#HE LOOKS WAY TOO COOL IN THAT how could this little man ever be that cool AND BOOY DOES IT PROVE ME WRONG. HOLY SHIT. ROLAN. BEAST OF A MAN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

makoodles · 4 months

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ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, you’re coming to realise, is that now that you’ve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you can’t stop thinking about it.

In the week following the night you’d spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like he’s carved a space for himself inside of you, something you’ll never get back – not that you want it back in the first place.

Realistically, you know that the whole ‘loss of virginity’ thing doesn’t have as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghost’s massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.

The worst part is, you don’t know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. You’ve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you don’t even come close to coming again.

It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you don’t know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.

The problem is that while you feel as though you’ve been changed from the inside out, you don’t think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, there’s no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training.

All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.

It’s harder than it sounds.

You find your whole body straining towards him when he’s close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You can’t even look in Ghost’s direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.

And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. He’s the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. He’s still your lieutenant, but it’s like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. He’s no longer just your untouchable superior, the man who’s always so cold and distant behind that death mask – now he’s the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.

But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you.

You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though it’s never at the same time as when you’re looking at him. And maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems as though he’s gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. It’s subtle, and you can’t be sure that he’s actually touching you anymore than usual.

But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesn’t make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz.

If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that he’ll give you something.

You’ve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. You’re slow, you’re clumsy, you mess up everything.

You don’t think you can be blamed when you’re working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when he’s lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs.

You know it’s obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before you’re able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.

But if Ghost sees it – any of it – he gives no indication.

If you have to be honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you’re disappointed. You had hoped that– well. You’re not sure you can bear to admit what you’d hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.

You don’t technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you won’t be missed in their ongoing training. You’ve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when you’re out there with them.

There’s just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. You’d been vulnerable in front of him in a way you’d never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that you’d been okay with it being a one time thing, but you weren’t exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.

So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesn’t even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like you’re being rejected anew. It’s…. It’s not ideal. But you’re a big girl, and you’ve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.

It’s fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. He’s Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise it’s not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.

Truthfully, it doesn’t take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, you’ve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so you’re dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.

To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago.

Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghost’s massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement.

It’s galling to admit it, but you feel like you’re on fire. He doesn’t say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move that’s unexpectedly intimate.

You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that don’t know him well, to you and the squad he’s always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghost’s eyes follow him until he gets back as though he’s expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that he’s gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.

So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesn’t actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesn’t mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghost’s side.

You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to – maybe it’s because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly.

It’s a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety that’s been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, you’re leaning against his side. He doesn’t react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if he’s just tolerating it.

When Ghost’s eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you can’t stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.

“Slow down.” He murmurs, setting the glass aside. “It’s still early.”

You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though you’re pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.

Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soap’s loud voice brings you back to yourself.

“Let the lass drink, LT.” He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadn’t even noticed him leaving for the bar. “She deserves to have fun tonight. Don’t you, bonnie?”

“Sure.” You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. You’re still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. “I deserve fun.”

It feels as though Ghost’s gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. He’s so intense, you’re pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. It’s the most he’s looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.

He’s drinking too, though he’s foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that he’s barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.

You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like you’re on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghost’s muscular body pressed against your side.

Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.

You’ve heard men laughing about girls they’ve slept with who’ve become too clingy, who’ve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys aren’t willing to give. Maybe it’s because you’re so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but you’re so determined to not be that person.

Ghost isn’t exactly a big talker anyway, unless it’s the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so it’s not like you’ve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you needn’t have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you don’t know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that he’d see you later.

So, you don’t talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu you’re experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.

While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. He’s already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention.

“You’re staring at me.” You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.

Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. It’s like he thinks that he doesn’t need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.

Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you can’t focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, it’s hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation that’s growing under your skin.

After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now he’s sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?

The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. You’re not sure what to make of his attention – you’ve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot that’s gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.

“I’ll get the next round.” You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.

It’s too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly don’t look at the half-full glasses in your squad mates’ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghost’s relentless stare.

You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.

God, this is just embarrassing. You’re a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that you’d be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.

It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you can’t help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself.

When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.

Well, he’s not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but you’ve never actually had any dealings with him and you can’t think of a name… Daniels, maybe?

“Hello there,” He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. “How you doing?”

It’s far from the first time you’ve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. You’ve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life.

Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him.

He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.

“Let me get this next one for you,” He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. “What’re you having?”

“Uh..” You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. “Vodka soda.”

He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you don’t shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder.

The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.

The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language.

You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasn’t spoken to you all week despite the fact that he’d nearly done your back in fucking you.

Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but there’s no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you haven’t been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. You’re starting to wonder if maybe you’re not capable of coming without someone else’s hands on you.

“I’ve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,” Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. “But it’s, uh… it’s a little difficult to catch you alone.”

You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and you’ve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe.

“Yeah, the guys can be a little protective.” You laugh a little weakly. “But don’t mind them.”

Even now, you can feel Ghost’s dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.

“Mm,” Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. “Can’t blame them, I suppose. Why don’t you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.”

You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, you’ve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a man’s interest in you now.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.”

Daniels’ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though you’re stretching muscles you’re not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadn’t done too much mingling outside of the squad; they’ve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.

“I think they get enough of your time,” He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. “C’mon, I’ll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?”

Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. It’s lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. You’re pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy.

If you can’t get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.

You glance down at Daniel’s hands where they’re wrapped around his beer glass. They’re big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you can’t help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think they’d do the job.

“Well–” You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.

But you don’t get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.

For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isn’t even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.

“On your way, Sergeant.” Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.

Despite Ghost’s obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesn’t immediately do as he’s told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“We’re only talking, Lieutenant–”

Ghost doesn’t even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking – maybe you were going to be one of them.

But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else you’ve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when he’s angry. It’s like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying ‘Don’t fuck with me’. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.

And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesn’t so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.

Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.

“What the hell was that?” You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.

Ghost’s head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes – bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.

“What was what?” He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that you’re facing him head on.

“You– I was just–” You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands.

You’re indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadn’t spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?”

Your jaw clenches. “I was talking. Is that a crime now?”

Jesus, you sound like a brat. You don’t even know where this insubordination is coming from; he’s your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. You’re being too bold talking like this, but it’s like you just can’t help yourself.

His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.

“Watch that mouth, doll.” He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone.

But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.

“You can’t ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when I–”

He cuts you off as though he’s not even listening to you. “Not here. Come on.”

And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. He’s not harsh, and he doesn’t drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now.

You’ve pissed him off, and you don’t want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.

You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now.

Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying. You pray they didn’t catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but they’re also terrible gossips.

“Let me– Sir, let me go–” You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.

When you realise where he’s leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that he’s leading you all the way back to your own damn room

“What are you doing?” You demand in a hiss. You’re so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end.

After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like you’re a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar?

A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when he’s not in the field, but it doesn’t make him any easier to read.

He doesn’t answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.

Now that it’s the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. He’s just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.

You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.

“You’re unbelievable.” You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.”

Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t know how to read, unable to get a feel for what he’s thinking through that inscrutable mask.

“‘S not true.” He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests he’s frowning.

You feel like you’re going to explode. “Yes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him off–”

Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadn’t even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that he’s sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide.

“His name is Davidson.” He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. “And that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didn’t know the guy’s name – whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, you’re certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He says, watching you like he’s trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. “Jesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?”

You’re left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.

Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him.

Despite the fact that this is your room, you’re stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since we–” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. “Since last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, that’s– that’s fine–”

Ghost’s spine straightens, but he doesn’t speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.

“I don’t want to make things awkward, I just–” You’re tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. “I’ve never done this before, so I’ll follow your lead, but I don’t understand the point of sending Dan– Davidson, whatever, away like that if you’re clearly trying to keep things between us professional–”

Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like he’s suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.

“He’s a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time we’re in there.” His voice is a low earnest rumble, but you’re too agitated to properly hear him. “He didn’t have anything to offer that you’d be interested in.”

“That’s not–”

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.”

Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so he’s decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.

“Right.” You say. “Yeah, that– um… that’s made things awkward, I suppose.” A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, “Sorry, LT.”

Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though he’s considering his next words carefully.

“C’mere.” He says.

You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, you’re suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries.

You had never slept with anyone before, and you don’t understand what’s expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that you’ve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant?

“Haven’t been ignoring you,” Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. “You jokin’? Been watching you all week. Thinkin’ about you all the time.”

That’s a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You can’t deny that he’s been watching you – you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. But…

“You never–” You start to say, before swallowing again so you don’t say something stupid. “You haven’t spoken to me.”

“Spoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.”

That’s a little galling, and all you can do is scowl.

“Stop that. You know what I mean.” You snap defensively.

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when he’s trying to figure something out.

“I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.”

The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but you’re not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly you’re losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.

“I didn’t want space.” You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. “You just– we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.”

You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?

And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasn’t impressed with your… performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than you’ve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadn’t made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.

There’s a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesn’t rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks.

“I go for a run in the mornings.” He says at last, his voice low and rumbly.

It takes you a moment to process that.

“You– what?”

Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. “That morning, I… went for a run.”

He must realise how that sounds – maybe the expression on your face tips him off – because he hurries to add on to it. “Creature of habit, love. I didn’t– I don’t do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thought–”

He stops rather abruptly, and doesn’t finish so you don’t quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and you’re staring at him in agitated confusion. God, he’s bad at communicating.

