#which meant i watched the ENTIRE thing aware of this just to have THAT ending happen. it was really devastating

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Labor HC (ft. Poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Warnings: intense labor, my bsf just had her first baby and told me all the horrific things 🫠, personally i never want children, thank the cauldron for healing magic, longish? compared to my other hc, i guess labor horror? the idea of giving birth scares the ever loving shit out of me

By the end of your pregnancy your stomach was the size of two side by side watermelons

Madja grew increasingly worried that you would not survive the labor at how big the babe inside of you had grown

you worried your child would tear itself out of your womb

indefinite bed rest for you

which you honestly didn't mind since it was getting difficult for you to move your body without getting tired

bat boys worry. you aren't illyrian. if the baby belonged to cassian or azriel, your body would not be able to allow for wings to grow. (paternity/gendering of the baby was not possible. all the results came back as inconclusive)

as it gets more cramped inside of you, every one of the baby's movements is felt by you.

Rhys neglects much of his work and favors spending every waking hour by your side.

Cassian and Azriel grow extremely considered when they hear commotion arising in the Hewn City. Az has heard that many in the Court of Nightmares wish for your demise in labor. They take each threat to your life seriously and spend their time ensuring the security and safety of you and your unborn child.

they can't protect you from the pain of labor though

Rhys and Az were asleep with you in the bed, Cassian preferring to stand guard outside your door.

You're pulled out of sleep rather abruptly, well aware of the unconscious tensing of your muscles as a stabbing pressure digs into your abdominal area. a tightening and squeeze so vicious that you try and sit up immediately but your big belly prevents you from doing so.

stomach churning fear rises in you. it was time.

you shake your mates awake as another squeezing pain that burned across your lower back and pelvis.

they've drilled for this. no really your bat boys have played out the scenario an annoying amount of times. Az leaps from the bed to alert Cassian, Rhys helping you sit up

Azriel leaves to fetch Madja since he's the fastest

the Wraiths prep everything you may need and wait in the room with you, Rhysand and Cassian until Azriel returns with the healer.

that's when things really start

you were already screaming when Madja arrived. Nuala and Cerridwen had prepped you for the labor if Madja were too late.

Azriel had your left hand, brows furrowed and wishing he can transfer the pain you were going through into his body. Even if this pain meant the birth of a child, he hated hearing your screams or the tears welling in your eyes as you push with all your might

Rhysand, who had been hold your right hand transfers it to Cassian's care as he moves to be by Madja side to watch the actual birth. His eyes keep darting from your lower half to your face.

you never knew bringing another life into the world was so painful. you yourself didn't know either of your parents. no one to warn you of what you would face in childbirth

your bat boys were there though, that was all that mattered.

time drags with each heave you give

then he was born. . .

Dagen. even with his wings tucked in tight, pushing him out damn near tore you from your v to your a. like that whole entire region was on fire

"O-Oh. . ." Madja gasped, clearly startled as she held your baby in her arms, having been about to pass him to Rhysand. Almost in fear she looks at Rhysand. "I. . .I think there is another babe coming. . ."

Two babies???

you didn't believe her. until you felt another intense wave of pain start up again. dagen nearly tore you in half. you couldn't imagine pushing out another baby that potentially had wings.

"no, please no" you sob, every part of you aching.

Cassian looks scared. "You can do this." his hand was numb but he didn 't care.

"We're here." Azriel nods and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze.

Rhysand was still standing a little dumbstruck with a fresh newborn in his arms.Thankfully one of the wraith sisters nudges him, her arms ready to take the baby so he can go back to focusing on the next one.

Rian arrived quickly, smaller than dagen thanks to the lack of wings

there was five minutes of peace where Rhysand and Cerridwen showed you your boys. beautiful boys that you and your mates created

until you felt another stabbing sensation.

you screamed at rhysand, azriel and cassian. damning them to a suffering in the afterlife for putting you through this.

to you this was bullshit.

it should be impossible!! then again, so was having three destined mates

Mor had called it a miracle. you now thought of it as a curse. you never knew having three mates meant giving birth to three babies at the same time

the third baby however would prove to be the most difficult. thanks to the previous two, you were beyond exhausted and begging for someone to just rip it from you. there was no way you could push it out by yourself.

Madja made the tough call of performing a cesarean section

the wraiths took away rian and dagen as the surgery took place

they'd been in wars, seen carnage, but there your bat boys were with white faces that expressed utter horror

the last baby to be delivered was a little girl with wings. your Baila.

exhausted, you pass out soon after Madja pulls her from you.

everyone is pushed out of the room except for madja herself as she sews you back up and stops the bleeding that could possibly kill you if not treated properly.

it feels like a dream to you when you wake up.

except every part of you is still suffering from a dull pain

your bat boys introduce you to your three pretty babies

i hc that dagen is azriel's, rian is rhysand's and baila is cassian's cuz i've always thought of him as a girl dad and nothing can change that lol

[hella1975]

my friend watched banana fish and im actually.... kinda annoyed about it

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 1)

I cannot figure out for the life of me how to make gifs so this will have to be a gif-less essay. If anyone more tech savvy than me wants to reblog with relevant media, please do!

I've seen a lot of people saying how Aziraphale's actions in the final ten minutes come out of left field and are OOC, and when I first watched the episode I felt the same, but now I think I couldn't have been more wrong. And I don't think Aziraphale is being controlled... I think the entire season showed us exactly what was going to happen.

On first watch, what struck me was the number of plot points that seemed disconnected. I couldn't figure out how Job related to the present, or the Victorian era, or the Nazi zombies (still at sea on the zombies part tbh). I didn't know where the Maggie/ Nina subplot was going, or why we were bothering with it. Then I put my "psych hat" on and it was like seeing one of those 3D pictures come into focus. It's a psychological networking rather than a plot-driven one, which is what Neil told us to expect.

Detailed analysis under the cut, with spoilers:

I went back through the season in my head and started asking myself: why is this element there? What does it contribute?

1. Start with scene one. Why include it? Does it matter for the climax that Az knew Crowley as an angel? YES. It's actually huge. Angel Crowley was joyful, he was bursting with delight at creation, he was idealistic. He wanted to be a part of everything rather than run away from it, and that's still how Aziraphale feels. He loves being a part of things. He's a joiner. He's a landlord. He dances at clubs and he makes human friends and he learns magic. Crowley the demon doesn't seem to want any of that, and I think that's hard for Az. He wants Crowley to be free of the cynicism he thinks prevents him from enjoying life now. At some level, I think he senses that Crowley is depressed (empathy's not his strong suit but I'm sure he's aware that Crowley's in a "what's the point of it all" kind of mood; see the eccles cakes scene). He wants to fix it. Aziraphale is a fixer. Metatron offers him a chance to do that.

Another thing is that Aziraphale knows Crowley ended up Falling just for asking questions that seemed innocent. That's not okay with him. He thinks that with the two of them in charge they can actually MAKE the changes that Crowley wanted to see way back at the beginning, starting with a suggestion box.

2. Okay, now Jim. Obviously Gabriel/ Jim is the central mystery, but why does he matter? First and foremost: he's there to show Aziraphale that angels can CHANGE. Gabriel terrorized and threatened Aziraphale. Az has been terrified of him. He ordered Aziraphale's execution. And now here he is, drinking hot chocolate, doing noble self-sacrificing things, with morals that suddenly align with Aziraphale's. What an absolute game-changer that must have been! He thought Heaven was unfixable, but here's Gabriel in his shop for weeks, slowly convincing him otherwise.

Then two other things happen. First, they find out that this all happened to Gabriel essentially because he fell in love. He was fired and his memories were stolen and the only reason he recovered was because Beelzebub happened to give him the one thing that could save him. That must have seemed like incredible luck. Now, how does Aziraphale feel about memories? He lives in a bookshop that is stuffed to bursting with the records of all of human history, essentially. His memories of his time with Crowley are incredibly precious. He sees, there at the end, that everything he is can be taken from him as a punishment for falling in love. Aziraphale doesn't have a magic fly container. He'd be forever robbed of Crowley, his life, himself. It's a very real threat in his mind when Metatron intervenes.

Which brings us to the second thing. Metatron saves Gabriel. Not only that, he prevents him from being punished for loving Beelzebub and lets them both go. What better way to win currency with Aziraphale? HE doesn't want to go off to Alpha Centauri, he never has, but suddenly he sees that Metatron might protect his relationship. And he's probably the only entity with the power to do so.

So we come to two conclusions: Aziraphale, when he goes off to talk with Metatron, is feeling like maybe it's not intrinsically bad to be an angel. He believed all the angels sucked, and only God was good... but now he sees that even Gabriel can change. He met Muriel, and he likes them. (He also had a huge crush on angel Crowley, which is neither here nor there but he loves Crowley in all his forms.) So if Crowley became an angel again, would that really be so bad? In his mind, it wouldn't change who Crowley is. It would just make them both safer and allow them to be together. (He's wrong! And Crowley doesn't see it that way! But this is a key miscommunication. Aziraphale doesn't really believe that becoming a demon changed Crowley. Back to the first scene, which Aziraphale references during the Job minisode. In his eyes, Crowley is the same person (just more cynical because of what's happened to him)-- so why would it matter if he's an angel again? I truly don't think he was trying to save Crowley, or saying that Crowley would be Better as an angel. To him, it doesn't matter what Crowley is. Which is reductive and harmful, but not the same as thinking Crowley needs rescuing from himself.)

Second conclusion: he sees that an angel and demon can be in love, but they have to run away to be together. Gabe and Beelz couldn't go home again. Earth is Aziraphale's home, but after the attack on the bookshop he learned that without Heaven's protection he can't really keep them safe there. Metatron says: "Come with me, do this thing, and you can have guaranteed safety AND be with the love of your life". Poor Aziraphale wants this with every fiber of his being. All he's ever wanted was for Crowley to be safe. He's never been able to offer it. Over the past four years, he thought they were safe, but he's just learned that he was wrong.

This is getting long. Continued in Part Two!

[amourcheol]

paris (teaser)

❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞

historical! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | approx. 45k words (teaser wc. 1.4k words)

s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris.

c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is incredibly bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, this will be very hurt-comfort, hella ansgty but will have a happy ending mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, slightly drunk making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), very soft angsty sex, body worshipping, petnames (chérie, mon ange, darling, angel), overall emotional rollercoaster, more tba!

p l a y l i s t : here!

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld​ @sysymei @alaypsy23 @belladaises @jjeongddol @sparklyshuji @forcoups @ilovesungjun @wonwoo24 @scandal-in-bohemia @hopefulchick @superbbananananana @onedumbho3 @fragmentof-indifference @cuntycheol @rubywonu @if-i-like-i-reblog @yoonzinoooo @jungwoos-luvr @crookedwolfruins @leclercloverbot​ @alexai (let me know if y’all want to be tagged!)

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : after three years ... four rewritings later... she may finally see the light ... i am releasing the teaser now but will post the fic when i’m back from holiday! i hope you all enjoy the lil extract <3

read this fic here!

SHIT. YOU COULD NOT DO THIS TODAY.

Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.

But then he began to move.

This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you, the greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.

“Wait,” he then said, and your throat was closing up, you were blinking rapidly, chest growing heavy, and you needed him to get away. He came closer, and you knew then and there you were going to die on the cold floor of the Louvre, marble eyes on you—

And then your own gaze was glistening, and when he noticed it became harder to contain yourself. “_____, are you all right?”

“Yes!” you got out, but then you proved yourself wrong when a few tears slipped out, staining your cheeks.

The man wasted no time, closing the last space between the two of you as he reached out. Instantly, you repelled from his touch, almost flinching from his surprise. “No!” you rasped out, bringing out your own hands to create distance, taking a step back. “No, you don’t need to do that…I’m fine.” 

You breathed sharply through your nose. “I am fine.”

Hastily you turned to the empty space where he last was, before you followed him like a madwoman around the hall. He watched you, your back almost to him. “What…what are you…” you paused, trying to normalise your shaking voice. “What are you doing here?”

You could feel his inquisitive stare upon you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

That question was not being answered. “I asked you first.”

Because you could not see him, you were not aware of his reaction. Still, it was enough for him to answer, “Well, in the Louvre, or in Paris?”

You gritted your teeth at that. “I think everyone knows why you’re in Paris at the moment.”

“Do they, now?”

You could not help it.

Casting a momentary glance at him, you were taken aback to find his gaze upon you. “Are you aware, at least?” he asked you.

Despite his simple questions, your impending headache, you had to clamp down on your remarks. “Of course I’m aware,” you muttered. “The papers are all over the press tours you’ve been doing.”

A perfectly groomed brow arched at your comment. “I’m surprised you follow the papers at the moment.” 

You knew exactly what he meant. “One must keep check of the stories they gossip about,” you only said, focusing back on the empty space. “Those journalists cannot be trusted.”

“Hmm…” you heard shuffling amongst his clothes—no doubt crossing his arms. “I have read the stories.”

A scoff. “I suppose you believe them, don’t you?”

He noted the cruelty in your response. The actor did not take it to heart.

“I have always believed in the stories you told me, chérie.”

This time, curiosity controlled your movement.

Curiosity had you turning back, forcing you to observe his expression, catch his lie. 

But you found no deception.

No, there was only sincerity—pure as the moonlight shining on the two of you.

Chérie.

The last time someone had called you such a sweet name was too long ago.

How ironic, that it was the same man beside you who had bestowed you this very endearment.

A shuddered breath left you. 

You could not do this now.

You were going to say as much when Jeonghan interrupted you.

“Were you looking for something in here?”

Your furrowed brows had him humming. “I thought as much.” Gently, he jerked his head beyond your figure. “Strangely enough, I was looking for it as well.”

Confused, you glanced back at the empty space, where that certain, mysterious sculpture was supposed to be. “That is why I came to the Louvre,” you heard him say.

There was still suspicion laced in your features. “How do you know that we are thinking of the same piece?”

That ghost of a smile crept up again. “You act as if you don’t remember.”

Your sigh was a little sheepish. “I do,” you said, reminiscing on the memories. “But the name…”

No matter how hard you endeavoured, your memory of the sculpture was too hazy for your half-drunk mind. 

You searched him for an answer. “I’m sure you have not forgotten.”

“No…I have not.”

You waited. His silence had you insisting, “Well?”

When you saw a slight glimmer in his whimsical gaze, you knew that he had something else in mind. The implications had you biting your lower lip, anxiety blooming.

The nerves grew when Jeonghan spoke.

“I will tell you if you see me tomorrow.”

You blinked back.

“There’s an exhibition opening here tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, taking a step towards you, careful not to startle you again. “It’s centred on the sculpture we both wanted to see, but it’s been moved to another hall.”

He confused you a great amount. “How do you know that?”

His stare went beyond you, to the wall. “It says on the plaque.”

Sure enough—when you looked back, there was the notice. Because your French was adequate at best, you did not understand it fully. You simply had to trust his linguistic abilities.

That you could do—you were aware of Jeonghan’s fluency in the language of love. 

He cocked his head, a few strays cascading the side of his face. “You and I could see it there.”

The offer had shaken you. “Why?”

“Why?”

You knitted your brows suspiciously. “Why do you want to go with me?”

The film noir star watched you then, you shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. God, you forgot how intense his eyes were—in fairness, you had not been the subject of his stares for a few years. 

He locked his gloved hands behind his back. “Because you need a break, _____. From everything.”

He offered you a smile. “Let me be the one to give you that. If only for the day.”

You could have crumbled before him.

It was at this stage you cursed yourself for being in such a state. Perhaps if you were sober, you would have carried on this conversation in a more respectable manner, taken more caution.

It was incredibly difficult, composing yourself around the man.

