contact between Marcus and Dave, I HEARD YOU lol. There's a little bit in here, with more on the horizon for the near future. I GOTCHU ;)

Chapter Warnings (minor spoilers in the tags...): 18+ MDNI. F/M/M threesome. Fluff (who'd have thought I'd ever be adding that tag into this series?). Body painting (aka unlawful use of cupcake frosting... don't worry, Dave and Marcus are good boys who clean up their mess... sorry not sorry). Oral sex (m and f receiving). Unprotected P in V. Rough P in V. Voyeurism. Cuckolding. Daddy Kink (spoiler alert: Reader isn't the only one with a Daddy anymore!). Degradation kink. Use of 'traffic light system'. Dom!Dave York. Sub!Reader. Sub!Marcus Pike. Praise kink. Anal play/Rimming (f receiving). Breath play. Accidental feelings had everywhere (whoops).

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

When you’re finally pulled from your slumber you’re a little disoriented and delightfully sore. The sun beaming in through the drawn-open curtains doesn’t give you much grasp of what time of day it is so when you slowly blink your eyes open and your bleary gaze lands on Marcus who’s resting up on his elbow at your side you manage to rasp out a quiet “mmm, what time is it baby?”

Marcus lets out a little chuckle before he leans forward and kisses the tip of your nose. “almost noon” he tells you and you swear your jaw hits the floor. You weren’t one to sleep in that late, like ever. Apparently your boys really did wear you out last night. And to be fair, you’re pretty sure it was the middle of the night before any of you got to sleep. You audibly groan and let your head fall back into the pillows, hands coming up to cover your face.

“Well well, look who’s up” You hear Dave’s voice ring out in the room and uncover your face and push yourself up on your elbows to see Dave wandering into the bedroom juggling 3 takeout Starbucks cups in his grasp, presumably from the hotel lobby downstairs. He’s dressed very casually, for Dave, wearing a pair of loose fitting black athletic shorts and light gray t-shirt that hugs his chest and biceps just right. Frankly, he looks amazing and you do your best not to be caught staring too long.

“It’s your guys’ fault” you grumble, sounding unconvincingly annoyed. “Put me in a sex coma” you add and Marcus throws his head back in laughter.

“Yeah and the ‘more, please, don’t stop’ really was meant to deter us, right?” Dave jokes, adding a high pitched lilt to his voice when he mocks your own.

“If I had something to throw at you right now…” you jokingly threat but Dave just raises a singular eyebrow at you.

“Wanna try that again, Sweetheart? Thought we taught you a pretty good lesson last night what happens to naughty girls” he says cooly as he reaches the side of the bed and sets all the coffee cups down on the nightstand.

You let out a defeated sigh. As fun as last night was, you’d prefer to have control over all your senses next time. You’ve literally just woken up and already you can’t wait to get your hands all over both of them.

Dave smirks at his easy triumph. “That’s what I thought, now drink up” he says before handing you one of the cups.

You turn the cup to look over the label and surprise etches at your features when you realize that Dave has gotten your coffee order right exactly, down to every last espresso and flavour shot.

“How’d you know my coffee order?”

“I’m observant” Dave shrugs non-committedly.

“So my husband told you?”

“Ok, well I’m also good at writing things down that are told to me in specific details then” he jokes and you nod your head. That sounded more like it.

The three of you lounge around the bedroom for a short while, drinking your beverages. Dave is sitting comfortably in the armchair in the corner while you and Marcus lay in bed, backs up against the headboard and your head occasionally leaning over to rest on his shoulder and a smile spreading across your lips when he turns just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s odd how comfortable you feel in this little domestic bubble of bliss with the three of you all together, never having spent an entire night together before. You’re completely naked still from last night (albeit a sheet is securely tucked under your arms to protect whatever may be left of your modesty) and Marcus lies next to you overtop of the bed covers in only his boxer briefs. You safely assume the only reason Dave is even dressed is because he had to go downstairs to get the coffee.You can barely remember back when you used to be so nervous around Dave and now he seemingly fits right into a lazy morning with you and your husband.

“Well I don’t know about you guys, but I need sustenance” Marcus eventually voices, setting his coffee cup down on the nightstand and stretching his arms over his head.

“Oh shoot, and we probably missed check out!” You suddenly realize, just now remembering what time it was.

“Mmmm, still got about… twenty two hours by my count” Dave shrugs, looking down at his watch.

“Wait…” your brain tries to catch up for a moment. “Are we booked for two nights?!”

“I told you last night we were just getting started” Marcus laughs, leaning in to playfully nibble at your neck. “Oh! Almost forgot!” He suddenly jumps out of the bed and wanders out of the room, leaving you to share a confused glance with Dave who just shrugs his shoulders.

You don’t have to wonder for long what he’s up to because a moment later Marcus wanders back into the bedroom holding a small white cardboard box in his hands.

“Close your eyes” he instructs and you’re hesitant but do as you're told.

“What are you up to, husband?” You ask, a curious grin spread across your lips. You’re waiting for a few moments until you feel him settle back in beside you, rustle around for a moment and then he tells you to open your eyes.

“Happy Birthday Baby” your husband grins at you, a cupcake extended towards you in his hands with a single lit candle in the centre of it.

He’s too adorable.

“Marcus,” you sigh at the thoughtfulness but don’t get any other words out before he speaks up again.

“Make a wish”

“And what if what I wished for already came true?” You ask cheekily and Marcus lets out a little laugh, shaking his head before his gaze lands on you again.

“Then I guess, wish for it to stay true” he shrugs simply.

You hum your agreement before leaning in slightly and with a single huff of breath, the flame disappears.

“Is that your idea of sustenance by the way? Because I’m going to need real food if I’m going to be here for another day with the two of you” You comment, eyes darting between Marcus at your side and Dave who is now pushing himself up from the chair across the room.

“Just an appetizer” Marcus shrugs. “Something to tide us over until we get some room service”

“Um what do you mean us, I think this is my cupcake. It’s my birthday” you giggle teasingly just as the bed on your opposite side dips under Dave’s weight.

“Good girls share, I think. Isn’t that right Pike?” Dave pipes up, settling in on his side next to you, resting up on his elbow.

“He’s right honey,” Marcus agrees before he plucks the candle from the small dessert and tosses it on the nightstand.

It’s Dave who acts first, then. He dips his pointer finger right into the big dollop of icing on top, scooping a small amount up before bringing it to your lips. They instinctively part, allowing his digit to slip inside and your eyes close and a small moan escapes you as you suck it clean.

“Well? How is it?” Dave asks, voice low as he pulls his finger from your mouth and brings it to his own, sucking off whatever you left behind.

“Decadent” you tease, eyes playfully rolling back in your head.

“Hmm, let me try” Marcus pipes up next, taking his own finger full of the rich frosting before he tugs down the sheet covering you and smears it across your now exposed nipple, leaning down and laving over it with his tongue and then sucking it into his mouth.

This time it’s you who moans rather than the person indulging in the sweet treat.

Dave copies Marcus, just with the opposite breast and soon Marcus is shoving down the rest of the bedding currently bunched up at your hips before he gently pulls your body downwards so you’re lying flat on your back.

Fuck.

They both take turns essentially painting your body with the frosting and licking it clean. Marcus goes back to focusing on your upper body, your breasts and throat while Dave shimmies lower, starting at your stomach and continuing downward.

“Fuck” you groan when Dave’s fingers coated in frosting sweeps through your folds, only to immediately be followed by long strokes of his tongue. He hums into your cunt, tastebuds alighted by a mixture of the sweet icing combined with your own sticky arousal. Marcus chuckles against your throat as your body gently writhes, knowing full well what Dave is doing without even having to pass a glance in his direction. Hunger forgotten, Marcus tosses what was left of the cupcake (which was mainly just the actual cake portion by now) over his shoulder, carelessly letting it fall to the floor beside the bed before his mouth latches to yours, muffling your moans and whimpers.

“Fucking sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted baby” Dave practically growls into your core before he pushes away just long enough to fully rid you of the blanket and spread your legs wide so he can settle between them and get comfortable. He plans on staying a while.

Dave licks and sucks and nibbles and mouths at you like he truly is devouring a meal. A man starved would be an understatement of monumental proportions.

Your hips cant off the mattress and your left hand goes to hold onto his head as he slides a single digit inside of you and curls it just right, hitting that spot with practiced precision as if he’d dedicated it to memory.

“Fuck, tell me how good it feels” Marcus breathes hot into your ear, hand coming down to lazily tug at his already hard cock nestled in his boxer briefs.

“Oh my good, feels so fucking good baby” you whine in response, arching off the bed again before Dave’s free arm comes up to drape across your waist, holding you still.

“Wish you could feel how fucking good this tongue is” you blurt out unexpectedly, even to yourself. You were just too riled up to have any sort of filter and before you realize you’d said the words out loud, it was too late, they were out there.

You hadn’t yet candidly voiced to either of them that you wouldn’t mind the two of them getting closer when you all were together and maybe the words you just spoke weren’t explicitly stating that either but was certainly casually implied.Truthfully you know it would be beyond hot and turn you on but none of you had really discussed it before, though you were somewhat hoping it might progress that way naturally. You’ve debated bringing the topic up with Marcus when the two of you are alone. You’ve sort of danced around it a bit with him in the past and he seemed into it, or at the very least, not against it. Dave was more of a mystery but you sort of got the feeling that as long as he was in control, he might not mind so much either.

“Fuck” Marcus groans, unceremoniously shoving his boxers down to his thighs so he has unrestricted access to his leaking and throbbing cock.

The fact that neither of them didn’t immediately get turned off and pull away from you is enough to send you writhing again under Dave’s ministrations. Your lust-fueled gaze turns to your husband whose eyes are darting between yours and what’s happening between your legs. He looks close, you see it in his eyes and you gather enough faculties to reach your free hand down to replace his, wrapping around his warm, hard length as you begin pumping him.

With his hand now free Marcus surprises you by bringing it on top of your left on Dave’s head and the lover between your legs groans into you when he feels the pressure of both of your hands urging his actions.

“Oh my fuck,” you whimper, hand pulling away to just leave Marcus’ and you try and pull your head up enough to see him push his fingers through Dave’s dark chocolate locks before he grasps the short strands, Dave all the while groaning his approval into your now throbbing cunt.

“Oh shit, fuck!” Marcus moans just as he spills over your hand and onto his own abdomen. Sated, he flops down on his back but keeps his hand at Dave’s head, however gently just pushing through his hair now and smoothing over his head.

“Oh my god, Dave, please” you whine. He’s been edging you for what seems like forever. Knowing all the right places to test and tease you until you’re left teetering dangerously close to that edge, desperate to be bowled over it.

With a growl, Dave releases you. His mouth and fingers leave you and you’re about to whine in protest before he gets up to his knees, hauls you further down the bed and shoves his shorts and boxers down, freeing his painfully hard erection. Marcus’ hand falls away in all the commotion and he pushes himself up enough to rest against the headboard, pulling his boxers back up over his softening cock as he watches the two of you.

“Come here” Dave groans, grabbing both of your ankles and putting them up on his shoulders before he guides himself to your entrances and pushes inside, burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust. He grabs a nearby pillow, shoving it under your hips and you let out a low moan at the new angle he hits when he pulls back just slightly before bottoming out again.