“Should have stayed.” He says gruffly, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. “Thought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.” He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. “‘Cause it was your first time. Dunno.”

Oh. Well.

Now you’re the one blinking at him. That’s… not what you had been expecting.

While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. You’re not sure how to even begin processing that.

“I didn’t need time to myself.” You say, and you sound pathetic.

There’s a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.

“No,” He rumbles after a moment. “Apparently you didn’t.”

You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after it’s been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, he’s still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you.

“Right, well–” You start to say, a little sharp.

He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. He’s not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow he’s tugged you up into his lap.

“Jesus–” You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.

Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. He’s broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that you’re certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.

“Last week wasn’t enough?” He asks, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking there’s an undertone of hope, too.

But maybe that’s a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. He’s veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. You’re pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you can’t help yourself.

You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasn’t enough.

“Then why bother with that idiot at the bar?” Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. “If you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.”

You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to speak so bluntly, but it’s typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to do that with me again.” You say, your voice edged with insecurity.

There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense.

“What made you think that?” He asks, his voice low.

You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position you’re in. You’re sitting perched in your lieutenant’s lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. You’ve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together.

“You’re difficult to read.” You whisper awkwardly, shifting. You’re hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know he’s strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.

But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.

“You think so?” His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. “You been trying to read me? Can’t have been doin’ a very good job, darling, since you’ve been avoiding me all fuckin’ week.”

Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he can’t hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear.

“I just– Didn’t know if you would want me again.” You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.

Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.

“Feel that?” He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that you’ve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.

“Yeah.” You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.

You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.

“Oh!” You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. “Oh, god.”

“Still think I don’t want you?” He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.

Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs.

“I don’t know.” You say stupidly.

It’s like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because you’re fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghost’s cock press into you.

He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately.

“You think too much, doll.” He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a stress toy. “Way too fuckin’ much.”

He’s probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.

Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.

“Yeah,” Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. “That’s it. You’ve been wanting this, havent’cha?”

“Yeah.” You admit, so quietly that it’s almost inaudible. “Yeah, I want it.”

But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot.

He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how you’d gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.

You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But you’re already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that he’s here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and you’re about to get what you’ve been craving all week.

He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that you’ve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesn’t have any intention of letting you hide yourself.

He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. You’re not sure what he’s doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you don’t think that’s what’s happening here because he’s still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.

“Did she miss me?” He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.

“What?” You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.

But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that he’s talking about your fucking pussy.

“Oh my god, you weirdo–” You choke out, but you don’t get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt.

He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that it’s been revealed. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t bring yourself to try and hide again. He’s touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that you’re not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.

“My fussy girl,” He mutters, low enough that you almost don’t hear him. “Have you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?”

You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they haven’t been working. No matter what you do, you can’t replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.

But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought that’s been practically haunting you, that’s had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as you’d sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.

“Wait–” You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. It’s like he’s just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.

“I want to try something.” You tell him before you can lose your nerve. “Sit back down.”

He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than you’d expect for his size if you hadn’t already seen him in action. He’s almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.

Since you’re already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine.

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.

You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. You’ve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now he’s sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesn’t seem put off by your inexperience at all.

Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. It’s somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like you’ve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant.

“Very promising start.” He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. “D’you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what you’re doing, you’re learning as you go along. But Ghost hasn’t judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that he’s willing to put up with this too.

“Sort of.” You say evasively. “I’ve seen it in porn, and I’ve… I’ve been practicing.”

Ghost’s groan sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and it’s rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where you’re trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and it’s slow-going.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. “Which one?” “What?” You’re a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. You’ve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.

“Which one of your toys’ve you been practicing on?” He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. “The pretty little pink one?”

You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that you’re apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo you’ve been sucking at, imagining it was him.

“Maybe.” You mutter evasively.

Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, you’ve felt it, and yet now that it’s in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.

You’ve watched porn with so-called ‘monster cocks’ and it isn’t like that. It’s just… bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because it’s not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.

Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.

“You don’t have to.” He says quietly.

“I want to.” You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves.

Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that you’re in over your head. But you’re not willing to back down; not when you’ve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when you’ve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.

You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghost’s thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. He’s so big that it feels like he’s dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what you’re doing.

You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that you’re getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.

“Grip it harder, love.” He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. “It ain’t gonna break.”

“Shh,” You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. “Let me do it myself.”

Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You can’t help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because they’re your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown.

It’s not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock.

You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you needn’t have been. He‘s a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.

He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.

“Thought you wanted to do it yourself?”

Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesn’t mind.

You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and you’re coughing, choking, and sputtering.

You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.

“Slow down,” He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. “You in a rush?”

“No.” You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Even though you’re quite certain that Ghost already knows that, it’s a little humiliating to admit.

Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit that’s trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.

“Don’t matter, love.” He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that he’s wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. “Play with it as much as you want to. Don’t think too much.”

You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted – the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.

You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.

His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke — the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.

You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.

It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. You’re rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.

Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isn’t nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.

It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when you’re on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.

You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.

You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what you’d do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything you’ve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. You’re making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and you’re certain that you’re drooling.

Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.

“Fuck,” He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, “Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. You’re not sure what feels better; whether it’s his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises he’s growling.

God, you want to be good at this. You’re definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost.

You’re pretty sure he’s lying about you looking gorgeous, though. You’ve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, you’re gripping onto Ghost’s thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and it’s taking everything you have not to choke on him again.

Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. You’re making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way that’s definitely a little gross, but you’re surprised by just how much you’re enjoying this.

You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy.

You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldn’t be cute but it is.

The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. You’re fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.

You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch.

Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. It’s jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though it’s just waiting for your attention once more. It’s already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.

“Like a pro, baby.” Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture that’s gathered there.

You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. It’s nice to know that you’re not doing a horrific job, at least.

You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghost’s eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. He’s watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. It’s too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.

An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once it’s been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you don’t understand why he’s taken it away from you.

Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.

You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.

“No,” You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. “I wanted you to come on my face–”

You can tell that Ghost’s expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, he’d hardly gotten undressed at all. But now you’re being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button.

“Next time.” He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. “Fuck, love, next time.”

He’s quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before he’s muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like it’s a hard candy.

You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and he’s so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You don’t even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes aren’t lined up with the holes anymore, but he’s working with such enthusiasm that it doesn’t even matter.

And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation he’s providing is really doing it for you.

You’re probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way you’re craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh god, fuck–!” You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.

Of course, Ghost’s fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe it’s because you’re used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when you’re playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghost’s pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.

He pushes another finger inside and it’s snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.

You’re honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves.

It’s exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.

Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when you’ve been failing so spectacularly for a week.

You’ve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point he’s shucked his trousers off, and the fact that he’s naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. He’s still got the damn mask on.

He’s breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. He’s still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. He’s still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. You’re sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.

Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.

He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and he’s quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.

“Oh, look at her,” He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. “Shite, she missed me, didn’t she?”

His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesn’t even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.

“Fuck, she’s been waitin’ for me all week,” He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. “I know, baby, been waitin’ for you too.”

Jesus, you feel like you’re gonna die. You’re taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. You’re so wet it feels like you’ve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.

Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.

“Yeah, she’s beggin’ for me.” Ghost is still talking – at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because they’re low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. “Listen; it’s like she’s talking to me.”

For a second, you have no goddamn idea what he’s talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.

“Oh god,” You whine, high and needy. “Just– stop teasing.”

The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.

“It’s not teasing, lovie.” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week straight. I’m just reacquainting myself.”

Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that you’re tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response.

“Simon,” You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you don’t even get as far as finishing the order.

He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it you’ve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.

When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. You’re wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghost’s dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You can’t stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.

He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, “C’mon, stop pushing me out, darling.”

“Wait,” You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. “Wait, oh my god, you’re too big–”

His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though he’s obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.

“It’s only the tip, baby.” He murmurs, cooing softly to you like you’re something easily spooked. “You’ve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.”

You nod, hesitantly. He’s right; he may be big, but you’d taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since you’d long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.

Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. It’s mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?

You slap at his belly hard, writhing away.

“No, nope, not gonna fit.” You wheeze.

Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. It’s still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick.

It’s big, but you know you can take it. You just… you need better leverage.

Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.”

There’s a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghost’s brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that he’s laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.

His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you – the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.

“Go on.” He encourages, as hungry and wanting as you’ve ever heard him. “All yours, gorgeous.”

All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until you’re certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.

You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.

You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghost’s cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.

Though you’re the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.

You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that they’ve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if he’s trying to take it all in before it disappears.

His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesn’t, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.

You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesn’t rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.

You’re so full you feel like you’re about to break in half, and Ghost’s gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you don’t stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.

Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside.

“That’s my girl.” Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me.”

Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system – you’ve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.

One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Would you have gone back to his quarters?” He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.

“Huh?” You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?”

Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that he’d be a big possessive bastard.

“I don’t know.” You say, but you’re barely paying attention. You’ve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind – you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.

“Waste of your time.” He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. “Jesus, look at the way you’re sucking me in. Cunt’s so fussy, she was just waiting for me.”

The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasn’t the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldn’t fall over that damn ledge.

“Yeah,” You whine, hardly even aware of what you’re agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely.

You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, he’s so strong, it’s like your body weight is nothing to him – he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.

Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock.

“Simon,” You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper that’s far more pathetic than you had intended. “Am I– am I doing good?”