“I can’t…” you inhaled sharply, trying to form the words. “I cannot do midday…too many people, you know…staring, judging…”

“Ah.” He nodded, parting his mouth in thought. “Then tomorrow night?”

Stretching your mouth, unsure, he assured, “They will not follow you here at this hour.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

This time, he sighed, surprised at your anxiousness. “I see you’ve not changed, then.”

You narrowed your gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

But the actor did not seem like he was going to elaborate. 

He instead took another step towards you, a mere two feet left. 

“Do you trust me?”

You tilted your head back. 

What kind of question was that?

Do you trust me?

You did not trust anyone. Not after this whole debacle back home, when almost all your friends within the industry had contributed to your downfall. Hollywood was filled with traitors, the worst being the people who haunted the journey of your disgrace at every moment.

It was impossible to place any ounce of faith in another.

As you watched his eyes settle on you, you noticed an emotion you had not witnessed in forever.

Tenderness.

Tenderness with no ulterior motive—gentle acceptance, as if he recognised your position. As if he recognised your change, the apprehensive nature of your questions, your pauses. It physically hurt being stained with such compassion, when you had been begging for it from the world all those weeks ago.

It hurt, having someone who understood you.

You, however, should not have been surprised.

Yoon Jeonghan had always been like this. Especially when you both were together.

You could have smiled. 

What a time that was.

As if he could read your mind, the film noir star began, “You remember, don’t you? That I’ve never let you down?”

You decided to let yourself slip—you could always blame it on the alcohol. 

“What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Sparks fly

Sirius Black x Pureblood slytherin!Reader

Summary: Dating a Black was not the problem, the problem was that is Sirius, a known bloodtraitor.

Genre: Hurt/comfort and secret relationship

CW: talks about familiar problems, blood status and arranged marriages

Word count: 1.2K

This is part of my Speak Now (Marauders’ version) collection 

“I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild. Just keep on keeping your eyes on me, it's just wrong enough to make it feel right”

Sunny days were not common in Hogwarts, the usually humid weather of the Scottish highland made it hard for students to enjoy the large grounds surrounding the school. 

Nonetheless, whenever the clouds weren’t pouring rain or blocking the sun you have been finding yourself in the same place for the last year.  

You were sitting by the black lake, in a remote spot seldom crowded by students. It was at times like this that you felt genuinely happy, the sun illuminating the lake and the weather hot enough for you to discard your coat. Though you could argue the cozy spring weather was not the main source for your happiness, but the man whose head was resting on your lap, your fingers running through his beautiful dark hair. 

You never meant to fall for him, really. He was hotheaded, a pain in the ass, arrogant, a womanizer and everything your parents would hate for you -which was anything but a respected pureblood heir-. Falling for a Black was not the problem, the Black family was a well bred pureblood family, all of them except your boyfriend. Falling for a Black was not the problem, falling for Sirius was. 

You both were aware of the implications of the relationship so you did what was the most logical thing, kept it a secret to everyone. At first the secrecy wasn’t that bad, it was even thrilling at points, sneaking out and stolen glances had been fun for a while. Until it wasn’t enough, you wanted to be able to hold his hand in public, or display a little bit more of PDA than appropriate when girls were shamelessly hitting on him. 

But if your friends were to find out about your relationship with Sirius it wouldn’t end well, they’d be against it, probably stop talking to you and tell your parents, which would end with you getting disowned or betrothed to one of your cousins to keep the family name clean. And if his friends found out he’d probably be mocked relentlessly for dating what he swore to hate, and maybe his friends would be sceptical of you, or just disapprove entirely of you. 

“A penny for your thoughts?” Sirius's voice broke your train of thought and your eyes fell on him. 

He looked beautiful, his head resting in your lap and your hands on his hair. His gorgeous grey eyes were filled with concern when he looked at you. 

"Sometimes I wonder if this is all worth it, you know, the hiding. Don't you get tired of it?" You asked him, your tone making your boyfriend realize just how serious you were. 

Sirius sat upright to be able to look you in the eyes, his thigh touching yours and his hand on top of yours, stroking it lovingly. 

“You know I love you right? It doesn’t matter what others think of this, of us.” He said, his free hand gesturing between you two. “I will love you regardless.” 

“I know, I love you too, so much.”  you whispered while resting your head on his shoulder, Sirius placed a kiss on your temple. And just like that every single worry you had dissipated. 

Oblivious for both of you, another group of students had decided to explore the less visited parts of the school grounds, therefore being aware of the whole exchange. 

───✥───

 “You are joking right?” James asked, dumbfounded at the news that had just left Remus’ mouth. 

“I couldn’t believe it either, apparently Barty and Snape saw them together on the school grounds.” came Remus’ reply. 

James and Peter were hanging out in the common room when Remus delivered them the new hearsay that was going on around Hogwarts. As if on cue Sirius appeared in their peripheral vision, skipping down the stairs with a happy whistle and making his way towards them. 

When he saw their shocked faces looking up at him he stopped dead in his tracks. “What?” he inquired. 

James started on an incomprensible ramble along the words of ‘how, when, why…’ just to be interrupted by Peter. “Are you really dating Y/N? like, the pureblood slytherin Y/N?” 

“How do you…?” Sirius' mind was racing, unable to process a single thought, how did they know? Who else knew? Where were you? 

“I ran into Lily and Marlene, and they told me that Barty and Snape had seen you two on a date. Everybody knows, rumors fly at hogwarts” Remus explained. 

Sirius' worry grew, if everybody knew, that meant your house knew. And if they did it was only a matter of time until your parents got the news. The interrogation that he was going to suffer at the hands of his friends was nothing compared to the reactions you’d get from everyone in Slytherin. 

“I need to find her, I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything later, I promise.” Sirius ran from the room, leaving behind three very confused marauders and James shouting “So it’s true?!” 

───✥───

He found you outside. The former gentle weather was now replaced with heavy rain. 

You were sitting in the same spot of your dates. Sirius heard your sobs before he saw you. 

You were drenched by the rain, your hair sticking to your face, your eyes red and swollen from crying. 

“Y/N” he spoke softly when he reached your side, his arms pulling you into a hug. “It’s okay, baby.” That made you cry harder and your arms to tighten around him. 

“They know Sirius, I can’t go back to the common room, they are going to have my head.” You said in between sobs. As soon as the news had reached the slytherin common room so had the threats, namecalling and hexes. “I’m sure Evan has already sent an owl to my parents, I’m going to get disowned, Siri. I don’t have anywhere to go.” 

Sirius could feel your pain through your words, when shit had hit the fan at his home he had the Marauders to have his back. You didn’t have anyone except for him. 

“You can sleep in my dorm tonight, don’t go back to yours.” he said while soothing your back.

“Do your friends know?” he nodded. “They hate me, I can’t go to your dorm.” you said, trying to hide your face in his chest. 

“Hey, none of that. They don’t hate you, they’ll be surprised, maybe a little bit apprehensive about the whole thing, but they’ll give you a chance, and they are going to love you.” Sirius' voice was assertive, he was trying to reduce your self deprecating thoughts at a minimum. 

“What about my parents?” you said, more calmed now, sobs turned into hiccups. 

“We are going to figure it out, you and I, together. We’ll find a way.” Sirius' hand came in touch with your face as he tried to dry your tears.

“Okay, yeah you are right. I love you Sirius.” 

“I love you too, forever.” 

Sirius leaned in for a kiss, soft and filled with love. You wondered then how wrong this was when it just felt so right.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Series' taglist: @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay

[wosoimagines]

Surprises

part 1 of rivals

fifteen year old Jo Knox gets her first call up to the USWNT camp and she makes her first professional rival.

3,744 words

|next part

I sighed as I pushed open the door to the hotel. I was vastly aware that it was highly unusual for someone to be in my position. Especially walking onto a team of such a high calibration.

After all, how many fifteen-year-olds could say that they got the chance to play with the United States Women’s National Team?

Mia Hamm. That’s it. The entire list.

Well.

Before today, at least.

Or, I guess I would actually have to take the field before I could actually be classified as playing with the national team. But just being at a camp with the national team was huge. And to be doing it toward the end of the year before the World Cup?

I wasn’t sure what it meant just yet. It could mean that the coaching staff really liked what they saw in me. Or this could be a test to see how I could handle the pressure. 

And I wasn’t sure which one I would rather it be.

I would have to tackle this just like I did at home. Stay out of everyone else’s way and get my job done. That’s what mattered. If I could prove that I was good at what I could do, who knows? Maybe I would actually have a future with the national team one day.

“Jo! Over here!”

I lifted my head to find a woman smiling at me as she waved. I sent her a small smile of my own as I moved over closer to her.

“Hi,” I softly said once I got close enough.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jo,” the woman said as she held her hand out to me. I reached out to shake it. “I’m Dawn Scott. I’m the High Performance Coach for the team.”

“I’d introduce myself, but you already know who I am.”

Dawn let out a small laugh as her smile grew a bit wider.

“Come on, they haven’t really gotten far into the meeting yet,” Dawn said as she turned around. I dragged my bag behind me as I started to follow Dawn. “Jill’s excited to have you here. She wouldn’t stop boasting about you to Tom. Between us? Jill was very frustrated that Tom wouldn’t call you up.”

“And now she’s the coach?”

“Interim while the USSF tries to hire a new head coach. She was excited about getting the opportunity to add you to the roster though,” Dawn admitted. I was a bit surprised by that. I knew that I had been watched while I was with the youth teams, but I didn’t realize I had been watched specifically by the person they would trust to lead the team at this time. “It helps that Jill doesn’t mind risking chemistry to try out new and upcoming talent. Let’s face it, you’ve got a lot of talent already and you’re still nowhere near your full potential.”

“Yeah, well, outside of school, soccer is pretty much all I focus on. I mean, we all pretty much have our own thing in my family, mine just happens to be soccer,” I shrugged as we slowed down outside of one of the conference rooms. “With a family like mine? You have to do something to make sure that you stand out.”

“You can leave your bags just inside by the door if you’d like. I’ll have to go and sit on the side with the coaches, but you’ll have to sit with the players,” Dawn explained. That made sense. It would be even weirder if a teenager was sitting with the coaches rather than the other players. “There’s usually a seat in the back that’s open.”

“Thanks.”

Dawn nodded as she gave me one last smile as we both ducked into the room. I wasn’t too surprised when heads turned to stare at me as I left my bags by the door before I sat in the back left row. I tried not to let their stares bother me as I turned my attention to Jill. Jill wasn’t going through anything other than what I expected, just how we were going to have a tight schedule and what she was hoping to get out of this camp.

“One last thing before you can go! I have called up Jo Knox,” Jill announced as she peered over the others to look at me. I nodded as I avoided everyone else’s eyes. “I know some of you might not want to get along with a fifteen-year-old, but please make her feel welcomed. I’ve watched her on the field, and I think she’s got something special. You’re all free to leave. Jo, if you’ll stay behind.”

I waited in my seat as everyone else moved to leave. It wasn’t until most everyone else had left the room that I finally stood up. I moved to the front of the room as Jill was talking to one of the assistant coaches, but she turned her attention to me when I got closer.

“Hi, Jo,” Jill greeted me. I only gave a small nod in acknowledgement. “Look, I don’t want you to focus on being the absolute best right now. I just want you to focus on getting settled in and getting used to the team. Think you can handle that?”

“Yeah, of course, Coach.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Jill said. She held a keycard out to me. I took it before sliding it into my pocket. “You’ll be rooming with Becky Sauerbrunn. Becky will help make sure that you study for school. I know that you have final exams coming up.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to study,” I nodded. It was one of the only reasons my parents had let me come to camp anyways. “My parents gave me certain grades to get on my finals anyways if I want to come back to camp during the school year.”

“Just don’t stress out too much between soccer and school. Don’t need your play suffering because you’re too stressed out,” Dawn said from the side. 

I looked over at her before I nodded. I knew that she was right. I really didn’t need to stress too much about everything. 

“You want to know a secret?” Jill asked. I looked back over at her before slightly nodding. “I already plan on calling you back up for the next camp, okay? I know that this is going to be a stressful camp for you with it being so close to the end of the school year and you joining the senior squad. I just wanted to get you into camp so you would have an idea of what it’s like. The only thing that will keep me from calling you up for the next camp is you getting injured. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“All right, all of your gear is in your room. Ryan’s got everything up there for you. We’ll get you into media here in the next couple of days,” Jil said as she looked over at the rest of the staff. I guess they weren’t all coaches after all. “If your gear breaks or wears down, including shin pads or boots, you tell Ryan and he’ll help you get new gear within the same day.”

My eyes landed on the man who sent me a small smile and wave. I guess that was Ryan.

“Okay, cool.”

“I think that’s about all that I have for you. I’ll let you get settled in,” Jill said as she sent me a small smile. “I’m sure the girls are dying to get to know you. They’re probably waiting on the floor to bombard you with questions as we speak.”

I nodded at that before I gathered my bags and headed to the elevators. I didn’t have to wait long for an elevator. Once I was inside the elevator and by myself, I sighed as I watched the numbers climb higher. I wasn’t entirely sure what was waiting for me at the top though. But I definitely didn’t expect for a majority of the players to be standing in front of the elevator doors staring back at me. 

I shuffled off of the elevator but I didn’t try to push past any of the older players.

“Hi,” I said as I rubbed the back of my neck and looked down at my shoes. I really needed to get new shoes. And ones that weren’t hand-me-downs from Deliliah.

“God, you really are just a kid.”

I looked up to meet Megan Rapinoe’s eyes as she finished the statement. I only shrugged my shoulders. It wasn’t like I could change the fact that I was fifteen.

“So, are you any good, kid?”

I could only stare back at Abby. I mean it was Abby Wambach. I slowly nodded as I realized everyone was still looking at me for an answer.

“Well, I mean, I think I am at least,” I said as I rocked back and forth on my heels. “I’ve been playing with people older than me for all of my life.”

“Oh, yeah? How much older?”

“Well, I started playing with my club's U16 team when I was 12 and then I moved up to the U18 team when I was 14.”

“So you’re a prodigy?” Lauren Cheney asked. I only shrugged my shoulders at that.

I wasn’t sure that I would call myself a prodigy. I put in a lot of work into my game, but it did feel like soccer was in my blood. Like I was meant to play this game.

“As if some pipsqueak could get a ball past any goalie worth being on a national team.”

A lot of the players in front of me turned to the voice that came from the back of the group. A few even glared at the person. I could only look anywhere else but at the woman who had made the remark as she narrowed her eyes at me.

“I don’t think you could even get one ball past me.”

A few of the older players started to scold the woman while the others muttered amongst themselves.

“I think the coaches would beg to differ.”

All of the older players went silent as all of their eyes turned back to me. I still refused to make eye contact with any of them or even look at the woman as she pushed her way to the front of the group.

“The opinions of our coaches doesn’t matter if the facts state otherwise.”

“What facts? That I’m fifteen? I’m smaller than you?” I asked as I finally met Hope Solo’s eyes. “Everyone underestimates me. Everyone. And I thrive with the underestimations. And tomorrow, during practice, you’ll underestimate me and you don’t even know what I can do. You have no idea if you should or not. But you’ll do it anyway because of how small I am. Because of my age. And when I get that ball, every single touch will matter. And nothing you do will stop that.”

The two of us only stared at each other as Hope towered over me.

“Hey, break it up!” A new voice called out. Most of the women moved to the side, but Hope didn’t budge and I refused to break eye contact with her now. “I said break it up.”

Hope didn’t move. Not until Christie Rampone put her hand on the keeper’s arm.

“Just don’t be surprised when I crush your dreams tomorrow, kid.”

I watched Hope’s back as she turned and walked away from the group.