“God damn baby, you’re close. Strangling my cock aren’t you?”

“Fuck, yes, I’m so close. Shit” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut as you feel that all too familiar heat traveling at an alarming rate right between your legs as Dave begins to rock in and out of you, setting a hard and fast pace nearly immediately.

“That’s it, come on my cock pretty girl, let me see it” he urges you after a few moments, watching your eyes practically roll back into your head as his own thrusts begin to become desperate and sloppy. Sensing his own urgency, Dave acts quickly by wetting his thumb with his saliva before bringing it down to press into your needy clit, rubbing tight frantic circles around it until you cry out for him.

“Fuck, Dave, I’m coming. Fuck!” Your walls clamp down and your cunt spasms around Dave’s cock so intensely he barely has time to pull out and give himself two quick tugs before he’s spurting hot white ropes of his own release all over your mound.

“Shit… that… close. Shit” Dave repeats, breaths coming out in heavy pants as he remains kneeled in front of you. He takes a few moments to himself before he gently eases your legs off of his shoulders and back down to the bed, pulling the pillow out from under you as well so you’re more comfortable.

The three of you remain there, breathing heavily and covered in a mixture of bodily fluids and cupcake frosting, the insanity of it all not lost on any of you, before Marcus finally pipes up and speaks for all of you.

“So… room service?”

Dave had offered to order the food if you and Marcus wanted to go use the shower first. Lord knows all three of you needed a good washing up after the last sixteen hours or so that you’d spent together but of the three of you, Dave was currently the only one who didn’t currently have semen drying on his skin so he figured the gentlemanly thing to do was to let you two at it first.

You and Marcus kiss occasionally under the hot spray while you get cleaned up but aside from that the shower is pretty tame. For one you’re still spent and sensitive from earlier, and for two you don’t want to keep Dave waiting. When you get out and begin drying off Marcus seems a bit off, like he’s pre-occupied and you briefly wonder if you’d freaked him out with what happened earlier.

“You ok?” You ask, light chuckle in your tone as your hand lands on Marcus’ shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, yeah just a little tired still maybe. Need to eat something I think” he shrugs and you accept his answer for what it is. He gives you his famous beaming smile just to assure you he’s fine and leans in to place another quick kiss to your lips. He hands you a hotel-issued robe that was hanging on one of the hooks before securing his own around his body and then reaches for your hand once you’ve got yours on “C’mon, lets go.”

Dave takes the opportunity for the now unoccupied shower and excuses himself while you and Marcus wait for the food. You pass the time by straightening all the linens back onto the bed and making it properly again and picking up all the discarded clothing from the night before, folding everything neatly and draping it over chairs. Clearly it was the furthest thing from anyone's mind last night but in the harsh light of day you can see what a disaster you’ve actually made of this room.

Once everything looks mostly put back together you and Marcus cuddle up on the sofa together. You’ve barely sat down and just gotten comfortable snuggled into Marcus’ side when there’s a knock at the door and you audibly groan. Marcus lets out a little laugh at your displeasure but then calls out so the server on the other side of the door can hear him.

“Come in”

The hotel employee uses their access card to unlock the door and walks in backwards through the door, pulling a serving trolley with them filled with covered silver dishes.

“Ah so this must be our happy couple” he says conversationally as he turns into the living room and nods in greeting to you and Marcus. “How are you enjoying our Honeymoon Suite?”

“Oh, everything is beautiful, thank you” you reply, warm smile on your lips.

“Glad to hear it Mrs. Pike” he responds courteously before he goes to setting out the dishes on the large coffee table in front of you.

“Is that the food, I’m starving. You two wore me out” Dave bellows, walking into the living room from the bathroom, towel hung low on his hips and otherwise naked.

“Um, well,” the poor unsuspecting server nervously clears his throat as his eyes dart around the room to three very nearly naked people. His cheeks go beat red and you have to shove your face into Marcus’ shoulder to hide your own embarrassment. “Please um, enjoy your lunch and en-enjoy your stay” he stutters, hastily pulling the covers off all the plates before placing them back onto his cart and hurrying out of the room.

“Better give him a good tip later” Dave mutters, unphased and not even remotely embarrassed. “I think he just had a stroke”

You were momentarily horrified but the moment Dave cracks a joke you and Marcus are both in a fit of laughter before you pick up a french fry and throw it at Dave’s head.

Once your bellies are full the three of you lounge around for a short while, allowing your food to settle until finally you can’t wait any longer for something you’ve looked forward to since you got here. You stretch your arms above your head and then push yourself up from the sofa, using the strong shoulders sitting on either side of you to launch yourself up.

“Well I don’t know about you two, but I am not about to let that gorgeous bathtub go to waste” you announce, making your way over to the open doorway and leaning against it, looking back at the two men still planted on the sofa.

“Is that an invitation sweetheart?” Dave asks.

“It’s whatever you want it to be” you respond, coy smile on your lips before you pull at the sash of your robe, let it fall down your shoulders and off your body and toss it at the two of them.

Neither of them waste any time scrambling off the couch to get to you. You’re in a fit of giggles before you admonish them both and tell them to get the bath ready.

Marcus fills the tub, adding some of the scented aromatherapy oils sitting on the large ledge that runs all the way around the square shaped tub while Dave fixes drinks for the three of you from the minibar and within minutes you’re practically melting into the perfectly tempered water next to Marcus. Dave flicks a switch on the wall that brings the jets to life before settling across the tub from you both on the opposite side.

The whirlpool jacuzzi is enormous, nearly the size of your hot tub that you and Marcus have at home, just not as deep, and easily big enough for the three of you to relax in. The scent of lavender fills the mostly darkened room, the only source of light is dimmed to its lowest setting and you had closed the double doors behind you to not allow any other source of light into the room.

“This is perfect” you sigh dreamily, letting your eyelids flutter close and snuggling a little further into Marcus who has his arm secured around your waist, fingers drawing little imaginary lines up and down your side. He turns his face towards you to press his lips to your forehead and then they trail down to your closed eyelids, your nose, the corner of your mouth and finally your lips where he latches on and kisses you soundly, mouth opening so his tongue can part your lips and meld with yours. You moan into the soft kiss, hand coming up to caress his neck and nearly letting yourself get lost in it until your manners catch up to you and your hand leaves Marcus to reach out blindly across the tub to your third, very observant, party. Dave chuckles low in his throat but takes your offered hand and pushes himself forward, small waves lapping around as he crosses the tub to reach your opposite side. Marcus releases you and gently with a hand under your chin turns your head to Dave and you take the invitation for what it is and press closer into Dave, your lips meeting his in an unhurried kiss. You spend the next several minutes just kissing, your mouth alternating sides to both men showing them equal attention. Hands wander somewhat lazily but for the most part it stays pretty tame for all three of you, just relaxing and enjoying being intimately close to both of them is a truly beautiful feeling you quickly discover and find yourself not wanting it to end. However, as things tend to do, the wandering touches and tongues tend to get a little heated and soon Marcus is murmuring against your lips, asking if you want to take this elsewhere and, oh god do you.

Dave steps out first, quickly toweling off before holding it open for you to step into. You take his offered hand as he helps you out of the tub and wraps the towel around your shoulders. Marcus climbs out just behind you and you giggle at the playfulness when Dave lightly snaps a second towel at Marcus, hitting him in the hip with it like they’re a couple of high-schoolers in the locker room after gym class. Marcus jumps slightly but is laughing as well as he yanks the towel from Dave’s grasp and secures it low on his hips.

“Bed, now” Dave rasps low against your ear as he leans down towards you and you certainly don’t need telling twice. You unwrap the towel from around your chest and let it drop to the floor before taking one of each of their hands and leading them out of the bathroom, through the living room and back into the bedroom.

You stop near the foot of the bed, an idea coming over you that has your cheeks rising in temperature. Dave and Marcus both stop on either side of you and then you gently sink to your knees between them on the plush carpeting.

“Shit” Marcus breathes, hand immediately going to pull the towel free from his body so it falls to the floor. He sucks in a breath and then pushes a hand through his hair before his gaze settles back on you, on your knees, two very interested cocks hanging just inches from your face.

You turn your head towards Dave first, head tilting up towards him as you dutifully open your mouth, bat your eyelashes at him and wait. The smirk that crosses his features actually causes you to have to clench your thighs together momentarily as you feel the wetness beginning to seep out of you.

“That’s our good girl” Dave praises before roughly grabbing the underside of your chin, leaning down and spitting right into your mouth.

The moment his saliva hits your tongue you turn again, your mouth immediately enveloping Marcus who’s already near fully hard just from the bathtub and what had transpired in the last thirty seconds or so. You’ll never tire of how turned on your husband gets with you.

Your right hand comes up to tease Dave, inching up his thigh, rubbing across the lowest part of his abdomen and eventually fingertips dancing along his cock as you continue to take Marcus down your throat, smearing yours and Dave’s saliva all over him as you sloppily blow him.

“Oh fuck,” Marcus whines, hand coming down to run through your hair. You look up at him, eyes wide and the best smile you can manage while he’s halfway down your throat and after a few more bobs of your head you pull off of him, a trail of saliva still connecting the two of you.

“Come here” he groans, surprising you in the best possible way as he mirrors Dave’s earlier actions, forcing your mouth open with the grip he holds on your chin and you hold your tongue out until he spits directly onto it. He turns your face away from him by the force of his hand on your chin and pushes you towards Dave who you greedily take into your mouth next, taking him as far as you comfortably can and then swallowing down and repeating the action.

“Fuck sweetheart, god damnit” Dave curses, head tilting back as he closes his eyes and you feel him pulse and swell inside your mouth as he quickly hardens to full mast.

You moan against his length, licking and sucking and swallowing before you turn your attention back over to Marcus and do the same, your hand now giving Dave the attention that your mouth can’t.

You go down on them for as long as either of them can stand it, which is only a couple of minutes before they’re both hauling you up, each with a hand under one of your arms and bringing you to your feet.

Dave lightly shoves at Marcus’ shoulder, forcing him to the bed and he quickly obliges, scrambling up the mattress before lying flat on his back, leaving you to stand at the end of the bed with Dave still at your side.

“Ride him baby” Dave instructions with a nod of his head gesturing at your husband. A smile crosses your lips and you climb onto the bed, straddling over his hips and getting ready to situate yourself on his cock.

“Other way. Face me” Dave demands and you look back to see him dragging the arm chair to the end of the bed where he takes a seat and lazily begins stroking himself.

You do as you're told, turning around until your back is to Marcus and your gaze settles on Dave. Marcus helps maneuver you just right into the reverse cowgirl position, lifting your hips and aligning himself at your entrance before you slowly sink down, eyes closing of their own omission and a soft moan leaving your lips.

“Eyes on me” Dave barks, snapping his fingers at you to command your attention. He smirks and rewards you with a muttered ‘good girl’ when your eyes immediately snap open and focus on him.