He’s gritting his teeth – you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.

“Like I said, lovie, you’re a natural.” He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. “Gimme a kiss.”

When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.

“There.” You moan into Ghost’s mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each other’s lips. “Oh god, please–”

The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden he’s fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.

Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, he’s drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.

Your mouth is hanging open and you’re pretty sure that you’re drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You don’t understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight,” Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. “Gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.”

You didn’t actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.

Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and you’re gone. You think you might actually scream, but it’s muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs.

You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it.

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all he’s worth. You’re put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.

It's the most unravelled you’ve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.

This is not the lazy rhythm of before; he’s uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that you’re sure it’s going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe that’s what he’s aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.

You’re oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you don’t complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghost’s own soft belly too.

It makes a mess, but you don’t care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed.

You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You don’t bother opening your eyes; you know he’ll come back.

Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that he’s pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery.

“You alright, love?” He asks, and you realise that you’ve just been staring blankly at him.

“Yeah.” You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that you’ve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but don’t complain.

To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. He’s a little too big for the standard issue frame, but you’re more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.

“Are you staying, this time?” You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you can’t quite help the little pulse of insecurity.

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like he’s talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.

You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. He’s so solid, reliable. You’d trust him with your life, with anything.

You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. It’s laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when it’s flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You can’t lie to yourself and say you don’t feel a little possessive, either.

“Are we dating now?” You ask quietly. You’re not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You don’t think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.

There’s a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns he’d been drawing on your back.

“Was that a question for me, or my cock?” He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though he’s actually not sure.

You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when they’re looking at you like this.

“You,” You say.

There’s another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.

“Yeah,” Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. “Stuck with me now, lovie.”

#okayyyy here we go!#simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod smut

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steddie-as-they-come · 6 months

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Steve's pinning his polaroids up on his wall when his new roommate walks in.

Steve's immediate thought is oh, I'm gonna hate this guy.

Shaggy hair, leather jacket, rings glinting off his fingers, electric guitar slung over his back. Hot as hell, but compared to Steve's polos and perfectly coiffed hair, they could not be more different.

The guy looks like he had the same thought. His shoulders slump as he takes in Steve's appearance.

A man comes in behind his roommate, toting a suitcase full of clothes. "Oh, are you Eddie's roommate?" he says to Steve, who shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I am." he says politely. "I'm Steve Harrington."

The man sets down the suitcase. "Wayne Munson." he offers, shaking Steve's hand. "I'm Eddie's uncle."

He nudges Eddie forward, who lets out an almost inaudible groan. "Eddie." he says snippily, shaking Steve's hand.

This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.

They don't talk. Steve didn't think he was going to be best friends with whoever he got saddled with, but he thought they could at least be civil to each other. Their room is split down the middle. Eddie's half is absolutely covered in posters and music and cutouts of magazines. Steve's is...almost as blank as his room back home.

He misses the shitheads.

No one can ever tell them that. They'll get even more insufferable.

Once or twice, when Steve comes back from a class, he'll catch Eddie peering at Steve's pictures, but he’ll jump away before Steve can call him out on it. It's awful. Steve misses Robin.

It takes him a horribly long amount of time to stop flinching awake at every little sound. He'd stored his nailbat under his bed, out of sight of Eddie, but every time someone yells in the hallway or shouts in the room next door, Steve startles awake, already grabbing his bat. Luckily, Eddie sleeps like the dead, because Steve's not sure he'd be able to explain the weapon without breaking his NDA.

It's three A.M., early November, when there's a knock on their door. Steve isn't asleep yet, so he stands and answers it.

Eight people pile in, talking in hushed whispers. They slam into him, knocking him over.

In the middle of the hug, Steve counts his kids. It's Dustin, nestled against his side, then Lucas, El, and Will under his arm, Max draped over his back, Erica leaning into his shoulder, and Mike on the very outskirts of the group. He pulls them all in tighter, and they all yelp and squawk at him.

"Let us go, Steve!" Erica says, annoyed.

"Nope." Steve says. "You came to find me at three in the morning, you can tolerate a hug."

"Shoo, move." another voice says, and all the kids part like the sea. Robin pushes her way through the group and hugs him tightly. "I don't know how you do it." she says to Steve. "Driving all these nerds around, it's exhausting."

He buries his face in her hair. "Missed you, Robbie." he mumbles.

She leans her head against his. "Missed you too, dingus."

Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"

"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.

Eddie sits up, and everyone in the room freezes. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurs sleepily. Then he registers all the people in the room. "Whoa, what the fuck?"

Steve stands up, brushing himself off. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know they were coming." He shoots a glare at the group, who looks appropriately cowed. Minus Dustin. Steve can now see whose idea this was.

Eddie swings out of bed. "No, it's- wait, are these the kids from your polaroids?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Erica, and this is my best friend Robin."

"Awww, you have polaroids of us?" Max teases over his shoulder. "That's sweet."

Steve reaches behind him and tussles her hair, shoving her gently. "Shut up, shithead."

"Your room is cool." Mike says. "Not Steve's side. But this part is cool!"

Steve glares at Mike, but Eddie grins big. "Thanks! I'm Eddie Munson." He shakes Mike's hand.

"Is that a DnD poster?" Will says. "That's amazing!"

"It certainly is!" Eddie says. "I used to DM back in high school. Played a bit too."

The nerdier section of the group reacts appropriately, oohing and ahhing, while Max and Erica just roll their eyes and nudge each other.

Steve hesitates. “I know these guys don’t really do anything on Saturday afternoons, and I think they’ve been wanting to start another campaign. Would you mind if they come up, maybe every weekend, and you can…” he doesn’t know enough about DnD “…run a game for them?”

Eddie looks amused. “You mean DM a campaign?”

“Yeah, that.” It’s an olive branch that Steve’s offering.

Eddie takes it. “Well, how can I turn that down? Sheepies of the Harrington flock, how would you like to join a new campaign?”

“I’ll keep the rest of you occupied,” Steve mutters as the guys (and El) start talking excitedly. “Max, Rob, you guys wanna find the closest arcade and set some new high scores?”

“Only one person will be setting high scores.” Max says, gesturing to herself, but she looks excited at the prospect.

Steve lets Eddie and the kids talk for a couple more minutes, then claps his hands. “Okay, it is three in the morning and I have a nine A.M. class tomorrow SO! I have enough blankets for all of you to sleep on the floor if Eddie doesn’t mind-“ Eddie shrugs. “Or Rob can drive you back home.”

Steve looks around and Robin is already in his bed, cuddled up like the blanket hog she is. “Okay, well, sleepover here it is then.”

He whisks out his ungodly amount of throw blankets (courtesy of Joyce’s knitting spree) and the kids get together in their usual movie-night-at-Steve’s cuddle position.

Will’s got his head on Mike’s shoulder, Lucas next to Mike, Max leaning on Lucas, El’s head in Max’s lap and her legs thrown over Dustin’s lap, and Erica with her back against Dustin’s shoulder. Sometimes Robin and Steve are wedged into the pile somewhere, but just as often they’re tangled up under six different blankets across the room, which is why Steve whispers “Scoot over, dumbass,” as he climbs into bed next to Robin.

Eddie watches them assume their positions with an expression of what could be awe on his face. “When I saw those pictures,” he whispered, “I thought they were like your siblings? Or maybe old pictures of your friends. I didn’t think you were a soccer mom.”

Steve glares at him, but unlike earlier in the year, there’s no heat behind it. “Hope you like coparenting then, because these guys need to be watched 24/7 or they’ll run off and start the apocalypse.”

Eddie laughs like it’s a joke. To him it is. He hops back into bed. “Goodnight, weird little family.”

The kids murmur a collective sleepy goodnight, and Steve shuts his eyes.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt since he moved in.

part two!

#based on the running joke between me and my roommate that my robotics kids are gonna break into my dorm room #one of them just got his license and im now even more worried #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #college au #pre relationship

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dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd · 8 months

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Mating Season

How Halsin’s romance might have played out if we could have had his kisses, adoration, and been totally railed senseless by Oak Daddy from the end of Act I. An ode to Halsin’s hairy chest, big arms, and the vein that I know stands out so thickly on his *muffled horny noises*

After a long and tiring day of fighting off goblins as you search for the Githyanki Crèche, you groan in relief as you sink into the cool waters of the river. Everyone else is back at camp and you’re able to enjoy the currents swirling around your naked body.

You float in the water, thinking about how much your party has grown in the past few weeks. First Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion, then Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach, and finally Halsin, the wildshape druid you rescued from the goblins. He’s a focused member of the group, a valuable healer, and an unstoppable force in battle. You occasionally feel things turning against you in a fight, and then Halsin is there, supporting the group and laying down swathes of flame, lightning and ice. His bear shape never fails to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies.

Around the fire at night, he talks openly about his quest to free the Shadow-Cursed lands, his admiration for the party, and his praise for your leadership. His gentle words about you have your body prickling with awareness of his.

That warm smile of his. His large and clever hands. His deep, gentle voice. Everything about this man makes you tingle all the way down to your toes. Whenever you think his gaze is lingering on your mouth, he murmurs goodnight to you and leaves your side. You watch him go, wishing that instead he would reach out and touch you.

An angry, snarling sound fills the air and you sit up in the water. Not far from you, an enormous bear, grunting and breathing hard, walks heavily down the riverbank. It’s huge, and its muscular body blocking out the setting sun, and from the noises it's making and its attitude, it’s a hair's-breadth from lashing out at anything that moves.