“What’s going on here?” Christie asked. I only moved my gaze down to my feet again. I didn’t want the eyes on me. Not like this. Christie’s gaze moved from me to the rest of the team when she realized that I wasn’t going to say anything. “I thought I told you all to back off the kid for now.”

There it was again.

Kid.

That’s all I was to everyone. Just some kid who had no idea what she was getting into.

“The kid’s got balls.”

I didn’t care who had said it as I pushed my way through them all so I could get to my room.

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

“Hope wants you to take penalties against her,” Jill said as she looked down at me. I had my hands on my knees as I was trying to get my breath back after I had ran the length of the field to get the ball back before taking it back toward my team’s goal myself before I had gotten the assist. “You okay to do that?”

I stayed quiet as I nodded my head. I knew what she was doing. Hope either figured that I would chicken out and refuse to take the penalties or she would be able to stop them.

“No one can stop me,” I said as I stood up to look Jill in the eye. “That’s why you called me up, isn’t it? You saw that no one had an answer on how to stop me at the youth levels.”

“I called you up because you have potential.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I said as I looked over where most of the team was. “You can tell them that your decision was based on potential, but don’t lie to me . And now you’re curious to know if Solo can stop me.”

“I’ll admit, I’ve been a bit confused as to why Hope wants to try to humiliate you,” Jill said as she looked over at Hope. “But I did call you up because of the potential. I mean, if you’re already able to play the way you currently are and you’re only fifteen, what can you do in a year after playing with the best women in the world?”

“I want to do the penalties. I want to show them I’m not just some kid who can’t hold their own.”

Jill turned her gaze back to me as she stared at me for a moment. I knew that practice was about to wrap up so it made sense for us to do this now anyways.

“Gather up!” Jill yelled, causing most of the players to turn to where we were standing. “Just know that Hope added an extra stipulation to it.”

Jill tossed me a water bottle as everyone on the team gathered around Jill.

“We’re going to have a penalty shoot out! five shots just like an in game shoot out,” Jill announced. A few of the players groaned. I wasn’t sure if the team had to do something like this a lot or not. “Today’s shoot out will be a little different, though. Solo in goal for all five while Knox shoots them all. Majority wins, just like in a game. If Hope saves 3, outfielders run extra laps. If Jo makes 3, goalies run extra laps.”

I didn’t miss the way some of the older players were muttering to each other about the rules. This was quite unfortunate. If I somehow wasn’t able to make 3 of my penalties then I was really screwed because I knew that the older players would absolutely hate that I hadn’t been able to back up my talk from the previous night and be the reason they had to run extra.

“Line up!”

Everyone else moved to the midfield as Hope headed for the goal. I trailed behind Jill who picked up a ball.

“You really want everyone to hate me, don’t you?”

“I really want to see if you’re as good as you think,” Jill said. She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Score 3 of them and none of them will hate you.”

I sighed as Jill handed me the ball before she moved to talk to Hope. I stopped at the penalty spot before I placed the ball how I wanted it. I eventually moved back when I was sure that I had the ball like I wanted it.

I waited for Jill to finish talking to Hope before she moved to the side. I tried to ignore all of the eyes on my back. It was just a penalty, I didn’t even have to get past any defenders. I waited until Jill blew the whistle.

Then I waited one more moment as I finally picked my spot.

I rushed toward the ball before I put as much power as I could behind the shot. The ball sailed perfectly into the top left corner as Hope had just missed the ball by less than a fingertip. I didn’t miss the cheers behind me. I grinned even as Hope glared at me.

I stopped the ball with my foot when Jill kicked it toward me before I picked the ball up. I placed the ball back like I wanted it before moving back behind the ball. I waited until I heard the whistle. This time I didn’t give Hope any extra seconds as I was rushing forward as soon as I heard the whistle. The ball hit the top left corner again.

This was going well for me. I already had two of the three goals that I needed. And Hope hadn’t been able to stop even one. I took a deep breath as I placed the ball on the penalty spot for a third time.

I gave myself an extra moment again this time, but this one lasted even longer than the first time I had taken an extra moment. I just needed one more in the back of the net. This time the ball fired off of the sidebar before knocking into the goal.

The posts were still rattling as Hope threw a glare at me, but I only smirked and shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t actually care about myself having to run, but I had wanted to prove that I knew what I was doing. And it definitely helped that I had gotten to show off against the Hope Solo in the process.

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

“That was an amazing game,” Julie Foudy said. I grinned at the praise that I was receiving through the headset. “Tell me about it from your perspective.”

“You know, I just wanted to go in and show everyone what I could do,” I shrugged. It was true. I had really just wanted to show what I could do at this level. “I didn’t exactly expect to get a goal coming in so late if I’m honest. But I’m happy to have been able to help the team get the win.”

“And your first cap and goal comes against Canada. That’s got to be an amazing feeling,” Julie said as I nodded. It really had been amazing. “Knowing what our rivalry with Canada is like and having played them before. It’s a great game to get your first cap.”

“Yeah, it was definitely incredible. I don’t think I could have asked for a much better opponent to get my first cap against,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder where I watched as the rest of my team was headed to the locker rooms. “It’s definitely different getting to play in the game rather than just watching it on TV. And if today was any indication of how hard the games against Canada always are, I’m looking forward to future games.”

“Well, do you have any plans when you get home? I mean, you just got your first cap and it’s time for summer break.”

“Uh, not so much as fun plans right off the bat. I have finals to take when I get home,” I admitted. I rubbed the back of my neck at the reminder. “After that, I don’t have many plans other than soccer. Might take a trip to the lake sometime over the summer if I’m lucky. Just have to see what my summer schedule turns out to look like.”

“All right, well, I’ll let you get to the locker room so you can celebrate your first cap with the team.”

I gave the camera one last wave before I pulled the headset off and handed it off to one of the crew members before I headed down the tunnel. I was a bit surprised when I stepped into the locker room only to have water dumped onto my head. I couldn’t help the grin that broke out on my face though as a lot of the older players cheered around me.

“Okay! Okay! Settle down!” Christie called out. She had a ball in her hands as everyone settled down. “We have the game ball for Jo to celebrate her first cap and her first goal which gave us the win over Canada!”

Everyone cheered again as Christie handed me the ball.

“Go ahead and say a few words, kid.”

Everyone went quiet again as I rolled the ball in my hands. I wasn’t even sure what to say.

“I’ve been watching this team ever since I could remember. Some of you, I’ve been looking up to ever since I was a really little kid. Some of you, I’ve only been looking up to you in the most recent years. But it has always been a dream to get to play with this team and it’s been amazing to get my first cap with such an amazing group of women,” I said as I looked around the locker room. “I really can’t wait to get more training time at camps and work with all of you even more. And I guess the last thing is, I’d like you all to sign the ball so I can always remember who was here for my first cap.”

It didn’t take long until I had the ball back in my hands after the team had passed it around to sign it. Now I was standing in probably the only person in the locker room who still had a bone to pick with me. I held the ball out to Hope as she stared at it.

“Come on,” I said as I only pushed the ball further toward her. “It’d be a shame if I didn’t get the whole team to sign the ball. And last time I checked, you’re part of the team.”

Hope rolled her eyes but she took the ball from me before signing it. I grinned once Hope gave me the ball back.

“I still don’t like you that much.”

“You don’t have to. You just have to be my teammate.”

[k-llama-llama]

In the Hotel

Seventeen AU: 14th member

Rei x Seventeen

Rei tries to stand up for herself....with mixed results

A/N: I'm going to be honest...i think this was a patreon post back in the day but I just found it in my drafts and realized I should be posting it for everyone.

IDK if I'm back or not but I would love to catch up!

Requests are OPEN!!!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

Rei wasn’t a particularly violent person.

But tonight, that was going to change.

It was well past midnight, and she could barely remember what city they were in, because she hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep. Usually on tour their management reserved the entire floor of the hotel for them, but for some reason that hadn’t been possible at their current hotel. Which meant they had been sequestered in their rooms, sneaking from door to door in case a fan happened to walk by.

But that wasn’t even the main problem. The current issue was the obnoxiously loud music playing from the room next to Rei. It had started around six in the evening, which had been tolerable, but it hadn’t stopped since. Rei had tried everything to block it out. Headphones, earplugs, pillows, and she could still feel it shaking her walls. Then she had tried to call down to the front desk, but she’d panicked when speaking English on the phone and hadn’t been able to communicate the problem.

Which left only one option.

It was at times like these that Rei missed the days where she had always shared a hotel room with one of the boys. Now she was old enough to like her space, but she definitely still missed having them around to stay up late watching movies, ordering local food, or, as she was currently having to experience, knocking on her neighbor’s door.

She checked her outfit one more time. Her pajamas were just a bralette and sweatpants, and so she had pulled a sweatshirt overtop and smoothed her hair out. Once she was satisfied, she grabbed her room key and stepped out the door.

Her room was at the end of the hallway, down a little alcove, with only one other room across from her. That was the room currently making all the noise, which it turned out was muffled in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she lifted one hand and knocked loudly on the door.

No one answered.

She knocked again, more insistently this time.

The door swung open.

Rei didn’t like to judge people, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was not the sort of man she wanted to be talking to. He reeked of alcohol, was missing his shirt, and just the tiny sliver that she could see into the room, showed a group of people, sprawled about, bottles of liquor on the floor. 

“What?” He snapped.

Rei squeaked. “Sorry. Your….your music…” She struggled to find the words, taking a step back. This was a terrible idea. If she couldn’t talk to the front desk on the phone, what made her think she could confront someone in person?

“It’s a party. You need music for a party,” The man scoffed, before giving her an appraising look. “You want in?”

She shook her head quickly. “No.”

“You sure? We have booze.” Rei did not know what that word meant, but she knew that she didn’t want any part of it.

“Sorry,” she bowed her head, stepping away and turning to leave.

“You next door?” The guy asked, leaning out into the hall. Rei shoved her hand back into her pocket. She couldn’t go back into that room now, not with these people now aware that she was staying there by herself.

She heard him call something to one of his friends, and didn’t waste time stepping out of the alcove and rushing towards the first room that she knew held one of her boys.

Still hearing voices from the party room, Rei knocked quickly, growing increasingly panicked. This entire thing was a mistake. If he didn’t answer, would she have to go down to the lobby? She’d been an idiot and left her phone in the room, and now she was—

A bleary-eyed Joshua pulled open the door. “Rei? Is something wrong?”

She ducked under his arm, speaking quickly as she sheltered behind him. “The people next to me were making noise so I went to ask them to be quiet but they were scary and drunk and now they know where I was sleeping and they speak English so I—”

“Hey! You guys want to join the party?” A voice called down the hall.

Joshua tensed, pushing Rei further into the room and leaning out the door. “Not a chance. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Hey, your girl is the one who bothered us. We’re just being polite.”

“Have a goodnight,” Joshua shut him down. “Security is already on its way.”

There was a long moment of silence, Joshua still standing in the door, neither him nor the man in the hall saying anything. Rei nervously twisted her hand into the back of Joshua’s t-shirt, trying to pull him back into the room.

After a few seconds, he let her, closing the door behind them and securing the latch.

“You okay?” He asked, moving to flick on the lights. Rei took in just how exhausted he looked, clearly having rolled right out of bed when she knocked. His hair was a mess, his clothes wrinkled from sleep, and a quick glance at his bed showed that the sheets tossed around.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” he patted her shoulder.

Rei thought for a moment. She was exhausted too, and her brain was still a little bit foggy. “I should probably go back to bed.”

Joshua grabbed her wrist. “You’re not going back out there.”

“What?” 

“I’m calling security, and you’re staying here.” He insisted, releasing her to head for the phone.

Rei froze. “Are you…are you sure? I can go back to my room.”

“If you try, I’m going to call Seungcheol.”

That was enough to convince her, and so she made her way over to the bed while Joshua dialed the front desk and explained the problem much more fluently than she was capable of. The left side of the bed, closer to the nightstand, was the most messed up of the two, and so she figured that was where he had been sleeping. She kicked off her slippers and slid into the other side, pulling the blankets up over her lap.

Joshua hung up the phone, flicked the light switch, and then crawled into his side of the bed.

“Goodnight, Rei.”

“Night.” She rolled close to the edge, trying not to take up more space than she had to.

This was weird. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with Joshua. The opposite, really, they’d been close for ages, but they’d never shared a bed before and she couldn’t help but feel like she was bothering him. 

“You’re going to fall off the bed,” Joshua whispered.

“What?”

His arm reached over, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her closer to him. “I can sleep on the floor if you aren’t comfortable, but there’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep like that.”

“Sorry,” Rei forced herself to relax, getting a little more comfortable. “I’m trying not to take up space.”

He snorted. “You’re fine. Just go to sleep.”

Rei closed her eyes, wrapping her hands up in her sweater and tucking them under her chin. Joshua was only a few inches away, and she could hear the moment that he fell asleep and his breath evened out. She was only moments from sleep herself when a large commotion started in the hallway, shouts echoing into their room. Something slammed against the door of their room, and Rei flinched.

Joshua hummed, wrapping one arm over her and pulling her right into his chest. “It’s okay. It’s just security dealing with those guys.”

“Right.” She snuggled closer. “Sorry, they’re just loud.”

“They’re idiots,” he agreed, pressing his chin into her shoulder. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” She promised, finally letting herself relax. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Any time,” he promised. “Now, let’s get some sleep. We have a flight tomorrow.”

Impulsively, Rei pressed a kiss to his cheek, before she finally closed her eyes. “Night, Oppa.”

[roosterforme]

The Curveball Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob ends up on thin ice with Molly after Bradley ends up on thin ice with her sister. But all he can think about is the perfect night he spent with her and how he'd be crushed if he didn't get a chance to do it all again. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, 18+

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob was trying his best to be in the moment at the Hard Deck, since he was the one who invited Molly's sister out for a drink. He wanted to say thank you for all the hard work she put in while Bradley was away. But he was so distracted. 

Molly had spent the entire day sending him selfies while she was at work, and some of them were definitely rated mature. Bob had almost broken his phone earlier trying to minimize a photo of Molly's pierced nipples when Coyote walked over to him. She had snapped the photo of herself in the bathroom at the hospital when she was on break along with the caption I miss you, Bobby <3

The little heart at the end reminded him that he had already said he loved her. He assumed she hadn't heard him, but it made him blush just the same. And now he was at the bar with her sister and Bradley, which should have been fun, but he just wanted to get home and see Molly. 

Bob watched Nat and Jake both relentlessly flirt with Team Mom, but there was no way she had eyes for anyone except Bradley. And then he wondered what it would be like if he brought Molly here. He wanted to, because he already wanted to be with her all the time. But...Bob looked around at all the guys, and that feeling of self doubt was back. Jake was handsome and charming, and probably the kind of guy Molly was used to being with. 

When Nat offered to buy a drink for Team Mom, Bob cut her off, glad for the distraction. "No, it's on me! It's the least I can do since you gave up so much of your time this week to fill in for Bradley. What do you like?" And while he was up at the bar, waiting patiently for Penny to fill his order, Molly's sister ran out of the bar, followed closely by Bradley. 

"What happened?" Bob asked, holding two beers while Jake rubbed his forehead with his fingers. He mumbled a response and walked away, but when Bradley finally came back inside, he looked like he was ready to kill Jake. 

And then the barrage of text messages from Molly came through. Bob's eyes went wide as he read them.

Are you aware that your buddy Bradley is actually a fucking dickhead? I can't BELIEVE what he did to my sister! 

Seriously, Bob. Why didn't you warn my sister about him?! What the fuck! He called Everett baggage!

Please tell me you're not like him!

You know what? Maybe I don't want to find out. 

