#there's a stereo downstairs

[dracolizardlars]

just discovered a new fear because it turns out my phone can and does automatically connect to the stereo downstairs when Bluetooth is on. and. the reason I had turned Bluetooth on. was. to watch a goddamn. 18+ rated video. with my Bluetooth headphones. and. my mother is downstairs. I feel like I just had a near death experience

[endlessbittersweetdreams]

I want new downstairs neighbors. Pronto.

Hey, aliens! Beam up my downstairs neighbors and send me some good ones. And if you do take the downstairs neighbors I already have, feel free to play polka music 24/7. I am sure they will love that.

Sorry. They were just working my last nerve tonight. It finally quieted down.

[anakinsdove]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞

pairing: sam monroe x shy!girlygirl!fem!reader

summary: sam can’t seem to get hard, he also can’t stand you, but he needs your help.

c/w: nsfw, fluff, friends to lovers, sam pretends not to like reader but they’re actually friends, handjob, makeout session, overstimulation, unintentional dacryphilia? reader doesn’t know she has that kink, also sam is mean and reader is kinda innocent if not naive.

discord - twitter: anakinsdove

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰 - 𝟮,𝟮𝟱𝟴.

Sam stroked his cock lazily, laying on his messy bed while “Paranoid” from Black Sabbath played from his stereo volume insanely loud, he stared at the ceiling eyes wide open. To say he was frustrated was an understatement, he’s been stroking his cock for the past 45 minutes and he can’t even get hard yet, he doesn’t understand what’s wrong, “fuck!” He yells in frustration, he watched every single porn tape he owned and couldn’t even pop a boner, from time to time he looks beside him to the porn magazine, hes just not focused, not even his imagination can help him… it’s been like this for the past week. Maybe it finally happened, his cock doesn’t work anymore and he’s still a virgin, he’s pathetic.

Weed doesn’t work, porn doesn’t work, imagination doesn’t work and he’s not lucky enough to get action, the only thing worse than not being able to get hard himself is not being able to get hard with another girl, he would rather kill himself. His wrist aches and he cries out in frustration, he’s so needy, and he’s sweating, it’s so unfair…. he doesn’t hear you knocking on his window.

“sam!” you been calling his name for the past two minutes but it felt like an eternity for your antsy little ass, he’ll kill you if you go inside without his permission, you don’t understand what his deal is when not letting people go inside he’s too dramatic you think “sam!” you call again, now you’re starting to get impatient so you decide to open his balcony door and get inside.

Sam cringes at sunlight and cries out “get out!” throwing at you the porn magazine beside his head as he quickly covers himself with the sheets… what the fuck?

“What is this?” you ask curiously as you kneel to pick up the magazine your eyes instantly landing on the woman with big tits “Turn around!” Sam yells furiously, you do as he says and quickly puts on a pair of boxers, when he realizes you’re still flicking through his magazine, he walks over and takes it right out of your hands, you don’t say anything only look up at him with doe eyes… sam looks away.

“Are you ready to go?” You ask with that sweet and calm voice of yours, exactly the opposite of Sam’s “Go where?” He asks annoyed, you never made plans of going anywhere together, “My house, we’re going to watch a movie” sam pretends to think hardly about it, making you think he might have more important things to do, cooler things to do than to watch a movie with you, well he doesn’t. “Fine but I’m picking the movie” you nod and Sam turns around to grab some pants from his floor.

“Let’s go” Sam says like it’s obvious he’s done and you’re just standing there like an idiot, you follow him downstairs and to the front door and this time sam opens the door for you but still pushes you a little to get out faster.

You start walking trying to maintain his peace, and steal glances at him when you can, before he notices it “What?” Sam asks… so he did notice after all “Nothing its just… you’re not wearing makeup” you say “So?” He asks “it’s uncommon” he doesn’t roll his eyes or anything, you might be starting to think you’re friends. 10 minutes later you arrive to your house and this time you open the door for Sam.

“Where’s your mom?” He asks “she’s not home” “cool” Sam knows very well the way to your room, your room is completely different to his, clean bedsheets and freshly made bed, pink wallpaper decorating your walls and what might be the star of your room, your pretty vanity displaying all of your makeup, Sam always looks a little bit interested in your makeup but when he realizes it mostly soft colors and pink, blushes and lip gloss he loses interest just as quick, he thinks the only cool makeup product you own it’s black eyeliner, you grab your favorite disc “six pence none the richer” by six pence none the richer and “Kiss me” starts playing, Sam’s face instantly turns in disgust.

“What?” You ask, “isn’t there anything less awful you could play?” “Huh?” “Limp bizkit or something” “Limp what?” Sam decides to drop the topic due your answer. “Wait here, I’ll make the popcorn” you sprint out of your room and sam wanders through your room, he’s done it a dozen times by now, even knows which one is your underwear drawer, where your diary is… he beats up your plushies and when he’s done he goes across the room and stares at your Chad Michael Murray poster you probably found in a girly magazine and gives it the middle finger.

He can hear you singing downstairs and he rolls his eyes, what’s wrong with her? Sam asks himself, and two minutes later he decides there’s nothing worthy of his time in your room and lays on your bed staring at the ceiling “Here” you say putting the popcorn bowl on his stomach, he didn’t even hear you come upstairs, you sit next to him and squirm trying to get comfortable, Sam quickly looks away when he sees your skirt riding up a little bit “So, what movie are we watching?” You ask excited

Sam smirks

“Sam!” You cry out trying to cover your eyes with the popcorn bowl, of course he picked “Texas Chainsaw massacre” you’ve never watched this movie before and you totally hated it, 40 minutes later into the film.. Sam ignores your plea and his eyes are still focused on the tv, “Sam…” you say weakly with a pout in your face, “Sam can we please watch something else?” Sam sighs and grabs the tv remote to pause the movie. “Why?” “It’s too scary” “You’re such a crybaby” Sam says annoyed “It’s all fake, you know that right?” “It’s still very awful” you say and Sam grabs the popcorn bowl from your arms “sorry” you say apologetically.

“Do you want to go outside?” You ask “No” “What do you want to do?” He doesn’t respond “Sam” you try again “what!?” Sam says annoyed and you look like wounded puppy “what’s wrong? you seem really annoyed today, more than usual” “I’m fine” you sit closer to him, now your thighs are touching and he can smell your dizzying body lotion that smells like cupcakes, he stares at your lips and your cleavage…

“You can talk to me, I won’t judge you” Sam knows you would never do it, you’re too pure to make a joke of any situation that might be hurting him “My dick is broken” he lets out abruptly “what?” “I can’t get hard” Sam confesses “Oh” you don’t really know what to say…. “Why?” “I don’t fucking know” there clearly annoyance in his voice

“Are you going to see a doctor?” “What!? Why the fuck would I go to the doctor” “I dunno” you say confused and mostly to yourself “Are you going to tell your mom?” “You give the worst advices ever, seriously, are you that stupid. I wont tell my fucking mom” now he sounds genuinely angry. “Hey you’re not being nice!” Now it’s your turn to yell at him “I’m not trying to be!” You grab your pillow and hit him in the face with it, hard enough to make him yelp, then he grabs your other pillow and hits you with it, you gasp offended “Hey!” You grab the pillow again and start hitting him repeatedly pushing him on his back and getting on his lap as you keep your assault, you’re practically jumping on his dick as the bed moves and creaks beneath you, “Stop!” Sam yells urgently under you, you keep going and Sam lets out a moan and urgently grabs your hips to keep you still “S-stop! I’m sorry”

You finally stop the assault, your expression changing to confusion when you realize Sam is panting beneath you, “What’s wrong?” You ask, he looks up to you in shock and sits up, you try to get off his laps but his hands hold your hips still “Did I hurt you?” You ask with evident sadness and regret in your voice “I’m hard” Sam confesses breathlessly “But I thought you couldn’t-“ “I couldn’t!” You carefully remove yourself from his lap, his blue eyes stare at the obvious tent in his pants and you do it too, he takes the pillow and covers himself feeling ashamed “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” There’s slight annoyance in his voice “You know what is like trying to jack off soft?” You shake your head “It’s fucking annoying” “But I made you hard isn’t that what you wanted?” He shakes his head “I thought I helped you” you said confused “You could help me if I could kiss you” he says and you look at him shocked “i thought we weren’t friends” “We’re not friends” he says “Are you my boyfriend then?” “What!?” He says shocked “I dunno” you say “L-Look sometimes what you think you know doesn’t necessarily have to do much with reality” you tilt your head to the side “Okay”

You start leaning in and he lens back a little bit, you open your eyes in confusion and quickly closes them when he finally kisses you, his lips are soft, inexperienced just as yours, he moves his lips a little more impatient than yours, he’s uncoordinated, you moan when he grabs your waist roughly with one hand trying to pull you close to him, he’s not gentle, not because he doesn’t want to but because he doesn’t know how to… “Sammy… I want to help you” you say breathlessly… he kisses you again and moves him hands to tug on his pants, also his boxers, his cock is freed and slaps against his stomach… “what do I do?” You ask, so much for helping him “Just w-wrap your hand around it” you wrap your hand around his dick too loose for his liking he groans in annoyance due your unintentional teasing.

Sam wraps his hand around yours instructing you to tighten your wrip, and you do, he guides your hand to stroke him faster “Yesyesyes something like that” Sam says and his eyes screw shut “g-give me your hand” he says breathlessly, you do as he says and he spits in your hand “You can go again” you feel the familiar wetness in your panties as you keep jerking him off, the wetness you feel in you aching pussy that can only be relieved when you grind yourself against your plushies rubing nicely against you clit.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Sam say between moans, “Play with my balls c’mon” you cup them gently in your hand not knowing much about what to do with them.. when you start rolling them between your fingers, they feel nice and heavy on your palm fuzzy skin feeling so delicious against your fingers, his heavy cock in your hand is pulsating, you look at him and see his stomach contracting where his shirt rode up… he can’t help but let out pathetic whines “You sound so pretty Sam” you say and his eyes roll back, he moves his hands up to grip your tits and massage them, unexpectedly he grips them too hard and you make a small “ow” sounds make him grip them more gently Sam thinks he’s in heaven… he might be.

“c-cumming cumming!” he pants “ohh f-fuck!” Sam spams, his eyes roll back and his thighs shake, it’s a sight for sore eyes… white ropes of cum paint your hand and your wrist, you keep moving your wrist to help him ride his orgasm, just like when you keep grinding against your plushies after you cum… but Sam is not used to it “w-wait wait!” Sam writes on the bed trying to get away from your touch, “what?” You ask as your wrist keeps moving up and down still at a really fast peace, his head rolls back and you hear a whimper, his toes curl inside his shoes as he kicks his feet desperately… “ah ah ah!” tears start falling from his eyes wetting his eyelashes as he gasps for air “s-stop” you stop instantly when you hear the word and Sam groans tiredly… what the fuck… you gave him the best orgasm of his life… You “Y/N L/N”

Sam curls into himself panting still… you move to your nightstand to grab a wet wipe, you clean your hand and move him on his back… wiping the cum that landed on his stomach and some on his dick, Sam hisses at the contact of the cold wipe on his dick… “Did you- did you like it?” you ask nervously, Sam opens his eyes and puts his softening cock back in his boxers and tugs his pants up. Sam nodds shyly “T-thank you” You unexpectedly hug him falling on top of him, “I’m glad I could help-“

“Y/N!” You hear your mom call from downstairs shes coming upstairs Sam panics a little “Hey Sam!” Your mom greets Sam and he weakly waves at her “What are you guys doing?” “W-We just finished watching a movie” “Oh Okay” finally your mom leaves to her room.

Unexpectedly sam kisses you again, this time is soft and gentle, not rushed but still passionate, “You’re so pretty” he admits “I thought you didn’t like me” you admit “I do” “I thought we weren’t friends” “We’re not!” Sam says and kisses you again.

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜! 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤?

masterlist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers @i92-93 @sweetparty

[satoruhour]

a/n: not sure if other countries have rubbish chutes but my country does! i have to get out of my house to go to the common floor chute to throw my rubbish so this is just a little drabble based on that + spider-man!gojo :) / tagging @osaemu @jabamin @shotorus @hyomagiri @mysugu ✶

“yes, yes! i’ll take out the trash—” you’re shouting to your mom when you’re called upon again, the third time within ten minutes to take the trash out. through your one-sided airpods (your left one always dies first), you can hear your mom tying the plastic bag and cleaning up at the sink.

it’s always been her bringing it to the chute outside your house; occasionally, you’d help but routine has never really let you do it, so later when you’re awkwardly tucking your phone into your pocket and listening to charlie burg’s voice through the right airpod, you can’t help the grimace that takes over your features at the wetness all over the trash bag.

“oh, it’s just water; stop being dramatic!” your mom chastises whilst on her nightly cup of water, gulping down the beverage before nodding towards the master bedroom, “i’m gonna go to sleep first.”

you hum in a half-hearted response, a little annoyed that you were interrupted from your lazing around but you still manage a soft goodnight when she disappears into the room and the house falls quiet. apart from the background classical music that plays from the stereo in the room and the laughter of the older kids downstairs outside, you’re living in a world of both music and silence, feeling a little disoriented by the one-sided song.

the walk to the outdoor chute is short in your oversized puffer jacket, flip-flops seemingly slapping against the floor in attempts of waking up all your neighbours beside you but thankfully they don’t seem to mind when you walk past their homes. it’s cold, feeling the snow that beats into the open corridors that lead to the rubbish chute. beside it, there’s a ledge that overlooks the other buildings, too.

with one swift step to the foot lever, the chute opens and you’re dumping the trash bag into the dirty, stained metal device and with a listening ear, you grin when you hear the bag travel through the tunnel and reach the bottom with a big plunk!, not really realising the ledge now held something.

or someone.

“h—”

if your slippers didn’t wake the neighbours up, your scream definitely did when spiderman himself hops off the ledge and leaps forward to place his palm over your mouth. it only fuels your desire to scream even more before you remember that your damn boyfriend is the vigilante that the police are looking for and citizens are rooting for more and more and that calms your racing heart just a bit.

but you still give him his due treatment . .

“what!” smack. “the!” smack. “fuck!” smack. “were!” smack. “you!” smack. “thinking?!” smack.

. . even if the widening of his spider-man mask eyes were adorable.

“sorry! sorry, sorry—” spider-man!gojo only continues to apologise but you can tell he’s enjoying it at least a little, hands gripping your biceps to help you to centre yourself. and as you predicted, once your boyfriend pulls off his mask, there’s a shit-eating grin and a cheeky glint in his eyes.

you muster the most unimpressed face you can — “really? i’m starting to think you’re not really sorry,” your mouth twists when you roll your eyes, getting ready to make a show of heading back into your house before he brings you into his arms. even with a hint of faux protest from you, you’re melting into his embrace, grumbling into his chest.

there’s a hint of wetness along his suit that you feel against your body, probably from the snow outside, but mostly you can feel the cold air against your hair and laboured breaths in your ear.

“i am! i missed you . .” he mumbles, suited fingers gripping your body tight against him like you were an apparition, “i just wanted to, uhm—”

it’s rare that you see your boyfriend having such a hard time with words, but it’s a cute sight when he pulls away and stumbles in his sentences and quickly removes the backpack that he’s webbed to the wall outside. there’s a noise of surprise from you as you watch him crawl outside on all fours and rip the backpack, scrambling to remove something from it.

and you’re so caught off-guard — in his hands are a ruined bouquet of flowers and a mixtape he’s put together for you — that you giggle at the state of it and coo at his downcast expression. he’s looking in the bag, outside, anywhere for what might’ve been the culprit to make the flowers turn out that way until he realises he had bought them a tad bit early and had been swinging around with it the whole day.

“aw . . satoru, they’re still pretty!” you take the gift with grateful hands, something you cherish despite his busy schedule of school and fighting villains. “but maybe don’t go on missions when you’ve got fresh flowers in your bag?”

satoru whines at that as he instinctively webs his backpack again, sulking until you’re leaping forward to give him another tight hug. alas, you would’ve preferred the comfort of his familiar hoodie but you can settle for the spandex of his suit as you squeeze him tight, ignoring the cold air that seeps into your bones.

“thank you, thank you ’toru . .” you smile, pulling away slightly before you take in the state of him. you didn’t have much time before, but now you can fully appreciate his white stark hair that matches the snow outside and the blue of his eyes that mirror his suit.

“it’s the thought that counts right?” he asks awkwardly, scratching his head with the hand that clutches his mask.

you burst out laughing, “yes. yes it indeed is,” you smoothen out his hair, but not before you’re forming an idea, “i’ll— i’ll go put these in water and see if i can salvage them. you, stay here.”

with one peck to his cheek, you’re off back to your house but the bouquet of flowers is only left on your bedside table. in your hands are something else, a scarf and beanie that you take back to the area of the rubbish chute.

it’s not a place you deem romantic, but you’d never pass up a surprise visit from your superhero boyfriend. when you get back he’s removing the fallen petals from his bag, interrupting his activity when you place the scarf around his neck.

“here,” you smile, wrapping it around once and tucking in the ends, “it’s cold.”

satoru looks at you like everything good in the world, a bright grin breaking through when your eyes meet his in the midst of your adjusting.