You start slow. Easing yourself up and down on top of Marcus, his strong hands on your hips guiding your movements but his body otherwise remaining still, letting you take all you need from him first, and you do. Before long you begin to grind down against him, working up the friction that sends tingles all the way down your spine and soon you’re throwing your head back, lost to the all-consuming lust as you feel your first orgasm quickly approaching. Marcus notices your stuttered movements and takes his queue to begin lifting his hips, fucking up into you from where he lay underneath you on the mattress. His hips snap hard and fast, grip on your waist getting tighter as he forces you downwards with each of his upwards thrusts and the loud, wanton moans and string of curse words that leave your mouth bounce off every wall of the room as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Oh my god, baby, holy fuck!” you cry out, eyes slamming shut as Marcus continues to drill into you. He’s relentless in his thrusts and you can tell by the heavy breathing from behind you that he’s exerting himself.

“Oh I’m gonna cum!” You warn, knuckles turning white where they hold on for dear life as Marcus fucks harder and faster into you.

“Yeah? Fuck. Let go honey” Marcus encourages, his breaths ragged and short, grip on your hips near bruising as he pushes himself to near exhaustion to bring you to your completion and it doesn’t take long. A few more perfectly timed pumps of his hips slamming into you and you’re gone, your orgasm crashing into you like a freight train that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids from how tightly you’ve got them screwed shut. Marcus doesn’t let up either. He keeps up his pace as your walls clench and contract around him, paying attention to each of your little cries and whines until he knows you’ve reached that delicate line between pleasure and overstimulation and only then does he finally begin to slow, hands still guiding your hips as he reduces his pace to long drawn out slides of his still hard cock in and out of your wet heat. You’re trembling above him, thankful for Marcus’ hands on your body to help keep you upright as you float back down to earth. Eventually his thrusts stop entirely and he just holds you still there, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay so he can go another round with you and thankfully for him Dave gives him the reprieve he needs as he kneels onto the bed in front of you, forces your gaze to his with a firm grip of his hand around your jaw.

“That was a good one wasn’t it Sweetheart?” Dave asks, though the completely fucked out expression on your face gives him all the answer he needs and he chuckles.

“Yeah it was,” he answers for you. “Saw you cream all over his cock from halfway across the room” he laughs.

“Now,” he sighs, eyes scanning down your body to where you’re still firmly seated on your husband. His free hand comes down and firmly pinches your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tugs hard, eliciting a little yelp from you as you’re forced forward towards him. His lips at your ear, he takes the lobe and grazes his teeth against it before he breathes into it “be the good little cock slut that you are and clean up your mess”

You whimper your compliance, gently nodding your head as you push yourself up and off of Marcus, whining at the slow drag of his cock against your walls until you’re fully off of him and flip yourself over once Dave has released you from his grasp. Before you pull yourself away however Marcus wraps a hand around your bicep and tugs you forward, kissing you soundly for several long moments until you both need to pull away to catch your breaths.

“I love you” he whispers softly against your lips, the words loud enough for only you to catch them. You say them right back and press a quick peck to his lips again before you begin to crawl backwards down the bed until you’re on hands and knees, face hovering just above his raging need for you.

A sharp smack reverberates off all four walls of the otherwise silent bedroom as Dave’s large hand comes down across your ass before grabbing a handful of it and squeezing, kneading the soft and supple flesh in his hand before he lowers his head and places a soft kiss to the same spot. “Ain’t got all day Sweetheart” he tuts, hand going back to massaging the tissue of your reddened cheek. “Be a good girl for me and do as you’re told and Daddy will play with this sweet little ass, how’s that sound?”

You don’t bother with a verbal response, just immediately lower your head down to wrap your lips around your husbands throbbing member, taking it deep into your throat on the first go and he lets out a groan from above you, hand instinctively coming down to rest on top of your head and a whispered ‘fuck’ leaving his lips.

“That’s a good girl” you hear Dave chuckling behind you, and then all coherent thought leaves your brain when he hastily spreads your cheeks wide for him and presses his tongue against your puckered flesh. Your hips jolt forward on instinct but Dave’s left hand quickly comes up to grab hold of your waist, forcing you still and he resumes his actions. He starts by flattening his tongue, taking turns stiffening it and then relaxing it as he works it against you, then short little flicks of the tip against your hole, gradually progressing to slowly working it just inside your entrance and you cry out in pleasure, your mouth leaving your husband momentarily as you crane your neck as best you can to see Dave behind you.

“Holy fuck, don’t stop” you whine, bringing your hand up to wrap around your husband where your mouth has left him.

“Mmm hmmm” Dave mumbles into your flesh, still completely focused on his task. He continues to lick and kiss and prod at you with his tongue for several long moments until finally he releases you by landing another hard smack to your ass and then yanking you upright until you’re up on your knees with your back to his chest and his large arm wraps around your middle holding you to him, your hand falling away from your husband.

“Need to fuck you” he confesses, sounding well worked up already (and if his voice didn’t give it away, the hard throbbing bulge currently pressing into your lower back certainly did). His hand snakes down between your legs and deft fingers part your folds, spreading your slick around. “Ready for me Sweetheart?”

“Fuck. Please” you manage in a breathy whimper. You don’t care that you’ve barely recovered from your last orgasm with Marcus, you need to feel Dave inside of you. Now.

Hearing your enthusiastic consent Dave doesn’t waste any time. Marcus pushes himself over to the side to allow you two some more room and within moments Dave has you flipped over onto your back and pinned down near the bottom of the bed just as he slides off of it so he can hover over you. He brings your right leg up to rest on his left shoulder and his right arm wraps around it to hold himself steady while he slides inside of you and begins to pound into you from his standing position, slightly bent over you with his left arm reaching out so his large hand can wrap around your throat and gently squeeze, just the way he knows you like it.

“That’s it, fucking take it” he growls through gritted teeth as his hips piston back and forth at a relentless and rough pace. You’re a whining whimpering mess beneath him. Every time his cock slams into you it’s like you can feel it in your stomach with how deep he is and all you can do is lie there and take it, panting and moaning and begging him to use you.

“Fuck” you hear Marcus whimper from somewhere next to you, you’re too fucked out to really focus on anything but the way Dave’s dick continues to deliciously torture your abused pussy but you know that Marcus is watching and apparently enjoying what he sees as he takes his own pleasure by way of his hand.

“Like watching your wife’s pussy get destroyed, hmm?” Dave taunts your husband, teeth still bared as he continues to fuck hard and fast. “Love watching her take all of this cock so well” he continues on, clearly a little lost in his own lust as his eyes fall shut and he focuses on his breathing to keep up his stamina.

“Yes. Oh fuck, yes” Marcus whines and you manage to turn your head just enough to watch him, head thrown back as he fucks into his own fist. He’s close, you can see it on his face.

Dave changes positions suddenly, bringing your leg down and his hand leaves your throat. He pushes you slightly up the bed to leave enough room so he can get up to kneel on the bed between your legs before he slips back inside you, holding both of your knees open with his large hands and fucking into you at a much more relaxed pace now.

“Get on top of her, feed her your cock” Dave instructs and Marcus obliges all too quickly, shuffling up the mattress and swinging one leg over you so he’s over top of you, knees planted on the bed on either sides of your shoulders and his body between you and Dave, his back to Dave. He reaches for a couple of pillows and props them under your head so you’re comfortably able to take him in your mouth without craning your neck too much and you do just that, surging forward to envelop every inch of him into your throat and he moans the moment your lips wrap around him.

Dave keeps up a steady pace, his hips snapping into you still hard and deep, just not as rough or fast as before but it’s still more than enough to have you reeling. Thank god he had let up slightly so you can somewhat focus with whatever faculties you have left on sucking off Marcus. He feeds you his cock, just as Dave instructed. At some point his hand wraps around the back of your head and he begins rocking his hips harder and faster as he fucks into your throat, completely oblivious to anything but his own pleasure at this point and it turns you on so much when he gets like this. He’s moaning freely and uttering little phrases of praise for how good you’re making him feel when suddenly his voice slightly constricts and you hear him gasp for a breath. You open your eyes and look up to see that one of Dave’s hands has come up to wrap around the front of Marcus’s throat, the other firmly gripped on his shoulder to give himself more leverage to rock his hips into you. You openly moan at the sight. Dave with his hands on Marcus while they both take their pleasure out on you is one of the most erotic things you’ve ever seen and you keep your gaze locked on them, wanting to commit this exact image to memory so you’ll never forget it.

Marcus’ thrusts into your mouth grow sloppy as Dave’s hand stays wrapped around his throat, applying what you know is the precise amount of pressure to make him see stars behind his eyes as Dave so often does for you. It’s something you’ve never tried on Marcus before but watching him now losing himself above you, you know how much he’s enjoying it.

“Colour” Dave demands of Marcus. Though you’re both pretty certain of what his answer will be, Dave checks in with him all the same, easing his grip from his throat to allow Marcus to answer clearly.

“Green. Fuck. Green!” Marcus manages, breathing laboured and face pulled tight as he tries so hard to hold back his impending orgasm, wanting to hold on to how good this feels just a little while longer if he can.

Dave’s thrusts into you slow as he focuses more of his attention on Marcus, leaning further forward into the other man, his forehead resting against Marcus’ temple and a wide grin spreading across his lips as he listens to Marcus’ whimpers and whines. His grip tightens around the younger man’s throat once more.

“Good. Now be a good boy and come for your Daddy” Dave growls hotly right against your husband's ear, letting go of his throat again just as Marcus finally loses it. With a strangled cry and a string of colourful curse words, Marcus comes down your throat and at the same moment, your walls flutter around Dave’s cock, so turned on just by Dave’s words and Marcus’ orgasm it's enough to send you over the edge with him as you swallow down everything Marcus has to give you. Dave stills inside of you once your peak ends, still hard as a rock as he hadn’t finished yet.

“Oh my god, fuck” Marcus groans as he slips out of your mouth but otherwise doesn’t move, apart from his body taking it’s heaving breaths.

“Good boy. Good fucking boy” Dave praises, wrapping a hand around your husbands chest and pulling him back until Marcus’ shoulders rest against Dave’s front. Dave presses his lips to Marcus’ sweaty temple before his arm gives him one final squeeze and he releases him, pressing him forward again so Marcus can regain his balance and swing his leg back over so he’s no longer straddling over top of you and he immediately flips over and collapses on his back next to you, utterly spent and chest still heaving with his laboured breaths.

“Think we wore him out sweetheart” Dave winks at you, a shit eating grin playing on his lips letting you know he’s more than satisfied he was able to get both of you off simultaneously. You glance over to your exhausted husband and reach a hand out to push through the damp sweat covered hair that sticks to his forehead and push it back as he lets out a little chuckle, dazed out smile playing on his lips. You’re pretty sure you’ve had that exact expression on your face many times after Dave pushes you to your limits until you experience the most earth-shattering orgasm.

“Was probably about time we showed your husband a little perspective” Dave comments. “Let him learn why you like what you like first hand” he explains as he slowly begins rocking his hips back into you, reminding you without words that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Fuck, Dave, I can’t” you whine. Your cunt is positively throbbing and you don’t know how much more you can take.

“You can,” he counters, his harsh tone leaving no room for argument. “You give me one more then I’ll let you rest. C’mon sweetheart” he says the last words softer, leaning over you to gently grasp your chin in his hand and tilt your head towards him as he rocks into you slow and deep, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. He continues thrusting slowly and soon pleasure overtakes any feelings of discomfort.

“Colour?”