You freeze, not daring even to breathe, hoping with everything you have that the animal will turn around and head back the other way. Instead, it launches itself into the water with an almighty splash.

As it disappears beneath the surface, you notice a faint scar over the bear’s right eye, as if it’s been clawed. You recognize that scar.

Wait, is this--

Golden light flashes. The water seethes. A man stands up where there was a bear just moments ago, water cascading from his body. Halsin, and he must have stripped before he changed into wildshape for now he’s completely naked, standing hip-deep in the water.

He’s partly turned away from you but you can tell his manner is no less worked up than it was in bear form. He swipes his hands angrily through his dripping hair and breathes hard, the muscles of his shoulders and arms clenched in frustration.

Halsin is one of the gentlest-natured men you’ve ever met, most of the time. Like nature, he too can be wild, his eyes flashing and his voice breaking like thunder over you when he’s frustrated or disappointed, such as when he was remonstrating Kagha for the Rite of Thorns. How magnificent he was that day.

But what is he restless for now? He stands in the water, looking around at the forest, gripped with frustration, and when he turns a little more your way you can see that the root of his cock is thickened in a tell-tale manner.

Ah.

That kind of frustration.

You quietly make your way to the edge of the river where a willow tree is trailing in the water, moving as carefully and as quietly as you can. This feels like a private moment you’re intruding on. Even though you don’t mean to spy, it feels like you are. The fronds of the willow provide a little cover for you, and hopefully Halsin will cool off and leave the way he came.

The dice do not roll your way this evening as he approaches you, seeking deeper water. A moment later, your gazes lock, and his eyes widen in surprise.

‘What are you doing there?’

‘I wasn’t spying on you,’ you tell him quickly. ‘I thought you needed some peace, so I was waiting here quietly.’

His eyes run over you, your back pressed against the river bank and cowering amid the willow leaves.

Halsin heaves a regretful sigh. ‘I frightened you, didn’t I? I am sorry. It’s all right, I am myself again.’

He smiles and holds out his hand. It’s a tight smile, like he’s forcing it for you, but you’re no longer worried a bear is about to disembowel you.

You place your cool fingers into his large, hot ones and let him draw you slowly out of your hiding place. The water is deep enough here that your nakedness is covered, and so is his.

You relax as you gaze up at him, enjoying the sensation of Halsin holding your hand. Quietly enjoying the sight of his bare chest and handsome face. You hope he might walk you into the shallows so you can be naked together, but he remains in deep water, sunk in thought.

‘The river is yours. I’ll leave you to enjoy it,’ you murmur, and glance to where you left your clothes.

Halsin’s fingers are still tightly twined through yours beneath the water. He seems to be in a world of his own as he gazes at your mouth, your throat, the droplets of water sliding through your wet hair and down your shoulders. A world that includes you. A world where you’re touching one another.

‘Halsin?’ you ask tentatively. Hopefully. If he wants to move closer and kiss you, that’s more than okay with you. After a long and dusty day, there’s nothing you’d like more than exploring his body in the cool water. That hairy chest of his. His hard muscles. You long to run your tongue over him. Flex your fingers on his biceps. Trace the red tattoo on his cheek.

Halsin comes back into himself with a deep inhale, and he lets go of your hand. ‘Then I’ll see you back at camp.’ He moves away from you through the currents.

As you push the water from your body and dress in your clothes, you search for Halsin in the river, but he’s disappeared around a bend.

***

Later around the campfire, you’re hyper aware of Halsin as you talk with Gale about his home in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin is silent, the campfire flickering over his handsome face. You try not to pay him any more attention than you do the others, but your interest in him has spilled over into blazing attraction.

Your gazes lock and Halsin’s brows are drawn tightly together.

Is he glaring at you?

A moment later he gets to his feet and, unnoticed by the others, slips away into the darkness. Something’s eating at that man and you wish you knew what.

A short time later, you take a bottle down to the river to refill it with water before turning and heading for your bed. As you round the corner of the ruin where you’ve made your camp, you run straight into Halsin.

His eyes widen and they flare with heat and surprise, and then he quickly looks away and moves past you.

‘Have I done something to make you angry with me?’ you call after him.

Halsin stops dead. He stares straight ahead for a moment, and then slowly turns to you, shaking his head. ‘Far from it. I am worked up and frustrated, but not with anger.’

Maybe his frustrations are because of you, and that’s a thought you don’t know what to do with when he keeps avoiding you.

Not knowing what else to say, you tell him, ‘We will free the Shadow-Cursed lands soon. I know we will.’

He breathes out heavily, his expression troubled. ‘I’m not thinking of the Shadow-Curse right now, even though I should be. It is more important than anything I...’ He trails off, but his gaze lingers on your mouth. ‘...want.’

Halsin steps closer, and you feel the heat blazing off his chest. His warmth and bulk are so welcoming and you crave to reach out and touch him. The backs of his fingers caress your hair. The lightest of touches. Then he takes a handful of your hair and dips his head, bringing the strands to his nose.

‘You smell wonderful.’ He heaves a deep sigh, and whispers, ‘Can I hold you for a moment?’

That sounds lovely to you, and you nod.

Halsin wraps an arm around your waist, scoops you against him, and buries his face in your neck. ‘By Silvanus, your scent is sweet,’ he groans. ‘I caught it when we first met, in that foul goblin nest. How it pleased me. Getting to know you these past few weeks has been even sweeter.’

Your hands are plastered against his chest and so is your body. He’s saying everything you hoped to hear. More than you hoped to hear. He has such a beautiful way with words. You turn your head so he can kiss you, but he still refrains.

Taking a ragged breath, he releases you and steps back. ‘I’m sorry. It’s always difficult this time of year.’

You miss his warmth so much that you shiver. ‘What time of year?’

He gazes at you for a long time. ‘You may laugh, but I’ll tell you. It’s bear mating season.’

You don’t laugh, but your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

‘I know--I’m no bear,’ Halsin says with a laugh of his own, ‘but I spend so much time in wildshape that bear instincts tug on my heart and...other parts of me. I return to my own form and unfortunately the needs do not dissipate. In fact, they worsen, because it is not a bear I want. When she comes close to me smelling like spring and honey and warm sunshine I can’t help but crave her.’ A smile glimmers on his lips.

Enough being vague. You want to hear him say it. You step closer and put a hand against his chest. ‘A general someone, or anyone in particular?’

He groans softly and captures your face in his hands. He drinks you in and swipes his thumb across your lips. The gesture is soft, and full of the promise of his kiss.

‘You are someone I admire and I think I could grow to care deeply about,’ he murmurs. ‘I care about you so much already. Any little scratch you receive I want to push Shadowheart out of the way and tend to you myself.’

Your heart soars.

‘But this isn’t how or when I wanted to begin anything with you. I have to walk away.’

Disappointment plummets through you.

He’s still holding your face and his expression is conflicted. It seems he wants to put an end to this for now but can’t bring himself to do it.

‘I can walk away, if that helps?’

His eyes fill with gratitude and longing. ‘Please. That would be a mercy. Know that when the time comes, I will come to you with more than lust in my heart.’

You nod, trailing your fingers down his chest as you step back, but you fail to see what’s wrong with him desiring you. ‘Whatever you need. Of course.’

‘I hope I haven’t offended you.’

You smile gently at him. ‘Your desire is so far from offensive. Please know that I don’t demand more of your attention than you’re willing to give. The Shadow Cursed lands are your priority and I’m...’ How to put this delicately? I’m here for you and you can rail me senseless in between your duties whenever you want to let off steam. That’s what you want to say, but you’re too shy to say it. ‘...Here. Your friend. Always.’

Halsin seems to catch your meaning anyway as his jaw flexes and he nods slowly.

You promised him you would walk away, and you do, and though you give him ample time to allow him to pull you back, the next sound you hear is a clash and a growl, and a flare of golden light. When you glance over your shoulder, a bear is thundering into the woods on all fours.

***

A few days later, you’re returning to camp feeling like you’ve been put through a meat grinder, and your companions haven’t fared much better. Gale is unusually silent and covered in blood. Shadowheart is exhausted and dragging her feet. You’re trying not to limp because she and Halsin have already cast so much healing magic. Something’s wrong with your leg, but you’ll see to it yourself when you’re alone.

The others bid you tired farewells as they head for their tents, but someone catches your arm and holds you back.

‘Oak Father, you’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?’

Halsin is staring at your legs, and you stare with him. Blood is pooling around your foot. Oh, that’s not good.

‘I can tend to it myself after I’ve had some rest--’

Your words are cut off as the massive druid picks you up in his arms and carries you into a crumbling barn. Automatically, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean against the solid bulk of his chest. Halsin lays you down on a pallet and helps you remove your armour, revealing a ragged gash on the top of your thigh. Your clothes have to be cut away until your legs are bare.

Halsin looks exhausted and has dark circles under his eyes. It seems he’s been taking little rest as he roams the forests nightly as a bear. When he reaches for you to lay healing hands on your wound, you place a hand on his wrist.

‘You don’t have to do this right now. I’ll bandage myself up and someone can heal me after they’ve rested.’

Halsin raises challenging eyebrows at you. ‘You believe I don’t have the strength to heal you myself? That I’ll walk away from the most important person in my life and leave her bleeding?’