“just so you know, you might not see this scarf ever again, sweetness.”

you laugh, “why? cause it’s got my scent all over it?”

gojo shrugs and gestures, “partially, but also it might fall off while i’m doing big boy things and swingin’ around in the neighbourhood.”

you push his shoulder lightly and joke, “if my scarf touches the city ground, you’re never hearing from me again.”

and all he does is cross his heart and hold out his hand, “i humbly hold your promise to my heart, your royal highness.”

gently you pull him towards you with the scarf ends, careful not to choke him. there, your lips collide with his glossed ones that manage to stay like that despite the cold weather, while your chapped ones only surprise him. but he swallows the shock soon enough, humming into the kiss softly as he wraps his suited arms around you. you’re so warm, puffer jacket and all and his neck is already heating up from the scarf and his flustered state, enough heat to fuel him through the night.

when oxygen becomes scarce you find that you need to pull away, met again with his pretty eyes that soften just by looking at you, but you both know that he needs to go when the notifications on his phone don’t stop. it’s probably his trackers notifying him about the villain, so you help him put on his mask, making sure the eye holes fit exactly where it needs to go and the sewing lines up with the rest of his suit. the beanie goes on last.

“baby— i . . i just needed to come see you before i fight green goblin,” he mumbles, brushing hair from your face and even with the barrier between the both of you, you know he’s smiling under, “some good luck would suffice, don’t ya think?”

“it would. now, go.” you pat his cheek, pulling away reluctantly as he slings his backpack and you suddenly feel cold again. “stay safe, spider-man.”

satoru cannot wait until he’s in your arms again, so he lunges forward and pulls his mask up just to his nose to give you one last kiss and you indulge him; when your eyes open, he’s already on the ledge.

“merry christmas, baby.” you can see the familiar stunning smile and a soft confession before he’s hopping off and you’re running to it to watch him swing away with a loud, lovesick laugh that sounds a little too much like the star student, gojo satoru, but it doesn’t matter when you know you’re the only one who knows his secret.

part two

[hairmetal666]

Eddie who crashes at Steve's after movie night, despite knowing it's a bad idea considering his increasingly out-of-control and hopeless crush. He's supposed to be working on boundaries and expectations, not falling asleep on the couch with his head on the man's shoulder, and waking up being fucking carried upstairs to bed.

The next morning, he plans on making a sneaky exit, but then he hears a stereo playing from somewhere downstairs. He makes his way to the kitchen to find Steve dancing and belting along with I Wanna Dance with Somebody, passionately singing into a spatula.

And so much for Eddie keeping his crush under control, because this? It's the cutest goddamn thing he's seen in his life and he's head over heels.

He can't help walking up to Steve, taking him in his arms, and judging by the way Steve's face lights up, his crush might not be so unrequited after all.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

sleepy mornings with König

(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, mdni, smut, cockwarming (i guess??))

a/n: just some thoughts that have been plaguing me for a while cause i just need smutty domesticity with the big guy...

He’s usually awake before me, being used to get up early, and he doesn’t change that when he is on leave. Most days he just reads, a book on the covers before him, while I sleep in, especially on weekends. Or he looks at the news on his phone. Glasses on the tip of his nose.

On other days he'll wake me up, with my favorite method of being woken up, his head between my legs. It's not like he didn't do that the night before, but he still can't get enough.

“Good morning.”, he mumbles as I stir awake.

Mmh, his sleepy voice. Soft and gravelly. A little deeper than usual. Whispering sweet nothings to me as he eats me out until I come on his tongue.

An orgasm, even before I had my first coffee. What a treat on a Sunday morning. The big guy can't live without the black elixir though, so he just scoops me up and carries me downstairs to the kitchen.

He sets me onto the counter right next to the coffee maker, toying with me, nuzzling his face into my neck, pressing soft kisses onto my face. The marble top under my bare cheeks is hard and cold, and my feet are dangling in front of the cabinet.

His fingers dip into me, and I sigh, relishing the feel of how he stretches me. I slump into his chest, breathing him in. His soft warm scent, the slightest hint of his shower gel, from when we showered the night before.

While we wait for the coffee to be ready, the liquid slowly dripping down into the mugs, his hands are spreading my thighs, his eyes dropping down to my pussy as he pulls down his pants and slides his dick into me, slow and languid. Softly fucking me, hardly moving. I’m still so sleepy, I yawn against his chest, snuggling into him.

He hands me my mug, while grabbing his and grabbing my ass to lift my off the counter with one arm. Carrying me to the living room, his dick inside me, pressing into that sensitive spot inside me with every step he takes.

Sitting down on the couch, relaxing into the soft cushions and I slump against him, careful not to spill my coffee. He’s buried deep in my pussy. Lazily fucking up into me whenever he feels like it.

He takes a sip from his cup, a satisfied sigh dropping from his lips, while his other hand strokes over my back, still barely moving. His mouth presses kisses to the side of my neck which makes me shudder and pant.

A calm and quite morning until he turns on the stereo and asks me what I want to listen to*. Selecting the songs, the music sounding from the speakers, filling the living room.

My warm wetness around his dick while we’re having out morning coffee together, his thrusts up into my pussy get needier, and he puts the almost empty mug away to put his hands on your ass, guiding my hips to ride him, the slow, languid strokes becoming more desperate until I bounce up and down his length, the sound of my ass hitting his big burly thighs, my panting breaths intermingling with the music.

I pull the shirt over my head and his gaze is fixed on my bouncing titties, his mouth falling open ever so slightly. I can feel his soft breaths coast over my sensitive skin as he coaxes me to lean closer and catches the nipples, closing his lips around them. My hand tangles in his hair, the long strands feeling soft between my fingers as he arches me back, gently toying with the stiff peaks. Still rolling my hips, the strokes getting sloppy as I come on his dick, and he follows suit, spilling inside me.

I snuggle into him again, his arms closing around me while he finishes his coffee. My cheek pressing against his chest, sighing, his fingers softly massaging my neck and I’m almost getting sleepy again.

Finally, he pats my hips, gesturing me softly to get up. I can’t help but shimmy my hips while I put on my shirt again before heading upstairs, my butt cheeks jiggling as I do so.

“Brat.” His hand is on my ass again, squeezing it and dropping a kiss to the side of my face, his deep voice so close to my ear. “Like I didn’t just fuck you.” Instead of an answer, I chuckle and run up the stairs to the bathroom. He follows me, his heavy steps close behind me.

I go to brush my teeth, toothpaste foam dropping down my lips into the sink, while he shaves, the razorblade gently gliding over the skin.

It’s so simple, the moment just filled with the brushes of my tooth brush and the scraping of his razor as I’m watching him, and something about how he shaves, the deliberate concise strokes, is kind of calming.

I come a step closer as he washes away the last remnants of shaving cream, getting on my tiptoes, pressing myself against his naked chest. “Thanks for cleaning up my seat.”, I whisper, grinning up at him. My fingers are brushing over his freshly shaved jaw, my gaze panning up until I meet his eyes, turning smoldering.

“Uh-huh…”, he hums, his hand stroking up my body until he softly grabs my throat, his fingertips digging into my cheeks. “Come on then, put your money where your mouth is.”, he teases before kissing me.

“You mean… where your mouth is.”, I shoot back jokingly, biting back a grin.

He grunts hoisting me up, and I yelp and giggle as he throws me over his shoulder. His hand lands on my ass again, the fingertips slipping in between my thighs, and I squirm under his touches. “König!”

He just laughs and carries me to the bedroom, ready to devour me again. Well, at least on weekends, I kind of gave up wearing panties around the house anyways…

(*I would choose the eternal blue album by spirit box because that is my go-to for lazy mornings, but you can imagine whatever you’d like <3)

~ More in the Masterlist ~

[munson-blurbs]

hii 🫶🏻 i've had this idea of the reader and eddie being at a halloween party and her drink getting spiked (roofied or wtv) and like eddie comes to the rescue and takes care of her - enemies to slight lovers pls!! have a good day/night :))

Hi! I changed it a bit so that her drink was spiked with extra booze, but I kept it enemies-to-lovers!

Warnings: underage drinking (everyone is over 18 but under 21), reader's drink gets spiked, drunkenness, brief mention of Eddie dealing, Billy Hargrove needs his own warning tbh, enemies-to-lovers, idiots in love

WC: 2.5k

Thank you so much to @corroded-hellfire @lofaewrites and @manda-panda-monium for their help! Y'all made this fic much stronger, and I am indebted to you.

--

A brief, incomplete list of activities you enjoy: grabbing coffee with a few friends, walks down by Lover’s Lake powered by whatever cassette you’ve jammed into your WalkMan, reading a good book and curling up in the sunlight streaming through your bedroom window.

A brief, incomplete list of activities you despise: Steve Harrington’s house parties.

The bass from the stereo has the entire downstairs shaking, and you wince as you pass by it and make your way to Nancy. She’s the reason why you’ve started coming to these stupid things, and although Steve isn’t as big of a tool as you’d previously thought, it doesn’t make other people more tolerable.

“You having a good time?” Nancy asks now, bouncing along with the music. Her eyes are hazy with booze; her half-filled cup of the jungle juice concoction is clearly far from her first of the evening.

You shrug, hitching your bag close to your shoulder as a beast of a man in a letterman jacket pushes his way through the crowd. “Not really.”

“Cool, awesome!” Nancy chirps, senses compromised by the constant flow of alcohol and the blasting music. 

Steve has his arm around her waist, pressing chaste kisses to her neck. He looks up at you for just a second and frowns. “Where’s your drink?”

You jingle the car keys you’ve had clenched in your fist the whole night, ready to make a getaway as early as you can. “Designated driver. Unless you want José Cuervo behind the wheel tonight,” you raise your brows as you motion to your friend.

Steve shakes his head. “Nance is gonna stay here with me tonight,” he tells you, taking Nancy’s cup from her hand and placing it in yours. “She’s had enough, anyway. So, uh, go crazy.”

Go crazy. It’s tempting to dull the roar of the dozen or so conversations worming their way into your consciousness. And no doubt it’ll be easier to slap a fake smile on your face and even join one of them. But you still have to get home somehow, and the thought of asking either of your overbearing parents for a ride home from a party has your stomach in knots, especially considering you’d told them you were going to the library and sleeping at the Wheeler’s. 

Instead of going crazy, you toss the couple a frustrated eye roll, but they’re both too enmeshed in their puppy love for each other to catch it. Home. You just need to get home, snug in your own bed, away from–

“Hey, Goody Two-Shoes!” Billy Hargrove flings his muscular arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him despite your clear lack of interest. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s bad etiquette to bring down the party vibe?”

 “Get offa me,” you grumble, but his strength easily overpowers yours. 

“What you need,” he continues, stifling a beer-scented belch, “is to fuckin’ loosen up.” He punctuates his statement by placing one beefy hand on each of your shoulders, shaking you back and forth. He stumbles a bit in his drunken state, and you seize the opportunity to step away from him.

The entire encounter makes the drink in your hand even more tempting, and you throw it back without another thought. Your throat burns with the sting of alcohol, and you wince reflexively. Jeez, if this is what Nancy’s been drinking all night, no wonder she’s wasted, you think, grateful that you only had half of the cup.

Eddie Munson arrives when the party is in full swing, lunch box of illicit substances gripped tight in his hands. He hates spending time with these jockstraps outside of school, but parties are a great way to make some extra cash, and rich douchebags like King Steve practically throw the money at him, too drunk and lazy to actually count it out.

He sees you out of the corner of his eye, swaying to the music alongside Billy Hargrove. You’re leaning into him, with his hand around your waist pulling you into him. You laugh loudly, though it doesn’t appear that Billy’s said anything.

What a weird pair, Eddie muses, comparing your usual type-A, pain-in-the-ass, teacher’s pet personality with Billy’s thoughtlessness and indifference. He watches as Billy nonchalantly refills your drink and grabs your backside.

When Billy notices Eddie, he props you against the counter and murmurs something before staggering over to buy something. “What do you have tonight, Munson?”

“The usual,” Eddie replies casually, placing the tin box on the kitchen table and flipping it open. “So, uh, looks like Goody-Two Shoes is having a good time.”

Billy chuckles, twirling a toothpick across his lips. It’s a menacing laugh, and Eddie doesn’t care for the sound of it. “Yeah, she needed a little help, but I took care of it.”

He really doesn’t like that. “What do you mean?”

“Slipped a little extra in her drink when she wasn’t looking,” Billy whispers, flashing Eddie a now-empty mini bottle of tequila. “Shit was pretty strong to begin with, but she’s definitely feeling it now.”

“You spiked her drink?” Eddie’s mouth goes dry, and he snaps the lunch box shut. When Billy just laughs again, Eddie shoves him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Billy holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, man, you can’t blame a guy for doing what he has to do to get laid. Especially when it’s someone as uptight as her.”

Rage pounds in Eddie’s ears, and he barely hears anything after that. He marches towards you, fists clenched. You weren’t his favorite person, and he wasn’t yours–not after what happened in health last year–but he’d be damned if he let you get taken advantage of.

“Hey,” he says softly, tapping your shoulder to grab your attention. “Let me get you home.”

You sloppily shake your head, jungle juice sloshing over the side of the cup. “‘M fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He’s insistent, tone much harsher than his usual carelessness. “You’re absolutely plastered, and I’m taking you home.” He extends his hand, and you reluctantly take it, letting him lead you to his van. Your feet are bricks beneath you, and you giggle involuntarily as you trip over them.

“Munson, what the fuck?” Billy calls out, charging over. His own stride isn’t much more graceful than yours; the Keg Stand Champion having reclaimed his title earlier in the evening. “Get your own girl.” He reaches for your bicep to tug you away, but Eddie’s faster, which only makes the jock’s eyes stonier. “Fucking freak!” he calls out, quickly downing another plastic cup of beer.

Your eyelids begin to close, and slurred words leave your lips. “Whas’ goin’ on? Why’s Billy shhh-so mad?”

Eddie ignores your question, not wanting to slow down and risk Billy catching up to you. Once he’s safely got you in the passenger seat, he starts the ignition and glances at where you’re leaning against the window. “Where to?”

“Home.”

“Right, and, uh…where might that be?”

You shrug, body heavier with sleep by the second. “Dunno.”

“Like an address, or a general direction…anything?” Eddie drums his ringed fingers against the steering wheel. He sighs and throws the van in reverse when you shake your head. “All right, looks like you’re staying at mine.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, stealing a peek at you every minute or so. You’re sleeping, soft snores punctuating the otherwise silent ride. He winces as he goes over a bump and puts his arm out to prevent you from falling against the dashboard. 

Twenty minutes later—it would have been fifteen, but he drove slowly to prevent jostling you too much—he’s pulling up to his trailer. “Welcome to Casa Munson.” He opens his door with a dramatic grunt and shuffles around to your side. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.” If any of the neighbors see him, they’ll assume the worst, but it’s either that or have you sleep in the van. 

The last thing you remember is mumbling about needing a bed and Eddie leading you to his with an offhand comment about not knowing where the stains are from. When you wake the next morning, a jackhammer has replaced your brain and your throat is filled with bile. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you groan, pulling your sheet up over your eyes to shield them from the sun. Except this isn’t the baby pink set your mom bought you from Wal-Mart. These sheets are white and smell like cigarettes, weed, and drugstore cologne. The realization that this isn’t your room has you jolting up in bed despite your body’s protests. “What the hell?”

“Good morning to you, too,” a voice grumbles from below. You look down to see Eddie Munson laying on the floor, a towel rolled below his head in a makeshift pillow. A throw blanket covers from his shoulders to just above his ankles, leaving his sweat sock-clad feet exposed. “There’s some water and pretzels next to you, and I can grab Advil if you need.”

You nod, squeezing your eyelids together at the pain the slight head movement causes. “Yes, please.” He returns with the medicine, and you eagerly swallow it with a gulp of water. A quick assessment assures you that your clothes are still on, but you still have to ask, “did we…”

“Nope. No way. Not even a little.” He takes a seat next to you, offering the pretzel canister. Though your stomach is churning, you need something to absorb the medicine, so you take a handful and carefully munch on them. “But you had quite the offer last night.”

“Wha—?”

“Hargrove spiked your drink to get you in bed,” he explains. His mop of curls is disheveled from tossing and turning, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “And, uh, not to sleep.”

“Yeah, I gathered that,” you mutter. A fresh wave of nausea washes over you, and it’s not from the hangover. Your memories are muddled, but you can vaguely piece the night together: Nancy and Steve, the unfinished drink, Billy’s arm around you… “We left before he could do anything, right?”

Eddie nods, stealing the plastic water bottle from your grasp and taking a swig. He swishes it around his mouth before answering. “Got you outta there before he could even cop a feel.”

You grimace at his brazen response. “Well, um, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” You start to stand up, fumbling for your keys in your bag when you remember. “Fuck, my car’s still at Steve’s.”

“I can take you,” Eddie offers, grabbing the jeans he’d haphazardly flung over his desk chair. 

“Nah, s’okay. I can walk.”

“Seriously?” He throws his hands in the air, utterly exasperated with you. “You’d rather walk three miles back to Harrington’s—hungover as shit…looking like that,” he gestures vaguely at your smeared makeup and bloodshot eyes, “than take a ride from me?”

You remain quiet, so he proceeds with his rant. 

“Y’know, when you ditched me last year, I figured you weren’t, like, into me or whatever. But, Christ, what did I do to make you hate my guts?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “I ditched you?” The thunderous headache makes it difficult to wrack your brain for the memory, but you definitely would recall ditching Eddie Munson. “I never did that.”

“Last April,” he begins, tone clipped and direct, “the night we were supposed to finish our health project—”

“You ditched me.”

He shakes his head. “Uh, no. I invited you to see my band play and then we would finish the project after—which you agreed to—and then you never showed.”

“No, you told me, and I quote, ‘Corroded Coffin has a gig at The Hideout at 8, and we can put the poster together after we play.”

“Exactly!”

“Exactly what?” It hurts to roll your eyes, but you do it anyway just to emphasize the absurdity of the situation. “That wasn’t an invitation; that was just you telling me what time the show starts.”

“What time it starts,” he says slowly, as though explaining it to a child. “If I just wanted to meet up for the project, I would’ve told you what time it ends.” His eyes narrow. “Do you really think I spent all that time doing research with you just to flake when we got to do the creative part?”