“Fuck, green” you manage, despite yourself. He’s making you feel so fucking good again, you want to give him one more. Want to be his good girl.

“Good girl” he grins at you.

There it is.

“Up, hands and knees” he instructs, slipping out of you and helping you into position before he plunges back into you from behind and stills once he bottoms out, allowing you a moment to adjust to the new angle before he slowly begins to slide in and out of you at a lazy pace.

“Oh my fuck!” you cry out at how deep inside you he is.

“Are you ready baby? I wanna fuck you proper now” he tells you and you instantly feel a lump in your throat as well as an intense heat pooling in your belly. For Dave, fucking you ‘properly’ usually means railing into you until your eyes nearly pop out of your head. It’s a surefire way to get him off relatively quickly though you know by now and you could probably all use the break.

“Yes. Fuck me Daddy” you breathe out, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“Give me your arms” he growls suddenly, yanking your arms up behind your back and wrapping one of his hands around them, holding you hostage to him while his other hand grabs at your shoulder for even more leverage as he begins to slam into you at a relentless pace.

Maybe you’re being dramatic, but it feels like he’s fucking you within an inch of your life. You’re whimpering and whining and babbling a bunch of incoherent “oh my god”’s and “fuck”’s and “right there”’s as Dave slams into you over and over, practically growling from behind you as he takes what he needs.

“One more baby, one fucking more, come on” he groans in a desperate plea. Your walls tighten around him but you just don’t have another orgasm in you. Or, so you thought, until suddenly you’re crying out when Marcus’ hand reaches out to rub frantic circles at your clit and seconds later your cunt spasms around Dave’s cock, wave after wave of your peak crashing over you until you’re spent and you flop forward into the mattress as Dave gently releases your arms and pulls out of you just in time to hastily tug on his cock a few times until spurts of his white hot seed paint your lower back and the top of your ass.

“Fuck!” he curses loudly, breathes coming hard and fast while he still lazily strokes his spent cock, sitting back on his heels.

“God damn baby” he sighs, exhausted. “You’re so fucking good” he praises, his thumb lightly pressing into the flesh at your back and smearing his own cum around, marking you as his before he eventually flops down on his back next to you on the mattress on the opposite side from Marcus and you immediately snuggle up to him.

“I’ll get a towel” Marcus murmurs to you, now that he’s had time to recuperate he’s the only one with functional limbs it would seem so he gets up to wet a towel with warm water and brings it back to begin gently cleaning you up from where you lay still half sprawled on top of Dave.

“I love you” you sigh sleepily as the warm towel gently glides across your lower back and between your legs until you're cleaned up and its tossed aside.

“Happy birthday Honey” are the last words you hear from your husband before sleep hastily overcomes you both.

Unfortunately for Dave, sleep doesn’t come as easily as he replays your last three words over and over on a loop in his mind. Surely you meant them for your husband, but your arm was draped over him, your lips murmuring the words into his heated flesh as you said them aloud and now he can’t get them out of his fucking head.

As minutes or maybe even hours tick by and he still lays there with his gaze fixed to the ceiling, the only thought that crosses Dave’s mind is that he needs to get out of there. Needs to leave.

It was never supposed to be this way, so why can’t he seem to pull himself away from you? From either of you?

Fuck.

Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please reply/reblog etc. and let me know if you enjoyed it (sometimes I just need the serotonin boost y'all give me, you know? lol). I have the next chapter half finished already so I hope it won't take too long to come out. Probably 3ish more chapters for this story until completion :) I know where it's going, I just need to write it all out!

Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl

[writtenontheport]

Just a Night at Portland Row

(pt.1) (pt.2)

Anthony Lockwood x (gn) Reader

Warnings/Tags: Literal romcom, These people are silly, Everyone’s so sillycore here, teary confessions, someone accidentally confesses, nothing dramatic happens he’s just silly, Childhood friends to lovers, Lockwood is kinda stupid (affectionate), no smut or suggestive content, Lockwood and co and reader friendship, whether or not what Lockwood says at the end actually happens is up to you!!

Notes: I have quite a few issues with this one, and I’m not entirely satisfied with it, but I think it’s one of the better ways I could go about it. I also put all the flowers meanings at the bottom, so if you were curious I did in fact plan the flower meanings (I am a nerd). This finale has gone through about 20 revisions on the first day alone, so if anything seems jarringly out of place, I am so sorry 😭 I was all over the place with my ideas.

Summary: Just before supper time, you and Lockwood have a heart to heart, and it starts as it always has: with flowers, with tears, and a little funny thing called love.

word count: 2.4k+

“George,” Lockwood says seriously. It’s the first time George has ever seen him so serious about something that isn’t Lucy or him dying and it shocks him how quick he is to steel himself for whatever it is. “I need you to get Lucy to bring them down here, if you can, please.”

Now, ‘them’ is obviously referring to you, who’s laughing away upstairs with Lucy so loud they can hear it ring through the vents. If this wasn’t something George has genuinely been excited for, he would have smacked Lockwood upside the head for using that terrifying tone. “Don’t say it like that, prick. Thought someone was dying there.”

Lockwood grins at him from where he’s messing with the bouquet stood up on the table. The paper wrapping hasn’t been removed, courtesy of the empty vase and that water would most likely melt it; ribbon still intact. They stand, not quite fully in bloom (which is the best way to buy flowers, because otherwise they wilt right away) but just on the precipice of it. It’s packed with other, smaller additions, but at the heart of it, well. Maybe Lockwood did know something about the language of flowers.

“How’d you even pick them out?” George asks instead, watching Lockwood’s grin wobble.

“I made friends with the shopkeeper. He wouldn’t tell me what any of them meant, but he said they were good flowers— like the carnations. One of them though… these white ones here, just felt familiar somehow.” He kept messing about with the bouquet, meddling with any loose leaf or bud. “Can you please go get them? I want them to be able to see the flowers before they wilt.”

George does swat Lockwood for that, but he goes upstairs to get you. You and Lucy have moved to her room on George’s urging (he made Lockwood wait outside before coming in to make sure you didn’t know) and were lying in her bed on your stomachs, reading and sharing books. Lucy’s the first to look up at him, raising a brow as she nudges you.

“George? Everything ok?” You ask, propping yourself up to sit criss cross on the mattress. “Has Anthony come back yet?”

“He has,” he says simply, “He says he needs you in the kitchen. Lucy should stay since she must be tired from the case yesterday.”

From behind you, Lucy has a moment of realization that has her tucking her lips to hide a smile. Quietly, she puts a hand up to her forehead in a salute to George.

“You should go check,” she says, “Who knows what kind of trouble he might be in.”

“A lot of trouble,” George adds, nodding slightly along. You narrow your eyes in suspicion, but you get up off the bed.

“I’ll save your place!” She calls just as you’re headed down. George walks 2 steps behind you to hide his expression before he can school it, feeling giddy with nerves that aren’t even his to have. He wonders how Lockwood’s doing, stopping just at his bedroom door.

You turn back, asking “You aren’t coming?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He rocks gently on his feet and pulls his hands behind his back, reassuring you with a calm nod. “Off you go, Lockwood’s probably burnt himself making tea by now or something.”

“I’d hope not…” you mumble, each step down like a crescendo in the world’s most suspenseful piece of music— every floorboard creak like the lead instrument and your heartbeat acting a steady base. On a sheet you’re sure it looks hideous, but it levels out when you open the door and Lockwood’s waiting there by the counter, looking like he’s straight off a magazine. The silence creeps in, but the piece rises to new heights as the sound of everything— the floorboards, the vents— suddenly dulls out.

You step into the kitchen, and let the door shut behind you.

There is your Anthony, standing there in the middle of the kitchen with a bouquet full of dazzling pink tulips, red roses, and spots of white jasmine flowers. There is Anthony, the boy you’ve known and loved for years— looking at you like he always does: like you’re the whole world and sky and everything he wakes up for.

Neither of you speak for a good minute, but it’s not without trying. Lockwood spends that pregnant pause fumbling for words, before—

“I love you,” He says.

The words come rushing out his lips, hurried and desperate. It shocks you how simply he puts it, like a sudden rest in the notes that takes you by surprise. He looks surprised too; horrified, really, that he’s just blurted that out. He swallows thickly, steeling his expression into something determined.

“I—“ you pause, the words caught in your throat, blood pounding in your ears. You think you tear up, but you can’t really tell when the whole world narrows down to Anthony Lockwood across from you in the kitchen of Portland Row, professing his love in the spur of the moment. You grow warm with affection, taking a step closer to him as the music of your singing heart drowns out everything but his words.

He takes a deep breath, his face pale with fear as he swallows and says quietly,, “Today, when I went down to the shops to get you these flowers, I met the really old man tending to them. Don’t look at me like that, he was really old, alright?”

“Anthony,” you scold quietly, tutting at him as you wrap your hands around his.

He bites the inside of his cheek before he keeps going. “Anyways he isn’t the point— I brought him up because he made me realise that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I never gave telling you a shot. He lived loving someone else until they died— even after they did, and if… if there was a chance I could have that with you, I wanted to take it. I can’t promise you that I’ll be alive for as long as you will be, but I can promise you that I will love you for everyday I live and breathe if you let me.”

“Anthony,” you start, breathlessly. You take his face in your hands and he puts the bouquet down to cover your hands with his. He looks so scared like this, fragile like glass in your hands and pale with nerves.

“I can’t promise you forever,” He says solemnly, “But I can promise you my heart for as long as it beats.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, and will yourself not to kiss him. Years down to minutes— minutes to seconds. The silence hangs like a winding note. You glance back quickly at the bouquet, picking out one of the jasmine flowers before sliding it behind his ear and resting your hands on his face.

“Do you remember the first flower I gave you?” You ask just as quietly. He shakes his head, cheeks rubbing against the skin of your palms. “We were… quite young at the time, and I must have been mad, because I stole it from the neighbour’s garden. Yes, the grumpy one, you remember her. Well, I ran straight over from all the way from home with this crumpled little thing in hand— stop giggling. I’m telling you an important story— and you lit up like a light. Cheeky little thing you were, finding a way to give it back to me when I got scolded the same day for stealing and I was awful sore about the whole thing.”

“You looked all sad,” He cut in, voice hoarse in a mumble, “It made me happy, so I wanted it to make you happy too.”

You laugh, just as breathless, “And it worked, Anthony. It’s still one of my favourite flowers. Did you know that? They were the first flowers I read up on when I learned flowers could have meanings.”

“What’d you find?” He asks, the nerves fading into a hopefulness that fills his eyes with stars. It’s helplessly endearing where you see them shine, nearly nose to nose with how close you’re holding him.

You hum and close your eyes, pushing your forehead against his. “We gave each other white jasmine flowers, that day. A lot of people say they mean purity or innocence, but the one that stuck out to me was that people say it meant “everlasting love” too. When I look back on it now, it must’ve been fate.”

“Cause I always loved you and you probably realised that with how stupid I get about you?”He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

You chuckle quietly, just as helplessly lost, “Not quite. I didn’t even think there was a chance you could love me back, though that does make everything a bit easier… because I’ve always loved you, Anthony.”

Like a child on Christmas day, Lockwood’s eyes grow wide; he’s helpless to the grin that splits his face. “Really?”