Bob called her immediately, but she didn't answer. When he got her voicemail, he said, "Mo, please call me back so we can talk, okay? I don't think Bradley meant any of what he said. He's not a bad guy. And I... don't think I could ever do anything to hurt you." He contemplated telling her he loved her again, but he ended the call before he could. 

He was already home for the night when he got one last text from her.

I'm not coming over. 

Bob collapsed in his bed, raking his fingers through his hair, wondering if this, of all things, was what would cost him his chance with her.

--------------------------

Molly was having a wonderful evening with Everett. They painted huge masterpieces on poster boards and left all the messy brushes in the kitchen sink. Molly secretly loved leaving an innocuous mess for her sister to clean up in her otherwise spotless house. It kept her on her toes. 

"Movie time? With ice cream?" she asked Everett, checking the time. Of course she'd let him stay up late. That's just what aunts did. 

"There's ice cream?!" he shouted, sprinting back into the kitchen.

"Of course there's ice cream," she replied, kneeling in front of the freezer. "I know all of your mom's secrets. She thinks she's so sneaky, but you can't get anything past me." After removing all the healthy, pre portioned frozen dinners, Molly hit the jackpot. There was a gallon of fudge ripple and a gallon of vanilla raspberry. "See?" she asked Everett, holding them both up.

"Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple!" he chanted, and soon they were watching a PG-13 movie with two spoons stuck in the ice cream carton. 

"Want some more?" she asked, passing the carton to him.

He took a bite and said, "I don't think my mom wanted me to watch this movie."

Molly sighed and shook her head. "I'll cover your eyes for the scary parts, okay?"

"Okay!" he agreed.

Molly took a few more bites before she asked him, "You like Coach Bob, right?"

"Oh yeah, like a whole lot," he replied. "Almost as much as I like Coach Bradley."

"That's a lot," Molly muttered. "I like him, too." She was smiling as Everett looked at her. 

"You should probably marry him," he said seriously. "I heard my mom say that Coach Bob is smart and nice and that she never thought you could do so well."

Molly scoffed and rolled her eyes. "That sounds exactly like something your mom would say, and that's exactly why we are eating her overpriced ice cream without her. Now close your eyes for the scary part."

About twenty minutes later, Everett was sound asleep on her lap while she finished the ice cream. Then she carried him up to bed, starting to get a little nervous that her sister would be back soon. She tucked him in, turned on his nightlight, and then hightailed it back to the kitchen to hide the evidence of the empty ice cream carton. 

But when she got home, Molly could tell something was wrong and went right into protective jungle cat mode. "What happened?" she asked softly as soon as she saw her sister's tear streaked cheeks and quivering lips.

After a few minutes of being held in Molly's arms, she was able to whisper, "Bradley told all of his friends that he'd never date me, because I have baggage."

"That fucking prick. Does Bob know about this?"

"Probably," she said softly against Molly's shoulder. "He must."

"I'll call him right now," Molly said vehemently. 

"No, please don't. You had an immaculate first solo date with him last night which ended in a hot makeout session. I don't want the three ring circus that is my life to start messing up yours."

It had been more than a makeout session, but Molly wasn't going to correct her. She was so into Bob after being intimate with him, that she was devastated now. Because Molly knew she would ditch him in an instant, even if it would hurt, in order to support her family. 

Molly kissed her sister's cheek and promised, "Your life is not a three ring circus. And Everett is not baggage. And Bradley isn't worth your time if that's what he thinks. Now let me help you get changed for bed."

-----------------------

Bob barely slept, and he was wide awake before his alarm went off on Saturday morning for the tee ball game. He hadn't heard another word from Molly. Even if she wanted to yell over the phone, he would have loved to hear her voice. 

When he arrived at the ballfield, Bradley was already there. "You look like shit," Bob told him, and he could hear the disappointment in his own voice. 

Bradley closed his eyes briefly. "I feel worse. Promise."

"Did you talk to her?" Bob asked. Bradley didn't hang around at the bar last night after things blew up, so Bob really wasn't sure exactly how bad it was.

"She doesn't want to talk to me. I'm such an idiot."

Bob just kind of shrugged as he set things up for their game against the Tiny Blue Jays. "Molly is angry, too," Bob informed him. "She's barely texted me back since yesterday."

Now Bradley looked sincerely upset on Bob's behalf. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll figure it out," Bob mumbled. "And you need to apologize to Team Mom until she forgives you. Did you tell her that you said all of that stuff a long time ago? You barely even knew her then."

"Yeah, but I still said it," Bradley replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "And between the slap to my face and the valid points she was yelling at me, I didn't get a chance to try to explain myself. But she's not going to want to hear it anyway."

Then Bob felt his heart lurch as he looked up toward the parking lot and saw Molly and Everett headed his way. "I'll be right back," he mumbled and headed for her immediately. 

Everett ran past him, calling out, "Hi, Coach Bob!" before continuing on to Bradley. But Bob had his sights set on Molly and her beautiful face filled with indignant anger.

"Molly," he gasped, wanting to reach for her as she came stomping to a halt in front of him. She was glorious. God, he was in love with her.

"Tell me you knew," she demanded. "Tell me you knew Bradley was trying to play my sister." She was practically vibrating with concealed rage now. "Tell me you fucking knew he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as them."

Bob swallowed hard, and her eyes flashed. "Molly, he loves them. I don't think he would do or say anything to intentionally hurt either of them." 

"He has a sick way of showing it," she spat. "He called Everett baggage."

Bob held his forehead in his hands. "I think Bradley just needs to talk to her. He's so crazy about them, he's really beating himself up."

Bob watched Molly glance past him to glare at Bradley while he helped Everett get ready for the game. "He can rot," she said, but her voice was softer now. "And so can you if you agree with what he said." 

"I don't," he promised. "Please, Molly. I...I missed you yesterday as soon as I dropped you off at your car. I missed you all night. I missed texting with you until one of us fell asleep."

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face. She muttered, "I missed you, too," and then she was heading toward the bleachers. 

----------------------------

Molly was finding it hard to keep giving Bob the cold shoulder after another day. She was spending a lot of her time with her sister and nephew, sleeping over there and taking Everett out to keep him entertained.

She didn't feel any better after she blew up at Bradley. In fact Molly felt worse, because she sensed that Bradley really was sincere in the way he just wanted to apologize. And he clearly doted on Everett. Maybe he really did just want a chance to apologize, but Molly knew her sister wasn't ready to listen yet.

Her phone went off, and she reached for it while she was making coffee at her place late on Sunday morning. 

Coach Cute Glasses: I miss you, Molly. 

She groaned; the gas station flowers were in the vase right next to her, and she was trying not to look at them. Casey never did anything like give Molly flowers. He'd given her some hickeys and exactly two orgasms. But he also hadn't been friends with anyone who hurt her sister. 

She moaned helplessly. Her body was betraying her. She wanted to spend another night curled up with Bob, all warm and protected. She wanted to feel his even breathing and listen to his soft voice as she fell asleep. "Damn it," she whined, typing out a message to him.

Miss you, too. Any chance I'm still invited to your place? 

Molly was weak for Bob. She knew that already. Just one night with him, and she was constantly daydreaming about him at work. His rough hands. And how sweet he was. And how he wanted to be exclusive with her already. And his big cock. 

Coach Cute Glasses: You are always invited. Please, Molly, anytime. Do you want to spend the night with me? 

Molly snorted as she read the text, but another one was already coming through.  

Coach Cute Glasses: I didn't mean that the way it probably sounded! I'd just love to see you. I would be so happy if you wanted to come by, and even happier if you wanted to stay with me all night. I liked how it felt to wake up in bed with you. 

Molly tucked her phone into the pocket of her scrubs. He could wait it out for a bit. That sort of thing was good for a man. Especially one who was that eager to see you. But by the time she parked at the hospital, she texted him back. 

---------------------------------

Bob was in such a panic. Molly was coming over. And he wasn't sure if she was upset with him or just Bradley. He wasn't sure if she was planning on staying over. 

"I'm sorry," Bradley told him for the hundredth time when he called him. "I'm sorry if I blew it for you."

"I'm going to talk to Molly in a few hours," Bob said, rushing through the parking lot to his truck. He was running around, grocery shopping, trying to distract himself. 

"Can you tell her I miss her sister and Ev?" Bradley asked.

"I'll try," Bob promised as he got into his truck and ended the call.

Molly worked until 8 o'clock. He had a few hours to kill before he'd see her, so he wasn't quite sure why he was rushing. Then he stopped for more gas station flowers and cleaned his already spotless condo. He tried to eat dinner, but he couldn't stomach anything except toast. And when he finally heard her ringing the intercom button, he ran to answer it.

"It's Molly," she said softly, and he quickly let her into the building. He stood with his front door open, and a minute later, there she was. She had changed after work, and she looked stunning. No make-up at all and just some jeans and a crop top, but Bob felt suddenly short of breath. He wanted to run his hand along the flower tattoos on her side, and kiss her there too. 

"Molly," he whispered, fighting the urge to blurt out another I love you. He needed to keep it together right now. "Come in."

She walked past him and looked slowly around his living room and dining room while he closed and locked his door. He didn't have a lot of stuff, and suddenly he felt a little ridiculous that his place was so sparse. 

"Very clean," she muttered, her voice and clothing filling the space with so much color and warmth as she examined the gas station flowers. "I wouldn't know how to keep up with it," she said, turning and smiling softly at him. 

"I missed you," he blurted out, and her smile grew.

"Tell me more," she demanded, turning to fully face him. 

Bob swallowed and took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He was afraid he was going to stutter or say something stupid, but Molly just smiled at him, her all-knowing eyes gentle on his face as she waited.

"I...can't get you out of my mind. I called the runway attendant Molly by accident earlier, because I was thinking about you. Phoenix, my pilot, will never let me live it down."

Molly's laughter had him taking a step closer. "Tell me more," she said, also taking a step toward him. 

"I can't stand the thought of you being upset with me," he said sincerely. He ducked his head and added, "Thursday evening was one of the best nights of my life. Because I spent it with you." He paused, finally daring to meet her eyes.

"Oh, keep going," she said with a nod. "You're doing great."

"I want you to believe I'd never be friends with Bradley if I didn't think he was a good person. And I think he just got a little mixed up. Your sister and nephew really threw him for a loop, you know? But he really loves them."

Molly hummed and shrugged. "I guess I could relay that message to my sister. But I also have a message from me to you."

Bob took a deep breath. "What is it?"

"I missed you, too. I can't stop thinking about you either. And Thursday night and Friday morning, you were so sweet to me, I just want more." Then she kissed his chin and took his hands in hers. "I want you to touch me."

Bob pulled her close as she placed his hands at her waist. He would never get used to being around her, not as easily as she seemed to already know how he operated. She looked up at him, gaze open and earnest. Soft fingers gliding up his arms, tucking into the short sleeves of his tee shirt and gently squeezing his biceps. She placed three soft kisses to the corner of his lips, and he was done. He had to fight the invading thoughts of her nipple piercings and the way her body feels and looks when she's whining for him in her bed beneath him.

"Molly," he begged, but he wasn't sure what he was begging for. 

"Bobby?" she asked softly, pushing one hand through his hair and keeping his gaze focused on her. "I think I need you to fuck me."

"Oh," he groaned, turning her and pushing her back against the wall. He caged her in, and she looked absolutely delighted. 

"If you want to." Her voice was soft and sweet, and her gaze was anything but.

"Honey," Bob managed between ragged breaths as she let her hands come to rest on his abs. She was messing with him. Messing him up completely. She knew exactly what she was doing, but meanwhile, Bob was new to this game. But he was a quick study. A fast learner. 

So when Molly licked her lips and pouted, saying, "You don't want me Bobby? I thought you wanted to be the only one," he was ready for her. 

He wedged one thigh up between her legs, and she gasped. Then his mouth was on hers, rough and demanding. She was grabbing for his shoulders, rubbing herself all over him. He could feel her teeth, digging into his bottom lip, not hard, but definitely not soft. When she released him, she licked his lips until her tongue was in his mouth. 

Bob was rock hard, and try as he may to keep control in this moment, he couldn't. Because Molly was stroking him through his pants and tasting his mouth. Her nose was rubbing along his as she whispered, "Do you want me, Bobby?"

He reached down, wrapping both of his hands around the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms. Then her lips were on his neck and her arms were wrapped around him as he took her to his bedroom. She was on her back on his bed, kicking her shoes off while her little top rode up so Bob could see the soft undersides of her breasts. There was too much to admire here, and he froze up. 

When Molly's hands found the zipper of her jeans, she whispered. "I want you to say it, Bobby. I want you to tell me everything you plan to do to me." And then her hand was slipping inside her underwear, and she was stroking herself as he watched. 

"Mo," his voice was hoarse. He pushed her knees apart and settled between her legs, bending to kiss her wrist before pulling her hand free of her jeans. "I want to put my mouth on you."

The smile that curled along her lips as she started to shimmy out of her jeans and underwear should have made him a little nervous, but he was beyond help. Her bare pussy was right there, and she smelled so good. As soon as her jeans hit his floor, Bob's face was buried in her. 

"Alright, Lieutenant Floyd," she moaned softly. "Okay." And to Bob's delight and dismay, Molly's hands were on her own breasts, pushing her shirt up and playing with her piercings. She tasted so good as he ran his tongue through her wetness and sucked on her clit. But soon he was rutting into the bed, the sight of her fingers on those little barbells spurring him on. 

When Bob slipped his tongue inside her, Molly's back arched off the bed as she started whining for him. "Bobby, I want your big cock." He grunted in response, willing to give her anything in this moment, and shocked by how much he liked her dirty talk. 

He worked the zipper over his painfully hard erection and scrambled to get himself free. And then he was rocking into her at the same time he got his mouth on her nipples. 

"Yes," she hissed softly, head tipped back with a soft giggle on her lips. He was fucking her, and it felt just as perfect as it had a few days previously. Like her whole body was made for him. Like every response from her perfect lips was just what he needed to hear. "So fucking big."

He pushed those little, silver barbells around with his teeth and tongue, tugging a little bit until Molly was gasping his name. When he sucked harder on her nipples, she was screaming for him. And when she came on his cock, holding his face against her breasts and shaking beneath him, Bob could hardly believe he'd been able to make her orgasm again. 

"Molly," he gasped. "I love the way you shake."

"Oh my god," she moaned as he fucked her through her little tremors. But then she was sitting up, kissing his face, and Bob slipped out of her perfect warmth as she moved to kneel on his floor.

"What are you doing?" he whispered as she guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled her shirt over her head, and ran her hands up over his thighs. Bob's pants were pulled down to his knees, and Molly pushed them to his ankles before wrapping her pretty lips around his cock. She settled in between his legs, and Bob could only stare at her and try to memorize the obscene sounds they made together. 

Molly was good at this. She was good at everything. Bob tried to keep up, but her mouth felt too perfect. And then she popped up onto her knees and started running the tip of his cock along those pretty piercings. "Molly!"

"You like that?" she asked coyly, but Bob was hypnotized by the look and feel of the barbells on his erection. With a soft groan, Molly squeezed her perfect breasts together, sandwiching Bob between them. He thrust himself up closer to her mouth, and sure enough, she parted her pretty lips and licked him. Bob continued to do this until he was grunting and Molly's saliva was dripping down her chest, making the sensations even more spectacular for him. 

Slick saliva, wet breasts and Molly's mouth. "Oh!" he grunted, stroking her cheek with his knuckles as she sucked on him. But when she took his tightening balls in her soft hand and gave him a little squeeze, Bob came hard, without any warning. He watched in alarm as his cum spurted all over her lips and cheeks while she giggled. Molly jerked him off until he was gasping for air and wishing he had enough in him to coat her whole body, because it looked that pretty.