The missing pieces shift into the puzzle. You’d been thrown off when Eddie had failed to show that night; you’d genuinely thought the two of you had forged some kind of friendship during your evenings at the Hawkins Library. But when midnight had rolled around, you’d given up altogether, gathered your notes, and made the poster alone. 

“I…I didn’t know…” you muse, mouth drier than it was before you’d drank water. “I thought you forgot, or didn’t care…” You press a tooth into your bottom lip and gnaw at the chapped skin. “Trust me, I never would’ve ditched the guy I—”

You’d tried to cut yourself off before Eddie catches what you’d inadvertently implied, but it’s too late. “The guy you…” he gently goads. When you don’t answer, he sits on the bed next to you and knocks his knee against yours. “Would it help if I told you that you’re the girl I…” He tilts his head and peers at you through his deep brown eyes.

“Me?!” There’s no way he’s serious; you brace yourself for the ‘gotcha’ or some other punchline he’ll inevitably toss your way.

To your surprise, there is none. “What can I say?” he shrugs. “I’m a total sucker for a goody-two shoes.” He stands up again, crossing his arms over his chest and pacing back and forth in the tiny room. “So, since I’m the guy that you…and you’re the girl that I…can I interest you in some of the finest hangover food this town has to offer?”

“Can I brush my teeth first?” You grimace at the tang of last night’s tequila that sticks to your molars. “Unless you also happen to be into girls with wicked morning breath.”

He chuckles, a true and hearty laugh, and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard. “Spare toothbrush is in the top drawer,” he says, pointing towards the bathroom. 

Once minty freshness has replaced stale booze, you wash the remnants of your makeup off of your face. You look a bit better; tired and hungover, but better.

Eddie’s dressed in ripped jeans and a faded concert tee, keys clenched in his palm. “Ready?” he asks, leaning against the bedroom doorway.

“Mhm.” You feel his hand ghost the small of your back as he leads you towards the front door, sending shivers of excitement down your spine.

“Hey, by the way?” 

When you turn around, his lips are on yours. It’s soft and sweet, just a bit more than a peck, but you can tell it took every ounce of courage for him to do it. You both take a small step back, swapping shy grins.  

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

You take his empty hand and lace your fingers with his. “Does Corroded Coffin still play at the Hideout?”

“Every Tuesday at 8.”

“I’ll be there.”

--

[bigdumbbambieyes]

nsfw

It’s almost one in the morning and Steve opens up the messages app on his phone, seeing the notification from Billy and clicking on it.

A dick pic with an accompanying message: it’s not gonna suck itself.

Steve’s a fucking sucker. No pun intended.

But, he can’t help himself. Not around Billy.

He’s already getting hard just from the picture alone.

He can already feel it in his mouth, stretching his lips and heavy on his tongue, leaking precum in the back of his throat.

Christ.

He responds back: it’s gonna have to bc i’m not driving over.

who said anything about you driving over?

i just assumed.

i’ll be outside in like 2 mins. get your shoes on.

Steve’s hand pauses where it’s stroking himself through his sweats, his eyes widening at the message before he’s rolling out of bed and grabbing a shirt from the floor, along with some socks.

Just as he gets downstairs, pulling his hoodie over his head, he peeks outside and yeah, Billy’s parked at the end of the driveway.

He feels a stupid little thrill sneaking out of his parent’s house, as if he’s not free to come and go as he pleases, and quietly shuts the front door behind him before rushing over to the running car.

Opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat, Billy’s smirking at him and looking down at his crotch, stating, “You got hard over my pic, Harrington?”

“Shut up,” Steve sighs as he leans over, sucking on Billy’s lower lip and giving a soft little laugh as Billy grabs the back of his neck and licks into his mouth, fucking filthy.

Billy doesn’t even go far, just down the street, in between street lights, and leans his seat back a little. Just enough for Steve to not hit his head on the steering wheel as he leans over the centre console.

Steve feels his mouth water as Billy pushes his own sweats down, not even wearing fucking underwear, and pulls his dick out.

And maybe he should be ashamed at how eager he is for this, for these midnight romps, letting himself be picked up and used because it’s what they both want, but he doesn’t feel even an ounce of shame.

Not when he leans down and sucks the tip of Billy’s cock into his mouth, moaning as he feels Billy’s hand in his hair, gripping a handful of it tight in his fist. He doesn’t push Steve down, not yet, but he loves the feeling — like Billy’s anchoring him.

“Fuck,” Billy groans as Steve takes more of him, takes him a little deeper, and purposefully reaches to shut off the stereo, the car filling with the lewd sounds of Steve’s mouth working his cock.

Slurping and sucking like a fucking slut, watching Steve and doing his best to not fuck up into his mouth — not yet.

“Got the prettiest mouth for sucking cock,” Billy sighs, which makes Steve keen softly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he takes Billy even deeper.

Billy doesn’t stop talking, just grips Steve’s hair a little harder and growls, “Gonna cum down your throat and you’re gonna swallow it like the good boy you are, huh?”

Steve nods and hums, chokes and gags a little as he takes Billy into his throat, hearing the wet click of it and his own dick throbs in his sweats, desperate.

“Might just leave you like this, drop you off at home still hard,” Billy huffs, “Ready to cum in your pants like a fucking whore.”

That makes Steve moan around the cock in his throat, tears gathering in his eyes from the pleasure shooting through him.

“Yeah? You like that, princess?” Billy chuckles mean, “Might just do it. Keep you all pent up, come and visit you in the morning once your folks leave, have you wake up already split open on my cock—”

Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck—

Steve moans and his hips twitch, his cock pulsing in his sweats as he cums untouched, a wet spot forming on the soft fabric.

“Jesus,” Billy groans, pushing Steve’s head down and keeping him there as his hips stutter, moaning out long and loud as he cums, filling Steve’s throat and mouth.

He does his best to swallow, but he pulls off coughing, his eyes a mess of tears and his mouth smeared with cum and spit as he sucks in lungfuls of air.

Billy’s on him in an instant, licking into his mouth with a deep groan, sucking his own cum off of Steve’s tongue and his spent dick gives a pathetic little twitch of interest.

The blond pulls away with a grin, so familiar now even in the dim light, “I knew you were into that shit.”

“What shit?” Steve rasps quietly, leaning back in his seat with a huff.

“The sleeping shit,” Billy clarifies, reaching over and opening up the glove compartment, pulling out a couple fast food napkins and tossing them into Steve’s lap, “You really want to wake up with me inside you, pretty boy?”

Steve thinks about it with a little pout as he wipes his face clean, imagining it: waking up with Billy on top of him, kissing his neck, already stretched out around his cock, probably ready to fucking blow. Christ.

“We could try it,” he mumbles, balling up the napkin and tossing it into the back with a little smirk, hearing Billy’s annoyed huff.

“Well, you better invite me to a sleepover soon,” Billy hums, turning the steering wheel and making a quick U-turn back to the Harrington house.

Steve smiles to himself, delighted, and teases, “I’ll think about it.”

Billy gives him one last filthy kiss before unlocking the car and smiling, humming, “Night, peanut.”

“Night,” Steve smiles back, the whole thing feeling a little too cute and stupid for late night hookup, and pecks Billy’s lips one last time before getting out and going back inside.

He watches Billy drive off and thinks about that sleepover.

[adharastarlight]

Tis The Season

Eight: Music

Jegulus smut with maybe... some plot? Sirius doesn't know (just like if you know me irl? you dont) about jegulus at all... anyway, there's a reason James always has his music on too loudly

“Turn the music down, James!”

The brunette heard his best friend's yell echo from across the hall but he wasn't listening. He was also one hundred percent sure that Sirius would rather hear the possibly too loud bass of his music than the noises his little brother was making.

“Sh-shit, Jamie, fuck,” Reg managed the words between gasped moans, nails digging into the older boy’s back.

He cursed, “that's it, baby, you're so fucking perfect.”

The younger whimpered, arching into him further and throwing his head back, exposing that beautiful neck. That neck he knew he wasn't meant to mark. But it was right there. It was taunting him. Regulus let out a gasped moan when his boyfriend started sucking and biting at his neck. He would've said something, that it was a bad idea maybe, if he wasn't slowly going insane with bliss. A slightly louder moan tore free from him, almost animalistic, when James reached between them to rub circles against his clit, slowly, faster, faster, fuck.

“So good for me, angel.” James grunted at the nails scratching down his back, his hips stuttering slightly, “I'm so close, fuck.”

“Jamie, merde.”

The brunette moaned into his neck, against the skin he'd probably bruised by now, cursing as his boyfriend came, clenching around him. His hips lost their rhythm as he came, pressing fleeting kisses against Reg's neck and shoulders and collar bones as he slowly lowered himself to lie on top of him.

Regulus let out a soft huff as the older man's weight pressed into him and reached up to card his fingers through his hair gently, “hi sweetheart.”

He smiled and reached over for the remote for the stereo, turning down the music and pressing a kiss to the other's temple, “you need to find a way to be quieter, angel.”

“We've music and you like it when I'm loud.”

“Sirius yelled for me to turn it down, he'll catch on at some point.”

“That's his problem, not mine.”

James laughed softly, “it'll be your problem when your boyfriend is hung drawn and quartered, my love.”

“He wouldn't hurt my boyfriend!”

“I mean in his defence, he has no idea-”

“...Stop making excellent points.” He kissed his nose and tugged on his hair gently, “I liked the new mixed tape.”

“I thought you would.”

Reg smiled, about to reply and ask when he'd made it, but a holler came up the steps again. Followed by impatient stomping on stairs.

“James! You arse! It's your bloody turn to cook dinner! What the fuck are you doing in here?” The handle of his room twisted but the door remained closed, the brunette muffling his laugh in his boyfriend's neck. “Why the fucking hell is your door locked? Prongs! Come and make dinner you arse!”

“Go.” The younger whispered it into his hair, shushing the protest he knew was coming, “I'm fine, my love, I'm great actually. I'll be even better if my brother doesn't come barging in here. Go on.”

“Prongs!”

“Coming, I'm coming! Chill, Pads.” He pulled away reluctantly and kissed the figure smiling under him before rolling out of the bed and tugging on his boxers and joggers. He chuckled softly when his boyfriend lobbed his tee at him, lowering his voice to a whisper, “what's this for?”

Regulus grinned and tugged the duvet over himself, “you've scratches.”

“You're such a cat.”

“And you're such a stag, now shoo.”

The older boy scoffed and tugged on the tee before slipping out of his door, making sure it closed behind him before his best mate could look in, “you're very impatient, Pads.”

Sirius scanned him curiously, but merely shrugged and started walking downstairs, “what were you even doing? You're all flushed.”

“Pull-ups, sorry about the music, didn't realise how loud it was when I was in the moment.”

“It's alright, you're lucky Reggie doesn't mind that kind of music.”

“Yeah, really lucky.” He smiled to himself and clapped his mate on the back, “right, what d'you want for dinner?

***

“Reg!!! It's dinner!”

Regulus groaned at his brother's holler and rolled out of the bed he'd buried himself back into after his quick shower. He grabbed his shirt from the side and cursed under his breath at the state of it. They'd maybe been a little frantic to get the clothes off earlier.

“Regulus!”

“I'm coming you grumpy old dog!” He called back, reaching into his boyfriend's wardrobe for one of his tees which fell just above his knees, foregoing his boxers and trousers because… making said boyfriend suffer was awfully good fun.

James looked up as the younger boy walked into the lounge and almost choked. He also almost dragged him back up to his room. He was starving, but the plate in front of him had never looked so unappetising.

“Finally! What took you so long, étoile?”

He shrugged and settled into his spot, the one between James and the arm of the sofa. Which he honestly had made his, before he actually knew where the man who would become his boyfriend sat. He could feel the probably-not-subtle eyes running over him and smiled, “dinner looks good.”

His brother nodded and flopped into the armchair near them, picking up the remote, “I love mum and dad but I might love eating in front of the tv more.”

Regulus nodded and forced a shiver, tugging the blanket over himself and the brunette, “me too. It's far more relaxed.”

His boyfriend grinned at him and moved his hand to his inner thigh, brushing against where he'd expected to find boxers and stifling a groan by stuffing a mouthful of pasta into his mouth. He glanced at his best friend whose attention was affixed to the screen and dipped his hand between his thighs, brushing lightly against his clit.

“Oh, Reggie, Pandora called.”

He raised an eyebrow at his brother, ignoring the teasing touches as best as he could, “she did?”

“Yeah, asked about going to the city centre tomorrow, the library. I said you'd call if you couldn't go but otherwise meet her there at eleven.”

James waited for the moment his boyfriend opened his mouth to pinch his clit, just hard enough to elicit a sharp inhale.

“Oh, yeah, that's great. I'll definitely g-” he forced back a moan as a finger slipped into him, curling up to brush his gspot, “go-oh.”

Sirius glanced over at the stuttered word and furrowed his brows, “you okay, Reggie?”

“Yeah, yea-” he clenched his jaw when his boyfriend repeated the motion and had a sip of his water, smiling sheepishly at his brother, “hiccups, sorry.”

He shrugged and turned back to the tv. James waited a moment to ensure he wasn't going to turn back around and pushed a second finger into him, curling and stroking until he was fairly certain the it other's teeth were grinding together. He leaned over slightly, whispering against the shell of his ear, “so pretty and desperate for me, angel. In my shirt and nothing else. Practically begging me to fuck you, hm?”

Reg let out a quiet whimper, making sure his voice was just as quiet when he replied, “is this you - fuck - teaching me to be quiet?”

“Mm. You're doing so well, baby.”

“Fuck, Jamie, please.”

The brunette smirked and rubbed his thumb against his clit, moving his fingers just too slowly, “if you're quiet you can come whenever you want, angel.”

He bucked his hips into the contact slightly before nodding, biting his lip hard enough to draw the faintest blood to hold back a moan when his boyfriend sped up. His shoulders slumped into the sofa behind him as he focused on being quiet, only a quiet gasp leaving him when he came, head thrown back slightly, back arched up the tiniest amount.

James drew his hand back and waited until his boyfriend was looking at him to suck his fingers clean. He smirked at the almost silent whimper, mouthing ‘good boy’ and watching the younger boy crumble on the spot.

They were going to need louder music.

[niallsstainedcoffeecup]

A Scoop of Love

Y/N, a single mother, who no longer believes in love, meets the new ice cream shop owner, Harry Styles. Can she balance a new love, her ex-husband, and her daughter? Or will it all fall apart?

This is a new miniseries I'm working on. Let me know what you think, and if you would like to see anything in the future parts. Lots of love! Love either bloomed beautifully or withered wastefully.  Y/N witnessed this first-hand with her parents’ marriage, then her own.  Her parents loved one another, from sharing multiple morning kisses before leaving for work to drawing lavender bubble baths for one another after a rough day.  She grew up surrounded by love, so naturally, she searched for and planned her true love.  They would meet at a bookstore or in a university lecture, and then he would propose after three blissful years of dating.  They would get married in the church her parents got married in, she would wear a modern version of her mother’s wedding dress, and there would be bouquets of beautiful pink peonies everywhere. However, a higher being glanced over her plans and laughed.

She met her husband at the first university party she attended.  He was in his second year of university, and she was in her first year, but her dark humor and extensive music knowledge kept him entertained all night.  They dated for an exciting year filled with morning kisses before she left for class and late-night conversations about their future, and then they were blessed with the news that she was pregnant. 

Her parents rejoiced, but his parents forced him to propose.  They were married in her parents’ garden, under a floral arch her mother designed, with very few guests because his parents did not want their friends to see the small bump under the maternity wedding dress that she despised.  At twenty, she gave birth to their beautiful daughter, Daphne. 

The couple attempted to raise their daughter together, but the morning kisses turned to cold glares, and conversations about the future transformed into hate-filled mutters about feeling trapped.  A few weeks after their daughter’s third birthday, she divorced the man she planned to spend forever with.  Her marriage devoured her hope for love. * * * * *

Oldies from the sixties and seventies flowed from the Bluetooth stereo and throughout the small kitchen.  She flipped the sizzling bacon, plated the burning eggs, and buttered the steaming toast.  Pausing the music, she listened for movement, like the sound of her daughter’s electric toothbrush or the squeak of those awful shoes her daughter’s school assigned as the required dress code.  The sneaky eight-year-old was known for slipping back into bed after her mother returned to her busy morning schedule; however, they could not be late this morning.  The bathroom door’s squeaky hinge informed her that Daphne just finished her morning routine and should appear in the kitchen soon.  She chugged the remainder of the French vanilla coffee in an attempt to muster all possible energy.

Two bouncing ponytails hovered beside the wooden kitchen table and then descended until they disappeared with a giggle.  “Did it look like I was walking downstairs? Daphne asked, hopping up the minute her mother chuckled at the illusion. 

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s small frame.  “My little magician.  Who taught you that?”

She knew the answer before she asked the question, recalling mornings when her ex-husband would send her into a fit of laughter by claiming he left the eggs downstairs and then descending behind the counter until he reappeared with two eggs in his hands.  Late at night, she often wondered what happened to that man.  Did she kill his spirit?  Or did he reserve that side of himself for people he actually loved?

“Daddy.  Will he pick me up after school?” She never knew how to answer these questions.  She should have a solid answer, but her ex-husband loved creating excuses as to why he couldn’t watch their daughter during his scheduled weekends.

Instead, she replied by handing her daughter the breakfast plate.  “You need to eat breakfast.  We’ll leave in ten minutes.”

Daphne hopped onto the nearby stool, taking turns between eating breakfast and kicking her feet along with the music’s beat.  Her mother rushed around the apartment, shoving expired library books into the young girl’s pink backpack.  No matter what time her mother woke up, she was always in a hurry.  She couldn’t remember a time when her mother wasn’t busy, even when they visited her grandparents, her mother took it upon herself to cook everyone dinner. 