You moisten your lips, trying not to show how much his words have affected you. The most important person in his life? Suddenly you don’t feel injured at all, and he hasn’t even healed you yet.

‘I have more than enough magic left for this. Now, lay back and let me do my work, and then you can get back to yours.’

You settle back on the pallet and gaze at the cobwebby rafters. Halsin’s hands hover over your thigh, and a warm, delicious feeling spreads through your leg, and then up between your thighs. Your head falls back in relief and pleasure.

Even Halsin makes a surprised noise. ‘That felt...’ He rubs your now-healed high, massaging the last of the tension and pain from your muscles. ‘That felt different. How’s your thigh now?’

You can’t help but moan and arch your back a little at his touch. ‘Good.’ Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

‘Just good?’ He strokes his palm over where there was a cut just moments ago.

‘Halsin, please, you make me feel heavenly,’ you whimper. The words pass your lips without thinking. You reach up to take hold of his shoulders so you can pull him down to kiss you, but pull back before you can touch him.

This isn’t what he wants. Your hands clench on the pallet, feeling your core ache with need. As soon as he leaves, you can get yourself off thinking about him.

‘Would you like me to go?’ he asks softly.

‘I never want you to go.’

His hand rests lightly on your leg.

You open your eyes and gaze up at him, and he’s sitting so close to you. ‘But if you stay, you’re going to see me touching myself.’ Then you smile at him, remembering your last conversation. ‘I would love for you to see that. As a friend.’

You want him to see you. You want him to participate.

He smiles and leans down to you, and runs the blade of his nose up your cheek. ‘I can’t think of anything more wonderful after a long, hard day, my dear friend.’

Halsin lays down beside you and props his head against his fist. With gentle fingers, he helps you to drag your underwear down your legs and cast them aside. As your teeth sink into your lower lip, you gently touch yourself, your eyes on his handsome face. Halsin strokes your thighs, your stomach, finds the fastenings on your clothes and loosens them. As he pulls back your bodice, revealing your breasts, he lowers his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth.

You cry out and flex up into him. Heat is gathering within you. You suck on your lower lip and release it. ‘Please--your fingers--I need--’ you manage between pants. You can barely get the words out, but he understands. Halsin drags two fingers through your sex, making them slippery, and then sinks them inside you.

Another loud cry from you. Gods, he feels perfect.

Halsin groans and kisses your throat, murmuring, ‘You’re so tight around me. Have you been as frustrated as I am?’ He pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, slowly at first, and then faster.

Yes you have, the godsdamned stubborn bear of man. He should have pulled you into his arms that day in the river and let you suck all the frustration from his body out through his cock.

‘So frustrated,’ you whimper. ‘Please, that feels so good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.’

He brushes his lips over yours. ‘I won’t stop. You’re always so beautiful, but like this, all of nature pales in comparison.’

You reach down and lay your hand over his wrist, adoring the tension and flex of his muscles in his arm as he moves inside you. Your fingers keep moving on your clit as you moan and cry out his name, and when you come you dig your nails into his flesh, and press your feet into the ground so he can fuck you even harder with his fingers.

When you fall back exhausted, Halsin sits up and spreads your thighs open, trailing his fingers over your sex and drinking in the sight of you as you catch your breath. ‘Your body is wondrous.’ He leans over and kisses you, his tongue caressing yours. ‘Will you rest well tonight?’

You nod, feeling drunk from his kiss and your climax.

He smiles. ‘Then I’ll rest well too, knowing that you’re sleeping soundly. Thank you for sharing this beautiful moment with me.’

As he sits up, you notice that he’s hard inside his tight pants. Excessively hard. Huge in fact. He shouldn’t be leaving, he should be pulling off his clothes and pounding the living daylights out of you until he also gets the release he needs.

But he’s gone before you can call him back to you. That’s not why he just blew your mind, was it? He healed you, and now he wants you to get some rest. Druid’s orders, apparently.

You smile and roll over, and fall into a doze.

***

The next morning, before anyone has arisen, Halsin finds you coming back from the river. You smile at him, thinking he looks so handsome in the morning light, and you expect him to keep moving past you. Instead, he stops and smiles at you, as if basking in the sight of you is all he wants right now.

‘May I have a kiss?’ you ask hopefully. Perhaps he’s decided not to want anything for himself right now, but he still wants to make you happy.

Without needing to be asked twice, Halsin grasps you around the waist with his large hands and walks you back against the wall, kissing you enthusiastically. ‘I can still smell you on my fingers this morning. I could smell you all night. You are a delight.’

Your lips part for his so he can kiss you even deeper. With your arms around his neck, you revel in the sensation of his mouth on yours.

‘I find you irresistible.’ Another kiss. ‘But we have much to do today.’ Another kiss.

‘We do,’ you say, smiling as he kisses you again.

He gazes down at you for a moment, a slight frown between his brows. ‘If you need more, know that I won’t be offended if you take another lover. Nature intends for us to roam and be free.’

You have considered that, if not someone at camp, then a handsome stranger at a tavern, but you’d only be thinking about Halsin the whole time. ‘And if I don’t want to?’

‘You must do as pleases you,’ he replies, and kisses you again.

You guess that he didn’t tell you this for idle reasons, but to let you know about his own preferences. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his russet hair. ‘I have always wanted my own person, but to roam with them. Share everything with them. I would miss you too much if I was to roam without you.’

He smiles down at you. ‘Us, with others? I would like that, in time. You’re more than enough for me, but I wouldn’t wish for you to be denied anything. Seeing you with another lover, and participating as well...it sounds wonderful.’ Then he steps away from you. ‘But we are getting ahead of ourselves. My thoughts turn to other things for now. But they will turn back to you.’

With a final warm squeeze of your hand, he leaves you, but your heart is lighter than it’s been in a long time.

***

Two nights later, you’re awoken by snarling and roaring in the distance, and you sit bolt upright. It sounds like two large animals are fighting in the woods.

Only Astarion is awake. ‘What a ridiculous racket,’ he mutters with a scowl, before licking his thumb and turning the page of the book he’s reading.

You look over at Halsin’s pallet, knowing it’s going to be empty before you lay eyes on it, but your stomach drops just the same when you see that it is. You scramble to your feet and set off at a run into the darkness.

You follow the roaring and snarling and it doesn’t take long to find two bears fighting with teeth bared and swipes of their claws. You recognise Halsin from the scars over his eye.

What can you do to help him? A spell? A cantrip?

Before you can decide, Halsin swipes the other bear so hard across the snout that it reels back, and then turns and runs away into the woods.

Halsin paces up and down for a moment, and then golden light ripples, nearly blinding you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s striding toward you. His chest is heaving and blood is pouring from scratches and bites across his shoulders and throat. Nothing life threatening, but he’d be in pain if he wasn’t so angry.

‘That bear was looking for a mate, and I wasn’t having it prowling around her when I haven’t even tasted her myself.’

Halsin when he’s feeling himself wouldn’t say something so uncharacteristically possessive. It must be the mating season instincts overriding his natural feelings. ‘That bear wouldn’t have been interested in me.’ Also, you could have tasted me by now if you’d wanted to.

He doesn’t seem to have heard you as he glares into the darkness. Suddenly, he rounds on you. ‘It’s dangerous out here. You shouldn’t have come. Go back to bed.’

You fold your arms and stay where you are. The big alpha bear can throw his weight around, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to jump to obey his commands. ‘Shouldn’t have come? Would you have ignored me if I was being attacked in the woods?’

Halsin takes a deep breath and some of the anger melts from his face. He pushes his hands through his hair and shakes his head. ‘Of course not, I would never abandon you like that. Thank you for coming out here to help me. I promise I’m not ungrateful. I’m all out of sorts because...’ He gestures vaguely at himself and the woods around you both.

You smile at him. ‘I know. It’s mating season.’

You help him pick dirt and gravel out of his cuts before he casts healing magic on himself, but you’re not ready to leave him and go to bed. The river is close by and you take his hand and lead him to the water.

‘Let’s wash the blood and dirt off you.’

At the riverbank, hesitantly you reach for his clothes. He says nothing but he’s watching you with such intensity, and so you find the fastenings and help him out of them. With gentle fingers, he does the same for you. The night air is warm and still. Crickets are chirping and the river makes gentle rushing noises. The two of you are standing so close that you’re breathing each other’s breaths. His massive chest lifts and falls. Your nipples tighten with awareness of him. You don’t want to stare but you can’t help but look at this beautiful man as you undress him.

Halsin helps you out of your underwear, and his cock bumps against your thigh. He’s so hard that he’s standing to attention, his foreskin drawn back, a drop of pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters, and you want to run your tongue along the thick vein that stands out on his shaft.

‘Sorry. Ignore me,’ he mutters.

You don’t want to ignore the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen, but you keep your hands to yourself and look up at him. ‘I want to feel flattered. Should I feel flattered?’

‘You know I think you’re wonderful,’ he breathes, caressing your face.

Oh, by all the gods, then fuck me, please.

‘Would you want me even if it wasn’t mating season?’

‘Of course I would, though I’d probably be better at keeping that to myself. You wouldn’t awaken to hear me fighting other bears in the woods, or see me staring at you with longing across the campfire. I’d still feel the same way, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. Probably.’

‘Do you mind that mating season makes you feel and act this way?’

He smiles and shakes his head. ‘It is who I am, and another connection I have to nature.’

‘Halsin. For a wildshape druid who believes in going with what’s natural, you’re very stubborn about resisting what your body is telling you it wants.’