She licked her lips and opened her eyes, and Bob watched as his cum dripped down from her eyelashes, along her cheek and landed on her nipple piercing. Molly took his hand in hers and ran his fingers through the mess before guiding his hand up to her lips. She tasted him there and ran her tongue between his long fingers and across his palm. 

"You made the mess," she whispered before sucking on his thumb for a beat. "Now you have to help me clean up."

"Gladly," he promised, nearly rocketing off the bed as she set his hand on her breast. Bob used his wet thumb to collect his cum from her piercing and then he let her take his hand between her lips again. But then he was on the floor with her, pushing her gently onto her back as she laughed. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, but the words died on her lips when Bob licked his own cum off of her chest before kissing her and letting her taste it. He held both of her wrists in his hands above her head, and he was treated to the sights and sounds of Molly. She was rubbing her pussy along his soft length as she licked his cum from his mouth, and Bob just enjoyed making out with her on the floor. Everything tasted like him and smelled like Molly, and he listened to her soft laughter. 

His hands and shirt were a mess of cum, and Molly's pretty face absolutely lit up for him when he whispered, "I like the way I taste on your skin."

"Bobby. You fucking deviant," she moaned, taking his face between her slightly sticky palms and leaning up to kiss his lips. She wrapped one leg around his waist to keep his body against hers, and Bob let his cheek come to rest on her chest. He'd never been called anything close to that before, but he could tell he'd lose himself in the moment with Molly over and over again like this if she'd keep letting him. 

And then he blurted out, "You're not mad at me then?" while she combed her fingers through his hair. 

She hummed in contemplation. "No, I'm not mad at you, Coach Bob. I'm pissed off at Bradley, and I'm trying to protect my family. But I'm not mad at you."

Bob sighed in relief and ran his fingers along her pretty tattoo. He had found it actually painful the way she'd been avoiding talking to him, but he could see where she was coming from. 

"That makes me happy. And I can understand you wanting to protect them. They are where your loyalty lies."

"Don't fuck with my family," she whispered softly as she turned her head, and Bob glanced up at her as she swiped at her eyes. "I hardly have any left."

Bob could sense that she wanted him to change the subject, so he kissed her soft skin and said, "I like your tattoos."

She laughed sardonically and said, "Thanks."

"Did you get the carnation tattoos because it's your favorite flower?" he asked, running his index finger along the colorful ink.

"No," she told him. She was quiet for a moment, and Bob started sweating before she asked, "Did you know that there are different flowers that coordinate with your birth month?" 

Bob had heard of this before. "Sure," he told her, wondering where she was going with this. 

Her voice sounded a little rough, but her fingers were still soft in his hair as she said, "My parents were both born in January. Carnations were their birth flowers. That's why I have the tattoo. And kind of why I love the gas station flowers."

"Oh," Bob said, about to add that she didn't need to talk about it if she didn't want to. But then she rolled a little closer to him as he sat up, and she pointed to the other three flowers mixed in.

"The morning glory is for my sister's birthday. The chrysanthemum is mine. And the pretty red rose is for Everett's birthday in June. I got that one the day after he was born. It's actually my favorite one."

"It's beautiful," Bob told her, running his thumb along the chrysanthemum and meeting her eyes. 

"Listen," she told him, kissing the tip of his nose. "I'm protective of my sister. She took care of me when our parents both died. I moved in with her while she finished college. She shared her bed with me and made sure I ate. She sold my parent's house and gave me most of the money to pay for nursing school and a new, reliable car. And the fact that I can occasionally help her out a little bit now is really important to me. So if you think I need to castrate Bradley, you should probably just tell me now, okay?"

Bob laughed in spite of himself. "Maybe a kick to the nuts, but castration is probably not necessary, Honey. He's beating himself up enough, I can tell you that much. And I honestly think Bradley would jump in front of a moving car for Everett." 

"See, now that's what I like to hear," she told him, sitting up and draping her arms around him. Her skin was a little sticky from his cum, and Bob let her push him back until he was laying on the floor underneath her this time. She settled her chin in his chest and looked up at him. "Now tell me when your birthday is, Lieutenant Cute Glasses. I want to know how your flower would look in my tattoo bouquet."

Bob could feel his cheeks warming up. She wanted to know what a tattoo in his honor would look like on her perfect skin. And now she was just lounging right there on him, naked as the day she was born and just completely flawless. And she was waiting, just like she always did. Waiting until he was ready to say what he was thinking, but never rushing him.

He laughed softly and shook his head. "I have the most embarrassing birthday," he told her, and she cocked her head to the side. 

"Oh," she sighed. "April twentieth?" 

"No," he told her. "Worse. Leap day. February 29th."

"Oh! No, that's such a good one, Bob!" she insisted. "And your flower would be a violet. So pretty!"

But he just kept shaking his head. "Mo, you don't understand, Honey."

"Then explain it to me," she whispered, kissing his chest and stroking his skin. 

"My name is Bob. B O B. Bob. I got the nickname Baby On Board during flight training a decade ago, because I was technically five years old...."

She blinked at him a few times before she burst into laughter. Bob waited while Molly rolled around on the floor, gripping her sides and gasping for air. "And technically how old are you now?" she managed to ask through her laughter.

Bob waited until she calmed down a bit more. "Eight."

"Eight!" she screeched. "Don't say that to me! We've had sex!" Her laughter had Bob chuckling too now. "How old would you be if you had a birthday every year?" she asked, eyes wide as she giggled.

"Thirty two."

"Thirty two! Perfect," she sighed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "I'm not going to get arrested then."

Bob rolled his eyes and whispered, "I think a new flower would look pretty good in your bouquet."

And now Bob was thinking about a violet tattoo on her skin next to the other pretty flowers as Molly curled up on his bedroom floor with her arm wrapped around him. 

---------------------------------

Bob without Molly....it just doesn't make sense. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 5

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[sanakimohara]

“Pretty When You Cry” B.C.

“Although she is alone…she knows the truth.” + “If you think I’m pretty lay your hands on me…”

Summary: Chan as a yandere. Borderline stalking type of yandere to be exact.

WARNING: MDNI, cursing, smut obviously, mentions of kidnapping, and cnc…among other things.

A/N: this was a request and it caught my interest so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did while thinking/writing about it.

—————————————————————

A knife could slice right through the thick tension between you and Chan right now.

Not because his eyes were glaring daggers straight into your Bambi like stare or that you were purposely keeping your distance from him by sticking close to the nearest exit. No, the reason was much more complicated.

You. More specifically, you assuming Chan wouldn’t be jealous or possessive of you.

Now, he had you all alone to ‘talk’ but you knew that just meant your night was about to riddled with consequences from him. So, planted yourself near the door -a useless precaution you took to feel safer.

Little did you know, he’d locked it the moment you wandered into his room. You came to him under the impression he just wanted to show you something he’d been working on and was only slightly aware of his true intentions.

Now, you wished more than ever that you’d paid more attention to your small suspicions, but it was too late for you to leave without having to go through him. Chan made sure of that by pocketing his hotel room key card.

“Chan, please..” you started to reason with him, voice trembling slightly as you spoke, and your body involuntarily pressing against the locked door as he stood up abruptly. His face was unnervingly expressionless but his eyes were piercing, swirling with all the intensity of emotions you’d become familiar with.

Jealousy, lust, and possessiveness. Anger was present too -steadily growing the longer he replayed the image of you flirting with some random staff member during their concert.

“Let me ask you something,” Chan was now inches from you, his entire body dwarfing yours in comparison, and his voice shallow with simmering rage. He really was terrifying when upset and with envy added into the mix he was downright evil sometimes.

Shamefully, it turned you on more than anything else. Being afraid of him, what he might do you, and how he’d take his anger out on you. It was so wrong for you to be wet already, merely in Chan’s presence, and forced to stay there until he decided to let you go.

Which was never, in his opinion.

“Do you like pissing me off?,” he nearly growls the question and your tummy does several slips hearing the rasp carry through to his accent. “N-no, I don’t Chan-“ you answer him carefully, face heating up as your fear amps up to new heights when he grabs your jaw with one hand and places the other above your head to lean forward on. “Yes, you fucking do. Why else would you go around whoring yourself out to other men then?” Chan taunts you with a faux smile, raising his brows slightly to add to his condescending tone, and you huff softly in return.

“Channie, I promise we were just-“ you’re cut off again as his hand on your face falls to your throat, gripping it tight until you have to hiss in a breath, and cling to his wrist with both of your small hands. Chan holds you there, counting the seconds until he sees tears prick your lidded eyes, and only then does he loosen his hold on you.

“I don’t care what you were doing, little one. This is the last time you’ll ever try me, understood?” You could barely hear him over your heart drumming your ears from being choked so ruthlessly seconds ago, and when you don’t answer him immediately Chan takes that as a sign of defiance on your end.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, dark eyes filling with a new emotion as he watched you struggle to breathe with his hand still putting pressure on your throat. You already looked so broken in for him, probably bound to drop to your knees if he let you go, and your pathetic attempts to wriggle out of his grasp never failed to amuse him.

Chan would never let you go, you knew that, but still tried with all your might to fight him off -even if you’d been craving his affection the whole time.

It was part of your dynamic. Chan could drag you through hell and back, you’d insist on running away, but ultimately fail and let him do whatever he wanted to you.

“I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to,” Chan hums lowly, passing his thumb over the fullness of your bottom lip before slowly pushing it into your warm mouth. “Suck,” he commands, pressing down on your tongue slightly as you start to do exactly that. Quiet whimpers vibrate through your throat as you lick and suck on his thumb, doe eyes sparkling with need as he watched you obey his every word.

You could feel his hardened cock through his jeans, the length of it pressed right against your pelvis and lower stomach, and you were tempted to reach down and palm him just for the hell of it. Unfortunately, he’d quickly pull your hand away, reminding you that “you’re not allowed to touch daddy until I say you can…”

You hated that rule but knew the consequences for breaking it would only leave you edged to the brink of delirium and his cum plowed deep into your sore womb.

Chan was certainly not the man to tease -unless you were prepared to endure the corresponding punishment.

So, you took pleasure in sucking on his fingers, imagining it was cock instead, and continuously drooling on his digits until he removed them. You coughed softly as he did, chest heaving, and eyes still watering as they refocused on his face.

Chan couldn’t help but chuckle at your disoriented expression, always so neat and sweet in public, but behind closed doors and in his view you just looked like a love sick pup waiting to be used.

You half expected him to push you down to your knees, already accepting your fate of him using your throat as his personal cock sleeve, but Chan had other ideas.

He closed the distance between you two, ducking his head to capture your spit slick lips with his plump ones. You moaned as he pushed his tongue past yours, taking his time to explore your mouth, and swallowing the short and desperate noises you let out in between each kiss.

Your hold on his veiny wrist and arm traced up to his neck, gently massaging the muscle there before your fingers tangled through the hair at the back of his head. Chan grunted into your mouth when lightly pulled on his dark hair, “I should’ve fucked you in front of him,” he mumbles harshly against your lips, hands gripping your hips to turn you around in one quick motion.

A small yelp flies from your chest as your frontside meets the cold surface, Chan’s body weighing down on yours as his hands slid from your waist to the closure of your black high waisted shorts. He started to undo the tedious buttons and zipper while tracing his lips down the right side your neck. You whined as he littered mark after mark on your unblemished skin, his hands now hooked on the sides of your shorts to pull them off, and his heavy breaths causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“You would’ve liked that, yeah? Daddy fucking you in front of everyone so they’ll never forget who you belong to?” His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke, tone bordering on desperation as you whined and reached a hand up to caress one side of his face. “Yes,” you moan loudly, finally shedding your usual timid nature to fully enjoy the moment, and Chan smirked against skin hearing your delicate voice reach a new octave.

“You’re such a slut, and you’re all mine too,” he muses, slipping one hand right between your shaking thighs, and delving past the fabric of your underwear to cup your mound. “Ahm…stop! No..!” You half moan and half whimper as he takes in the soaking expanse of your cunt.

It was embarrassing. You were definitely more than eager to have him touch you and now he knew it.

Chan laughed dryly at your pathetic attempt to refuse him, fingers sliding up and down your folds to collect as much of your cum as possible before swirling those same fingers around your clit. “You want me to stop? That’s not what your body wants, now is it, baby?” He didn’t need you to answer, your broken cries were enough for him, and the dazed look in your eyes only intensified as he played with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“…s-stop p-please….ill be good…just-just let me go…” you try again to win your freedom, voice cracking as a few tears began to trickle down your flushed cheeks. His attention to your clit had migrated to your entrance, prodding it open with two thick fingers before he shoved them into you as deep as possible. “Fuck ..,” Chan inhaled sharply from how tight your cunt was, already clenching around his fingers like you’d break if he put anymore in.

He might’ve came right then and there if he hadn’t already built his stamina up but his cock still twitched just from the constant pulsing of your wet core.

“Daddy, s’ too much....” you weakly called for his attention, panting as he curled, pumped, and twirled his fingers inside you. He reached every spot that made you see stars and even had you circling your hips to the pace of his hand. “I don’t care,” Chan responded gruffly, back to marking your neck and shoulder as he sped the pace of his fingers up.

You choked on a string of moans, face contrasting into a mindless picture of pleasure as he abused your cunt. “Nooo.. ah!” You tried your best to keep protesting, yet he only added to your torture by slowly circling his thumb on your clit . Now, you were at a loss for words, head emptying of any thoughts besides cumming on his hand.

You were incredibly close to the edge and Chan noticed from just one look at your beautifully lost and delirious stare. Your head lulled back onto his shoulder, eyes rolling slightly as he brought you to your climax with precise pumps into your dripping cunt. “Cumming…” you whimper into the crook of his neck, letting the smell of his cologne fill your head as the knot in your tummy snapped. He groaned as you gushed on his hand, making a mess in your lacey underwear as well, and watched you rock your hips to ride your high out.

Chan smiled at the sight, in love with how messy and careless you could be when he touched you. “You’re gonna cum like this on my cock next, princess…” he announced it like a command and all you could muster was a shaky exhale followed with a lazy smile as you felt him drag his fingers out of your sticky entrance.

“You’ll never forget what it means to be owned by me again, baby girl..”

—————————————————————

Should I make a PT2? I kind of already did hehehe….we will see how PT1 goes first, yeah? 🖤

BONUS CONTENT +

(Sorry not sorry for this…🖤)

[snippychicke]

It's Just Business -- Four

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen so far

Pairing: Sanji/Reader

Warnings: No real warnings, but god, I hope you like pining

Summary: You felt like you had known Sanji forever, considering your family had been the main merchants Zeff used to supply the Baratie. You had a small crush on him, but knew it was hopeless considering you were the one woman he didn't seem to pine over. 

It was fine. Or so you thought until you ended up on the Going Merry as a bookkeeper and supply manager. Being around him 24/7 was a lot more difficult than just a few days a week.  

(Please note 》°《 denotes a scene in the past while -*- will be a regular scene break. Because yeah, I like my non-linear story telling.)

Masterpost | Ao3

Coco village was freed of Arlong after several long years. You had already talked with several of the townsfolk about restarting trade routes to help restore their village-- they did have some of the best tangerines in the region, after all. Plus, being the closest to the Baratie meant even fresher items for the restaurant, as well as a large boost to their own economy. 

Business was your trade, and one of the very few ways you could help out. You also helped Sanji prep food for the entire community as a celebration, which challenged the small set of culinary skills you did have. Still, you would take it any day over the fight had left you wondering how you were even standing. 

(You also desperately tried not to think that this might be the last time you watched him cook. To see the light in his eyes as he mentally went over his recipe, assuring everything was going to be perfect. 