“Are you ready to start our Friday?” Y/N asked, helping the little girl into her black raincoat.

Daphne nodded, flashing her mother a wide, toothy grin before running down the quiet hallway.  Shushing the eight-year-old and her heavy feet, she followed her daughter down the stairs and into the real world.  She despised Fridays because Fridays looked like her, alone in the apartment with a Chinese delivery and a movie that she ignored in favor of thinking about where her life was headed.  Her best friend, Christie, often suggested that they go out and find someone new, but she knew the love of her life wasn’t in a bar waiting for her.  Romantic love skipped right over her, so years ago, she decided she would focus on the only love in her life, her daughter. * * * * *

A higher being loved irony, especially when leading her through life.  Although her chances at true love were dashed when she signed the divorce papers, she spent the majority of her days photographing random couple’s wedding photos.  Sure, she also photographed family portraits, fashion shoots, and other various photography projects, but many of her customers were couples in love. 

Today, she was capturing the love between Peter and Samantha, a young couple who planned a Shakespearian wedding, so they dressed as Romeo and Juliet for the wedding invitation photos.  She wondered whether Romeo and Juliet were couple goals because wasn’t the play criticizing the societal norms that killed the teens?  Peter’s check told her to shut up and do what she did best–photograph the sweet couple.  She had about thirty photos before her ex-husband’s ringtone startled everyone in the studio.

She sighed, waving over her assistant, “I’m sorry.  Kira will provide you both with champagne while I answer this call.”

Kira poured the champagne for the happy couple, who reassured them they needed a break anyway.  She walked away from the small group and farther into the studio’s storage room because her gut knew Tyler’s call was not about what he ate for lunch.

“Hello?” She prepared her heart for the excuse.

She heard shuffling on his end as if he wasn’t expecting her to answer his call.  “Hey, I’m sorry to call you at work.  How are you?” His deep, hypnotic voice shook with guilt.

The first time she heard that familiar shake in his voice, she thought she still made him nervous.  However, she quickly learned that his voice shook when he was about to utter another lame excuse as to why he couldn’t be a father that weekend.  She rolled her eyes because she did not have the time for this.

“Tyler, what is it this time?”

He sighed.  “I need you to cover for me this weekend.  Jo asked me to drive her to the doctor’s office, and she also planned a romantic weekend away.”

A low growl pulled her lips back into a snarl.  “You can’t spend time with our daughter because you have to drive your girlfriend to the doctor?  Can she not drive herself like an adult?  Do you not understand how much Daphne misses you?”

“Listen, I didn’t call you for a lecture on parenting.  We all can’t be perfect parents like you.” Tyler hissed, a tone she knew very well from their relationship.

The couple could argue about anything, from when the milk expired to why he never wanted to hold her hand anymore.  The passion in their marriage centered around their hatred of one another until, one day, the arguments stopped, and a cold silence enveloped the couple.  The heart of their marriage had shriveled up and died.

She chuckled bitterly, running her free hand through her hair.  “I’m not asking you to be the perfect parent.  I’m asking that you be there for our daughter, and you can’t even do that.  Have fun with your girlfriend.”

Tyler ended the call without another word.  Did he not respond because he knew she was right?  She would break Daphne’s heart when she told her the news, but they would still have an amazing weekend because her daughter deserved it.  Sighing, she regained her composure and returned to the lovely couple, whose love reminded her that love was still alive for everyone except her. * * * * *

“He canceled on Daphne again because Joanna needed an uber?  Did you tell him to fuck off?” Christie complained as if she were the one who divorced Tyler.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head.  “No, I did tell him to fuck off in parent though.  Does Joanna not understand that Daphne misses her father?”

“You mean the woman who ruined your marriage is trying to separate your daughter from her father?”  Christie’s sarcasm usually made her laugh, but those words stilled her hand on the computer mouse.

The wedding photo she was editing once again mocked her situation.  Her marriage wilted away for two years, but Joanna produced the final drought that destroyed every root and petal. 

She recalled the day, replaying the moments as if they were scenes from a movie.  She left early that morning, dropping Daphne off with her parents while she went shopping for her daughter’s birthday party.  She purchased party hats detailed with a singing, independent princess and ordered two cakes decorated with the same princess and her quirky sidekick.  Deciding to surprise her husband with a lunch date, she returned to their apartment, where she found her husband kissing another woman in their kitchen. 

The cheating couple spun around toward her, and his only response came in the form of an apathetic mutter, "I thought you would be gone all day." They divorced a few weeks after that.  She never cried because Joanna slept with her husband; she cried because the couple shared an emotional connection far deeper than what they ever had.  The love in his eyes returned and sparkled brighter than she had ever seen, all for a woman he met five months ago.  He found his soulmate, and it wasn’t her.

“Y/N?  Hello?  Did the call drop?” Christie’s frantic questions rescued her from the dark spiral she fell into. 

She gasped, realizing she had fifteen minutes of editing time before she had to pick up Daphne from school.  “Yeah, I guess this photo distracted me for a moment.  I’m sorry.  I’ll call you later.”

The problem with phone calls is that Christie couldn’t spot her friend’s distress.  Her teeth gnawed on her bottom lip, her fingers picked at her fingernail polish, and her knee bounced erratically under her desk.  The couple’s smile in the photo made her stomach churn with jealousy and sorrow.  When would she find her soulmate?  Could anyone love her?  After downloading the images onto her thumb drive, she locked away the hideous feelings behind her studio’s glass doors and walked toward her sunshine.  * * * * *

Daphne dried the hot tears from her cheeks, swallowing the sobs she wished her father could hear so he would cancel the plans that kept him from her.  Her watery vision focused on the delicate rings decorating the hand holding her left hand, which provided the warmth and comfort needed to soothe her broken heart.  Glancing up, she admired her mother's ever-present smile that never seemed to falter, especially when her father did not have time for her. 

After her mother broke the news outside of the primary school, she wiped the tears from her daughter's damp cheeks and mentioned a surprise.  Walking down the busy sidewalk, they slowed their pace once Y/N spotted the neon blue sign that read Dream Cones.  Two months ago, Daphne returned from a friend's birthday party and raved about the delicious ice cream served.  Today, Y/N saw the friend's mother at the school, and she asked for the ice cream shop's name to surprise her daughter.  Her daughter's sparkling eyes and enthusiastic giggles revived her heart from her earlier conversation with Tyler and Christie. 

“Surprise.  Should we go inside?”  She asked, already knowing the answer she would receive from her daughter.

Daphne nodded, gripping her mother’s hand with the strength of a hundred sugar-crazed children.  Y/N might regret her decision later, like during their bedtime routine, but her daughter deserved a good childhood, and she would strive to provide her with that. As they entered the shop, a golden bell chimed loudly above their heads.  “Welcome to Dream Cones.” The men and women cheered from behind the white marble counters. The warm, sugary scent of freshly baked waffle cones greeted their noses.  Y/N's eyes flitted around the room, stopping briefly on the cerulean walls, the ornamental vanilla cone hung above the menu, and the wooden tables crowded with laughing families.  Despite the conversations melding together into nonsensical noise, she could still pick up the soft pop music flowing through some unseen speaker.

Daphne seemed to speak the words she was thinking, “This place is cool.”

They approached the marble counter, reading the various ice cream labels, which featured unique names like lemonade over ice.  She enjoyed the clever names; however, her eyes and stomach could not believe how fluffy and creamy each flavor looked.

“Mommy, will I like Sign of the Limes?” Chuckling at the amusing name, Y/N wondered whether the staff competed to create the unique names or the owner carefully curated each one. 

“Yeah, do you want a cup or a cone?” The eight-year-old took a second to consider her options before ultimately choosing the waffle cone.

Y/N nodded, waiting until one of the women behind the counter asked for their order.  She ordered the flavor Watermelon Sugar in a cup and Sign of the Limes in a cone for Daphne. 

“Watermelon Sugar is my favorite flavor.” The cheerful worker commented, handing out the coral-colored ice cream.  “Let me know how you like it.”

“Absolutely,  I’m a sucker for anything watermelon flavored.”  She giggled, agreeing with her customer that anything watermelon flavored was superior.

“Okay, your total is 23.96.”

Y/N's eyes widened, and she nearly gasped when she heard the price.  She appreciated the artistic decor and the friendly workers; however, twelve-dollar ice cream was expensive for a single mother's budget.  Smiling through the pain, she handed the woman her card.

“This is delicious.  Can we have ice cream every Friday?” Daphne asked between mouthfuls.

Y/N giggled, wiping the messy corners of her daughter’s mouth with a napkin.  “Of course.”  She would find room in the budget for twelve-dollar ice cream as long as it made her daughter happy.

She stole a spoonful of ice cream from Daphne, which resulted in her daughter shooting her a playful glare, which she fixed by giving her a spoonful of her own ice cream as an equal trade.  Between the two flavors, she could not decide which one she enjoyed the most.  While she liked how the lime's zestiness did not overpower her palette, the watermelon found a balance between salty and sweet due to the salt crystals disguised as watermelon seeds.  However, she knew one thing for sure, she loved the shop.  After they finished their treats, they returned to the counter. 

“Well, what is the verdict on Watermelon Sugar?” The woman asked, wiping the counters with a wet dishrag.

“Absolutely delicious,” she licked her lips.  “Can you give our compliments to your boss?”

The woman nodded fervently, “Of course.”  Then she paused, processing her idea before responding with a smirk.  “Would you like to tell him yourself?  He recently returned from a late meeting.”

Y/N shrugged, unsure about the possible interaction, but she recalled the numerous compliments she received from customers and agreed to the suggestion.

The worker walked away, disappearing behind a door labeled Employees Only.  Y/N understood her compliments could brighten the owner's day; however, the longer the woman remained behind the door, the longer she had to overthink the future conversation.  What if the owner did not care about her opinion and laughed in her face?  What if the owner misunderstood and expected her to complain?  Her worries eased once the door swung open, revealing the worker and a Greek God.  The moment her eyes fell upon the curly-haired man with his lime-green sweater, her mouth ran dry. 

“Hello, I'm the owner, Harry.” The man's low and slow tone melted her heart like ice cream on a summer day.

She smiled dreamily, “Hello, I'm Y/N, and this is my daughter, Daphne.”

Before she could produce a compliment, he turned and faced the little girl.  “Hello Daphne, did you enjoy your ice cream?”

She watched in awe; not only did he acknowledge her daughter, but he also cared about her opinion.  The girl's father rarely asked about her interests.  She reminded herself not to idolize this stranger's kind gesture simply because her ex-husband lacked decent human qualities.

“Yes sir, my mommy bought me a lime cone.  She said we could come back every Friday.” Daphne gushed, revealing their plan with a toothy grin.

Harry's smile widened, unveiling two crescent-shaped dimples that dented his cheeks.  The man was perfect.  “Awesome, you must have a cool mom.”

Daphne agreed, smiling proudly at her mother, who blinked back happy tears.  Y/N cleared her throat, feeling slightly embarrassed that her daughter's compliment nearly brought her to tears.

“We appreciate you and your staff.  Everyone is so kind, and the ice cream tastes wonderful.” She mumbled timidly. 

His crystal green eyes found hers, sending chills down her spine at how they seemed to sparkle from the compliment.  He reached up, placing his palms over his heart. 

“Thank you.  Our customers brighten our day, but compliments like these are the reason why we opened this place.  What flavor did you try?”

“Watermelon sugar, and I think I’ll crave it until next Friday.” She giggled, shaking her head in shame over her sweet tooth.

Harry threw his head back, releasing an abrupt cackle that fluttered her heart.  Her mind stuttered, questioning why her body was reacting to this man she met five minutes ago.  Why did his beautiful laugh make her want to join in? 

“Imagine how I must feel working here.  I spend a majority of my day in my office because if I didn’t, I would have to reopen my gym membership.”

Now, it was her turn to laugh, a proper boisterous laugh, which she had not heard in quite a while.  However, her ex-husband's cruel nature rang loudly in her head, reminding her not to be annoying.  She quickly recovered, silencing her laugh and preparing an apology, but before she could speak, Harry settled her doubts and insecurities.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” He admired her melodic laugh. 

She ducked her head, hiding her sheepish grin from him.  Daphne's eyes traveled back and forth from the curly-haired stranger to her bashful mother.  The interaction made her question why her mother and father never laughed or smiled around one another.  Did her mother like this man more than her father?  Daphne hummed, examining the man further, deciding whether or not she liked him, and since she liked the lamb on his sweater, she decided the man was okay to talk with her mother.  However, she needed to leave soon to change out of her uncomfortable shoes.  

“Mommy, my feet hurt.” 

Daphne's whines reminded Y/N, that as a mother, she should not flirt with random men.  She didn’t have time for a relationship and should focus all her efforts on her daughter.  Cooing, she lifted the exhausted little girl up into her arms. 

“Well, I hope to see you two soon.  Daphne, next time try the Lucky Charms ice cream." Harry suggested, waving goodbye to the mother and daughter. 

Daphne created a mental note to try the suggested flavor next time.  However, she doubted her father would bring her next Friday, so she hoped her mother might bring her back before then.  Y/N wondered whether she could return to the ice cream shop.  Her heart rejoiced from the attention like a middle schooler who received a note from their secret admirer.  However, she could not allow this infatuation to blossom into anything else.  She would return because Daphne loved the ice cream, but she would not flirt with the handsome man. * * * * *

Red paint bled through the thin paper and mixed into the watery blue paint, coloring the princess's hair a violent purple.  The plastic paint brush fell against the kitchen counter at the familiar sound of jingling keys unlocking the apartment door.  The little girl raced toward the door that swung open to reveal her mother’s beaming smile.

“Mommy, I missed you.” Daphne confessed, jumping into her mother’s loving embrace.

Holding her daughter tight, Y/N chuckled and dropped her purse onto the nearby table.  “I missed you too, Nugget.  Where is your Aunt Christie?”

“She’s cooking dinner in the kitchen before you think I abandoned your daughter.” Christie shouted from the kitchen, making the mother and daughter giggle.

When setting her daughter down, she spotted a bright red paint stain on the girl’s uniform, which transferred onto her blazer.  Pressing her palm against her forehead, she hoped Christie bought washable paint so she wouldn’t have to purchase another uniform blouse for Daphne.

“Mommy, come and look at my painting.” Her daughter grabbed her hands, leading her toward the kitchen, and with that simple gesture, her worries about stained clothes washed away. 

While some might consider the painting grotesque due to the amount of red paint coating the cartoon princess’s body, she admired the art as if Van Gogh completed the masterpiece himself.  She grabbed a yellow alphabet magnet from one of the kitchen’s drawers and hung the art on the fridge. 

While the little girl danced with joy, Christie announced, “Watch out world.  A new artist has entered the scene, and her name is Daphne.”

Since last Friday, Y/N noticed how Daphne rarely cried over Tyler’s absence, and she finished the wedding photos without any more pity parties.  Choosing to ignore her previous stressors, she found herself singing and laughing more often.  Eventually, she knew Christie would ask about her sudden change in mood, and the question came during dinner.

"You two seem happier.  What happened?  Did Daphne pour sugar in your cereal?" Christie wondered, earning a giggle from her niece.  

Daphne responded first, answering the questions through a mouthful of broccoli.  "No, do you remember when Andrew had delicious ice cream at his birthday party?  Mommy took me to that ice cream shop, and I ate an entire scoop."

Christie’s brown eyes widened in pretend shock.  “An entire scoop by yourself?  Are you sure your Mommy didn’t help you?”

She nodded as if she were convincing her Aunt of something unbelievable.  "I did because it tastes like your key-lime pie, but next time, I'm going to try the Lucky Charms flavor because Mr. Harry told me to.  I like Mr. Harry.  He made Mommy laugh."

At the mention of Harry's name, Y/N ducked her head down like a teenager avoiding an awkward conversation with her mother.  Taking an interest in the vegan meatloaf on her plate sounded better than making eye contact with her nosy best friend.  However, once Christie cleared her throat, she knew she could not escape the inevitable questioning.  Glancing up, she found herself face-to-face with Christie's smirk.

“Who is Harry?” Those three words manifested a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. 

She attempted to shrug nonchalantly to convince her best friend that he was not important, but her robotic movements unveiled her nerves about the subject. 

“He owns the ice cream shop.  We complimented the shop, and he thanked us.”

Christie knew her best friend better than anyone else, and the slight sparkle in her eyes told her all she needed to know.  Y/N finally found a man worthy enough to develop a crush on.  This time, she hoped she wouldn't ignore her feelings and allow herself to find happiness.

“Is this Harry attractive?” Y/N squeaked at the straightforward question, which only made Christie laugh loud and long.

Munching on the lumpy mashed potatoes, Daphne watched the women talk about Harry.  She noticed how her mother wore the same smile from Friday, the smile showed more teeth, unlike the tight-lip grin she sported around Daphne's father.  Her grandmother wore a similar smile when she told her granddaughter the story of how she met her grandfather.  Was this what adults call love?  Shouldn't her mother love her father?

Y/N took a sip from her glass of red wine before responding, “He could be a Gucci model.”

Christie hissed as if she burnt her hand on something hot.  “You caught the attention of a Gucci model, and you didn’t ask him to father your children?”

Y/N gasped, reaching across the table to lightly slap her friend's arm.  "Daphne is in the room." She grumbled, shaking her head with embarrassment.  

Christie frowned, deciding it best to change the subject.  They could discuss the possible Gucci model at a later date when her niece was not around.

Instead, she turned toward the little girl and asked, "Babe, did you tell your mom about music class?"