“I’m no liar, Anthony, and certainly not about this,” you laugh, unable to help yourself as you tip back and rest your nose lightly against his.

“No like— you mean it?” He asks, voice cracking with hope as he searches your face, “You love me? You love me?”

You’re helplessly endeared, helplessly in love and helplessly lost to it, so you just whisper back with a grin as wide, “Yes, Anthony. I love you.”

What little space between you both is gone in a second when he pushes his lips against yours. It’s a desperate thing, all relief and comfort and love pouring out. At some point, you’re both smiling too wide and too much for it to be anything more than just pushing your lips against each other’s and you pull away with a wet laugh.

He grins wider, and you didn’t think it was possible but he manages it. “I’m so glad, because if I had to go back to the shopkeeper with a terrible story about how I got rejected by the love of my life—“

You giggle and swat at his arm, wrapping your arms around him, “Of course that’s what you worry about. This is all a publicity stunt, yeah? To boost your ego.”

“Of course,” he says, with no weight to the words as he sniffs and blinks away the last of his tears, “Though that just means we should make it a bigger stunt and get married. I’ll even invite Kipps just to rub it in his face.”

You hum, helplessly amused, when the door slams open and George shamelessly walks in with at first his usual deadpan, then a pleased expression. From behind George, Lucy is brimming with happiness, smiling cheek to cheek.

“Gross,” George says, simply and without malice. He steps around you and Lockwood, patting you both on the back sincerely and pulling out pots and pans. It occurs to you a little late that he’s starting on supper. “Took you both a while to actually confess. Mental, the two of you.”

“It was cute,” Lucy says kindly, taking you from Lockwood (he does pout lightly, but she just sticks her tongue out at him) hugging you dear. “George just means that we’re both very happy you two finally got together. He was starting to go bald actually from pulling his hair out too much, look at his hairline—“

“You can’t even pretend like you weren’t too, Lucy.” George sends her a glare as she separates from you. Lockwood quickly fills the space at your side again and all but wraps himself around you. Lucy pats him on the back with a congratulatory smile.

“You can’t go bald before my wedding, George, that’d just ruin it,” you say, clicking your tongue as you reach over (not without struggling over Lockwood) and pat his curls into place. The pot nearly slips out of his hands while Lucy’s eyes grow big as saucers.

“Wedding?!?” They ask simultaneously. Lockwood giggles into your neck, the cheeky bastard.

“This one here,” you gesture at Lockwood with a look, “said we should get married since this whole thing is a publicity stunt or whatnot. Said he might even invite that Kipps bloke he hates.”

“That is the lamest proposal I have ever heard,” Lucy immediately cuts in, the most disappointed scowl pointed at Lockwood’s head.

“I’ve got to agree. You could absolutely do better than that, Lockwood. Also, Quill Kipps? Do you want to have start a fight at your wedding?” George asks, his back turned to everyone. You pull away from Lockwood to pick up the flowers, but not without him frowning as you do. He stops frowning as soon as you smile at him, though, before he turns his attention to Lucy and George when they both pretend to gag.

“I gave them flowers, a really sentimental bunch I think, then I had a good speech,” He says to Lucy first, who raises a brow at him.

He turns to George next. “I need to rub it in his face that he’s probably miserable and forever alone.”

“I thought it was gonna be a publicity stunt, not a revenge plot,” You mutter, clicking your tongue.

“I’m not letting you have a lame wedding, Lockwood, because that means they—“ she points to you “— will have a lame wedding and I will not let that happen.”

“But you’d let me have a lame wedding if it was just mine?” His face is scrunched in offence as he ‘discreetly’ wraps himself around you again.

“Yes,” Lucy and George say simultaneously.

“I’d marry you at a lame wedding.” You play with his hair where you can reach it, pressing a kiss to his forehead where he’s dumped it again on your shoulder. Lucy and George gag, Lockwood beams so bright you’d think he won the lottery that night.

They manage to convince you that it’s too dark out to leave (it was past curfew, the sun had set already) so you spend the night recounting everything you can with them until the stars had gone to sleep and the sun started rising.

The next day, he brings down the bouquet of carnations you’d first given him, and you mix both the bouquets into one. A year later, Portland Row becomes home to not only to the people living in it, but a garden full of flowers blooming with love, laughter, and a lot of hard work. White Jasmine flowers bloom on the veranda and a house of three becomes home to four.

A/N: Finally finished this series!! Whew, that was… hmm!! And just because I couldn’t add it to the story without it getting clunky, have these idk, headcanons? fun facts?:

Reader tells Lockwood all about the flowers after, and informs him about why the Jasmine flowers were so familiar

The grumpy neighbour reader stole the white jasmine flowers from was actually the old man gardener’s wife

Lockwood goes back to tell the old man, and they have a laugh about the whole thing

It is so hard to get one straight meaning for a flower, but if you dig enough you can find flowers that mean so many cute things:

Red carnations mean deep love and affection

Pink tulips mean caring and affection

White Jasmine flowers can mean many things but for this story I went with: Eternal love, persevering love, and new beginnings

Everyone knows red roses, but I also like to think Lockwood’s bouquet had thornless red roses because they mean love at first sight

Yes he one upped the reader even without knowing what all the flowers mean because he’s a competitive little freak (affectionate) and I love him

This series has been very dear to me, and I am especially thankful to @tangledinlove <3 Thank you for your kind reblogs, I hope you know I read them and always look forward to seeing how you find each part in the series even if I don’t respond to them <33333

Also @milesmorals asked me to tag her too!!

[lemotmo]

Let's have a good day!

Q. Oh my god it was Ryan's idea! They're liking edits (which Tim has now also mentioned!) They're letting Ryan admit he's behind the mustache. The "insiders" real identity was discovered, as if we didn't all know. This is a good day so far. Thank god because it's way too quiet for a show that premieres in 3 weeks 😳

A. I love that it was Ryan's idea. I love it. He just walked in with it and shot his shot and they told him he could keep it. That's baller. I read that someone guessed that he probably did it to mess with Oliver, if Buddie is in fact a go, because Oliver said last season that when you close your eyes lips are lips. Given the nature of their relationship that's not that hard to believe, and it would be hilarious if that's why he did it. I know Ryan said he was looking like a true firefighter but it looks really gay. He pulls it off incredibly well but I don't think anyone's first thought when they saw it was 'oh my god he looks like such a manly firefighter'. I say that as a fan of the stache, lol. As far as the edits go Oliver and Ryan already admitted that they send things to one another so the both of them being demons is not a surprise. Jennifer reposting it at almost the same time however was a surprise, so I wonder if they were filming together last night or if Oliver or Ryan just sent it in the group chat and they all decided to post it together. Either way it was a nice little surprise. Tim telling people that the 3 of them sent it to him as well was hilarious.

The promo thing is now officially odd. The fact that we don't even have a trailer yet is bizarre. I was talking with a colleague this morning who is also a fan of the show, and we both kind of think something fairly significant must happen in the first 3 episodes and they're just being overly cautious about accidental spoilers. So even if we do get a trailer I wouldn't expect much actual content. They are keeping their cards very close right now. I also don't think the Family Feud episode is going to spoil anything. Although I am still curious to see what charity they're playing for because that could still be interesting. Whatever the reason for the secrecy though they don't seem to be worried about any lack of promos. So they must feel pretty confident that whatever they're hiding won't need a ton of promotion to gain traction. There are very few things I can think of that they wouldn't need to help promote, lol. I guess we shall see.

Lastly absolutely no one should be surprised to find out who their 'insider' really was. We all knew it was nonsense. Tired, boring, completely predictable, and easily disproven nonsense. *Sigh*

Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated.

I agree with this. Ali and I talked a little about this topic earlier and yeah, they are keeping such a close lid on everything that they have to be sitting on something major. And that something major doesn't need any extra promotion, like Ali said.

I'm so curious what they have in store for us. I expect a trailer that will tell us exactly nothing. 😂

As for the moustache? Not going to lie. I hope he keeps it for the entire season. The man looks so good with it.🥸

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[talks-with-the-void]

I tried to tag the commenter but the blog doesn't show up, so I can't. TW: this post does contain what could be interpreted as reality checking and although I don't mean any harm, this could potentially be triggering!

But anyway, this requieres a longer answer - I'm gonna give them the benefit of the doubt and just assume they just don't know better, which is fine, we're all here to learn. So please don't read an attack into this! I also do not experience delusions myself and certaimly don't want to speak over those who do. I am doing my best to be respectful and not accidentally spread misinformation, but if I mess up, please let me know!

Firstly, "delusion" is not a bad word. a delusion isn't "somethign stupid someone believes in, what the fuck is wromg with them", it's a (symptom of) a serious mental illness, often seen in schizophrenia and psychosis. it's an unshakable belief that contradicts Reality (= in this post, Reality with a capital R refers to the reality that is generally shared by all people and can be seen and experinced by everyone - aside from those who may have delusions). "touching grass" won't do anything to help that, it is reality for them and absolutely nothing and nobody can change that. at worst, telling them they're wrong and should just "touch grass" will make them suffer even more.

so, yes, you could say that all p-shifters experince delusions, because nobody but them can see their transformations. at least, there hasn't been any proof at all until today and their beliefs absolutely clash with science and Reality. but here's the thing: there is a condition called clinical lycanthropy or clinical zoanthropy, which describes exactly the experience of believing you can, have turned or will turn into an animal. there are quite a few of them here on tumblr, having their own community which also often kinda overlaps with alterhuman spaces. those people are not p-shifters! p-shifter is not a medical term or anything, instead it is a term that has evolved here on the internet and has a history of cult-like behaviour, lots of manipulation, malicious people, etc. the "original" p-shifters also oftentimes had a lot of ableistic opinions, openly shitting on clinical zoanthropes, using delusional as an insult, etc. the term p-shifter was never ever meant to describe the experience of clinical zoanthropy. it was invented to create the feeling of belonging to an elite group, to put yourself over others. it's even questionable if the majority of p-shifters actually believes they could transform or if they just wanted power over others, promising them to teach them how to turn, knowing all to well it can't work.

nowadays, some clinical zoanthropes try to "reclaim" the term p-shifter - which is a problem, because you can't just take a term that was NEVER meant to describe your experinces and also never used as a slur against you. a different example in alterhuman context would e the word kinnie - originally made by trolls and to shit on otherkin, it always directly addressed otherkin, even if in a deregatory way. it was meant to be used for otherkin. p-shifter was never meant to be used for delusional people. p-shifter will always have its ties to manipulation and cults, it will always be a harmful term.

I don't and will never allow people who call themselves p-shifters on my blog, because of the terms roots.

there is nothing wrong with truly believing you can transforn into an animal, even tho it contrdicts Reality. there is absolutely nothing wrong with being delusional (as in, it doesn't make you a bad person, of course it almost always comes with suffering). there however IS something wrong with proudly using a term that was NEVER meant for you, never described your experiences and instead has a history of manipulation and online-cults. if you proudly call yourself p-shifter and just basically decide to ignore that history, I don't trust you.

THIS is what my post was about, not about the fact that some people are delusional.

[sexybabystevie]

Hi! I just saw you reply the Steve comparing hands as flirting and I had to also then check that your requests are open, they are 😂 so could I please request that one? I had a boy flirt with me in grade 7 by doing that with shoes/feet (mind you I was oblivious 😂) and that reminded me of it and I had a giggle.