A smile curves his lips. ‘You may be right. I’ve told myself that focusing on the Shadow Curse is the right and only thing to do, but...’

Halsin ducks his head and slants his mouth over yours. The kiss is so fierce and sudden, and pleasure takes a swan dive through your body. He wraps his arms around you and gathers you to him.

‘This isn’t how I imagined things between us,’ he murmurs. ‘I intended to come to you after the curse is lifted and declare my feelings for you, and tell you that my unburdened heart is yours.’

‘Please still do that,’ you breathe, planting soft kisses again and again on his mouth. ‘I would love that. But don’t walk away from me now.’

‘You want me, even though my mind is often on things other than you?’

What a romantic Halsin is, wanting to give you his whole heart at once, or nothing at all. ‘Of course I do,’ you tell him, your fingers stroking his bare back. You don’t need that declaration yet. You just need him.

Halsin lifts you in his arms and carries you into the water, gazing into your eyes. The water flows around your bodies as he kisses you and places you on your feet.

He nods at something over your shoulder. ‘I have to taste you. Turn around and put your hands on that rock.’

You do as he asks, standing thighs-deep in the water and bent over with your hands braced against the river bank. Halsin kneels down in the water and cups your ass.

‘So beautiful...’ You feel his tongue run up your sex, and you moan and close your eyes. He’s slow and languorous about it. Not trying to make you come, just tasting you thoroughly and enjoying the sensation of you against his tongue.

Halsin stands up and when you glance over your shoulder you see him gazing at your sex as he strokes you with his fingers and fists his cock slowly up and down.

‘Can I have you, sweet one?’ he asks huskily.

‘Please, gods, yes .’ You’ll go crazy if he holds back a moment longer.

You feel him step closer, and the blunt head of his cock slides against your slippery entrance. He feels alarmingly thick and you take a deep breath and try to relax.

With a muttered oath, he sinks into you. As much of him as he can, anyway. Gods, he’s a lot . You walk your feet apart, trying to accommodate more of him.

‘Too much?’ he asks, hesitating.

You shake your head desperately. ‘Not too much. More, please.’

He fucks you slowly, working himself deeper by delicious increments, while your cries fill the night air along with his ragged breathing. His blunt nails scratch your flesh. He roughly squeezes handfuls of your ass.

You reach down between your legs and touch yourself, and you grow wetter and wetter, allowing him to fuck you in long, smooth strokes. Every single one makes your insides light up. Your orgasm is barrelling down on you surprisingly fast.

‘Please, fuck me hard, I’m going to come,’ you beg him.

Halsin groans and takes your hips in a secure grip and slams into you, over and over, hard, brutal and heavenly thrusts. You push against the rock to hold you steady as a wild, untamable sensation crashes over you, and you cry out loud enough for the whole forest to hear you.

Your head is hanging low and you’re panting as you feel Halsin draw out of you.

‘But you haven’t come,’ you protest, straightening up and turning around. It’s what you want, to see and feel this beautiful man let go.

He takes your hand and helps you out of the river. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’

He lays back on the grass and pulls you astride him so your thighs are straddling him. ‘I want to see you like this as well.’

Hungry for more, you grasp his cock and sink down his length. Halsin groans and his head tips back, and he squeezes both your breasts in his large hands. His throat is so beautiful, and so is his chest. You draw patterns in his chest hair as you move up and down his length.

Weeks of frustration and wanting him haven’t been fulfilled by one climax, and soon you feel another one gathering within you. He watches you with a smile as you desperately moan and pant his name. As your cries reach a crescendo, Halsin plants his feet securely against the ground and pushes sharply up into you, over and over, making you shatter around him even harder than before.

You collapse forward on his chest, weakened and helpless, his cock still lodged deep inside you.

‘That was wonderful,’ you moan, your cheek plastered against his chest. ‘Give me a moment and we can change positions. I’m not stopping until you come.’

He rubs circles on your back. ‘I think I might shift into wildshape if we keep going. I can feel the need getting stronger and stronger.’

‘I don’t mind. Your bear form is pretty sexy.’

He laughs softly, a surprised sound. ‘Really? I’m pleased you think so.’

Even sexier is the way he looks while he’s changing, his body even bulkier and hair sprouting everywhere. ‘Can you change part ways?’

His hand stops moving on your back as he considers this. ‘I can. I think it might be easier for me to maintain that, rather than one or the other.’

Halsin rolls you both over until you’re on your back in the grass and pinned beneath him. With a heavy hand on your inner thigh, he pushes your knees up to your chest and thrusts deeper, and then again.

‘By Silvanus, you feel wonderful,’ he pants.

A ripple goes through his body. His eyes turn fiercely golden. The hair thickens across his chest and spreads over his shoulders and down his arms. His top lip pulls back from his teeth, revealing thick incisors. His cock swells to what feels like twice its size inside you. You gaze at him in wonder. He looks incredible like this.

As he continues to pump his cock into you, you press your hands against his muscular, hairy stomach, struggling to accommodate all of him.

‘I’m hurting you,’ he realises, his voice more growl than words. ‘I can change back.’

‘No, don’t stop. Just slow down for a moment. It’s a good problem to have.’ You reach down to the place where you’re joined and wrap your fingers around his slippery thickness. Gods, that’s wonderful. So is his bulk looming over you and the rich, animal scent of his body. He thrusts carefully, watching you closely, his golden gaze roaming over you.

‘So beautiful, sweet one,’ he rumbles. ‘Are you sure you like me like this?’

‘Yes, oh gods, yes.’

With every thrust, it’s getting easier for him to slide his whole length deep inside you, and pleasure stabs through you every time he bottoms out.

You reach up and cup his furred cheek. ‘I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even sexier like this. How does it feel for you?’

He groans and seems to take courage from your words. ‘Like I’m finally free. No longer fighting what I crave.’ The speed of his thrusts pick up, and he devours you hungrily. ‘You’re so good to me.’

His breathing becomes a throaty snarl. His claws dig lovingly into your thigh. His hips move in a relentless rhythm, long thrusts, and then shorter, urgent ones, and you can tell he’s nearing his peak. You hold onto his shoulders for dear life as his body stiffens and his climax breaks through him, and he throws his head back.

With a groan, he sinks down onto his elbow and buries his face in your throat. As you hold him tight, you feel him shift back to his human form, his skin smooth and damp with perspiration.

Halsin lifts his head and kisses you. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before. Was it all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

You hasten to assure him that he didn’t and it was everything you wanted.

He smiles. ‘How wonderful you are.’

You stroke his sweaty hair back. Neither have I. You’re so beautiful always, and especially seeing you like that, through wildshape eyes.’

He rolls onto his side in the grass and wraps both his arms around you, keeping you tight against his chest. ‘I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. The world feels so much better now I have you in my arms.’

‘How long does mating season last?’ you ask. You hope it’s a long time, and he needs you often.

He laughs, a deep sound reverberating through his chest. ‘It’s every moment I lay eyes on you, sweet one.’

‘I hope that I haven’t distracted you from your duties.’

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m more motivated than ever.’

You lay like that together in the grass until Halsin feels your cooling body shiver.

He helps you to your feet and draws you into his arms for one last, tender kiss. Cradling your face in his hands, he murmurs, ‘You are the person I admire most in the world. I feel honoured by every moment I spend by your side.’ He kisses you again. ‘Know that I can’t wait until I’m able to tell you that my whole heart is yours.’

Thank you so much for reading. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Or tell me how the Halsin brainrot is affecting you while playing BG3. I have just about no braincells left by now. Only Daddy Bear remains.

#baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #baldur’s gate 3 spoilers #fanfiction #female reader

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yurmomsawh0r · 1 year

Text

•°His Perfect Little Wife °•

Nanami turning feral over your submissive domestic ways.

• CW : Nanami being a slightly hard Dom, Rough sex, pet names, impact play [If you squint], Cursing, Cervix touching.

Part 2 here

—

Nanami Kento was considered a very upkept man. His colleagues could tell you that they have honestly never seen him discombobulated, or angry or disorganized. Some would say he was the 'perfect' man. He always came in with his calm, cool and collected manner. It was envious that he never seemed to have trouble in his life.

Hair combed back, suit clean and pressed to perfection. Coffee, just the way he liked it, in hand and all documents organized in folders, perfectly set so that he could have a perfect day without any disruptions to his continuous everyday cycle. They always asked him how he did it. How he was able to always have a smooth, uninterrupted day.

And to put it in the most simplistic way that he could, he always replied with a very simple answer. You.

Now to most of his colleagues, they couldn't quite understand what he would mean. How could a simple housewife, who possibly did nothing at home, make sure this very successful man had a perfect day almost every day.

Nanami, of course, never went into detail. Men were greedy, especially these men. He would never give them the many details about how you always turn him into the most discombobulated man ever by just being a good wife.

Even now, his cock was straining in his suit pants with a never ending need for you. You were so on schedule and so on point for him. Always getting up at 6:30 to get his clothes and suit case ready, soon after, starting his breakfast so that by the time he's out of the shower, you both can eat together.

Making his lunch and filling his thermos with coffee so he can take it to work with him. He loved that he never had to take care of the small things in life. You made it easier for him to focus on the bigger picture. You made it easier for him to take care of you. He always made sure that you were well taken care of and the simple fact that you took care of his home, even his smallest of needs, made him work harder to please you.

You were perfect. You were his.