Eventually the evening wore into the middle of the night and you found yourself sitting at one of the few bonfires still burning. You were nestled between Nami and Sanji (Well, closer to Sanji than Nami) with the rest of the Strawhat crew circling the fire as well. You enjoyed just listening to the others, the events of the day leaving you tired. It was probably more than okay for you to slip away to bedrolls Nami’s sister had prepared for the crew, or even trekking back to the Going Merry to crash, but you felt reluctant to leave. Even if you were struggling to keep your eyes open. 

"It'll be nice not to be the only girl onboard," Nami sighed during a lull in the conversation, making you frown as you glanced over at her. "Being surrounded by those three was hard enough, let alone Chef Flirt."

Sanji leaned forward, giving the redhead a wink. “Just want to make sure you’re aware how beautiful you are, Nami dear”

Your chest tightened. You had assumed she had known, but then again, Luffy was still insisting you were part of the crew. "Actually…I'm not staying." Your words caught the attention of everyone else, and suddenly you had five pairs of eyes staring at you, making things even worse. "I came to make sure you idiots got here safe and sound,” You insisted against the looks of disbelief that everyone was giving you. “I can't just abandon my job and become a pirate." 

Even if Sanji was doing the same thing. Even if Zeff himself had encouraged you to embrace the chance if you had found it appetizing. And… you kind of did. Even with the fighting, you enjoyed being around the Strawhat Crew and could see yourself becoming quick friends with all of them.

"But you're part of our crew," Luffy was the first to actually protest. "Even with our Navigator back, we need you at the helm! Plus you’re the bookkeeper!" 

“Your ship isn't that big that you need both a navigator and a helmsman,” You argued. “And surely between the five of you, you can manage your own supplies and ledgers." 

"We have a thief, a liar, and Luffy," Zoro of all people pointed out, opening his eye that had been closed before. "And I'm not keeping track of anything." 

Before you could argue, Sanji nudged your shoulder. "You really want to keep ferrying supplies back and forth to the Baratie the rest of your life? The same thing you've been doing since we were kids?" 

Your stomach twisted at the thought. At seeing the firelight reflected in his eyes as he gave you a pleading look. "Well, no," You admitted slowly. Especially considering he wouldn't be there anymore. You loved Zeff, Patty, and everyone else. But… No Sanji to talk and tease? It would be like the restaurant lost its heart…. 

But it was the responsible thing to do. It was good, steady, profitable work. 

"What's your dream?" Luffy asked, staring at you intently from across the fire, the flames flickering in his dark eyes. (There was just something about this boy you couldn't put your finger on that both scared yet compelled you at the same time.)

Dream? You huffed at the thought as you shook your head. You never really had a dream; just short term goals. You had been happy enough with life that you never really questioned what the future could hold. You had listened to Sanji talk about the All Blue through the years with fondness as well as envy. Nothing brought you passion like that. Nothing called you so much to daydream about it day after day, year after year. 

"I don't have one," You admitted quietly with a half-hearted shrug. 

But Luffy refused to take that as an answer. "Surely there's something you want?” he pressed. “More than anything?" 

Something you wanted more than anything? More than anything, you… just wanted to be happy. But compared to Luffy’s dream of being the King of Pirates, Zoro’s goal to be the world’s best swordsman, and Sanji’s own dream of finding the All Blue, your ‘dream’ (if it could really be called that) would likely fall flat. No matter what Nami and Usopp’s own dreams were. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Not really? I mean, seeing new places would be fun," You offered, hoping no one could tell your cheeks were darkening in the firelight. “But I don’t know if it's enough to compel me to leave everything I know behind.” 

~*~

Sanji swore he could feel his heart drop into his stomach as you dug your heels into your refusal. The bright future he had just been daydreaming of suddenly grew dark as you faded from it. 

Were you really so against the idea of joining the crew? Of becoming a pirate? Despite pirates being the cause of your parents death, you hadn’t seemed to hold any ill-will to the so-called profession itself. Plus you had just admitted that you didn’t want to stay in the same routine for the rest of your life. 

Without thinking, Sanji placed his hand over yours, bringing your attention to him. Those wide, bright eyes that he loved so much, now filled with doubt, worry. 

“What about finding the All Blue together?” he asked softly, squeezing your hand softly. In all of his daydreams of finding the uncharted area, seeing the mixture of all the four seas together, you had been right there beside him. To the point he couldn’t  imagine the All Blue without you there, grinning ear-to-ear and just as excited as him. 

You bit your lip as you looked away, though you squeezed his hand softly. He could tell you were lost in thought, allowed you a moment to go over the pros and cons in your head as you always did, debating if it was worth the risk. 

(Please, he prayed, let him be worth the risk.) 

You sighed in defeat, leaning against him suddenly with your head on his shoulder. “Okay, fine. I’ll join your crew.” 

He heard the other cheer, but it mostly fell on deaf ears as he untangled his hand from yours so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly as he pressed a kiss to your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered to the crown of your hair. 

"I've sailed the same stretch of water all my life,” you stated just as softly. “It'll be neat to see other places for once."

Sanji was determined to show you the world as you searched for the All Blue. Whatever it took so you didn’t regret your choice. He’d hunt down every natural and man-made wonder to make it up to you if need be.  

》°《

"Oh god, you're gonna be one of those," You swore when you found Sanji on the back deck of the Baratie that was restricted to staff only and mostly filled with crates and barrels of overstock. 

But your focus was on the thin white cigarette in his mouth, the lit tip bright in the shadow cast by the restaurant. A lot of the cooks smoked, so it wasn't surprising to see Sanji had picked up the habit. Yet you couldn't help wrinkle your nose--mainly just to give him grief. 

"Oh shut it. I've heard enough from Zeff," He grumbled as you perched yourself on the crate he was leaning on. 

"He means well." Sanji merely grunted at your defense of the older man. Silence fell and blanketed the air as you both looked out at the ocean, listening to the waves gently lap at the sides of the restaurant. 

"I guess I should break the news," You sighed, and watched his shoulder tense as he took a deep inhale of the cigarette. It had been a few weeks since the death of your parents-- since you found your way back to the Baratie where you had been accepted with open arms by the crew, proving they were every bit the family you had felt. Yet you knew you weren’t one to stay in one place, used to having the wind in your hair as you headed to the next destination. Bussing tables, waitressing, all the jobs you were qualified for on the Baratie drove you up the wall after doing it for a few days in a row. 

He knew you couldn’t stay still, and you knew he didn’t like the idea of you leaving. 

But the suppliers Zeff had reached out to proved that they did not hold to the same kind of quality that you believed the restaurant deserved. "I'm going to take over my parent's route. My vessel will be smaller, so I'll have to make more frequent trips, but like Zeff said, that just means fresher ingredients for the restaurant." 

The relief in Sanji's frame was easy to see, warming your heart. You even caught a small smile on his face as flicked away the ash into the ocean. "Aw, were you worried, lil' eggplant?" 

He rolled his eyes, though his smile didn't fade even as he looked up at you. "Didn't want to have to deal with some random idiots that don't know what they're doing. That's all." 

"Mmhmm," You hummed doubtfully as you slid down from your perch to stand beside him, nudging his shoulder with your own. (You were a little irritated that he had reached his growth spurt and was now taller than you.) "Either way you're not getting rid of me that easily. You're gonna be stuck with me forever." 

You couldn't imagine leaving the crew after everything. Just being alone the few days between the restaurant and port made you nervous enough. But you had to pull your weight, prove that while you may not serve the restaurant directly, you were vital enough to keep around. 

What you weren't expecting was Sanji suddenly wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him to the point your back was pressed against his chest as he muttered in your ear. "Is that a promise, lil' miss." 

Your heart was pounding in your chest from the near-sultry tone. You knew he was just playing, just seeing if he could get you flustered. A game of chicken. That's all this was. You pushed away the butterflies and twisted in his grip and wrapped your arms around his shoulders with a devious grin, hoping your blush didn't betray you. "It's a threat, my good sir." 

Sanji smirked, his gaze lingering on you for a long moment before he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. A friendly gesture… or so you had convinced yourself as he let you go. 

Because there was no way he saw you like the fancy ladies that visited the Baratie. Not when you had known each other for so long. You were friends. Friends that playfully flirted just like you bantered and cussed each other out. 

 Right? 

[furubabasket]

dunmeshi posting today (spoilers ahead for manga marcille stuff)

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i feel like there is so much to say and analyze about the fact that marcille's biggest--realest--fear is outliving everyone around her... specifically within the world of dungeon meshi that kui has created.

marcille's fear will certainly happen. (maybe not with falin, if her lifespan has been dragonified, but there's no way for us or for falin or marcille to know this yet.) and marcille has already watched every single one of her close friends die--temporarily. sometimes the circumstances have been dicey (or in falin's case nearly impossible) in ways that caused mounting dread and very real fear (in a way that seems uniquely upsetting in a world which has gotten somewhat blase about dungeon deaths--to have casual hope and to lose it), not even mentioning the initial shock, but so far, loss has not been final for marcille in recent years. that makes it hit all the harder when she has to contend with the possibility of falin being Dead For Good (such as when they couldn't find her bones in the dragon's stomach).

the thing that makes me absolutely sick about this is how marcille ends up just... having to swallow that her fear will come to pass. she just has to accept that both the "fix" she hoped for (the possibility of equalizing racial lifespans) is unethical and the "fix" she ALREADY USED (dungeon revivification) is impossible to implement everywhere. she just has to accept that no matter what, even in a world where death and loss isn't always final, she is doomed to experience it anyway or else succumb to the abusive and addictive pull of the demons' "security" like thistle and mithrun. (sidenote: all of the dungeon lords being elves, iirc, is telling and tragic.) I love the ending of dunmeshi and find it so compelling, and yet this is something that sticks out to me as so, so importantly "unresolved" even if I can't fully articulate it. marcille is not over this, and she can't be--while everyone else looks to the future, by definition hers is darker. that's going to take a lot more time to come to terms with. the moral is that whole "eating is the special privilege of the living," right? the moral comes down to "life involves hurting and being hurt, and that is the way of things, no matter how we run from it... but that doesn't have to be soul-crushingly depressing." marcille's friends are aware of the burden she has. they talk with her about her fears and comfort her without minimizing them. they help her feel less alone in what is a completely alienating existence. it's so fucking sad. it's horrifically sad! she got to save falin--but for how long? she got to save falin--but what about the next one? she got to save falin--why is that okay, but she isn't allowed to "have" everyone else? saving falin was only possible because of the help of a demon and forbidden magic, and while it's presented creepily, as readers we're certainly meant to root for falin's return. it's a "good" thing. it's the entire point of the first act, and the entire point of the very last. it's the good ending. it's happy! it's hard-won! and yet marcille needs to learn to accept death.

this dissonance is intentional, of course, and that's what makes it so fucking interesting. of course marcille goes crazy for a second. of course she struggles and obsesses. everyone else, functionally, gets to have what she wants! everyone else gets to "have" the dead now, no strings attached, no abnormal amount of future grief to carry. (for the opposite, past loss, imagine being kabru: being raised from the dead--watching your friends get casually revived--paying for the privilege--and thinking of your long-dead mother, who didn't get this chance, and wondering how easy it could have been.) in the future, when marcille's losses come, the dungeon's rules won't be around to protect her anymore from that cold, dull finality. it'll be real when it wasn't before. and she just has to be cool with that. man. MAN.

[thatgirl4815]

Ray's Feelings

Ray's process of falling in love with Sand has such nuance to it that I think gets horribly overshadowed by his actions alone, not their context. Yes, Ray mistreats Sand. Yes, Ray has a lot to apologize for. But I think Ray is a broken person who has a lot to apologize for because he's in a situation that he is grossly under-equipped, both mentally and emotionally, to handle.

@victorialovesstiles' post here includes a great discussion of the moment Ray becomes fully aware of Sand's feelings for him in Ep8. Up to this point, I don't think Ray tried to pin down exactly how he felt for Sand because the situation didn't necessitate it. He and Sand were "friends," and that label was always fine with Ray, until it wasn't enough anymore, until Sand couldn't put up with it. Looking back on all of this progression, I'd argue Ray has had feelings for Sand for as long as Sand has had feelings for him, but he hasn't been in a place to confront them the same way Sand has. It makes sense given that Sand is the one in the bad spot, watching Ray chase after Mew. If their situations had been reversed, I think Ray would've had to contend with his feelings much more directly much earlier.

Ray makes comments like this that point to the depth of his feelings, but he never truly vocalizes them outright until later in Ep9. Ray realizing how happy he is with Sand and admitting to that is the first step in the recognition of his true feelings, that he sees Sand as more than a good friend who takes care of him and just so happens to sleep with him.

Ray's feelings are strong, but they are also delicate, as demonstrated by the fight at Sand's apartment in Ep10. This dialogue in particular:

Ray thinks he deserves to be upset for having his emotions played with, which says more than anything how much Ep9 meant to him. It's also important in the context of money, because Ray's self-worth is so heavily influenced by what he can offer other people: if nothing else, he has always had his wealth to fall back on. And here is Sand claiming to love him, but all Ray can see is someone who accepted payment. Every conversation they’ve about the separation of feelings and money is being put into question.

At the end of Ep10, Ray echoes his dialogue in Ep8. I personally like that Ray makes a point of saying how happy he is with Sand; what stands out to me here is that Ray is confessing this to imaginary Sand, so he's technically only really admitting it to himself. He makes me happy and I keep screwing it up. He does care, and he's always cared, but I can't do anything but ruin it. I was made to ruin things. Those are all thoughts that seem to lay at the core of his dialogue at the end of Ep10.

I guess my main point here is that we witness Ray returning to this idea time and time again that when he's with Sand, he's truly happy. Sand sees beyond his problems, beyond the brokenness. Even with how complex their situation is, there's something so beautiful about that simplicity. Sand makes Ray happy. That’s what it’s always boiled down to.

"I know now that you want nothing from me" -> I have a feeling this entire speech from Ray is going to form a deeper trust between Ray and Sand. Ray knows now that Sand is true. He knows that he has overthought everything. The reason why Ray skews the situation with Sand is because Ray is so used to viewing himself in a negative light, but he was clinging to the hope that Sand didn't see him that way. Even when other characters insult Ray for his behavior (which isn't entirely undeserved), Sand was always there to explain why he was wrong, to encourage him to be better. When it's Sand, it's about growth, not just recognition.

The ending scene in Ep10 is such a catharsis because Ray is finally coming to terms with the fact that virtually all of the doubts and complexities surrounding his relationship with Sand were created by him. But Sand has always been true. Sand has always loved him. And now that he sees that, he knows just how important it is that he clings to that love and never lets it go.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my mom I would blow up her entire household and myself in a gas explosion if my parents built me a house to live in?

TW for descriptions of child abuse and suicide mention

I (22NB) cut off my abusive father (mid40M) and left home when I turned 18. I'm going to call him Harry (fake name) from now on because I'm going to have to talk about him a lot. When covid lockdowns started I had to leave home because I phsyically could not be in the same room as Harry without fully disassociating and would constantly have homicidal thoughts, suicidal thoughts and panic attacks just hearing him walk around the house or talk from locked away in my bedroom. Growing up Harry would phsyically and verbally abuse me, he's thrown me out of a window and locked me outside of the house, pinned me to the ground and stabbed me in the back of the neck with a pair chopsticks, slapped me, kicked me while I was curled up on the ground and so on. My mom (mid40F) would watch all these things and never did anything to stop the abuse, his abuse started ramping down when my little brother was born (12M) so most of these things happened to me from 6 years old to being 10. Harry has never been phsyically and verbally abusive towards my mom or my siblings I was his only victim at home.