A/n: Okay so first of all, thank you for this request! It's SO cute, and I planned on this being maybe 1k, but it turned into a bigger fic, which I'm not mad about lol. This is seriously one of the softest things I have EVER written and I adore it. Like seriously, this has my heartbeat skipping down sixteenth avenue type shit 😭 Anyway, enjoy some soft Stevie, Family-Video-loserboy-with-a -crush style!

Small Hands, Big Heart

Steve Harrington x Reader

Tags and Warnings: No Warnings, Pure Fluff, Soft!Steve Harrington, Semi-Shy!Reader, Flirting, Steve Harrington is a Major Dork, Family Video!Steve Harrington, Crushes, Hand Holding, Tooth-Rottening Fluff.

Word Count: 3581

Summary: Steve Harrington has a massive crush on you, but his recent lack of luck in the romantic sense has him stuck on how to make a move. Plus, something about you makes him nervous in a way he's never been – in a way he likes.

His simplest solution? Flirting via the old 'comparing hand sizes' method.

Steve Harrington Masterlist

There’s an air about you – something laid back and relaxed, comfortable and familiar – that strikes Steve Harrington every time you walk into Family Video. Hair perfectly styled even on the days when you’re in sweatpants, gliding around the store like some kind of celebrity on the red carpet, he can practically see the golden, glittering stars surrounding your body like an angelic halo. You don’t even notice though, he can always tell in the way that you smile at him as you shyly ask if there’s a copy of Pretty in Pink available, like you might somehow be imposing upon him by asking him to do his job. Like he wouldn’t set his entire workplace on fire for you if you batted your pretty eyelashes and asked him to.

Okay, yeah, he’s in deep. Deeper than he should be for some enchanting stranger, that’s for sure.

But you’re cool. Yeah, that’s it, cool, and what’s he supposed to do? Just not think about slipping a paper with his number inside the case of the latest movie you decide to rent? Not have Robin point out how he gets lost in romantic fantasies while staring at you, completely forgetting to tend to the other customers in the store? As if.

No, Steve thinks he’s not about to let this go, even if it means eventually messing things up by accidentally saying his favorite genre of movies is boobies – massive apology to Rachel Moore for that disaster, although at least Robin found new reason to start up another You Rule, You Suck chart on one of the fancy sticky notes embellished with the Family Video logo. Yeah, that was great.

So far, he’s losing zero to twelve, a score that’s humiliatingly worse than anything he ever achieved – or didn’t achieve – working at Scoops Ahoy, and he doesn’t even have to wear that stupid hat anymore. His self-proclaimed best quality is flawless and in full view of anyone around, a little messier than his high school days but stylistically so, and yet he still can’t work the charm like he could just a few years ago. If it wasn’t the ridiculous sailor uniform or the hat that covered up his hair, then did he just lack game entirely?

No, absolutely not. He still had it, and he was going to prove it. He would find some way to talk to you – really talk to you, not just the small conversation he’d make while searching your name into the computer system to charge your account – and he would pull it off. He was going to get a perfect grade from Miss Professor Robin, doctorate in the study of loser and non-loser romantic interactions. So much so that she would have to give him a million You Rule tally marks, something totally achievable and normal to want, he was certain.

Were you out of his league? Absolutely. Did that deter his persistence? Not at all.

He was going to do this, even if it turned out to be a dumpster fire. Even if his hair wasn’t looking exactly the way he wanted it to be. Even if Robin was jokingly preying on his downfall in that long-time-best-friend way that she did. Even if the doorbell was ringing right now to signal your superstar arrival, and even if you were flashing him a smile that literally made him forget how to breathe for approximately forty-seven seconds.

Shit.

Steve’s leaning forward, his elbows plastered to the countertop, almost falling over it because he’s so glued to watching you. You give him a little wave that nearly sends him toppling backwards into the floor – now that he thinks of it, are you sure you aren’t a god with some kind of wind powers? You certainly are pretty enough to be one – before beelining straight to the romcom section. Like usual. He can’t help but smile to himself, definitely the lovesick puppy look Robin said he had mastered recently.

As you peruse the movies in stock, his mind does its typical wandering. Romantic-comedy seemed to be your favorite movie genre, but what was your favorite type of music? Favorite food, favorite color? Were you more into pop music, sweet vanilla cupcakes, and various shades of lilac, or did you prefer the darker hues of colors, savory cheeseburgers, and something a little more lyrically intense? Or were you a mix of both, maybe even neither?

Everything about you was addictively unknown; you were a package of silly little mysteries he wanted to unwrap bit by bit, saving the more intimate and personal details for later. The best for last, right? Thinking of the possibilities was driving him wild, though, because how could he not know your all-time favorite song yet? And, god forbid, your favorite ice cream flavor? Now that was something he was skilled in – he’d probably never forget the sweet but slightly nutty scent of pistachio ice cream ever in his lifetime – and maybe he could show you that. Would it impress you if he let you try the mean banana split he could conjure up? It was good enough to be the primary thing Erica Sinclair ever ordered from the ice cream parlor, even demanding that Steve be the one to make it himself instead of the other workers. Poor Robin – or maybe lucky Robin, knowing the sass of the young girl all too well. Yeah, lucky Robin, for sure.

But maybe Steve could be lucky too. He knew the moves other guys his age made, flirtatious comments that were borderline crude – and yeah, okay, he admits he has occasional conversations about boobies – but he doesn’t want to play that kind of game with you. He doesn’t want to be like all the other guys, expendable and almost disrespectful in his mannerisms and language; no, he wants to treat you right. He wants to be good to you, to treat you with all the care and love and wonder of a da Vinci painting, and if he’s finally lucky then maybe you’ll let him, because, really, what did the Mona Lisa even have on someone as beautiful as you, anyway?

Robin’s elbow crashes into Steve’s side a little too forcefully, which she seems to be aware of since she gives him a slightly serious, apologetic grimace before her eyes become knowing in that way that he sometimes is afraid of. Her head jerks to the leftt and she leans in to whisper, “Incoming, ten o’clock. Shoot your shot, dingus!”

It takes him too much time to realize that she means ten o’clock as in the direction the little hand of a clock makes, though, and he doesn’t have time to prepare his lines before you’re at the counter with a VHS tape between your fingers. He doesn’t even have time to properly wipe away his token furrowed brows of confusion, so when he turns to look at you, there’s a moment where his face is half grimace, half giant smile. Your eyes narrow a bit, undeniably trying to understand what that face is about, and Steve internally face palms. Great start, Harrington, you probably look like a total nutjob.

He quickly shakes himself out of it and relaxes his face into a kind smile, leaning off of the counter to make room for you to slide your movie on top of it. You do, but he’s too busy staring into your eyes – has he ever seen eyes as magnetic, as charming as yours? – to really notice.

“Hey,” he says, just like he’s talking to any other pleasant customer, except his voice is softer, more gentle. “How are you doing?” Unlike with any other customer, he genuinely wants to know the answer.

The way your eyes light up as he asks… he didn’t possibly think he could find them more adorable. If asking about your day did that, then how would you react to him actually making moves?

“Good,” you reply, tone matching the care in his. You then glance around the store briefly, giving Steve the chance to admire the soft curve of your jawline. He pretends not to have been staring when your gaze falls back onto him. “You must be pretty bored today. This place is empty besides me.”

Was there a hint of something teasing in that last remark of yours, or is Steve imagining things?

Either way, it’s only now that he realizes you’re right – they haven’t really had any other customers. Not very typical for a Tuesday night, but he couldn’t care less, really. Not when you’re here.

“Don’t worry. You’re my favorite, anyway,” he says, heart thudding with an annoying intensity. He resists the urge to wink at you – god, he really is a loser, isn’t he? – and his hand moves to rake across his head, fingers nervously tangling in his brown hair.

You don’t answer, eyes wide with a hint of surprise. Your smile grows more bashful, something that makes Steve’s mouth grow dry, and you look down, a few strands of your own hair moving to cover your eyes. The sight of you – so shy and cute – standing right in front of him, only separated by a mere old countertop, sends his mind reeling. So close, but there’s an island between you – literally.

Seeming to overcome your brief embarrassment, you look back at Steve and smile again, this time a hint of your teeth showing behind the tiniest gap between your lips. Noticing all the small details, wondering what other little things he could find out and memorize about you, he almost feels like he’s drowning in emotion.

Get it together, dude! he thinks to himself, the voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Robin.

He’s snapped out of it by your hand meekly pushing the tape further up the counter, undoubtedly trying to get him to do his actual job instead of being ridiculously distracted by you.

Like he could help it, though; you were practically his dream. Hell, he hoped that he had dreams of you each night, that he could spend time with you even if he managed to screw it up in reality. Dreams were less intimidating, despite the fact that he had no control in them. Reality was where he held the cards, where he could choose what to say and do. Somehow, that thought’s empowering enough to bring him back down to earth.

Steve takes one look at the movie you’ve chosen, though, and laughs to himself as he reads the title. Instead of staying in his mind this time, he can’t help but speak his thoughts aloud.

“Christine, huh?” He can’t fight the amused little smirk that takes over his face even if he wants to. “That’s quite a shift from your usual, isn’t it?”

You just give him a simple shrug, unapologetic aside from the way you cheekily bite the inside of your lip. Now there’s definitely a hint of that same playfulness that he thought he saw earlier, and Steve could scream out in joy as he notices that gleam in your eye. Maybe he really didn’t lose all his charm.

“Thought I might switch it up a bit, you know?”

Steve nods and turns to the giant computer next to him, tape in one hand as his other slowly and loudly types away at the clunky keyboard. He finds Christine in the film catalog and quickly flips over the tape to type in the exact product number before his deep brown eyes glance back at you. It’s like you’re a golden statue shimmering in the sun, the only neon sign in a pitch-black forest. His gaze just naturally gravitates towards you, not that he’d ever complain about it.

“You didn’t strike me as the type for Stephen King,” Steve remarks, unable to keep his true thoughts to himself.

“Is that a bad thing?” You let out a soft giggle, head tilting in a way that reminds Steve of a parrot learning how to speak. Have you been waiting to learn more about him like he has about you? You did always seem to stop by Family Video when he was on shift, making sure to have small conversations with him about your movie choices while he added the rented tape to your account, making sure that you always were in his line to be checked out, even if there were lots of other customers…

“Oh no, not at all. It was just a little surprising,” he says, shaking his head and letting out his own small chuckle. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says, “I’m the kinda guy who likes surprises.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t like the more world-ending, Upside-Down-related surprises that seem to haunt him and his unusual friend group. No, that’s more of a fourth or fifth date kind of thing to bring up.

Steve relishes the more prominent curl of your lips – oh god, don’t look at them, don’t think about how soft they would be, don’t do it! – and the way it makes you look a bit smug as you say, “Noted.”

He could think of millions of ways for that to come back into play, each one making his chest swell in an almost delightful way, but instead he continues adding Christine to your Family Video account. He finally gets to the webpage where he has to type in the customer’s name, and you must be familiar with the process because you open your mouth, the first syllable of your name escaping your lips, before Steve cuts you off. He says your name before you can, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of himself for the way your mouth parted in shock.