He would've never considered himself a possessive man, but that was until you entered his life, and as much as he would love to brag about you and show you off, something in his just wouldn't allow him to share anything about you. Of course you've been seen with him on occasions, but Nanami never brought you up if he didn't have too. And when anyone would ask about you, specifically a male, he would always give cold answers, his irritation growing quickly.

Apart of him hated you for how out-of-place you made him feel, and that pent up aggression would always be released upon your soft body.

God, your body. He loved how soft you were compared to his rough and hard one. He loved the way his hands sunk into your flesh. Your plump thigh that he loved to grab and squish.

The fullness of your tits (small boobs can be full too!) ,down to the plumply flesh of your ass.

But his favorite was the soft, delicious set of lips that you held between your legs.

"Nanami? You alright there bud?" He didn't realize he had spaced out. Mostly caught up in his head over all the things he would do to you when he got home. He was sweating but his face kept a stoic expression, but no doubt he knew they knew.

For the first time in years, they had just witnessed Nanami acting out of place. Anger silently crept and soon you were going to be at the end of it's wrath.

It was your fault for being so perfect.

Looking at the clock, Nanami quickly grabbed all his stuff, stuffing whatever he could into his briefcase, before he left without saying another word. Gojo cackling in the back ground at his sudden lack of composure. If anyone knew about how you made Nami feel, it would him.

Quickly getting into his car, he sped off, racing home to you.

•

There you were. Slaving away over the hot stove, just too have a nice dinner ready for when he got home. Sadly it wasn't ready as Nanami didn't have to come home for another hour.

He stood there watching you move back and forth. Seasoning whatever meat you decided on for tonight.

You were in a pair of black booty shorts and a regular sports bra that nicely lifted your breast. He couldn't help but give you a once over. Shamelessly letting his eyes fall down your legs then back up, stopping at your ass, before his eyes landed on the back of your head.

Some would say he's being creepy but to him, he was just admiring the woman who chose him to be her husband. You were his and he was going to look and appreciate your beauty whenever he could.

Blood rushed to his groin making him grip his hard-on. It was so hard and ready to be seathed in his second home that resided in the neighborhood of your legs. He thought about the many times he had came home to ravish you. Bent over the bathtub that you were cleaning. On top of the washer machine as you did his laundry. Over the table you had just set for dinner, shit, he fucked you all over the house.

You were unaware that your husband was home. To busy fixing dinner and finishing the rest of your chores to notice. It wasn't until you had bent over, opening your oven to place the stuffed chicken inside. It was faint, and if you could identify the sound it would've been the faintest sound of a zipper pulling down.

You shot up, quickly turning to face the noise. Your breath hitched seeing your husband home so early. "Hi honey, how was work?" You asked, glancing at your phone to check the time.

He was about 45 minutes early which was unusual. When he didn't respond, you faced him again with worry. "What's wrong baby?" A pout graced your lips as you caressed his sweaty face.

"Oh my God, your hot and sweaty! What happened?" Panick filled you. Your husband was home early, not responding, hot and sweaty. You've never seen him like this unless he –

Wait. . .

You glanced down at his undone suit pants, he dick already out and throbbing with need. You could clearly see the shiny bead forming at his tip.

'Fuck' you thought to yourself, 'he's never come home like this before. What the hell happened.'

You lift your gaze to meet his eyes. A soft gasp left your lips. You knew this was serious, seeing as his glasses were already off. No time to think, a hand gripped your throat. A squeal leaving your lips at the same time your arousal started to leak. As if your body was reacting to his. The same intensity, the same heat.

You could feel sweat start to form under your pits as well as your forehead. Nanami placed his warm lips against yours with so much passion. Sucking and biting them. Tasting them like it was his last meal. He backed you into the nearest counter, picking you up but your fat and placing you on top of it. Slowly making love to your tongue with his, he let his other hand drift to the inside of your panties. Finding your little pleasure nub, rubbing with just enough friction.

"Ah!" You moaned out only for it to be caught abd muffled by your lust-filled husband. Nanami felt your slick gathering — hiding behind your folds and sliding down to your entrance. He took this chance to plunge his two middle fingers inside your wet cavern, quickly finding his favorite spot to play with.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck!" You couldn't help but break from his mouth to wail out profanities. He was fucking you so good with his fingers that you already had the urge to cum.

Clenching and un-clenching in a repeated cycle over and over again. "Are you gonna cum for me baby? Yea?"

"Yesss Nami! Fuck!" You screamed, making him chuckle. He loved that you were being compliant today. Usually he would have to pull it out of you, but today was different. She knew he needed control. She knew he didn't need anything to make him feel worse than he did.

He had lost control today, and you were going to let him fuck you to get it back. To help him sate his lust and find composure. First he needed to hear you.

"Who's pussy is this baby?" He thrust his fingers deeper in you, but at a slower pace. pushing you to the edge but not over. "Pleaseeee Nami! You know it's yours!"

He sent a smack to your back side. "I didn't ask what I know, I asked you who's is it my pretty little wife." Nanami pressed a quick kiss to your lips before you had a chance to deepen it, making you whine for him.

Sometimes you hated when he acted like this, you hated not getting what you wanted, and that was rare, but the other side of loved his torment. You loved knowing that you were the only one who could make him this way. "It's yours daddy."

"You're such a good girl, and do you know what good girls get?" He spoke to you in a deep husky voice. You loved it. You loved how it made you feel.

Your pussy throbbed around his finger and your pretty sure he felt it. "Good girls get to cum." He smirked, working his fingers faster and faster and faster until the damn broke.

"Ahhh yesssss!" You pulled him closer to you as your hips undulated with every thrust of his fingers. Nanami felt his hand drenched as your essence shot from your swollen wet pussy.

"You made such a mess baby, see? Look." Taking his hand, he smeared your juices on your face before pulling you into a sloppy kiss.

You didn't even have time to catch your breath before he did. He pulled you down from the counter, turned and bent you over the same said counter top. Folding your arms behind your back, he plunged his hot dick inside your spasming cunt. "Ah! Nami! Be g-gentle!"

But he doesn't. Instead he fucked you harder, faster. Deep calculated thrust that penatrated the deepest parts of your canal. Every thrust caused you to stand on the tips of your toes. He was hurting you, yes, but it was a pleasurable pain. A welcomed pain.

He pressed his cock into your cervix as he was fully seathed inside you. He was fueled by every 'ugh' and 'ah yes' you made. Driving deeper into you just to hear you scream 'Daddy!" Everytime.

"Please daddy! It's too deep, it hurts!" You cried out. Your pussy was pulsing as you came, and he was riding your wave to his peak. No matter how much you wanted him to come, he took his sweet time getting there. He loved hearing you beg, to scream his name.

He was feral, and it was all your fault.

With a few more quick thrusts, he stilled himself, shooting his warm seed deep into your womb. You felt it coating your insides — even spilling from your throbbing heat.

"Whew. . ." You felt your husband's breath on your back. He was breathing heavy. He rubbed up and down your back, caressing your asscheeks whenever he could.

"Sorry my precious little flower. I promise to make it up to you."

And he would. How could he not. You were his precious little wife.

And he loved his precious little wife.

#jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami #nanami x reader smut #anime smut #jujitsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #mature themes #smut

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reidmotif · 9 months

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Popsicle Love

Summary: Reader and Spencer are at a ridiculously hot precinct station, getting on each other's nerves arguing. Reader realizes she can get back at him, using a certain sweet treat.

Prompt: Spencer can't deal with how much Reader loves popsicles/ice cream cones

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, rough sex, hair-pulling, dom!Spencer, coworker relationship, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving) , dirty talk, heavy making-out, unprotected penetrative sex, bathroom sex, hate-fucking, pure smut

Word Count: 3.2k

“It is too fucking hot for this” was my first thought as he began talking to me. Fuck Spencer Reid, because he was the who decided that today, in the sweltering Georgia heat, was the day he would annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

“You’re going about this all wrong!” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. His sleeves were pulled up, and there was anger in his eyes. I crossed my legs, feeling my skirt ride up but I honestly couldn’t care less. It was scorching, and I was determined to not lose this argument to Reid. I let out a breath of air, meeting him with my own annoyed, exasperated expression.

“Reid, you’re being absolutely childish right now.” I retorted. “Sort through the paperwork first, then analyze it! Not everyone wants to do things the way you insist on doing them!” I say, furrowing my brows.

“Not everyone can.” He says, cockily, a smirk gracing his lips. That motherfucker.

I was about to get up and honestly hit him square in the jaw, half from my delusion in the heat, and half from how fucking smug he sounded. I wanted to knock that smirk off his face, and maybe ruin that pretty smile of his in the process, just as an added bonus.

Thankfully, before I could do anything rash that would definitely result in me losing my job, one of the officers of the station quickly came to interrupt us.

“Hey, one of the officers brought in popsicles. If any of y’all would like any, they’re in the breakroom.” She said, turning away. Thank God for Southern hospitality, I suppose.

I sighed, getting up from my spot. Spencer and I clearly weren’t getting anywhere when it came to our disagreements, and that’s how it was, and how it would remain to be. The man was a pain-in-the-fucking ass, and it was an honest shame, considering the fact he was actually pretty hot, especially when his mouth wasn’t moving.

Spencer walked ahead of me, the idea of something to cool him down enticing him just as much as it did me. We reached the breakroom and he opened the freezer, taking out the box of popsicles, and looking into it. He pulled out two, presumably one for me, and one for him.