Daphne gasped, falling into an animated story about how Ms. Lee assigned her the role of drummer in the class band.  Y/N hung on every word, but her mind and ears groaned at the mental image of her parents surprising Daphne with her very own drum kit.  After that story, they all took turns telling stories from their day until their plates were empty.  At the end of the night, Christie hugged them goodbye and informed Y/N that she would call tomorrow for more details about Harry.  Once she shut the door, Daphne asked the question that had been on her mind since dinner.

“Do you love Daddy?”

Y/N froze, gaping at her daughter like a fish out of water.  Tonight must have been the night for shocking questions because every question caught her off guard.  How should she answer?  Should she call Tyler before she answers?  Her heart uttered the words, just be honest with her.

“I do love your father, but not in the same way that grandma loves grandpa.  I want your father to be happy and healthy, but we stopped being in love a long time ago.” She hoped the questions would end there, but her daughter was as curious as her mother.

“Why?”

She hummed, kneeling so she could look into her daughter’s eyes.  “Well, your father and I were very young when we met, and we did not know who we were as people.  During our marriage, we both changed and realized that we were better off as friends than husband and wife.  I’m sure your father is happy we ended our marriage because he found Joanna, and she makes him happy.”

While Daphne nodded, Y/N could see her mind trying to process the information before coming to the conclusion, “I’m glad that Daddy is happy, but I want you to be happy too.”

Tears blurred the woman’s vision, and she choked through a heartbreaking sob.  How could her daughter not see that she was one of the few people who brought her happiness?  She shook her head, cupping her daughter’s cheeks.  “Baby, you make me the happiest mom in the world.  Now, how about we cuddle and watch some cartoons before bed?”

“Yes, can we watch my favorite show?” Daphne asked, bouncing with excitement. 

“Of course.” Standing up, she walked into the living room with her daughter by her side.  Watching the silly cartoon, they forgot about the heavy conversation and enjoyed each other’s company.  Y/N would answer Christie’s questions tomorrow, but today’s conversation with Daphne reminded her that her family was more important than a handsome man. * * * * *

The bright sun peeked out behind the dreary clouds, drying the murky puddles from the sidewalks and streets.  Birds flew from the damp branches, lightening the solemn mood with cheerful chirps and songs.  People fled from their busy schedules to spend a few moments outside, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of nature. 

Since her next client booked a later appointment, she decided to eat lunch at the nearby park.  The fork poked at the roasted brussel sprouts while she watched the crowds of people around her, from the family of three setting up a picnic to the lovely couple sharing a lunch before their offices called. 

There were moments when her parents dropped all worries and duties to escape into nature for a few days, like the weekend her parents planned an impromptu camping trip because the deadlines became too much, so instead, they taught her how to build a fire and enjoy the music of the critters.  She carried that sentiment into her life, finding moments throughout the week to feel the fresh air on her skin.  However, her buzzing phone interrupted her second of silent gratitude.

Sighing, she answered the call despite knowing what it would bring.  “Hello?”

“Hey, I need a favor.  Before you lecture me about the importance of parenting, just know that I will pick up Daphne, but my boss scheduled an emergency afternoon evening.  We probably won’t get out until six, so can you watch her until then?  I would ask Joanna, but her boss double-booked her.” With wide eyes, she pulled the phone from her ear to double-check that the man speaking with her was her ex-husband.

This man would rather spend time with his daughter than create an excuse to skip out on his fatherly duties.  Typically, she could hear the annoyance in his voice as if having a child were a burden.  While her heart soared at the possibility that her daughter might finally have a father who took an interest in her life, her mind questioned and created reasons why he suddenly cared about their daughter. 

“Of course, should I feed her dinner?  Or do you and Joanna have dinner plans?” She asked, thinking of how long it had been since she and Tyler had a civil co-parenting conversation.

He hummed in thought for a second before deciding, “We can feed her.  Wait, I almost forgot, could we keep her until Monday?”

Her heart stuttered when she thought about spending the entire weekend away from her daughter. She could not recall the last time she spent more than a few hours, let alone a day, without her. Also, she worried about her ex-husband's fatherly nature. Sure, she wanted him to spend time with their daughter, but she worried that he would not successfully prepare her for a school day.

His reassurance broke her reluctant silence.  “Y/N, you can trust me.  I have a few pairs of her school uniform, I know her schedule, and I will walk her to the front gates.  I can even update you.  Please, let me keep her for the weekend.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples with her free hand.  “Fine, but promise me that you will call me if anything goes wrong.”

Tyler chuckled, shocking her even more because she hadn’t heard that delightful sound in so long.  “I promise.  Joanna and I planned a Sunday dinner with my parents, and they asked if they could see Daphne, complaining that they haven’t seen her since her birthday party.”

Rolling her eyes, she exhaled the irritation growing in her chest. Her relationship with Tyler's parents was rocky. During their first meeting, they wooed her with luxury cars and expensive food, which differed from the lifestyle she grew up with.

However, once she announced her pregnancy, his parents uninvited her to their events and took to uttering hateful comments about their future granddaughter. Everything about the situation threatened their social status in the gated community. The cruel comments ceased the moment they laid their eyes on the beautiful baby, and instead, they turned their cold glares and vicious whispers toward Y/N.

They criticized her parenting skills and provided unwarranted advice on how to raise a polite young lady. Despite their hostility, Y/N sent frequent updates and planned weekends for them to visit, so their comment to Tyler irked her. If they had not seen Daphne since her birthday party, it was because they chose not to. 

“When will your parents stop being so charming?  Daphne will be excited to see her grandparents.”

Tyler laughed sarcastically, understanding the trouble his parents caused everyone.  “I’m glad that someone will be happy to see them.  Well, I better finish these reports.  I’ll see you tonight.”

Ending the call, she sat, shocked that they discussed their daughter without starting an argument. Throughout the years, she could count on one hand the amount of civil co-parenting conversations they had. She wondered how long this civility would last and if her advice about being a better father finally permeated his mind. She shook her head, deciding to focus on the positive rather than overthink the conversation until she found a reason to spoil it. If she was on after-school duty, then she and Daphne could stop by Dreams Cones, which meant she might run into Harry again. She leaned her head back, thanking the sun for blessing everyone. * * * * *

Children gathered around the marble counters to speculate about the new ice cream flavor, teenagers borrowed board games from a bookshelf to rid themselves of the pressures from school, and parents claimed tables to discuss upcoming weekend plans. 

Daphne sprinted toward the crowd, ignoring her mother’s stern reminder that people do not run indoors.  The magenta-colored ice cream gained everyone's attention because, unlike the other flavors, this new sweet treat lacked a name.  Instead, someone had scribbled three question marks onto the paper card taped to the glass display.

Harry chose unique names for the other flavors, so she wondered why he hadn't done the same for this one.  Perhaps he needed to workshop the name some more, but his excitement insisted that he could not keep the flavor from his customers any longer.  Maybe he chose a name but taped the wrong placard to the display. 

Breaking her focus from the mystery container, she looked up, expecting to find the grinning woman from their last visit; however, she found herself face to face with the owner’s irresistible dimpled grin.  All the air from her lungs became trapped in her throat, and her heart tried beating out of her chest and into his beautiful hands.

“Y/N, I'm happy to see that you and Daphne returned.”  The sincerity in his voice made her heart flutter wildly.  Despite the numerous customers he met daily, he remembered their names and actually sounded happy to see them.  She wondered whether or not this man was real.

Locking away her bothersome emotions, she responded rationally and calmly.  “Thank you.  I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”  Well, she tried.

Harry's eyebrows shot up, but once the initial shock cleared, he didn't seem disgusted by her comment.  Instead, his warm smile shifted into a smug grin as if her slip-up intrigued him.  While he handled the situation with grace, she prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.  She pictured some higher being cackling at her as she shook her head fervently. 

“I'm sorry.  I meant to say I haven't stopped thinking about your ice cream.  I promise I'm not trying to hit on you." Her mind begged her mouth to shut up.  She didn't want him to think she didn't find him attractive.  "Not that you aren't incredibly handsome."

Processing the conversation, she groaned and dragged a palm down her face. At that moment, she decided someone could die from embarrassment. She recalled when she could speak normally with people she found attractive, but her skills must be rusty from their lack of use. 

An amused chuckle flittered past his rosy lips as he crossed his arms across his chest, clearly enjoying the sight of her squirming and scrambling to correct herself.  “Thank you, I needed that today.  I woke up feeling unsure about myself.  Would it be inappropriate to say that you look beautiful?”

“It's not, thank you.”  She mumbled, biting back a bashful grin. 

For a moment, she basked in his sweet words, allowing her heart to soar with excitement because he thought she was beautiful.  Would she replay this conversation before she fell asleep tonight?  Yes, she would repeat his words and alter the situation so that it ends with them on a romantic date.  Her dreams were the only space she could be selfish and chase after the life she wanted.  

Daphne watched the shy couple flirt with one another, stopping her staring only once to wave and smile at Harry when he looked at her.  Thanks to her friends, she realized that her mother might have a crush on the curly-haired man. 

During recess, she told Ziva and Andrew about the situation, and they informed her that her mother like-liked Harry.  However, Ziva raised an important question, did Daphne want a new father? She didn't know.  She never questioned her parent's relationship because her earlier memories always featured her father's girlfriend.  Did she wonder why her parents weren't in love like Ziva or Andrew's parents?  Yes, but if her father could be happy with Joanna, then her mother deserved happiness too.  She was hesitant to replace her father with Harry, but she would accept him because he made her mom happy.

“Hi Daphne, how are you?” He asked, returning her wave. 

“I’m excited because I get to spend the weekend with my dad and Joanna.” She announced through a toothy smile.

He glanced at Y/N, scanning her face for negative emotions before returning his attention to the little girl.  “I hope you have an excellent time with them.  Did you want to surprise your father with a cup of our ice cream?”

She shook her head while her mother answered his question.  “Although my ex-husband loves surprises, he despises anything sweet.” 

Then Daphne added some vital information, “He’s also allergic to milk.”

Harry chuckled, nodding slowly.  “Well, that’s too bad, but at least you can still enjoy ice cream.  What flavors will you two be trying today?”

Daphne found herself in a predicament.  The Lucky Charm ice cream promised colorful marshmallows and cavity-causing sweetness, but the mystery flavor guaranteed excitement and amazement.  What flavor did her mother want?  Could she convince her to order the new flavor while she stuck with the safest option?  Before Daphne could decide, her mother eased all of her stress.

“I might try the new flavor.” His dimpled grin reappeared at her response.

He nodded once before bouncing toward the purple treat, his head bobbing side-to-side with each step.  Elation radiated from his heart and soul, eliminating anyone's sour mood in a two-mile radius.  Y/N and Daphne shared an amused look and a giggle before following the man.  The short distance between them allowed Y/N to peek at his outfit for the day, which consisted of navy blue dress pants, a pastel blue striped dress shirt (which he folded at the elbow, a look she found herself drooling over), and a sweater vest with white sheep dotted over it.  She should hire him as her stylist since her closet consisted of worn shirts and blazers for work. 

“Recently, I created a new ice cream flavor, but I struggled with the naming process.  I wrote down multiple unoriginal names.  Until I had an idea to let my customers choose the new name.  If you order the ice cream, you will also receive a slip of paper to write down your idea and drop it in the box by the door.  In two weeks, the staff and I will choose our favorite suggestion, and the winner will receive free ice cream for a month.”  Once Harry finished his announcement, she realized a crowd of curious customers had gathered around them.  Perhaps she should have paid attention to the contest rules instead of watching his rosy lips curve around each word. 

“How fun and creative.  Can I have one scoop of the mystery flavor in a cup, and a–” she paused, realizing she hadn’t asked Daphne what flavor she wanted.

Luckily, he heard the lull in her speech and jumped in where she left off, “Daphne, what flavor would you like?”

“Lucky Charms in a cone.”  Daphne's anxious heart rested easy because now she could taste both flavors without the risk of wasting her Friday treat on an icky treat.

Before scooping the sweet treat, he readjusted his sleeves, pushing the starchy material further up his arm.  Y/N couldn't help but admire the concentrated crinkle between his eyebrows as he created the perfect scoop.  Her knees even went weak when his pink tongue poked out to swipe over his bottom lip.  Why did this man have such a powerful effect on her?  Was she really that lonely?  Her mind reminded her heart that true love did not exist, and her feelings were caused by a chemical reaction. 

“Here you go, love.  Be careful, the cone is a bit messy.” He mumbled, handing her their order.  While reaching for the cone, her fingers brushed against his soft hands, sending her heart into a frenzy.  What did her brain know about love?

Before Harry could ring up the two scoops, two teenagers shouted their orders at him.  He appeared hesitant, stuck between helping these new customers and continuing his conversation with them.  However, he chose the former in an attempt to ease the customers’ scowls.  Another cheerful staff member informed Y/N that he could finish where his boss left off, and although she doubted that, she followed him to the register.

“What does the flavor remind you of?” She asked, processing the tangy yet fruity flavors dancing along her tongue.  Did she taste blueberry or blackberry?  When was the last time she ate a blackberry? 

Her daughter hummed, tapping the spoon’s handle against her chin.  “Christmas.”

Confusion halted all other thoughts about the flavor.  Instead, she chuckled lightly, raising an eyebrow.  “Christmas?  Why?”

The little girl shrugged, delving into her well-thought-out response, “Every Christmas morning, Grandma surprises us with blueberry muffins, and when I taste this, I miss Christmas and Grandma.”

In parenthood, there were many moments when a child might say something sweet, which not only made the parent proud of the small person they were raising but also brought tears to their eyes. She rubbed the corners of her eyes, catching any stray tears from rolling down her cheeks.  When she missed her parents, she would replay memories of Christmas mornings in her mind because they radiated love and happiness, and now, she learned that her daughter also cherished those moments.

“Well, we should suggest the name, Christmas morning.”  A gleeful giggle bubbled past Daphne's lips as she watched her mom write down the name on the slip of paper.  “Should we leave?  Your father should be at the apartment soon.”

Daphne nodded, sliding off the chair.  “I can’t wait to see Daddy.  Do you think he’ll take me to the zoo?”

While her daughter bombarded her with questions about the weekend, Y/N glanced over at Harry, wondering whether she should say goodbye; however, his furrowed brows and the crowded counter convinced her to walk away.  Dropping the paper slip into the box by the door, she answered a few of her daughter’s twenty questions.  She ignored the painful tug in her heart caused by the thought that she wouldn’t see Harry until next Friday. 

Reigning in her emotions, she reminded herself that she did not have time to date.  Also, why would Harry want to date a single mother?  She pictured him dating a beautiful, up-and-coming model who spent her free time ending world hunger.  He belonged with someone as wonderful as he was and who did not have as much baggage as she did.  Thankfully, Daphne pulled her mother from another spiral with a hilarious joke about cows and movies.  Laughter dissolved her stress as she wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, bringing her ball of sunshine closer so that her gray clouds might float away. * * * * *

Neon-pink lights illuminated the dark room while trendy music blared from a nearby speaker.  Draping a feathery boa around her shoulders, an optimistic university student discussed her dreams about the future.  She imagined exploring unknown locations, tasting world cuisine, meeting new people, and falling in love with strangers.  She might even find her soulmate on a beach in Greece.  While the camera captured the young woman's beauty, Y/N listened intently as if this girl were her daughter.  Through a warm smile, she showed her support for the young woman and her aspirations because they reminded her of the goals she made before meeting Tyler.  However, she hoped no one derailed this woman from achieving her dreams. 

“Scrolling through the photos, the woman gasped.  “Wow, you made me look beautiful.”  She whispered in awe, selecting the perfect one for her birthday Instagram post.

Y/N chuckled, returning the extra props to the storage room.  Since her next appointment was after lunch, she would reorganize the items once the customer left.  Easy days, like today, were great because they allowed her to catch up on simple tasks she kept putting off.  If she bribed her assistant, Kira, into helping, they might be able to leave earlier for lunch.

“Remember, the camera captures the art.  You were always beautiful.  I hope you have an excellent birthday.”

The young woman pouted her lips and cupped her chest.  “Thank you.  Can I give you a hug?”

The woman briefly hugged Y/N, then spun around and walked out as if she were on her next mission, but not without almost bumping into Kira at the door.

“She’s in a hurry,” Kira mumbled, glancing back at the young woman getting into her Uber ride. 

Y/N grinned. "It's her birthday, so she scheduled a self-love day. What did you bring me?" She asked, eyeing the two plastic cups filled with iced coffee. 

Growing up, she despised coffee and coffee-flavored products. However, once she gave birth to Daphne, her body craved the extra energy, juggling between university classes and a newborn baby.  As long as she flavored the drink with creams and syrups, she could find the strength within to swallow the liquid.  Now, her body could not function without an ounce of coffee coursing through her veins.

“I ordered two brown sugar coffees with oat milk.  Have we tried that one?” Her assistant asked, handing her the cold drink.

Every week, they ordered a drink they hadn’t tried before, but she also didn’t remember trying this drink, so it had to be new.  She shook her head, sipping the caffeinated beverage, immediately tasting the harsh, bitter coffee notes rather than the sugary sweetness she was used to.  She couldn’t disappoint her assistant, who appeared to love the drink by the speed at which she was drinking it, so she hummed and nodded her head as if the drink impressed her.

“Thank you.  It's delicious, but I miss my usual order."  She lied partially because she did miss her favorite caramel-flavored coffee, but she did not enjoy the new drink.   

“I'm glad we tried something new,” Kira admitted before glancing at the crowded storage room.  “Do you need help reorganizing the props?”

She nodded.  “If we finish early enough, we can have a long lunch.”

“Sure thing.”  Kira followed her toward the room, pausing the moment she remembered the last-minute appointment she had not added to her boss's calendar.  “Wait, I scheduled an eleven o’clock appointment.  The client’s name is Gemma Styles. She and her brother want to surprise their mother with a sibling portrait.”