A little cockily, he says your name again as he types it. “I remembered.”

You’re only left gaping for a few moments, your expression then changing into a smile that’s even brighter than any from before, if that’s even possible. Looking at you out of the corner of his eye as the computer processes your name, Steve Harrington feels like he’s hit the jackpot.

A part of him can’t believe that you’d be so stunned at him remembering you. As if he didn’t spend far too much time thinking about you, as if he didn’t somehow end up telling everyone around him about you despite barely knowing you. As if everyone else who knew him didn’t know he was utterly infatuated and bewitched by you and your pretty little smile.

The computer finally processes the movie with a ding! and Steve reaches under the counter for a plastic bag. He takes some time packing the tape, a tiny thread of dread sewn into his heart because, while he’d certainly done a little bit of vague flirting, he still hadn’t made his real move yet, and he was running out of time. His fingers fumble with the handles of the bag as he racks his mind for anything that can help him – any line or gesture that might seal the deal.

It’s when he reaches out to pass you the plastic bag, and it’s when your knuckles brush against his that he gets a last-minute idea. With no time left to lose, he goes for it.

“Woah, you have really small hands!” he exclaims, and he’s not wrong, which is part of why it works. The other part, unbeknownst to him at the moment, is that you’ve got just as much of a silly crush on him as he has on you. “Here–” he raises one of his hands, palm facing you, “–put yours against mine and you’ll see what I mean.”

You search Steve’s eyes for a minute, a glimpse of a knowing smile on your lips, and he doesn’t even have to worry about you disagreeing or getting upset. He can just tell that you’re catching on, and that you may even be up to something when you lift your hand and press it to his.

Skin meets skin, and Steve feels dizzy. Nothing could have prepared him for how soft, how warm, it feels to have his palm against yours. It’s barely anything, an action that could be casual or friendly with anyone else, but it still makes his fingertips tingle.

He’s never felt like this with anyone else, never been quite this flustered at such a simple movement before. Not with any of the girls he knew or messed around with in high school, not with anyone else that he had few fleeting moments with working at Scoops Ahoy or Family Video. Not even with Nancy Wheeler.

He was always the cool one, always unbothered and rarely found himself blushing, never ever swooning. But here he was, feeling like he could fly over the moon because your palms were flush against each other, and despite everything, the anxiety and nerves were welcome. He likes the butterflies that gather in his stomach, that being around you puts him a little on edge, but in the best possible way.

If this is what it feels like to have a genuine, no-bullshit-attached crush on someone, he thinks that maybe he can get used to it.

He was right too; your hands are small. With the heels of your palms level with one another, your fingertips end where his finger pads begin. It’s cute, only making Steve’s heart race even faster – and if he really thinks about it, he can feel the vague vibration of your heartbeat in your thumb. He doesn’t even have to wonder if it’s pumping far too quickly like his own, he already knows it is.

His gaze moves from your hands together to your face, flickering to try and see what expression will be on that gorgeous face of yours. It’s a timid, happy smile and eyes that are staring right back at him, soft and doelike. The expression is so gentle, so special, that it makes his breath catch in his throat. He silently hopes that he’s the only one you’ve ever looked at like that.

“Told you,” he says quietly, to match the intimacy of the moment. “Small hands, but… they’re cute.”

Seemingly an instant after he says that, you shift your hand around and position your fingers between his. Before he can ask any questions or really even process it, you intertwine your fingers to hold his hand.

Luckily his body responds before his brain does, curling his own fingers and moving his thumb to rest on top of yours. Heat rises to his cheeks as he stares, and he can feel the dopey grin hopping onto his face before it’s fully there.

You giggle again, a bit louder this time, and for once his goofiness isn’t something he wants to internally chastise himself for. You actually think it’s cute, maybe even silly. He can be cute and silly for you, if that’s what you want.

Something in your eyes tells him that it is exactly what you want.

“You know,” you start, pursing your lips for a split second. “I’m used to watching all these fluffy, silly romance movies.”

You pause, eyebrows slightly risen as you wait for him to catch on to what you’re implying. He doesn’t, though; you can blame his heightened state of absence on the warmth of your skin. He’s far too caught up in that, in the fact that maybe he still does have game – thank god – to process anything you’re trying to hint towards.

The trance he’s in is visible – eyes spaced out on your face, his lips left parted so he can breathe out of his mouth slowly, and his hand gripping yours with more strength than before, like maybe you’re too good to be true and will disappear if he blinks. It’s all too much and you laugh – a real, genuine, hearty laugh that Steve immediately loves with every ounce of his heart. He’s certain that your laugh could cure anything that ails him.

“What I mean is,” you start again, taking a deep breath to recover from your short bout of joy. “I might get scared watching a horror movie.” Your eyes focus on his, giving him a little wink as you continue. “I might need someone there to keep me safe, Steve.”

The gears click in his brain, everything falling into place, and he becomes the embodiment of smugness with that signature smirk of his.

With a chuckle, he shakes his head and replies. “Well, what kind of guy would I be if I denied you that?”

The smirk fades down into a heartfelt smile, and his voice softens as his hand gives yours a brief squeeze. He can tease, but he also wants to make sure that he is being serious. “I’d love to.”

Half an hour later, after a little more conversation, you leave Family Video with a movie, a Family Video sticky note with Steve Harrington’s phone number on it in swoopy penmanship, and a promise to meet at his house tonight for a movie date.

Robin makes a reappearance from the back room, smirk on her face – Steve doesn't even have to ask her if she was watching the whole scene on the grainy security cameras, he knows her too well to already know that she was – as she marks a line and writes ‘You did it!’ under the You Rule portion of her notepad in congratulations. “Maybe you can be pretty lucky sometimes, Harrington.”

Steve can’t help but agree.

[stuff-i-found-while-crying]

A Stage of fire and dreams (3)

inspired by @gwandas (let me know if you dont like to be tagged) and they post: modern Neris AU where Eris is a trust fund asshole at Harvard Law, Nesta is a professional ballerina with the Boston Ballet

we have already three parts... never thought I would write so far. but I have plans now! and a few ore parts could be written (if the stars aline)

In this Part Nesta takes the main role and we finally see her side of the whole deal.

WARNINGS: diet (I hate it myself... but ballerinas and food are a story as old as time)

Also! English is my second language and I might accidentally mess it up.... just believe that my writing would be better in German and we can be friends

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO! PLEASE ENJOY THE SHOW

main role: Nesta x Eris

part 1 - Giselle I part 2 - red shoes

Chapter three - Cinderella

Nesta was hungry.

But the food her mother had made tasted like paper and ash. For a second she contemplated to start a fight about it. Instead she kept on eating, forcing down her anger that was too big to fit in the kitchen and the tiny house.

"Do you want some of my Pasta?", Elain offered her.

"No", Nesta said. "I am on a new diet."

"Oh, i was wondering why mom was cooking."

Feyre sat down next to Nesta on the too small kitchen table. Everything in their home was too small. At least too small to accomodate a family of five. But it was the biggest they could afford.

Nesta looked at her youngest sister, looking for someone to blame for all her problems. All she found was a leather Jacket that Feyre wore like armour.

"Take of my jacket", Nesta demanded.

"You never wear it."

"It was a gift."

"You hate Cassian."

Nesta wanted to throw her plate at Feyre. "It was still a gift."

Unimpressed Feyre just starred at her. "You never share."

At least not the things Feyre wanted for herself. They had to share a bathroom, a car, and even a laptop. What else did she want?

"Can´t you ask your rich boyfriend for a jacket?", Nesta forced more food down. She would give anything for a little spice right now.

"He is not my boyfriend! Rhys is my boss."

Elain bit her lip and tried to signal to Nesta to stop talking. But she was hungry. And her little sister was not.

"Boss or sugar daddy? He only offered you the internship because he wants you and you know it."

At that Feyre lost it. "Shut up! He offered because he liked my designs! Not that you would now anything about that. You have been to busy hating us all."

"She does not", Elain tried to safe the situation. But Feyre was already standing up. Out of the pocket of the jacket she pulled a small business card.

"Actually I wanted to ask you about this. But you just had to be a bitch."

"Feyre!"

Nesta did not care. She looked at th card that Feyre slammed on the table. Eris Vanserra. The memory of his golden gaze and lazy smile made her blood boil.

"Maybe you are the one with a sugar daddy."

"What is that talk I hear?", their mother breezed into the kitchen and all three sisters straightened up. "Nesta, eat. You are leaving for rehearsals soon."

"Where did you find this", Nesta asked. Her eyes boring down into Feyre. But her sister had always been good at playing innocent.

"I was looking for something."

"In my purse?"

"Not like you have much to hide anyway."

Exept this card. Of course Feyre had found it and made a big show out of it. Nesta might be the ballerina but Feyre was the drama queen.

Besides their mother. Who was snatching the card from the table.

"Eris Vanserra", she read. Then she remembered. "Why do you have his card? Have you called him? Nesta, tell me you have called him."

"I did not."

"You will do so immediatly."

Elain was pushing her pasta around on her plate. "Who is Eris?"

"Yes Nesta, who is Eris? And why do you have a business card of a laywer in your purse?"

"For Finance and Business", Nesta rolled her eyes.

"He is a laywer?", her mother grabbed her painfully by the shoulders. "Girl, tell me he asked you out."

Nesta wanted to bite her. Anything to get the pain away from her shoulder. 

"He just gave me his card", she said and crossed her arms.

"Call him", her mother said. The card was pushed back into her hands. "And agree to anything he wants. Do you hear me? This man can give your career the boost it needs. His family can open doors for you. So I dont care what he wants from you, you will give it to him."

She could feel the pitying looks of her sisters.

"Dont you have a cake to bake", she asked Elain. "And a boss to suck up to?" was aimed at Feyre.

Her youngest sister just shook her head and left. But Elain did not move. "I was planning on meeting Grayson today."

"Go", her mother waved with her hand. "Do what you want. If you meet him in the bakery on the corner bring your father something back."

Pure joy was on Elains face as she practically jumped up.

That left Nesta alone with her mother and a business card.

Slowly she also got up. "I will call him from my room."

Without another look back she walked up the stairs and down the small hallway and into her bedroom. It was just big enough for a bed and a warddrobe. Heavy green courtains next to the window were the only luxury. She loved the green and the thickness that made sure the sun would not disturbe her in the morning.

With a deep breath she took out her phone and dialed the number on the card.

He picked up after the third ring.

"Eris Vanserra." His voice was smoother over the phone.

Nesta started to walk up and down. "Here is Nesta Archeron, from the Ballet. You told me to call you."

"And you did", he said. She could hear the smile. "I was beginning to worry you lost my card."

"I did."

"Ouch."

"But luckily for you my sister found it."

"Tell her I am forever greatful."

She couldnt help but smile a little. Her gaze wandered out the window and to the blue sky. Did he also look up at the sky right now?

"Well, Nesta", he said her name like he was trying a pastry. "Have you decided what you are calling me for?"

"Not yet", she said softly. Her stomach pulled together in hunger. But for what she wasnt sure anymore.

"Maybe i can pick you up for dinner and we can decide together?"

Suddenly she could hear her mothers voice in her head. Agree to anything. 

She hated herself. 

She hated her mother. 

She hated her next word.

"You can pick me up at six. I text you the adress."