I developed a slew of mental illness traits the main of which being diagnosed cPTSD from this abusive upbringing. I also ended up developing a phsyical disability that limits my mobility when I was turning 20, I live alone and the house I live in is extremely unaccessible and even dangerous for me to live in. Because of this I am still in regular contact with my mom getting her help with things I can't manage to do on my own due to my disability. Her and Harry are planning to move out to the countryside and have a house built there so I am aware I won't be able to rely on her for too many years longer. One day she mentions to me that apparently they had been planning to build me a small house tucked away at the back of their property for me to live in so she could keep taking care of me. I'd never heard of this plan before and never asked for anything like this.

First of all I found it incredibly demeaning to build a little doghouse out of sight to keep your traumatized disabled child like an unwanted pet only kept around out of pity and some sense of responsibility, my mom comes from a culture where its the norm to treat disabled people like this and make sure they are unseen but I did not appreciate it. Second of all this would literally be the most nightmarish scenario for me to live through possible, I can't drive I don't have a car and there is no public transport or delivery services for food and grocceries at all outside of the capital of my country. My mom doesn't drive either so she would put me in a scenario where literally every single aspect of my life would become completely dependent on my transphobic abuser that I still get full blown PTSD episodes even just thinking about. My house, my food, where I can go and getting to the doctor would all become completely at the mercy of Harry in this situation. This is when I told my mom if put in this situation I would blow up all of us in a gas explosion to escape it because that's how awful living through that would be.

She didn't really react to me saying I would blow all of them up if this happens because I use exaggerated violent language often, she just called me ungrateful. While it was mainly to express just how bad this situation would be for me it was also somewhat meant as a threat, due to my disability I've had other family members try to get me declared legally incompetent so they could get a government caregiver from me. My parents could absolutely use the law to force me into this housing situation even as an adult, it was partially a threat because I wanted it in their heads that it a bad idea for them to do this to me, realistically I would just commit suicide to escape it instead. My cPTSD makes me incapable of having grounded thoughts and reactions to the things that trigger it, I know my mental problems make me an asshole a lot of the time but I just want to live my shitty life as painlessly as possible for however long I've got left.

What are these acronyms?

[pavlovianfuckery]

lets not pretend we're not all nuts for The Voice

i blame the dreamcast and tom sturridges voice entirely for this, it's all his fault really, here is some lazy hypnosis for you

That you found his hands beautiful had never been a secret. It seemed to amuse him how you could watch him do the most mundane things, never tiring of simply looking at him. The first time he'd truly noticed the extent of the effect his hands had on you, it had been completely by accident. You'd simply been reading in companionable silence after a long and tiring day, as you sometimes did. As per usual, you couldn't help sneaking glances at him from time to time, like a schoolgirl with a crush still. Taking in the lean lines of his body, your gaze ended up lingering on his hands again, which was not unusual in itself.  What was interesting was the way he absentmindedly kept drumming his index finger on the back of the book in his hands. At first, you simply enjoy the graceful way his tendons move, the delicate look to his wrist as he turns the page.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

The rhythm was almost like a heartbeat, and soon you found yourself unable to look away. Your body felt a bit heavy, thoughts going a bit fuzzy at the edges, the book you had been reading forgotten in your lap. 

Tap... Tap... Tap...

It was...nice. You didn't want to look away. Your own heartbeat was a dull thunder in your ears as everything was reduced to that one small movement of his finger.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

Everything felt warm. Relaxed. Soft. You were vaguely aware that he was speaking, but it was hard to pay attention. Shaking your head, you tried to clear your thoughts. "Sorry. Guess I spaced out for a minute there..." "Is that so?" He put the book to the side and gave you a curious look, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You scarcely even blinked for quite some time, my love." You winced, a bit embarrassed. "It is quite alright. In fact, you might have given me...an idea, of a sort."                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're not sure what he meant by 'idea', but you supposed you'll find out sooner rather than later. He hasn't been secretive per se, but not exactly forthcoming either. Watching him shrug off his coat and leave it folded over the back of the couch, you wrack your brain, trying to figure out what he's planning. You come up empty though, distracted by the way the muscles of his forearms move as he unlaces his boots, taking them off. Everything about him looks softer like this, more touchable. But he's rarely in this kind of playful mood and you're too curious to see what he's going to do to risk derailing it somehow, so you wait, fighting down the urge to run your hands across his shoulders, so tempting in just the thin t-shirt.  "Do you trust me?" "You know I do." That seems to please him, otherworldly eyes softening as he kisses you lightly, fingers brushing your cheek. "Will you indulge me for now, then?" You kiss him back, unable to hold back a smile. "Of course, I will." "Good." With that, he gets on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, resting his hands on his bent knees. "Undress for me." His voice feels like molasses sliding over you, and you waste no time obeying, his eyes on you the entire time. The look on his face can only be described as mischievous as he pats the covers next to him. "Come here." He doesn't need to ask twice, the words barely have time to leave his mouth before you join him on the bed, eager to please. With the barest flash of a smile, he spreads his legs a bit wider, beckoning you closer. "Here. Let me hold you, my sweet." Not what you thought he was going to say but you don't object, letting him pull you close, enjoying the press of his chest against your back. When he speaks, his voice vibrates against your skin like something almost solid. "I simply need you to relax for now, will you do that for me?" It's a bit of an odd request, but you don't see any harm in it, leaning back against him a bit more, unable to suppress a grin. "What are you up to?" "You will see. For now, just breathe." It's not hard matching your breaths to his, slow and even. His shoulder is a surprisingly comfortable headrest too, and it doesn't take long to feel like you could almost drift off, right there in his arms. When he speaks again his voice is low, words dripping like honey, slow and sweet. "You enjoy my hands, do you not?" "Yeah, a lot." It's a bit of a silly question, and you can't help smiling. "You enjoy looking at them too, yes?" "Mm-hm."  "Would you look now?" With that, he brings one of his hands up in front of you. "You do not need to do anything, simply keep your eyes on my fingers for a while."

At first, he simply turns his hand over unhurriedly, back to palm and back again. You love how his hands look so delicate yet strong at the same time, and you want to keep watching, feeling too heavy and content to move. As he flexes his fingers gently a phrase springs to mind; piano fingers. You can't quite remember where you first heard it though, only that it must have been long ago. It's hard to think, to focus. Almost as if he heard what you were thinking, his fingers start moving slowly in front of your face, as if playing invisible keys. The movement is graceful, mesmerizing as his hand flits effortlessly across your field of vision, this way and that.

It's beautiful, and you don't want to look away. It reminds you of all the times he's touched you, always knowing precisely where and how. Your thighs squeeze together without you meaning to do it, seeking relief from the heat pooling at your core. He notices, of course, his breath soft against your cheek as he speaks. "You are enjoying this, good."

You love his voice, if you could eat it, you would. Did you say that out loud? Without taking your eyes off his fingers you can tell that he's smiling, hear it in his voice and it makes your chest swell with pride; you love making him smile. To make him happy. You feel so heavy though, like you might sink through the mattress if he wasn't holding you. It feels good though. Safe. The fluttering motion of his fingers is making your head swim. Turning you on. You squeeze your legs together again, wishing you could lie down with him, that he would touch you.

"We can lie down, if you wish." You don't remember asking, but he lowers you gently down next to him all the same, fingers still moving lazily in front of your face. Your eyelids feel heavy and you blink once, twice, everything moving at half speed. "You can close your eyes, if you need to." Maybe just for a minute. With your eyes closed, his voice wraps around you, sinking into your every pore.

"Can you feel my touch? How well your breasts fill my hands, like they were made for me alone?" At first, you're not sure if you can feel him, but then there is the distinct feel of his hands cupping your breasts gently. "I can." The words feel slow, clumsy in your mouth. You bite your lip, enjoying the teasing but still wanting more.  "The tips of them are so sensitive for me, are they not?" He rubs his thumbs over your nipples until they're stiff, fanning the embers of your desire into a flame until you feel like you might combust. "Let me see you. Spread your legs for me."

You feel the bed shift as he moves in between your legs, gripping your thighs as he talks, forcing them wider, stroking ever closer to where you really need him. "You open your thighs so willingly for me, so obedient. Do you want me to touch you?"  "Yes, please." It's hard, talking. You don't remember it being this hard. "Feel how easily you part around my fingers," he murmurs, dragging his fingers between your folds. "So lovely, all but dripping already. And this little nub must be aching, for only the faintest touch," he rubs the pad of one finger across your clit, making your hips jerk,"to affect you like this."

He pauses for a few seconds, keeping his finger pressed to your clit but not moving, his voice filling your head like treacle, pushing every thought away. "You need to come, I think. Would you like that?" Your mind feels sluggish, his words landing like smooth pebbles in a bowl of jello. Coming sounds good though, you know that much, want to, badly. "Uh-huh."  "Tell me what you want." As he whispers it you can feel the words bouncing off of you like the lights of a sparkler, making your skin tingle. All you can think about is his mouth. It takes a while to get the words out though. "Give me your mouth?" It comes out sounding like a question, and you're not sure why. "Of course you can have my mouth, my love. Can you feel my tongue, lapping at you?" And you realize that you can. The slide of his tongue against you is unmistakable, making you moan as it flicks over your clit. You can feel his breath against your ear though, and you're dimly aware that he's still talking, his voice flowing into you like waves. You don't know how he's doing it, but it doesn't seem important. Nothing matters except the way he's making you feel.

"You always respond so beautifully to my touch." His voice is scrambling your thoughts, making it hard to do anything except listen, letting his words wash over you like a thick syrup until you can nearly taste them. "Particularly when I suck on that little nub, you love that, do you not?"

And he does just that, making your back arch of its own volition. You can't help grabbing at him then, the skin at the nape of his neck so soft under your hands, hair made to wind your fingers through. Perfect. Somebody is making noises and you think it might be you, but you're not sure of that either anymore. Everything feels so far away, everything except his mouth, his voice, his touch. "Are you going to come for me, my sweet?" His voice is so warm, so soft, enveloping you. "Y-yeah, 'm so close," the words come out stuttered and slurred, but you don't care, the pleasure short-circuiting your brain. "Go on then," he's smiling again, you can tell that much, "come."

And you do, fisting your hands in his hair to keep his mouth on you as your hips rock against him helplessly. The waves of pleasure are drowning you, making it hard to breathe, but you can hear yourself whimpering. Coming apart on his tongue feels like shattering, like being unmade and remade again. "Morpheus!" His name is ripped out of you, tumbling from your lips like a prayer. Maybe it is. As you come down from your high your heartbeat is loud in your ears and you feel like if you looked, you could see your ribs moving from the pounding of it, heart trying to break free. It's easier to think again though. To move. "Open your eyes, my love."

As you do, you realize that he's right next to you, inches away from even touching you, still perfectly composed. The look on his face might be the smuggest you've ever seen him, though. "If I had known that I could bring you to release with my voice alone, I would have done this a lot sooner." "Wha...no, that's not a thing." You blink, confused. "You seemed to enjoy it well enough."  "But you were touching me, I could feel you, feel your mouth..." "I was right here next to you the entire time," his voice is almost a purr, he's so obviously pleased with himself, "but I never touched you." You can't help being embarrassed, hiding your face behind your hands. "Oh my god, Dream, fuck." He chuckles then, gathering you against his chest again before pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "Maybe later. For now, just rest." "You break my brain sometimes, you know that? Fuck, I love you."

[kerink]

PMG's documentary on ZA/UM really illuminated just how complex the issue really is. the entire situation has been framed as one thing when really it's two: 1. were kurvitz, rostov, and hindpere wrongfully terminated and 2. did kompus illegally acquire the majority share of ZA/UM.

i think that, in order for the narrative to not get muddled and emotions to not get too high, fans must keep these two issues separate. it doesn't matter if you personally like kurvitz, rostov, or hindpere or what you think about their professionalism, those beliefs shouldn't play into what you think about kompus' acquisition. and regardless of what the evidence and/or outcome is on one, that should have nothing to do with the other.

ultimately the issue of kurvitz, rostov, and hindpere's firing comes down to whether or not the three of them were made aware of the complaints about their behavior and contributions to the project and whether or not they were given ample opportunity to address these grievances. so far ZA/UM has only been able to produce a single piece of evidence in writing that kurvitz was aware of concerns regarding his professionalism. and while this evidence strongly implies that previous conversations about his behavior had been discussed, no other documentation has been put forward. the burden of proving just termination is on ZA/UM, and if kurvitz, rostov, and hindpere contest the termination we have to believe them.

i personally am unsure what to think about the issue. while i believe kurvitz, rostov, and hindpere all had varying levels of personal and professional discord within ZA/UM, i have yet to see any proof that their conduct was addressed in a way that is in line with professional and industry standards. whether i think the complaints against them are valid or not doesn't matter. what matters is whether or not the three were made formally aware of the complaints and were given opportunity to address them and change their behavior. i haven't seen proof this happened, which in my mind is in-line with the accusation of wrongful termination.

and we also have to keep in mind that this proof may in fact exist, but due to this being an on-going legal battle ZA/UM may not be able to showcase this evidence in a public format. therefore, we have to curb our opinion until after the case is concluded and all the evidence has been examined.

with regard to kompus' acquisition of majority share at ZA/UM we have the same issue: kompus has the burden of proof. if kurvitz and rostov are claiming they were unaware of or misunderstood the nature of kompus' actions, it's up to him to prove that to be untrue. since kompus claims the conversation was had verbally with nothing in writing being exchanged, we're now in a he-said-she-said situation, and while kurvitz and rostov have each other to support their side, no one has been willing to comment publicly in kompus' defense (that i've seen or as i understood PMG's coverage).

what i find most interesting about this whole thing is that in the slack message sent to kurvitz about his behavior, havel states that they're trying to create a more professional culture at ZA/UM. the lack of paper trail on any of the issues i've discussed here makes me doubt that. this isn't a point i just think the hypocrisy is really interesting.

ultimately where i stand right now is that i think kompus' actions are extremely suspect and that i doubt his story. he lacks proof that kurvitz and rostov agreed to this, and the way in which kurvitz and rostov were meant to benefit from the arrangement doesn't make sense. the entire thing doesn't pass a common sense check, to me.

all in all, though, i think this documentary is a must-watch for DE fans because it grounds us in the reality of how complex this is, not just for those directly involved but those indirectly involved as well. PMG made a fantastic point when they ended with a plea that the fans stop hurting the current ZA/UM employees because they want to get back at kompus and others responsible for kurvitz, rostov, and hindpere's situation. we need to recognize that the people who work there now just want to make games that carry meaningful messages and they want to connect deeply with their audience. they're all artists caught up in business and industry and we, as fellow artists, need to stand in solidarity with them. and we need to make sure we don't jump to any conclusions until the evidence has been brought to light

[erin-bo-berin]

can i request a smut? Steve×bestfriendReader in which the reader and Steve were having a best friends night and doing normal things they are used to but they end up getting in a subject about dates they've been on and who was their best×worst sex because Steve was curious about? and the reader sort of admits that she never really had a really pleasurable night with someone because no one ever knew how to satisfy her (sorry if something doesn't make sense lol english is not my first language

That made perfect sense don’t worry! I love that trope honestly cause Steve would definitely be like “oh I know how to make it good for her” type of guy. Whew 🥵

The Golden Rule

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Smut

“How can you hate E.T.?!”

“I don’t hate the movie, I hate the little guy!”

“Y/N,” Steve said flatly, “E.T. is the little guy’s name.”

“Well whatever, you know what I meant.”

“He’s adorable! How can you hate him?!”

You tossed a pillow at him, which he caught.

“It’s like looking at a naked grandma it’s weird! It’s even worse when they dress him like a girl. It’s like I’m waiting for them to drop him off at a retirement home. He’d fit right in, in that outfit.”

Steve sighed dramatically.