“Okay, that sounds easy enough.”  She mumbled, loading a few props into her arms.  “Will you stay at the front desk and wait for them?”

While tidying the storage room, Y/N thought about Daphne and the weekend.  Tyler's parenting skills surprised her.  He planned a zoo visit, sent her photos of Daphne with the flamingos, and called her every night so their daughter could say goodnight.  He hadn’t been a present parent for two years, but she couldn’t be happier that something or someone finally woke that side of him up. 

Her only complaint involved the lack of information about yesterday’s dinner with his parents.  When she asked about his parents, he avoided the subject, which meant they either criticized his parenting skills or hers, but curiosity bubbled within.  What did they say?  If it was about her, did he stand up for her?  Was it about Joanna?  She hoped Daphne could answer these questions when she picked her up from school.

“Welcome to Artistic Lens.  My name is Kira.  How may I help you?” Kira’s question announced the arrival of her afternoon clients. “Hello, I’m Harry.  This is my sister Gemma.” Her ears perked up the moment she heard his angelic voice. 

Her hands paused their movements while her mind raised questions.  Was Harry actually in her studio?  Did he know she owned this space?  Is that why he chose this location?  Wiping the sweat from her palms onto her jeans, she ignored the questions distracting her from moving. She cleared her throat, reminding herself to remain professional because he was her client first and potential crush second.  She could not afford another slip-up like the last time they spoke.

She spotted his curly locks first, then his floral sweater, which featured an array of bright colors like turquoise and sunflower yellow.  Gemma, his sister, wore a floral dress that contained similar colors to her brother's outfit.  The siblings shared characteristics, such as their astounding beauty and cheek dimples.  She wondered if they had tried modeling.  She could picture them walking the runway in Gucci, Bode, and other big-name designers.

“Hello, I'm Y/N, and I'm the photographer.”  She plastered her best customer service grin onto her face to appear unbothered. 

When he heard her voice, Harry experienced four distinct emotions: confusion, realization, happiness, and lastly, embarrassment.  A sheepish grin unraveled across his face while his eyes met hers once before glancing around the room.  She smiled at his sister, chalking up his shy behavior as his reaction to seeing her outside the ice cream parlor, like a student seeing their teacher out in the wild.  However, Kira and Gemma witnessed the interaction, leading his sister to embarrass him further.

“It’s lovely to meet you.  Harry, didn’t you just tell me about a woman named Y/N, who you found very��” Harry’s eyes widened, and his hands covered his sister’s mouth before she could finish her sentence.

While Gemma shoved her brother away, Kira and Y/N shared an amused look. He huffed, fixing his posture and rolling his eyes. Y/N giggled, finding the entire situation sweet and flattering because, according to his sister, Harry talked about her. 

“Harry and I have met.  My daughter and I love his ice cream shop.  Now, tell me about your vision.”

She moved the conversation forward and away from their flirty friendship, watching his shoulders deflate and his dimpled grin return as if he could finally relax.

“Our mom always complains that we never take pictures together anymore, so we planned on surprising her with photos of us.” Gemma explained, obviously taking charge of the surprise.

Y/N nodded, motioning toward her camera and the backdrops.  “Great, we can get started over there.  Kira, will you bring us the wooden bench from the storage room?” While her assistant disappeared to the storage room, she positioned the Styles siblings in front of the gray backdrop.

Before beginning the photoshoot, she checked the lighting, flipped through the camera settings, and examined their outfits. Harry paired his bright sweater with beige pants, and Gemma tied a pink scarf around her neck to match the peonies on her brother's top. She feared the light colors might wash out the siblings; however, the camera captured their beauty and radiating glow.

“You both look amazing.  I selected your first pose, but feel free to move and pose as you like.  I want the photos to look natural rather than two perfectly still models.”  She explained, snapping a few test shots.

Kira returned shortly with the bench, placing the item beside the backdrop. "Should I turn on your playlist?"

She nodded, “Sure, unless Gemma or Harry, do you want to play a certain playlist?” Lifting her head from the camera, she saw Harry shaking his head.

“No, you should play your music.  People find my music taste—” He paused, rummaging through his mind for the correct word to describe his music, but Gemma responded for her brother before he could even stop her, “Eclectic.”

“Yes, so please, play whatever you like.”  His eager smile contained a level of excitement that she found endearing, almost as if he truly wanted to learn what music she loved.

Shuffling the playlist, she smiled when her favorite singer crooned through the speaker.

“I love this song,” Harry confessed, bopping his head to the beat. 

“Me too.  Don't you want to sing along?” She asked, humming with the love-sick singer.

She pictured a life where she and her spouse would listen to this music while cooking dinner. A life where they would sing along, off-key, of course, while chopping vegetables. Her spouse would grab Daphne's hands and dance with her around the kitchen. She would capture these important moments with her camera. A room overflowing with love and laughter. 

Lately, these daydreams featured a curly-haired, green-eyed man. His hands would grip her hips, spinning her around and away from the cutting board while he hummed some romantic song. They would waltz around the kitchen, discussing their days in hushed whispers. Eventually, he would let her finish dinner while he helped Daphne with schoolwork.  During these moments, she believed someone as handsome as Harry could love her. 

Gemma chuckled, shaking her head while finding a new pose.  “You don’t want me to sing.  Unlike Harry, some of us weren’t born with an amazing voice.  Did you know he was in a band?”

Her head shot up from the camera as she blinked the shock away.  Harry, feeling sheepish again, twiddled his thumbs while she stared at him in awe.  “First, who cares if we suck at singing?  We should sing along anyway.  Second, you were in a band?  Please tell me more.”

While dragging his fingers through his hair, a nervous chuckle fumbled past his rosy lips.  “When I was fourteen, me and my mates decided to start a band.  Our parents and friends hired us for local events, but the band barely survived two years.”

“During his university years, he performed solo at pubs.” Gemma added, smiling proudly at her brother.

Y/N smiled through her shock.  During their university years, she and Tyler spent many weekends at pubs, and now, she wondered if she and Harry were ever in the same room. However, she thinks she would have remembered his angelic voice and alluring presence. 

“Well, I think that’s amazing.  You are quite the catch, Harry.”  She winked, bringing back his dimpled grin. 

Continuing the photoshoot, Y/N focused on backdrops, props, and poses. Everyone fell into a comfortable silence, only speaking when Gemma mentioned a topic she planned on discussing on her podcast. During these moments, Y/N agreed with her positive attitudes and views. She could see Gemma joining her and Christie for Sunday brunch, where they could gossip and laugh over mimosas. Should she befriend the sister of the man she was crushing on? Her eyes washed over him, admiring the sparkle in his green eyes and the two tattooed swallows on his chest. She paused. When did this gentle, shy man get two tattoos?  Were there more?

“You have a tattoo.” What should have been a question came out as a statement, one that made Harry scan his body as if searching for which tattoo might be on display, which only answered her question that there must be more than the two on his chest, then with a furrowed brow and worried eyes, he made eye contact with her intrigued ones.

He cleared his throat before speaking up. “Yeah, I have multiple tattoos.  During uni, my mate bought a tattoo gun, which resulted in many stupid tattoos, but I don’t regret them.  They remind me of a different time.”

While listening to his explanation, her heart fluttered.  “That’s incredibly sweet.  I want a tattoo, but I’m terrified of needles.  I nearly fainted when the nurses gave me the epidural for Daphne’s birth.” Her confession made the siblings chuckle.

“I was like that during my first tattoo, but now, I'm a pro.  If you really want one, I could come with you to keep you company."  He stuttered through the end of the sentence as if his mind processed what his mouth said.  “Unless you want to bring anyone else who isn’t a complete stranger to you.”  He rambled, trying to fix his earlier statement.

She shook her head with an amused giggle.  “Harry, you aren’t a complete stranger.  I’m very touched by your offer, and if I ever decide to get a tattoo, you will be the first person I call.”

He sighed with relief, dropping his shoulders down from his ears.  Gemma observed the interaction, noting her brother's unusual behavior.  Throughout her life, she witnessed Harry's confidence first-hand.  From the moment he could talk, he loved being the center of attention, and his charming attitude introduced him to more relationships than she could remember.  She recalled a time when he tripped over a rug, ripped his pants, and still received a phone number from the person he was chatting up.  His confidence carried him through life, and she had never seen it falter until she watched her brother flirt with the photographer. 

“Okay, we are all done.  I think your mother will love these.” Y/N bragged because although she captured the magic, she couldn’t have done it without Gemma and Harry’s natural beauty and warmth.

“Thank you so much.” Gemma giggled with excitement, wrapping her arms around the photographer’s body.

Y/N chuckled, returning the comforting hug.  She spotted Harry’s warm smile over Gemma’s shoulder, which served as his “thank you” for the photographs and for entertaining his sister.  The smile resembled that of a loving boyfriend, happy that his girlfriend impressed his family.  Her stomach clenched with butterflies at the idea of Harry as her boyfriend. 

She pulled away from the hug, dropping her gaze from him. “Once I edit the photos, I’ll send them to you.  Should I have any questions, is the number on file a good one to reach you at?”

Gemma nodded, then hummed as if a thought just struck her. “Well, I probably won’t answer if I’m in an interview.” She turned toward her brother with a mischievous grin, revealing her intentions. “You should give her your number too.  You answer the phone more than I do.”

He nodded once, scribbling his number onto the contact sheet Kira provided them. Y/N could sense his annoyance with Gemma's constant embarrassing comments, so she planned to make the rest of the interaction fast and painless. She handed Kira the sheet, which they would file later, and then faced the siblings.

“Great, I hope you two have an excellent day.” Y/N smiled.

Harry mumbled a “you too” under his breath, shuffling toward the glass door, unlike his sister, who had one more plan up her sleeves. “Wait, have you eaten lunch?  Harry and I would love to treat you to lunch as a thank you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, her mind racing with every reason why she should not accept the invitation.  Harry noticed the hesitation in her eyes, which landed on his, and searched for any sign that he did not want her to join them, but all she found was a warm welcome.

“You should come.  I’d love to get to know you more.”  He spoke up, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N nodded, matching his dazed grin.  “Well, I’m never one to turn down a free lunch.  I would love to join you.” 

[cordeliawhohung]

Soft Spot - Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part thirteen of "soft spot"

taglist | playlist | dissection links

it's hard to clear your mind with so much smoke

warnings: soft and fluffy, domestic simon, slight anxiety, shitty cliffhanger

wc: 3k

The music that poured through your window was different than usual.

Normally your downstairs neighbor would play previously recorded songs through whatever stereo system they had set up in their room, but this sounded more vibrant. Their taste in music was good, so you never had much to complain about, and oftentimes you found yourself opening your window just to have a bit of background noise. What made this time so different was that, for once, it was live music. A guitar. By the sounds of it, they hadn’t been playing for very long, but you weren’t one to judge someone trying to learn. Though their plucking wasn’t good, they had a few strummed chords down pretty well, and by the sounds of it, they had found a progression they really enjoyed. 

Those repetitive chords, along with Boo’s purring, accompanied you as you worked in the nursery. It had taken you a while to get the damn cat to calm down enough that he would stop attacking the clothes while you folded them, and he had properly curled up by your feet. While your son’s due date grew closer, he still made no signs that he was showing up anytime soon, which was both intimidating and comforting at the same time. You tried not to think too much about the prospect of giving birth those days, as you found all it really did was raise your anxiety about the whole predicament. Instead, you did your best to distract yourself with little tasks. Simon was a good help too, whenever he wasn't busy ogling at your swollen stomach, anyway. 

You busied yourself with laundry that morning while you attempted to hum along with whatever tune your neighbor had composed. This laundry was different than any other you had done before as the clothes were significantly smaller than you were used to. You didn’t feel comfortable putting your son in unwashed clothes, as you didn’t even want to think about what sort of infections he could get had there been something on the fabric, and since he was about to show up any day, you figured you’d get that out of the way before your hands were too full otherwise. 

That morning, you had washed roughly seven blankets, a handful of fitted sheets, and about half the world's stock of infant onesies. Most of them were thanks to Johnny, naturally, as he was really the only family you and Simon had. One of them had the words “I’m da bomb,” written on the front, which Simon informed you was extra ironic as Johnny was the demolitions expert. The onesie that had really gotten you was the one that said “World’s greatest nephew.” You cried upon seeing it — damn pregnancy hormones — even though Simon said it was tacky. 

The most useful thing you had been gifted was a whole stack of diapers that had a wide age range, and would certainly last your son at least a year. Most of them had been from the office, actually. Or, at least that’s what they claimed. You had a sneaking suspicion it was actually from someone higher up the chain as an attempt at an apology for Sallow’s behavior on your last day. You did your best not to think about that instance too much, yet it always managed to wiggle into your brain somehow. His biting words, that look on his face as if he had won. Part of you wondered what ended up happening to him. Another part didn’t really care. 

“Sure you don’t wanna take a break?” Simon spoke up from the doorway. 

Halfway through folding a onesie with construction trucks on it, you looked up from your work. Simon was just about as restless as you were since going on leave, and unfortunately for you that meant he spent most of his time checking in on you as if you were a feral old lady. Chuckling, you turned your attention back to folding. 

“It’s laundry, not hard manual labor,” you quipped. 

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” he countered. 

“There’s a difference between relaxing and bed rest, and I think bed rest would make me go insane right about now,” you sighed as you tossed yet another folded onesie into the pile with the others. 

“You’ve been fussin’ over the nursery since this morning,” Simon said. 

“Is it not still morning?”

“It’s one, sweetheart.” 

Blinking away your surprise, you looked at all the clothes that surrounded you. Your nursing chair was quite comfortable, even in your changed state, and it was quite easy to pile clothes and other items high in the hampers as you worked mindlessly. Normally it wouldn’t have taken you so long to do laundry, even with the large amount of clothes you sorted through. Perhaps you had the lethargy of pregnancy to thank for that. 

“Oh,” you said simply. 

Chuckling, Simon crossed the distance of the room and took your busy hands in his as he knelt in front of you. His hands seemed softer those days, and void of cuts and bruises. It wasn’t just the paternal leave that did that, as you two had only been off of work for maybe two weeks at that point. He hadn’t been deployed on a mission ever since he found out you were pregnant. Perhaps you had John to thank for that. You made a mental note to send him a nice box of cigars. 

“Have you eaten?” Simon asked. 

“Not since breakfast,” you answered. 

A simple squeeze of your hands was all that was needed to prompt you up, with Simon’s assistance of course. He always asked questions like that. If you had eaten or drank any water. Said you would need to keep prepared in case you went into labor. Said you would need to keep as much of your energy as you could. Not even ten minutes later, the two of you sat next to one another, eating quickly slapped together sandwiches while you sunk into the couch in the living room. 

Music continued to pour through the open windows, yet it sounded like your neighbor had given up on practicing for the time being. Time moved at a snail’s pace ever since you went on leave, and the music only seemed to exacerbate that. You lived in a limbo — a place frozen in time where the only thing you seemed to do was prepare for something that felt like would never come. 

Once you finished eating, you leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh. Every atom that made up your body buzzed with restlessness. Your feet began to tap against the floor, knees shaking with the force, and your gaze turned to the window. Fat clouds hung in the sky, but it didn’t smell like rain. If anything, you could nearly make out the scent of the tulips your next door neighbor had growing on her balcony. 

Simon reached over and snatched your plate from your lap, drawing your attention back over to him. He looked at you with a raised brow as he caught sight of your bouncing legs, and you quickly ceased your movement with a huff. Chuckling, he stood up from his spot before wandering off into the kitchen to take care of the mess, and you groaned as you looked up at the ceiling. 

“I’m going crazy,” you whined. 

“That’s what relaxin’ is, sweetheart,” Simon quipped. 

“It’s bullshit is what it is,” you countered. “Sitting around, just waiting for this kid to come like we’ve got some welcoming party set up. I wanna… do something.” 

Simon paused as he came back into the living room, shoulder leaning against the doorway. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

“What, like I’m a dog?” you teased.

He shrugged. “Your words, not mine.” 

A heavy sigh passed your lips as you rolled your head to the side. You hated the stares. You hated the comments and the lingering eyes and the quiet cooing you received while out in public. More often than not you were looked at like a walking enigma rather than a human being. Rather than a mother. Is that what it meant to become a mom? You’d just turn into some spectacle? Is that all you had ever been from the start? 

“Sure,” you finally responded, “could walk around the park or something.” 

That was that. The lift made heading to the bottom floor an easy feat, and once you were settled in the passenger's seat of Simon's car, the two of you were headed off to the nearest park. A gentle breeze toyed with the clouds in the sky and the budding leaves on the trees, and its aroma was intoxicating. Usually there was more rain in the spring time, but you were glad that you had been spared from it that day. 

You weren’t the only people who figured it was a good day to go for a walk. Plenty of other citizens filled the park as children bounced around on playground sets and adults settled down for impromptu picnics. Their laughter filled the air with ease, and its sound felt warm on your ears. It wouldn’t be much longer until you heard that sound more often. Or, at least you hoped you did. You were sure there would be plenty of screaming well beforehand. 

Simon helped you out of the car, face still shrouded with his mask, and the two of you quickly set off on the paved path that weaved throughout the grass and trees. Shadows dotted the land around you as thick clouds traversed far overhead, yet for the most part the sun warmed your skin as you walked. It was awkward walking and carrying around so much extra weight, yet you had gotten fairly good at pushing through despite it. With Simon’s hand in yours, you hardly thought too much about the weight anyways as you were more concerned with the feeling of his skin against yours. 

“So,” you spoke up once the two of you had walked a fair ways down the path, “the mask. Still plan on wearing it once you’re officially done with work?” 

“Maybe,” he pondered.

“Seriously?” 