---

part 4 - coming soonish? (we do have to get at least one date!)

[aluria-sevhex]

the power of friendship didn't work :(

[Hi, stardust! If you wanna read all of her posts as she plays through ISAT, they can all be accessed in this masterpost and are all tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)

This particular post starts in the middle of a play session and conversation directly following the last one, so it might be a good idea to have read that one first!]

notes:

-hm? the stars? yeah what *is* Sif's deal with them. so help me if the kid is right and they came from the sky-

-""how do you deal with it?" (you don't.)"

-hehe Sif is thinking of a loophole

-D: i messed up with Bonnie

-guess i'll talk to Loop

-Bonnie's favorites are rice and pineapples... and the third thing isn't palmiers... so the third thing has to be the samosas

-oh my god. Sif asked if Loop is jealous of his allies, and Loop was like "like what? like i'm your partner waiting for you to come home and then when you do all you can do is talk about hoe much fun you had with your friends?"

BUDDY. YOU'RE TELLING ON YOURSELF.

-"forget i said that. it was an awful metaphor." mmhmm. hmmmmmmmm

-oh? if they're not jealous of the party... are they jealous of Sif?

-gonna loop to help Bonnie

-huh. if i zone out the skill won't be as useful. i won't then

-"Isabeau looks nicer, you think" hehe

-:o the second time, Siffrin thinks the belief should change

-"but changing the script is scary" oof

-gonna have to find a craftonomy book

-"also, why am i thinking about candles right now?" strange. oh yeah it *was* in one of the dorm rooms

-i accidentally zoned out for Odile's thing this time ;_;

-FUCK I DON'T KNOW THE TYPE OF SAMOSAS.

WAIT. BONNIES PROFILE.

"Weak to: Cheese

Resists: Veggies"

...FUCK I MESSED UP

-talking to Isa. "you will always make the joke. you have to keep some sort of routine to stay sane, and if always making the joke is how, so be it." funny but also D:

-??? Sif and Loop just had a thing about how quiet Sif is...

-time to loop forward to see what the samosas' deal is

-looped to Floor 3. gonna find a craftonomy book

-HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE POWER OF CRAFT BREAK A

-oh THAT'S where a chain for the pendant is!!!

-hm. apparently Body Craft is illegal in Ka Bue, but if you know where to look...

-in the bathroom again. eavesdropping.

-"in some countries we would be expected to talk about the men in our lives and nothing else. would you like to do that" "we've only got the one man, madame, and ew" LOL

-oh my god. they're talking about Isabeau confessing.

-love how Odile and Bonnie have figured out that Isa has a crush on Siffrin but Sif and Mira are oblivious. truly an aspec mood

-WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT WHY DID A SIFFRIN SPRITE APPEAR I JUST GOT A FUCKING ACHIEVEMENT FOR IT HUH???

-oh did i completely misinterpret that part of Bonnie's profile

-looping back

-time to help everybody again

-"(say the line, Siffrin)"

-"coming to a country she has no ties to, but wanting to create those ties herself. it feels almost revolutionary."

"you're jealous." oh?

-...what if Siffrin is from the country that disappeared. it makes sense with all the weird shit, and would also explain why they don't remember much of it

-time to help Bonnie!

-also i am once again wondering what the deal is with Siffrin and stars. 'stars' is in the game's title and they clearly have some sort of importance... fuck it speculation time. what if Loop and Siffrin are both from the same place (possibly the disappearing country) that had a lot of ties to the star or the sky or something, and Loop was in a time loop or something st some point for some reason, maybe to fulfill a purpose, failed, and is now trying to help Siffrin with whatever the purpose of Siffrin's time loop is

-anyway. Bonnie time!

-:0 Bonnie wants me to teach them how to fight

-awwwwwwww this is so fucking precious

-Sif. did you seriously fucking forget thst you don't like being touched? or are you that oblivious.

-...OH. awwww :( they do like it but he's not used to it...

-:0 BONNIE'S SISTER NAME REVEALED (Nille/Pétronille)

-oh wow Nille is just like me fr fr (i don't like being unexpected touched, and there's been times where it ended in me screaming too)

i am not able to suplex people tho lol

-feel like Siffrin's memory issues are either magic bullshit or. trauma? or. magic bullshit AND trauma? idk but this bitch is not mentally healthy

-lol??? Bonnie poked Sif XD

-LMAO SIF FUCKING TRIPPED- wait. whh does that have ominous audio

-OH? Sif lost their eye protecting Bonnie?

-i don't think Bonnie's apparent guilt is JUST about Siffrin, it's gotta be at least a little about Nille

-AWWWWWWWW BONNIE HUGGED SIFFRIN

-time to help Isabeau!

-hold on gonna talk to Loop first

-lol Sif asked if Loop and the King are friends

-ok. listen Siffrin. what the FUCK do you mean by "it's complicated" how does one have a complicated relationship with the fucking stars???

-ok NOW i'm helping Isa

-...oh my god. Isabeau's name. is a pun. (－‸ლ)

-:0 they're staring at the sky together

-hmmmm why do you wanna change the subject, Sif?

-also it's so sweet that Isabeau noticed the little things :]

-shy nerd Isa does not compute

-PLEASE ISA CONFESS ALREADY THIS IS PAINFUL

-Aaaajdjkaskdljdjdjejfjghtjgjgjgjfn

-ToT THE TIMELINE IS *DETERMINED* TO MAKE SURE THAT ISA NEVER FUCKING CONFESSES

-hehe Bonnie, Odile, and Mirabelle arrived

-gonna go thru the entire House in one loop >:)

-"You have ENOUGH of all those STUPID SADNESSES standing in your BLINDING WAY." Sif is getting SICK of the loops.

-...uh-oh. everybody's scared? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT LOOP(?)

-kinda like when Bonnie was shown to have been listening in and it culminated in them saying they hate Siffrin over and over before things rewound slightly

-"don't kill it in one strike, or they'll notice"

-...i can make it so Sadnesses run... shouldn't i buff my friends' levels tho? so they have all their skills.

-I GOT THE SHARPENING STONE

-fuck. Sif almost forgot to stop Isabeau from running into the Tears

-Sif is now thinking about the difference between Tears and being frozen in battle and nearly panicking. i think this game should be renamed Anxiety Simulator 2023

-if i had a nickel for every RPG i liked where the main character is depicted in monochrome and has severe mental health issues and is in some sort of cycle, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

-Frin once again said nya and is sick of it

-Siffrin's accumulated stats + the stat boosts from the hangout memories make the group *terrifyingly efficient*. i made it so the Sadnesses are scared of me but i hunt them down anyway just to get those levels for the skills. i am attaining godlike power by the standards of this place and it is horrifying

-every time i get a notification that Siffrin's leveled up i get kinda scared...

-CRAFTONOMY BOOK FOUND! TIME CRAFT CRASH COURSE!

-O_O CRAFTING TIME WAS HYPOTHESIZED TO REQUIRE KILLING THE USER

-tbf Sif's time loop abilities do have weird limits... like absorbing the memories of battles to go forward...

-time to call Loop!

-dang. that was not as helpful.

-hey i found the hand-drawn tarot deck and got a 2 of Swords this time

-Floor 1 boss time

-snack time!

-picking the onigiri this time

-going to log off for the night

-back

-obligatory title screen music appreciation :D

-hehe talked to Bonnie after the snack time

-"which one am I?" "you're my cousin who i see once a year and we have a really really good time!"

-:0 one of the papers in Euphrasie's office is a love letter from Claude

-hm. a spreadsheet with two columns: "Save Vaugarde" and "Other"... the first one has a lot of names, the second doesn't

-:0 the person didn't give their partner the earring yet

-"(You're not sure how many deities you worship.)"

-uh-oh. i think Odile thinks it's sus that i knew about the familytale

-the book on shields "smells weird"

-I THINK ODILE THINKS IT'S SUS THAT I KNEW THE CARROT METHOD

-"you pick up the key, and do not think about how bad you are at your job"

-ohhhhhhhh wait does Odile have two names because she's half-Vaugardian? either that or. a gender thing?

-hehe Bonnie is saying it's stupid to talk about what'll happen if we lose

-awwww everybody promised that we'd protect each other

-"the taste is familiar to you, somehow" yeah cuz i ate fish heads on a previous loop

-"Sif is MY Siffrin nickname, Mira." lol

-ok Odile definitely thinks i'm sus

-...SOME. CRAFTS HAVE A DISTINCT SMELL. I KNEW IT. SUGAR. TIME CRAFT IS SUGAR

-YEAHHHHHHHH TIME TO UNITE THE PENDANT AND CHAIN

-oh :< doesn't work

-oh fuck Sif u ok?

"(Nothing ever goes right in your life.)" (and the text is shaky :( )

-hehehe note earring

-hm. the pottery class has issue 87

-bathroom break!

-Sif feels... happy?

-"even though you're not friends, you're just allies" idk you guys seem like friends to me

-uh. Sif is calling themself stupid again.

-that weird ghost Sif again...

-i am definitely not the only person to compare the paper Tristesse to SOMETHING. but i'm doing it anyway

-hehe level 69 nice

-...did i need to sharpen the Keyknife before opening the door?

-hm where's the last of the bomb components located? the gizmo-gadget is in the room and the secret ingredient is in Claude's hand... but what about the thingy-thing?

-YES SIF YOU ARE ALL FRIENDS

-FOUND FAMILY MY BELOVED

-SNACK TIME

-malanga fritters :D

-"in this moment, you are loved"

-:o Mira is brushing Sif's hair

-hehehe Sif wants Isa to be emotionally vulnerable first

-the King fight music slaps

-no it was not always this easy to fight him

-...who helped the King harness Time Craft

-the universe? ...wishing on a star...?

-Isa can't remember... hm...

-why don't they know what the universe is???

-Mira saw an article that said the King is from elsewhere. maybe he's from the disappearing island? or wherever Sif is from. altho those two places might be the same

-THE TALLNESS. JUST HAPPENED???

-what can he see?

-how is freezing Vaugarde the universe's will?

-...what if. what if the only way to break the time loop is to let the King win. just let him freeze everything and leave Vaugarde.

-"you know it's just a way to make you stop fighting, but..."

-i have once again killed the King

-..."I can never go back home." T_T

-i don't think friendship will fix the loops. currently talking to everybody

-GOD FUCKING DAMMIT ISA WHEN WILL YOU CONFESS LMAO

-*sighs* time to talk to Euphrasie

-I KNEW IT. IT'S THE SAME. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT

-Siffrin calling himself stupid counter just went up :(

-and again...

-...Odile?

-Siffrin's friends are noticing that something's wrong

-...and. i looped again.

-TELL YOUR FRIENDS ABOUT THE TIME LOOP

-i think Sif called themself stupid again... and again

-:0 memory of Family... a way they could catch up?

-:( Siffrin wants Isa to touch him. but it'll never happen.

-talking to Loop

-aw. when asking Loop how to help everyone and then selecting who to help, Siffrin refers to them as family members now :]

-OK I CAN ASK LOOP ABOUT THE WEIRD SIFFRIN SPRITE

-RE: Isabeau trying to confess and Siffrin being oblivious, Loop is probably thinking "wow! this motherfucker is so dense!"

-logging off for now