“It all makes sense now.”

“What does?” you asked.

“Why you’re single,” he said, shaking his head with mock seriousness, “You have horrible taste when it comes to movie characters.”

“You’re horrible,” you laughed.

“I’m right,” he grinned.

You and Steve had a a weekly movie night together every Saturday night, it was something you had been doing for years—maybe even as long as you’d been friends. You typically alternated picks every week. This week, it was Steve’s turn to choose the movie and he’d provided E.T. this week. You were up for watching it, you had agreed, when you first arrived at his place two hours ago.

“I can’t be worse than this one guy I went on a date with once. He hated The Breakfast Club because he thought Molly Ringwald wasn’t great.”

Steve snickered, knowing that that movie was one of your favorites, along with Molly Ringwald.

“On your behalf, I’m very glad that relationship didn’t work out.”

“You and me both,” you muttered.

“I actually had a date fall asleep on me during a movie once,” Steve said.

“Isn’t that the shit you love?” you snorted, “Then you get to put your arm around them and cuddle them,” you rolled your eyes.

“No, I mean literally head back against the seat, drooling, out like a light the entire movie, asleep,” he grimaced.

“Oh yikes,” you stifled a laugh, “That’s very…encouraging.”

“Technically she had a good excuse as she’d been preparing for exams the entire night before, but still…not much chemistry there,” he chuckled.

“I’ll say,” you smiled.

“Okay, you told me about your worst date. What about worst sex?”

You arched a brow. It wasn’t like anything was taboo between you and Steve. You were best friends after all, his curiosity after all was, well, curious.

“Oh no, King Steve,” you teased, using his old nickname from high school, “I want to hear your worst story first. I hope the girl didn’t fall asleep during the deed.”

You were well aware he wasn’t the same bully and jerk he had been in high school, for quite some time. But you couldn’t help but tease him for his known reputation with the ladies. He’d definitely slept around enough to have at least one good story.

“Well it’s more embarrassing than anything, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Oh don’t tell me, they hurt your poor, fragile ego by telling you that it wasn’t good sex?” you pouted, purposely messing with him.

“Are you going to hush and let me finish?” he asked, giving you a pointed look.

“Fine, fine.”

“So there I am, really going at it. Like we’re in the final act and I’m just thinking “okay this is going great”, then she stops me all of a sudden tells me she’s just not into it anymore, gets up and gets dressed and just leaves. It was incredibly awkward.”

“You do realize that’s basically just a bruised ego story, right?” you scoffed.

“Well it was definitely the worst sex I had! It was weird!”

“I’ll give you that. That really is weird,” you nodded.

“Okay, your turn. What’s your worst sex story?”

You pulled your legs towards your chest, wrapping your arms around them, suddenly feeling real self conscious.

Sensing your wariness, he moved his foot, nudging your own with his, from where he was sitting on the other side of the couch.

“Oh, come on, I told you mine,” he said, encouragingly.

You sighed heavily.

“All of them I guess?”

If it wasn’t such a depressing statement, you would’ve laughed at his comical reaction. He blinked at you dumbly, as if his brain wasn’t able to process your words.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Sex is overrated,” you shrugged.

You didn’t have a great track record with it, after all. Half the guys you’d been with was just there for their own selfish pleasure, leaving you wishing you’d never started the moment with them. The other half was probably just terrible in bed, making you lose confidence in the act all together. You didn’t really see the point of it anyway because surely people were over exaggerating how amazing it was.

“Oh god, you’re serious,” Steve gaped at you.

You squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“Why are you staring at me like that? It’s weird,” you mumbled.

“Sex is amazing. I mean obviously it shouldn’t be the only part of a relationship, but its fun and can be incredibly hot, too.”

“Spoken like a true male,” you rolled your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Now, Steve just looked confused. A bit intrigued, but confused.

“Most of the guys I’ve been with got it in, did what they needed to and were gone practically before I even felt anything,” you winced, “A few others were probably just bad in bed. The amount of orgasms I’ve faked should win an award.”

“So you’re telling me, no one you’ve been with has taken the time to focus on you?”

If he didn’t close his mouth soon, flies would be flying in his gaping jaw.

You felt your face heat with embarrassment. Not at the topic being discussed, but the shame you felt at apparently not being good enough to deserve this so called amazing sex he spoke of.

“Sounds like they need to follow my golden rule,” he commented.

“Your golden rule?”

“Yes,” he nodded, matter of factly, “You know how the original goes; “treat others the way you want to be treated”. My version is “give like you want to receive”. If I expect a blow job or whatever the fuck else, I make sure to give the girl special attention as well. It’s only fair and the girl deserves pleasure as well. Of course, I don’t do it solely because I want it in return, I do it because I enjoy it.”

It didn’t surprise you too much as you’d heard the stories in high school about your best friend. He was known to be great in bed and apparently if that was his secret, it was no wonder he was so highly praised.

“They must’ve missed that class of yours,” you grumbled.

It was a common denominator that the guys you’d been with had wanted to receive, but you’d never been given much in return, unfortunately.

His gaze was intent on yours when you looked back to him. He was all seriousness now, all teasing manner gone from his face.

“So you’re saying you’ve not walked away from one of your sexual encounters, satisfied?”

“Pretty much,” you said.

“Shit, those guys are complete idiots.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged again, looking away from him, more humiliated than anything.

Of course Steve had probably had some amazing sex in his life. If the stories about how great he was in bed were true, then you were sure he meant what he’d said earlier about how great the act was.

You felt the middle couch cushion that both of your feet had been resting on top of moments ago, shift with his weight as he moved closer to you. He was now sitting closer to you than he had been earlier, from the opposite side of the couch.

“What if I showed you?” he whispered.

“What?”

His hands wrapped around your ankles, pulling your legs straight out once again, eyes trailing up your body with such concentration it made your insides quiver.

“What if I proved it to you?” he licked his lips subconsciously, eyes landing on your face once again.

He was now moving to hover over where you were sitting, back against one arm of the couch. He was like a panther, slowly approaching his prey and you’d frozen in place, anticipating being caught.

“What if I proved just how amazing sex could be?” he whispered, gaze boring into yours, hand sliding deliciously up your thigh.

The word “sex” sounded so much more intense, much more intimate than it had earlier. Possibly because your best friend, your attractive best friend that you’d had deep, secret, wouldn’t-dare-tell-him feelings that had developed and grew over the years.

Then his lips were softly pressed against yours and you almost instantly you melted into him, lips moving effortlessly without a thought. His hand cupped your face as the other slid around your side toward your back, pulling your body closer to his.

Only when the kiss had picked up in speed and heat did you realize you were practically making out with Steve. His breath was heavy in your face, his lips moving quickly with your own as if he couldn’t kiss you enough. Your hands roamed his chest, went into his hair, your body naturally pressing into his as much as you physically could.

Just as his hands pushed your shirt up your stomach, touch sliding over the bare skin was the moment your brain decided to catch up.

“Steve,” you breathed, breaking away from the kiss, pushing him back slightly, “I don’t want you to do this because you feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t,” he said, fingers still on your bare stomach, hands gliding back to hold your sides, “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

His eyes flicked back to yours, his meaning clear in them and your breath caught in your throat. You weren’t the only one that had caught feelings, then.

“You and me both,” you chuckled, disbelievingly.

“Good,” his lips attached your jaw, “Because I want to show you just what you’ve been missing.”

His hands traveled down, pulling off the lounge shorts you’d thrown on before coming over to his house. They were old and faded, but you knew Steve had never cared what you wore. Although now you briefly wished you’d had the forethought to have something cute on underneath.

Although that thought dissipated as quickly as it popped into your mind when his entire hand pressed against your core through the thin layer of fabric still covering your lower half. You gasped sharply into the kiss, Steve chuckling at your reaction.

You weren’t used to be doting on, the attention entirely on your pleasure, so every tiny touch and brush of his fingers had you reacting, much to Steve’s pleasure.

He kept kissing you, although now his mouth moved against yours languidly as he pushed the fabric of your underwear to the side, fingertips tracing the outline of your lower lips as if memorizing your very anatomy.

He had to have achieved some sort of record as you were already so incredibly slick with arousal, Steve having caused that in record time. Then again, he was pretty talented like that.

He groaned against your lips, fingers gliding through your arousal, like he too couldn’t believe he’d garnered such a reaction from you. You were throbbing and so turned on, you were ready for anything he gave you.

Fingertips gently brushed your clit, rubbing it in circles. He’d pulled back to watch your reaction. He wanted to see your face when you realized just how incredible the sensation could be. He was not disappointed.

Your head fell back against the arm of the chair, clearly enjoying his touch. He smiled warmly also feeling a tad bit of regret. Not at what you two were doing, just that he hadn’t done it sooner. You were so touch starved, such pleasure starved that you were already so pleased just at the lightest touch from him. He was intent on giving you something real to moan about, not something you felt you had to fake your way through.

He gently pushed one finger into you and your quiet moan was music to his ears. He may have had a proud smirk on his face, but he couldn’t help it. This was only the opening act and he planned to make it worth your while.

He pumped the lone finger in and out of you slowly, free hand gliding up your torso to massage one of your boobs, still covered under your shirt, tweaking the nipple with his fingers. All he wanted to do was strip you naked and worship your body, mainly for his own selfish pleasure, but that could wait for another time. What couldn’t wait was him giving you a mind shattering orgasm—or maybe two.

“Steve,” you gasped, hips raising to meet his hand, head lifting to look at him.

Your hand slid along the back of his neck, trying to pull his mouth back to yours.

“Feel good?” he mumbled, against your lips.

With no warning, he added a second, groaning at how tight you felt around his fingers alone. He assumed you had no complaints when you answered his actions with a small moan.

“Fuck, yes,” you breathed, eyes already closed.

His fingers worked you, thrusting deep as he kissed you. You could hardly keep your moans to yourself at this point. The bulge in his pants that was occasionally brushing against your bare thigh made you aware that you were affecting him just as he was you.

You gripped his bicep, fingers tightening around his arm as his thumb rubbed your clit, the tantalizing mix sending you into a fury of pleasure. Your hips ground against his hand as you kissed him, having to break away, your breathing already shallow enough.

You were almost embarrassed at how eager you sounded, how your body was reacting with no shame, like you were a virgin and this was your first time all over again. In a way, it kind of was. It was your first, true time even nearing the ballpark of an orgasm from a man’s hand alone.

You whimpered, Steve’s touch just amazing enough that you couldn’t imagine wanting anyone or anything else. Why the fuck were sex toys invented when Steve Harrington existed because holy fuck, your best friend was good at this.

He sensed your hesitancy, even though your reaction to him was starting to win over your mind.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he whispered, pausing long enough to give you a short, staccato kiss, before continuing, “I’ve got you.”

His hand worked mercilessly as you writhed beneath him throughout your kissing. He knew you were close and didn’t even attempt to let up his motions until the clutches of your orgasm claimed you.

It hit as hard as the smack of a baseball bat against a ball. It was that loud, in a sense. The coil of tightening in your core and abdomen snapping and spreading outwards at a rapid pace, sending your senses into orbit.

“Steve!” you gasped loudly, an appreciative moan following his name.

“Just wait until next time; I can show you what I can do with my mouth,” he whispered, as you came down from your high, removing his hand from you and stroking the top of your thigh.

Next time? His mouth? Have mercy.

Your expression must’ve been questioning, as he peeled off your underwear.

“I told you, I’ve waited too long to do this for it to be a one time thing,” he smiled softly.

“Good, I’m glad,” you muttered.

“I am too,” he chuckled, kissing you, your hands pushing his pants off his hips.

You hated to part, his kisses just as amazing as he proved his fingers to be, but you knew you had to ask, if you wanted this to continue.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked, hoping he did.

He nodded, sitting up and reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out the square packet.

“Did you expect this to happen?” you laughed, a bit amazed.

“No, but, I always come prepared,” he teased.

“You’re something else, Steve,” you rolled your eyes with a grin.

“I think I just proved that once,” he said with a lifted eyebrow, “And I’m gonna prove it a second time.”

He tore open the package with his teeth and you swore you developed a new kink. Who knew that such a simple act was so sexy?

“What?” he chuckled.

“That was fucking sexy,” you gaped.

He rolled the condom on, reaching for you again, pulling you up and into his lap as he sat upright.

“Glad you think so because I think you’re fucking sexy,” he growled the words, voiced laced with desire.

Your body natural positioned itself as your mouths met in the intricate dance you’d both created specific to the two of you. You lowered yourself onto him, the entrance an effortless task, even as he stretched you beyond to what you’d been used to.

“Holy fuck, you’re tight,” he breathed, amazed.

“It’s been a while,” you grunted, staying still as you got used to the foreign feeling of him, “You’re also bigger than I’m used to.”

“Why Y/N,” you flatter me, he teased, hands gliding up your back.

You hit his chest lightly, moving your hips slowly, tearing out what worked best.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbled, watching you in a trance.

“So much talk, so little actions,” you grinned, your words breaking off into a moan as his hips met yours in a sharp thrust up into you.

“Fuck me,” you groaned, using it as an expletive comment instead of an actual command.

“I’m trying,” he smirked.

“Shut it, Steve,” you chuckled, hands resting on his chest as you moved on him, body rocking in a perfect rhythm as you bounced.

You had no problems admitting that the rumors were true, that was actually really incredible.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, kissing across your shoulder and collarbone, thrusts quickly picking up speed, setting a rhythm to please both of you.

If someone would’ve told you yesterday—hell, even hours ago—that you would be in your best friend’s lap, riding him, you would’ve laughed in their faces.

You weren’t laughing now.

In fact, you couldn’t quite form words anymore.

“Steve, shit, yes, oh god,” was about all you could rotate between moans and pants, whimpers and whines.

“I agree,” he groaned, a slight chuckle in his voice.

His hands gripped your ass, manipulating your body to move faster and harder against his thrusts. A guttural moan escaped your throat when he hit a partially deep spot, rubbing against your cervix.

Frankly, you had no idea there were guys who knew of said, deep, hidden treasure and boy, it truly was nothing short of ecstasy when hit. Also, the one brain cell that was still functioning in your fuzzy mind wondered how he had brought you back to a nearing orgasm so quickly.

You squeezed around him tightly, his answering groans enough for you to do it again, this time on purpose.

“You keep doing that and I’m going to go fucking crazy,” he gritted, panting.

You couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that you were his undoing, that you truly were driving him crazy as your hands gripped his arms. There was no way you were faking an orgasm during intercourse this time.

The matching sounds of your breathing and moaning mixed with the noise coming from your meeting bodies. Your lips attached to his jaw, sucking harshly as you bounced yourself closer to your end.

“Betcha not gonna fake an orgasm this time, are you sweetheart?” Steve uttered and you moaned your answer, shaking your head.

Shockingly, all it took was one press of his finger on your clit and you were spiraling. Down, down, down, you went into a pit of passion, fireworks exploding inside your body as you came hard on top of him.

There was no faking the way you made a slight squeaking intake of breath before you let go, the way the moans of his name was a hundred percent genuine and the vice like grip you had on his cock as you shook and shuddered. Seeing you fall apart was a magical sight to Steve that broke his own tether, holding back his own orgasm.

Part of him wished he could be spilling his load deep within you, knowing you were raw and red and leaking all for him, but he’d respected your wishes, knowing it was the safe thing to do to don a condom. He spilled in it, a dragged moan torn from his chest as he kissed you, loving the way you felt in his arms, completely spent.

It took a few minutes of heavy breathing before you and Steve’s breaths began even again and you smiled at him.

“Thank you, for that.”

“Believe me,” he chuckled, entirely spent and extremely far gone—both physically and emotionally for you.

“It was my pleasure.”