He shrugged. “It’s so ingrained with me that the tyke’ll probably come out wearin’ one.” 

Your chuckle shook your body so much you felt your son protest inside of you with a swift fit of kicks. He had grown less active as of late, but as far as you knew, that was pretty normal. Still, you wish he had picked up energy a bit more. By the sounds of it, if he didn’t arrive by next week, your doctor planned on inducing you, which was a whole nightmare on its own. 

“As long as he’s got a better sense of humor than you, I think we’ll manage,” you teased. 

“My sense of humor is fine.”

“Uh huh.” 

A fit of giggles snagged your attention as a small group of kids swerved around you and Simon. A bright yellow football spun out in front of the two of you as they kicked it among themselves, making sure to use a flourish of kicks to show off. It seemed as if their game had gone out of bounds, and they elbowed one another as they fought to get it back towards the field. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them and their stubby legs kicking the ball as they ran as hard as they could. 

It was strange to think you’d have to care for someone like that. Sure, your son would start off small, but everyone always said they grew up fast. It was times like that when things seemed to move faster than normal. Everything always seemed like it stood still until you turned around and saw how far you had come, yet something about that moment made things feel like the opposite. Everything else passed by you so quickly, and you were stuck with your feet in the ground. 

Fucking pregnancy hormones. 

Before you could get lost any further in your mind, you gave Simon’s hand a full squeeze, as if demanding his attention. He hummed in response, eyes carefully flickering to you before landing back on the path before you. 

“We still have to decide on a name,” you reminded him. 

“If we had it Johnny’s way, we’d name it after him,” Simon humored. 

A smile pulled at your lips as you remembered his comments. You’re naming him after Uncle Johnny, aye? 

“I’m not naming our son John. That’s such an old man's name,” you countered. “I’m pretty sure anyone with that name isn’t ever born. They just sorta sprout into existence as a full grown man.”

“We could always name him Arlo,” Simon said, the grin evident in his voice. 

“You’re a fucking dick for that one,” you hissed quietly enough that the kids around you couldn’t hear. 

Simon’s grin erupted into a chuckle, and you bathed in the way the warm vibration of it washed over you. Simon always felt like home to you. Patched up and barely holding together by the seams at first, yet his foundation was the only one you had come across that wasn’t cold and dead. His laughter always reminded you of that — that you were safe and warm with him — even though he tried to hold it back more often than not. 

“We’ll figure it out eventually I suppose,” you sighed. 

Even with the steady breeze, the heat of the sun ate away at your skin like a beast. While it felt nice at first, being out in nature and airing yourself out, you could feel your skin perspire uncomfortably, forcing your clothes to stick to your body like a cage. You wiggled your hand out of Simon’s grasp as you wiped your sticky hand on your pants. Being sweaty was always uncomfortable, but it was twice as irritating when you were so far along. 

“Wanna take a breather?” Simon prompted. 

You looked up at him with narrow eyes. How he managed through the thick heat in that dark mask of his was beyond you, and in some sort of way you were a little jealous. Though, you supposed he had earned that right. You were sure he had gone through environments much warmer than London with clothes significantly thicker than his civvies. 

“Sure,” you said eventually, giving in. 

A few paces ahead sat an unsuspecting bench. It was one of the annoying metal ones that had no curve for comfort, yet you knew Simon was right. A breather would do you some good, and you shouldn’t push yourself anyway. The moment you lowered yourself onto the bench, you leaned all your weight back with a sigh. However, Simon stayed standing, despite the fact there was plenty of room for him to sit with you. 

“I’ve got some water in the car, if you need it,” he offered. 

“Might be a good idea,” you nodded. 

Simon paused as he glanced around as if assessing the area for threats. You weren’t quite sure what threats there were to be found in London, but you were certain you would have been fine in a park in broad daylight. Simon seemed to come to that same conclusion, and he quickly waved a finger at you as he took a step back. 

“Stay put.” 

After giving him a half-assed fake salute, you watched as he strolled back down the pavement towards the car until he was well out of view. Another sigh left your throat as you allowed your eyes to rest and soak in what little nature surrounded you. Birds sang to one another in the trees, but the crashing harmony of the seagull’s call created an aura of dissonance. It was some sort of external struggle you weren’t allowed to be a part of. 

At that moment, everything happened at once. The cars driving along the street. Children screaming and giggling. Clouds rolling overhead without a care in the world. A bee flying towards a dandelion. You could smell the sunshine warm the earth with an enticing aroma. Everything existed all at once, all together, with you right in the middle of it. It was perfect. Everything humming in tune with one another. Weaving together to hold you tight. 

It stopped when you smelled the smoke. 

That nauseating aroma was strong enough to nearly make you hurl right there in the center of the park, yet you managed to hold it together. It took a sharp breath and a thick swallow to do it, but you refused to embarrass yourself that way. You hated being vulnerable in front of others. As your eyes flickered back open you could make out the faint sound of rustling grass. It was leisurely. Soft. Like someone couldn’t bother to pick their feet up fully as they walked. 

Your mistake was simple. You looked up. You looked up and you locked eyes with the man who walked by, and you swore that in that moment you would fall apart. And you wanted to. Wanted to crumble into dust so that he would never lay eyes on you again. Yet you were forced to witness the way his lips curled into a smile around his cigarette as if he had any right to be friendly towards you, and you wanted to scream. You wanted to scream further still as he changed course and made a beeline straight to you. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered. 

You hated his voice. Hated the way words rolled off of his tongue. You wished his tongue would turn to stone, or worse, so that he would never have to poison anyone with his words ever again. His chuckle came as a terrible scratch against your eardrums, and you tried your best not to grimace, but you couldn’t even do that much. 

He exhaled his last lungful of smoke before he took the butt out of his mouth and tossed it onto the pavement. The sole of his boot crushed it like it was nothing but a bug underneath his weight, and while you could hear its contents smearing on the ground, you still couldn’t look away from his face. A desert-like dryness plagued your mouth, and you tried your hardest to get your tongue to move, but every time you swallowed it felt like pins were stuck in your throat. 

Years. So many years and still, you were nothing but a scared little girl. 

“What?” he questioned facetiously. “You’re not gonna say hi to your dad?”

[amomentsescape]

Wrong Place, Right Time

Billy Loomis x Reader

Summary: Billy wanted nothing more than to add four more teens to his killing list. However, you were the last one he expected to be there.

Warnings: Violence & death, fluff

Word Count: 1,231

A/N: It felt right to kick off my Slasher Summer writings with Billy. He's been a long time favorite of mine, and it just felt right. As a reminder, I am taking any and all requests. If you have a slasher you'd like me to write for, let me know!

He could already feel the adrenaline coursing through his body. He was practically shaking as he slowly crept in through the back door of a ridiculously decked out house.

"Idiots," he muttered. The people who lived here didn't even bother locking the door.

As he finally made his way inside, he could hear chatter and heavy music making its way from upstairs.

Billy smiled as he listened.

Word had clearly spread that there was some psycho murderer making their way around the area. It only seemed right for people to ban together at night, hoping that the large gathering would deter a killer from attacking.

But clearly this group wasn't being too cautious. Leaving the door unlocked and having the stereo on high wasn't exactly rule number one in any "how to stay alive in a horror movie" pamphlet.

With this being said, the group was doing at least one thing right.

They were all together in the same room.

This was going to make Ghostface's job a little more difficult, but not impossible by any means.

He quickly turned back towards the door and signaled that he was ready.

Stu nodded back at him, having been waiting outside for his cue.

Billy smiled as he watched Stu disappear. And that smile only grew when the lights all cut out, sending everyone into a hush.

He slowly made his way up the stairs in the dark, being careful not to make any sound.

He was close enough now that he could make out voices whisper-shouting to each other. One person finally groaned out a "fine" as they left the rest of the group.

Billy considered this for a moment and realized that they were likely heading outside to the electrical panel.

He let out a frustrated sigh at this, knowing that he was going to have to go after them quickly. Stu promised not to get in the way this time.

This was his night.

As he heard the front door slam shut, Billy continued his way upstairs. He'd deal with them later.

It didn't take long to get through the group. There were only three others besides whoever left.

Ghostface jumped out from the darkness and quickly stabbed the throat of some teenage boy he had seen once or twice in the halls of their high school.

The other two girls quickly jumped up and screamed as they witnessed their friend being slaughtered right before their eyes.

One headed for the front door, but he was quick to grab onto her hair and throw her hard against the ground. The wind was suddenly knocked from her and she barely had time to gasp out when the metal blade punctured into the middle of her chest.

She shook out a few spasms and coughed up blood before her eyes quickly glazed over.

Ghostface stood back up and made his way down the hall, having seen the second girl sprint in that direction just moments before.

He felt pretty confident as he walked, already knowing where she was hiding.

Only one door was closed and if Stu and him had mapped it out correctly, it was a small bathroom with a window barely big enough to fit a child through.

"Too easy," he muttered to himself.

With a few swift kicks, the door swung open to an empty room- or so one would think.

As he tore open the shower curtain, the girl jumped up and tried to slash him with a pair of pointed scissors she had found.

She was too slow however, and Billy was quick to grab her arm and throw her body against the tiled wall.

He grabbed her head forcefully and slammed it over and over before finally using his knife to finish the job.

Easy work, he thought.

With that, he suddenly heard yelling coming from downstairs.

"Guys?"

This made Billy freeze up.

That voice. How did he not recognize it sooner?

He slowly crept his way to the top of the stairs, carefully peaking over as to not be seen. And that's when he realized it was you.

For the first time that night, Billy was scared.

You were the only one that got to see a genuine smile from the boy, the only one who Billy thought was worth living.

You both had a couple of classes together, but neither of you said much to one another. Billy had to keep up his persona with Sidney, and he didn't trust himself to do that around you.

You were much too pretty and smart to talk to anyways.

Billy had overheard conversations you'd have with some of your friends during lunch or in between classes.

You loved the same horror movies as him and always glowed when talking about your favorite characters.

He couldn't help but smile almost every day while watching you, taking in every little quirk and laugh you'd let out.

Billy had no choice but to become smitten with you.

And this is why his dilemma left him at a standstill.

He didn't want to kill you. No, he couldn't kill you. You were just too precious in his world full of anger and pain.

But what was his other option? He just killed your friends.

In his defense, he'd seen you talk to these people once or twice at school. He didn't realize you actually liked them. He may be a murderer, but he's not heartless. He didn't want to kill anyone that you cared about. But it was a little late for apologies.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself.

As you stood at the bottom level, looking around for your friends, you began to hear footsteps descending the stairs.

You quickly spun to the side and saw him.

Ghostface.

Your jaw dropped as if preparing for a scream, but no sound made its way out.

What was the point anyways? Your friends were likely all dead, and that meant there was no one else to hear your screams for help.

But if he was going to kill you, he sure was taking his sweet time.

He was walking so slowly towards you. If it weren't for the current circumstance, you would have almost thought he was trying not to scare you.

As he got closer, you began to back away from him.

You kept going until your body hit the cold wall behind you.

This was it.

He finally found himself about a foot away from you, staring through you with whatever eyes were behind that mask.

Your breath hitched and your eyes began to water. Fear overcame you as you realized that you were going to die.

As the tears began to drip down your face, Ghostface closed the gap.

He raised his hand up towards you, and you flinched away knowing that he was going to grab you by the throat and crush the wind from your lungs.

However, this wasn't what happened.

You felt the leather glove softly graze against your cheek. You carefully tipped your head back in his direction, your brows furrowing.

"W-what are you-"

His hand suddenly caressed your face, his thumb running over the wet spots your tears left behind.

You watched his shoulders sag a bit, as if he finally let go of a breath he had been holding.

And without a moment to process what was happening, he disappeared into the darkness.

[wh0re43van]

Frogger Pt 2 (Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Summary: You return to peters house to finish what you started, but he’s way ahead of you.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Very smutty, Masturbation, sub!peter (no mommy kink tho bc Idr fuck with that), edging, whiny Peter, pantie stealing

A/n: I can’t get this divider to work right and I’ve also just realized that Frogger came out on Atari in ‘83 not ‘73,,, so just ignore that huge plot hole pls 🙏🏻 Speaking of which, I’d like to take this moment to say: Frogger? I hardly know her!

Okay thats it. Thank you for reading!!

Pt 1

After picking my little brother up from school, I pull into our driveway.

“Alright come on, Finn. you’re gonna learn how to heat up a TV dinner today,” I say as I open the passenger door for my brother, ushering him quickly towards our front door.

“Why?” he asks, confused as we enter our home.

“Cause I got shit to do. You’ve got five minutes to ask questions then I’m leaving,” I say as I walk into the bathroom right next to our kitchen to check my reflection. “So, you better start now,” I say as I reapply my lipstick.

“What? Does mom know?” he asks, sounding horrified.

“No and she won’t find out because I’ll be home before she gets back from her Tupperware party and you aren’t gonna say anything,” I say as I shake my finger in his face.

“Y/n, I’m only eight. What if someone breaks in?” he squeaks as he follows my quick steps to the freezer. I open the door, pulling out a random frozen meal.

“Then hide,” I say flatly, knowing that our neighborhood is safe. He looks at me, still horrified.

“Ugh,” I groan before grabbing a pen and writing the Maximoff phone number on our calendar that’s hanging on the fridge. “I’m going to Peters. This is their phone number. Call and ask for me if anything happens. I should be back in an hour or two,” I say before grabbing my keys off the counter and walking to the door.  “Lock the doors, don’t answer for anyone unless it’s me, mom, or dad and stay inside the house,” I say as I unlatch the wooden door.

“Wait! You didn’t tell me about the dinner!” he stops me in my tracks.

“You can read right?” I ask, he nods his head. “Directions are on the box,” I lock the door behind me as I all but run towards my vehicle.

As I take the short drive to Peters house, my heart races in anticipation. I hate to admit it, but I managed to get just as worked up as he did- if not, more. My Fleetwood Mac cassette plays loudly in my stereo, but all I can hear is the whimpers that escaped Peter’s mouth earlier. He looked so fucking pathetic writhing underneath me, mewling through shaky breaths; It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. The image of peter standing half naked, desperate, and confused with his pants so tight around his erection that his button could pop off at any moment makes more core ache. I pull up to the Maximoff house, parking halfway on the curb, but I’m in too much of a hurry to fix it. I sprint up to the door, taking a deep breath to compose myself before knocking. Ms. Maximoff soon opens the door.

“Y/n, back so soon?”  she grins, allowing me to enter.

“Yes ma'am, I have something that I need to finish,” I smile innocently. She nods.

“Peter should be downstairs, I haven’t seen him since you left,” she walks back to the kitchen, leaving me to make my way to Peter’s room. I quietly walk down the stairs, stepping onto the shag carpet. I freeze in my tracks, my breath hitching in my throat and my heart skipping a beat at the sight in front of me.

Peter sitting upright on his couch, completely naked, his head thrown back, resting on the back of the sofa as his hand pumps his rock hard dick. His eyes are squeezed shut as his mouth hangs agape, releasing the hottest whimpers I’ve ever heard. His cheeks and lips are flushed as his nose scrunches in pleasure… then I hear it.

“Fuck, y/n” he mewls, so quiet I could barely hear it, but the sound of him muttering my name as he strokes himself rings through my ears like a trumpet, making my knees weak.

‘Oh, this gonna be wicked!’ I smirk to myself.

“Yes?” I bite my lip, approaching the disheveled boy. Peter’s so stunned that he just jumps up. He doesn’t zoom away. He just stands there with the most horrified expression I’ve ever seen.

“I-I-I didn’t- I wasn’t- y/n,” he sputters, I walk up to him, gently pushing him back down to the couch.

“You weren’t what?” I sit next to him, placing a hand on his chest; He’s hot to the touch. “Rubbing one out while thinking about me?” I ask lowly.

“I well, y-y-you just left me,” he says, staring at me with wide eyes, his dick still standing at attention. “I tried not to, it just wouldn’t go away,” he explains as he pushes his sweaty hair out of his face.

“Hmm,” I tap a finger to my lips in mock consideration. “I think I know how to help you,” I say with a shrug. Peter smiles at me, settling into the couch, closing his eyes, waiting for me to touch him. I get down on my knees in between his legs. “But I need you to show me what you were doing first,” I look up at him, laying my head on his bare thigh. He looks down at me, confused.

“Y-you want me to…” he motions towards his erection.

“Mhm,” I hum, looking at him through my lashes. His cheeks burn bright red, but he slowly moves his hand to his length. I watch intently as he begins to stroke himself. His hand runs over his red, swollen tip and he lets out a quiet whimper. “I wanna hear you, Peter,” I hum.

Even though he’s embarrassed, I can tell that he’s enjoying this. His breath quickens and his dick twitches in his hand as I speak. He picks up speed, obeying my command, letting out a pathetic little moan, as he stares down at me. “I think I know what you’re doing wrong,” the sultry tone drips from my tongue as I sit up on my knees.

“What?” he asks, his voice small as he watches my every move. I take his length into my own hand, dipping my head down, gathering spit in my mouth that I allow to drip from my lips onto his swollen tip. His brown eyes, wide as saucers, watches the saliva trickles onto him.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers as I use my fingers to spread the lubrication around. I hear his breath hitch, then I pull my hand away.

“Now try it,” I smile. I can tell he’s getting sexually frustrated.

“Really?” He whines. “But I want-“ he whines some more before I stop him.

“Do it, Peter,” I say sternly. He gulps, returning his hand to his now slick cock. He moans, throwing his head back.

“Doesn’t that feel better, baby?” I coo. He looks down at me, nodding his head. I slowly shift from my knees to sit on my ass, keeping his desperate eyes locked into mine. I spread my legs, revealing my soaked white panties underneath my skirt. Peter whimpers loudly at the sight, thrusting his hips into his hand.

“C-come on y/n, what are you tryin’ to do to me?” He groans, breathlessly.

“I’m helping you, quickie,” I giggle lightly before I run my hand over my clothed core. Peter shifts on the couch, sitting up to get a better view. His hand picks up speed around his length. I hum at the contact on my core, laying my head back, allowing my hair to fall from my shoulders down my back. I tilt my head to the side, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth when I catch Peters gaze locked onto my dripping panties, not even blinking as he pumps his cock mercilessly. The muscles in his arm tense and his dick twitches, precum oozes out.

“Fuck I think I’m gonna-“ he whimpers breathlessly.

“Stop,” I demand. “Remove your hand, Peter,” I direct him as I continue rubbing circles on my clit through the thin cotton. With a reluctant whimper, he pulls away.

“Mmm,” I slide my panties slowly down my legs, he watches with intensity. I’ve never seen him focus on anything this long before. “Good boy,” I praise, tossing the panties beside him on the couch. He looks at them, then back at me. I giggle, pulling my sweater and my tank top over my head, leaving me in just my bra and skirt. When I return my gaze to the couch, Peters eyes are still locked on me like before, but my panties are gone.

‘That pathetic little perverted kleptomaniac,’ I smile to myself. I don’t mention it-allowing him to keep the drenched panties as a prize for listening so well. Instead, I just bring my fingers down to my now exposed core. His eyes follow my hand like a cat’s follow a laser pointer. I use a finger to dip into my soaking entrance, dragging my slick up to my clit before I begin to rub circles on the sensitive skin.

“Mmm, fuck, Peter,” I relish the pleasure that I bring myself. He let’s out a string of mewls as he thrusts up into the air, desperate for some sort of friction.

“Are- Are you tryin’ to kill me?” He whispers, bringing his gaze from my slick folds up to my eyes. I can’t help but laugh at the desperate state of the poor boy.

“What do you mean?” I play Innocent as I move my fingers back to my entrance.

“I-“ He starts but he’s immediately distracted when I slip my finger inside myself, letting out a pornographic moan.

“Go on Peter,” I smirk. “I’m listening,” I bat my lashes.

“You’re just so-“ he speaks as if his mouth has gone dry.

“Fuck,” I let out another moan, purposely cutting him off again as I slip another finger inside myself and begin to curl up into that special spot.

“Please,” he whimpers, his voice cracks, his legs are shaking, his silver hair is stuck to his face with sweat and his dick is so hard that the tip has taken on a purple hue. Finally, I broke him. “Please, please, please, y/n please I’ll do anything,” he whines, pleading for mercy.

I smile, hoping up then turning around, slowly sliding my skirt down, bending over as I push the thin fabric to my feet.

“Please,” he whimpers again. I turn back around, smiling at the poor boy. “I’m not sure I’m enjoying this as much as you are,” he mewls as I straddle his waist. He winces when his erection slaps against my stomach.

“Oh, don’t lie to me Peter,” I whisper in his ear. I bring my fingers that I was using on myself up to his mouth, he happily opens, sucking them clean as he stares up at me with his big puppy eyes.

Jesus Christ I moan internally.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I bring my face right in front of his, grabbing either side of his cheeks with the same hand. “Don’t act up now,” I say sternly. He responds with an audible gulp. “Tell me Peter. Tell me how much you’re enjoying our time together right now,” I whisper as I ghost the fingers of my free hand over his needy cock. He twitches in my hand.

“I-you-“ he gulps again. His wide eyes looking directly into mine. “Y/n, this is hotter than any porno I’ve ever seen,” he admits whole heartedly, through muffled words as my hand squeezes his cheeks together a bit, earning a genuine laugh out of me.

“Well luckily for you,” I grab his length firmly, beginning to pump him slowly. “You won’t have to rent those stupid films anymore, not with me around,” I smirk before I bring him into a kiss, wrapping one hand in the back of his head. To my surprise, he kisses back intensely. His hands shoot up, grabbing both sides of my face to pull my head closer to his. He kisses me with strong desire.

“You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me,” he groans into the kiss. I lift my hips up, not breaking the passionate kiss, using my hand to line him up with my dripping entrance.

“Of course, I do, Peter,” I whisper before setting down on his desperate cock, taking him all the way into me in one swift motion. He lets out a loud whimper- almost a shriek. “Shhh” I giggle against his lips, stifling my own moan.

“I’m sorry,” he whines. He peers into my eyes with his chest heaving, sweat covering every inch of his toned body while his shaky hands hold their death grip on my hips. I place my hands behind me onto his thighs so I can slowly slide myself up down on his length.

“It’s okay Peter, but you gotta keep it down a bit. Can you do that for me, baby?” I coo. He nods his head as he watches in awe as I fuck myself on him, unable to look away. He fills me up perfectly, his desperate cock sliding in out of my velvet walls earns a few low moans out of me. ”You’re so big, Peter,” I compliment, he smiles at me flashing his dimples. With a surge of confidence, he brings his fingers to his mouth, wetting them before bringing them to my clit, tracing figure eights, watching my face for approval. “Mmm, that feels good, baby. Good job,” I praise him. He moves his fingers faster, and faster, and faster to the point that his hand is just a blur. ”Fuck!” I accidentally shout from the vibrations coursing through my body.

“Shhh,” he smirks. “You gotta keep it down, remember?” he mocks me. I can’t help but laugh, his sudden confidence is a bigger turn on than I thought it would be. He moves his hand from my core- much to my disappointment- before he grabs my hips again.

“May I?” he asks politely, his voice small again as he thrusts into me, wanting to take a bit of control. I lean forward, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Mhm,” I grant him permission. “Only since you’ve listened so well,” I smirk. As soon as I give him the okay, he’s pounding into me mercilessly.

“Peter!” I shout in surprise and pleasure as he thrusts into me at inhuman rates. The speedster doesn’t seem to hear me as he throws his head back in pleasure.

“Thank you,” he whimpers. “You feel so fucking good, oh my god,” he whines, still somehow sounding submissive even when I’ve given him control. I quickly feel my release nearing as I grip onto his shoulders to keep him from bucking me off. I’ve never been so worked up in my life, my body feels like it’s on fire as I watch the handsome boys hips blur underneath me.

“Peter, I’m close,” I moan, my words come out punctuated as if I’m in a vehicle that’s driving 100mph down a pothole filled gravel road. His head shoots up at my words.

“Please y/n,” he whimpers as I bring my lips to his. “Please I wanna feel you cum while I’m inside you, please,” he whines and begs like a starving puppy, sending me over the edge. Pleasure shoots from my vibrating core throughout my whole body as a string of moans and curses fall from my lips. “Thank you,” I hear him mewl as I chase the euphoria I’m feeling.

‘Did he just thank me, for cumming on him?’ I think to myself. This man knows exactly how to get me worked up, and I don’t even think he realizes it. Suddenly, with a fwp I’ve lost all contact with him as I’m sat beside him on the couch. His eyes hungrily explore my body while he continues to pump himself as whimpers and groans fall from his lips, his dick is visibly twitching.

‘oh’ my confusion subsides once I realized he was about to cum himself. I regain my position on my knees between his legs, watching his face as I take him into my mouth. I consider ruining his orgasm again, but before I can make up my mind, his eyes are scrunched shut and his nose is wrinkled in pleasure as the hottest, most pathetic whimper I’ve ever heard fall from his swollen lips like music to my ears.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he groans as he empties his seed onto my tongue. I swallow the huge load, kitten licking his slit and hollowing out my cheeks a few more times for good measure. He falls onto the couch, lifeless. His chest heaving, the muscles in his legs twitching and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Peter?” I ask, slightly concerned. “Peter?” I ask again a but louder, slapping his leg as I stand from the ground, sitting next to him.

“I…” he slowly turns his head next to me. I can almost see his heart beating out of his chest. “I think you just changed me as a man,” he pants. I laugh at his revelation, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Well I’m honored to be the one to do it,” I smile. He slowly sits up, holding his head as if he’s dizzy.

“I’m fucking starving,” he sighs. I stand up, starting to get dressed.

“Well, clean up real quick and we can go get some food after I check on my brother,” I smile. His eyes light up at the mention of food. He stands, taking a step then stopping, looking at me confused. He takes another step, stopping.

“You broke me, I can’t even zoom across the room,” he looks mortified. I giggle putting my hand on his shoulder.

“It will come back soon, give your body time to catch up,” I slip my skirt on, without my panties. “At least I know your weakness now,” I giggle.

“A dominant woman?” he smiles as he slips on his shirt.

“My used panties,” I smirk, motioning to the white fabric sticking out of his bedside drawer. His eyes go wide.

“I’m sorry you can ha-“ I cut him off.

“Keep ‘em. I think you earned it,” I wink. He looks away with blushed cheeks before dressing his bottom half.

[ravennaortiz]

August 14th features Bottles with the prompt "Surprise!" requested by the lovely @hatersaremymotivators As always my stories are 18+

You groaned as you pulled a pillow over your head. Trying to block out the sunshine that was beaming onto your face. Rolling onto your stomach you tried to go back to sleep but finally gave up when your phone started ringing. Grabbing it you saw it was just your brother and declined as you stood up tossing the phone onto the bed. You stretched before making your way to your bathroom for a shower.

The party last night had you smelling like the clubhouse and feeling sticky. A good shower would start your birthday right. Hell you thought maybe you would take yourself into that new brunch spot in town for breakfast. Then maybe a day of shopping followed by a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates in a nice hot bath.

Making your way downstairs in just a loose tank top and thong you were confused by the smell of coffee. Shrugging it off as having somehow set it up last night when you got home you continued into the living room flipping on your stereo. While the gentle sounds of pop flowed out you made your way to the kitchen. Unable to stop the swing of your hips to the rhythm. As you bounced through the doorway you couldn’t help the scream of terror that poured out of your eyes landed on a shirtless man.

“Surprise” yelled Bottles as he turned to you smiling only for you to shriek before grabbing a mug and hurling it at his head. “I’m sorry” he yelled as he dodged the mug.

“How did you get in my house” you demanded as you steadied yourself on the counter.

“You brought me home with you last night” stated Bottles as he looked at you in confusion. “I mean technically I brought you because you were a bit to tipsy to drive. But you asked me to stay” he added as he made his way to you.

“Oh” you mumbled as you racked your brain for any sort of memory of last night. Had you drank that much? So much you wouldn’t remember bringing one of your brothers club members home and ask him to stay. “Did I…did I do or say anything else?” you asked as you finally looked at his face before looking away. You had a huge crush on Bottles and could only imagine what your drunk self had done.

Bottles chuckled, his cheeks blushing slightly as he looked away from you before replying. “Well, you may have got your hands in my pants a bit. You were quicker than I thought you would be. Then you flashed me to prove you had no panties on and shoved your tongue down my throat.” He laughed as you groaned and slid down to the floor resting your head on your knees. “That was just the car ride here” he added as he moved closer.

“I’m so sorry” you mumbled as you looked up at him. Bottles had a hint of mischief in his eyes as he looked down at you before moving one of his hands to your head making you swallow hard.

“I think I know how you could make it up to me” he whispered as he stepped forward his crotch in your face. “You do look really pretty down there”

As you reached out to palm him through his shorts you were interrupted by the voice of your brother.

“The fuck is going on here?” demanded Guero as he stood in your kitchen eyeing you and Bottles.

“I was just helping her off the floor. Too much drink last night.” Lied Bottles smoothly as he helped you up sending a wink your way.

Return to Masterlist

[aerkame]

Hi, I hope you're having a wonderful day!!!! How would Wally and the others in your Alive AU react if Reader had a coworker or friend that was romantically interested in them? Would they just get really clingy or even aggressive, especially considering they're confined inside the house?

I am! I went skating for a long while outside and got a Starscream model kit to put together later. :) (Short fic takes place in the Alive AU)

Jealous! Everyone x reader

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It started with flowers. One day out of the blue you had came home with a huge bouquet of beautiful roses. Julie was the first to ask where you got them, they were just so pretty! You told them it was from a coworker at the public library, he was really polite and gave you these roses as a gift...you were blind to say the least, not seeing it as a romantic gesture. But the romantic gift did not go unnoticed by your colorful guests.

Poppy told you she was already preparing dinner for tonight which was a relief honestly, you felt exhausted. Two pairs of arms pulled you close for a hug, recognizing them as Julie and Sally, the two hyper sunshines of your life. "Hey there host, we reeeeaaallly wanna show you something!" Julie was practically jumping with joy while Sally let go to grab something, coming back with a stereo to play music on. The two put on a dance that almost resulted in a vase being broken, but Barnaby's soft paws were there to catch it just in time.

"How about we all dance together?" Barnaby gave you a warm smile, he always knew how to warm your heart. Holding out his paw you took hold of it, joining in the dance with the three goofballs.

During dinner, Poppy came up to you with a delicious looking small cake and placed it right in front of you. "I made you some dessert deary, eat up!" You looked down confused "But what about the others?" However, when you looked back at the table everyone had already gone to do their own activities (or so you assumed) and Poppy just sat there smiling. Soon after that awkward dinner Eddie cornered you in the hallway one arm leaning on the wall and the other holding a neatly folded letter with red hearts all over it. "Here you are sweets, Frank and I wrote this just for you." You firmly grasped the paper and unfolded it. It was a beautifully written poem about you. "Wow, thank you Eddie I don't know what to say, this is very well written! I love it." Eddie gave you a small kiss on the head like he always did and the tip of a hat before walking downstairs whistling a small tune.

Later that night Howdy came by the bathroom as soon as you got out of the shower to gift you with the shiniest apple you've ever laid eyes on. You questioned where he got it from but Howdy only responded with "It's a secret! Just know that it's 100% off for you!" You couldn't say no to that goofy grin of his, plus he was just so happy to give it to you! You took it from him with a warm smile on your face... Also because his giant body was blocking you from leaving.

Once you finally managed to get by the giant caterpillar with your new gift you went to your room to settle down and sleep, rolling around a bit in the sheets until you got comfortable enough and closed your tired eyes.

Not even a minute after closing your eyes you felt the bed dip beside yourself and a long arm snaked over your torso. Only one person you know does that. "Wally, what are you doing?"

"I'm just cuddling my dearest host to sleep is all.~" You peeked open an eye after hearing that. He always did this when he wanted something out of it. "What do you want?"

"Nothing at all! You're the most I could ever ask for...buuut since you brought it up, you might as well do me a teeny tiny favor." You rolled in bed, turning yourself towards his chest, you were too cozy to care about the intimacy. "Hmh?" You hummed in acknowledgment.

"Stop talking to Derrek."

You sat up immediately. Not once did you tell anyone who it was that you've been talking to. "How did you-" a finger shushed you. "I know about him, and I want you to stay away. Can you do that for me darling?" He smiled coyly, but really it felt like he was threatening you. "No...Wally I can't just ghost someone like that. Besides we're just friends." The arm around you tightened as you squirmed to get out of your own bed. "Oh I know, but I would really love it if you two would quit talking. I don't think he's right for you."

Your eyes narrowed at him, for once the cocky bastard didn't look so cocky. "Wally...are you jealous? Is that what all of this is about? The gifts, the dancing, the constant cuddle sessions from you and everyone else here?" You watched his body go rigid and his face scrunch up into what was almost a frown. Wow, he's actually kind of frowning for once. That was rare.

"Wally, we're not a thing. Derrek and I are just friends and I don't intend to ever date him. I'm glad you and the others really care about me this much but you really shouldn't worry about my safety." You spoke more softly, finally understanding where he was coming from. The iron grip on your waist didn't falter though and you felt yourself suddenly being forced into a bear hug.

Julie swatted Barnaby's long tie out of her face so she could lean in closer to the door to listen. Everyone else did their best not to make any noise as they listened in.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better I'll just tell him we're nothing more than friends and to keep it at that, but I can't just cut people out of my life like that...alright?"

An audible groan left everyone's mouth hearing that, startling you and Wally both. Silly host, how can you be so blind to love?

Looks like the dear reader doesn't understand just how much everyone loves them yet! Personally I don't think any of them would be the type to hurt you or others EXCEPT for Wally. I think they would probably just try to shower you with their love to make you like them more...however, if you are straying too far from them they may need to find a way to make you a permanent resident at the house, just not at your house. They've got a nice place just for you back Home.

[brokehorrorfan]

Tomie will be released on Blu-ray on November 19 via Arrow Video. Sara Deck designed the new cover art for the 1988 Japanese horror film; the original poster is on the reverse side.

Ataru Oikawa writes and directs, based on Junji Ito's manga of the same name. Miho Kanno, Mami Nakamura, and Yoriko Douguchi star.

Tomie is presented in high definition with original Japanese lossless 5.1 and 2.0 stereo audio and English subtitles. Special features are listed below, where you can also see more of the packaging.

Special features:

Audio commentary by Japanese cinema expert Amber T. (new)

Interview with director Ataru Oikawa (new)

Interview with actress Mami Nakamura (new)

Interview with producer Mikihiko Hirata (new)

Trailer

Image gallery

Booklet with new writing by Zack Davisson and Eugene Thacker

Photography student Tsukiko (Mami Nakamura) is plagued by violent dreams as she struggles to recall long-suppressed memories following a teenage trauma with the help of psychiatrist Dr. Hosono (Yoriko Douguch). Meanwhile, as Detective Harada (Tomorō Taguchi) leads an investigation into a missing high-school girl, he discovers a long line of similar cases that can be traced back decades, with all of the victims going by the name of Tomie Kawakami, and all slaughtered and decapitated by jealous lovers before they reach womanhood. Meanwhile, Tsukiko’s new neighbor seems to be harboring something nasty in the downstairs apartment, something which rapidly begins to take on a dangerous form.

Pre-order Tomie.