“Blue or red?” He says, holding out the brightly colored packages, offering me a choice of one.

“Red.” I say, reaching over with no hesitation and grabbing the red-colored packaging in his hand. “Duh.” I added, starting to unwrap the treat. “It’s the best flavor.”

He scoffed a little, opening up his own, blue package, and I rolled my eyes at the sound.

“What, are you going to argue with me about my choices in popsicle flavor too now?” I say, with a disbelieving tone.

“No, it’s nothing,” He says, shrugging, with that same, shit-eating, self-satisfied grin.

God, I hated him.

I gave a deep exhale through my nose, forcing myself to calm down. I decided it’d be for the best if I walked out, left him here alone to avoid another fight. He called out before I could even walk two steps.

“You have to eat here.” He said, taking licks at his popsicle. “The officers- they’re old fashioned. I don’t know.” He adds, “If you wanna be yelled at though, be my guest.”

I grumbled internally at that, but I knew he was right. I didn’t want to be yelled at.

I took my place, leaning against a table that had been placed in the breakroom and taking my own popsicle out of the packaging, beginning to eat it. I sighed happily as I felt the taste settle on my tongue, the coolness blooming throughout my mouth. I began by licking the sides before taking it in my mouth. I suckled for a minute, and I could feel it already melting down my fingers a bit, due to the heat in the station. I released the popsicle in my mouth with a pop, before going to lick the sticky residue off my fingers. It was a little childish, sure, but it was hot and it wasn’t like anyone was watching me. I continued this cycle, softly sucking at the popsicle and wrapping my tongue around it until I heard what sounded like ... a whimper from across the room? I let my eyes drift up, noticing a seemingly flustered Spencer in the corner of my eye. He leaned away from me, crossing his legs. I knitted my brows, before putting the pieces together, realizing what had happened.

He was a guy, after all. And I suppose the way I was eating my popsicle could come off as suggestive, but come on! How else was I meant to eat it? And armed with the knowledge that my innocent action was enough to provoke him, I decided a little more intent in my movement couldn’t hurt.

I began to take the popsicle a little more vigorously, bobbing my head a bit. My lips wrapped around the treat, and I could feel Spencer’s eyes shamelessly on me and internally grinned. Good. He had annoyed me all day, and the idea of him dealing with a hard-on with no way to relieve himself was definitely karmic justice in my eyes. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste, but also in the way I could feel Spencer shifting around, trying to hide what seemed like a fast-growing erection. When I hollowed out my cheeks, and swirled my tongue around the sweetness in my mouth, I could hear a sound from the back of his throat escaping his lips. I let the popsicle out of my mouth, and in that moment, a melted chunk seemed to fall off, landing itself on my chest. I hissed, feeling the coldness of the tacky liquid running down my bare skin.

“Shit.” I said, trying to flick off the liquid off my hands and realizing I’d need to clean myself up. I dropped the remainder of the popsicle in the trash, not bothering to look back, before I walked over to the bathroom. I let out a breath of air as I opened the door to the precinct bathroom, looking at my chest and sighing, grabbing a handful of paper towels to run under the sink to wash myself with.

Before I could do that though, I heard the door swing open, and saw through the mirror it was none other than Spencer Reid. I crossed my arms, putting my back to the counter of the sink as I turned around to look him up and down.

“What are you doing here?” I remarked, with a displeased tone.

He looked absolutely furious, and there was a slight part of me that was excited, knowing I could rile him up like this. He was breathing heavily, and moving closer to me, trapping me in between the counter and his body, and what felt like a very noticeable hardness pressing against my thigh.

“The better question is, what the fuck are you doing?” He asked, his tone low and menacing.

I rolled my eyes, before feigning a look of innocence, making my eyes wide. “What do you mean, Spencer?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” He responds, gripping a piece of hair at the back of my skull and pulling slightly, forcing me to bare my neck to him. “Where do you get off doing something like that to me, huh?” He murmurs, leaning closer and letting his lips brush over the shell of my ear.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I retorted hastily, but I could hear the shakiness in my voice. The way he was speaking, the pull he had on my hair- it thrilled me, and contributed to a growing heat between my legs.

He pushed himself further and further against me, and I could feel his erection against my thigh even more so than before, and felt my stomach flutter at the feeling. My jaw dropped a bit, letting out a soft sigh, sensitive to the sensation.

“Oh is that right?” Spencer replies, nodding as he spoke a little cruelly. “You like acting like this? Like a goddamn slut?” He grunts out. He twists and pulls my hair a little more, eliciting a soft moan from my lips.

“You like it when I pull on your pretty hair like that?” He said, snarking the words at me. “Like how wet I make you?” He whispered, venom in his voice.

Without warning, he placed his fingers at the growing wet patch at my underwear, roughly pushing it aside before starting to rub harsh, tight circles around my clit. I nearly lost my mind at the sensation, nearly doubling over with pleasure.

I whimpered softly, and I could feel his smirk as he started to kiss up and down my neck. “So wet for me, mm?” He says, starting to move his fingers faster over my swollen clit. “I’ve barely touched you. You’re fucking needy for me, yeah?”

I groaned, not processing enough of what he was saying to warrant a response. My brain was foggy from how good he was making me feel. I tried to not think about the fact that this was Spencer, the Spencer who’d annoyed me from the moment I’d joined the BAU. The Spencer I despised, the one I was supposed to hate- but here was, making me orgasm in a precinct bathroom with his fingers alone.

He rubbed a bit faster, before thrusting two fingers into my needy cunt. I moaned again, louder, and he responded by burying his fingers even deeper into my core, pumping harshly. I could feel the room spinning, gripping onto the counter behind me to stabilize me as my orgasm began to approach me rapidly. He watched me intently, his gaze hot and intense before smirking. “Come for me. Come all over my fingers, (Y/N).” He whispered.

I did, nearly on command, convulsing against him as I felt myself clench around his long, slender digits, my moans reverberating around the small space.

He withdrew his fingers suddenly, leaving me painfully empty before he began to grab my face roughly, forcing me to look at him.

“Say that you want this, bitch.” He whispers harshly, pulling my hair and eliciting yet another moan from me as he pushed me up against the counter.

“Spencer..” I murmured, feeling my knees go a bit weak at how roughly he was manhandling me. He spun our positions around, and I felt him using the grip on my hair to push me down to my knees.

“Say it!” He said, a little more firmly now. “I need to hear you say it.”

I felt the desperation in his tone, weakly looking up at him from this angle before I nodded quickly.

“I want you. I want this.” I wailed, arousal coursing through my veins. I no longer cared about the humiliation of letting him use me like this. I wanted to chase this feeling forever, wanted to be at his mercy for as long as he wanted, as long as he could continue to make me feel this good.

I felt him groan above me, before he pulled me closer to his bulge, raising an eyebrow. He looked absolutely wild from here, sweat dripping down from his brow, and sleeves pushed up. He breathed heavily, his chest heaving up and down.

“Go on then. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He mocked, but I could tell his voice was strained with the exact same need I was feeling in the moment.

I gave no protest, using my deft fingers to quickly undo his slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers, watching his heavy cock bob in the air for a moment, before looking up at him, my jaw slightly agape.

Was this really happening?

He nodded, as if to give me an okay, and I didn’t need any more encouragement than that. I swirled my tongue around his tip, watching in fascination as I heard a groan from him, his head falling back as he moaned. “Fuck, (Y/N). Just like that.”

I grew bolder with his praise. I began to take more of him in my mouth, using my hands where my tongue wouldn’t reach. I gripped and worked his base, while suckling on what my mouth could reach. As I got used to the intrusion in my mouth, I moved down slowly, eventually taking the whole of him. He moaned loudly at this, and gripped my hair tighter, starting to move me up and down his cock. I relaxed the muscles in my mouth, letting him use me as he pleased. I watched from the lower angle the best I could, the sight of him coming undone at my mouth absolutely gorgeous. I could feel the tears pooling in the corner of my eyes, the saliva dripping down from my mouth and covering my chest. I wanted to watch him fall apart, to be at my mercy just as much as I was at his.

He moaned at the feeling, and I could feel myself get wetter at the sound. “Oh fuck. You feel so fucking good.” He groaned out, before grabbing my hair yet again, and holding my head in place. He started to fuck my throat roughly, and the tears began to flow a little more rapidly, feeling the pooling of saliva down my chin as I felt him hit the back of my throat.

“You like this, huh?” He teased from above, between pants and sighs. “Wanted me all riled up, so we could do this, right?”

I nodded desperately, incoherent begs and whines coming from my mouth before he pulled me off with a tug. I felt delightfully dirty, as he forced me up again and kissed me roughly. I barely registered him turning us around in my lustful stupor, bending me mercilessly against the sink and lifting up my skirt, pulling my underwear down in a clean swoop. I could feel him squeezing the fat of my hips and moaned at the way he controlled me so easily, to which he let out a smug chuckle.

He gripped my hair again, pulling my head up and forcing me to look at myself. We looked sinful, his cock pressing against my wet folds, teasing me.

“See that? You look like a fucking whore.” He snarled, breathing heavily.

I wasn’t going to let him win so easily. Even though I wanted the same things as him, I knew the more I teased him, the better I’d get from him. I raised an eyebrow and breathlessly murmured, “Are you going to stand there and look at me, or are you going to fuck me, Reid?”

He bared his teeth at me, thrusting into me roughly with no warning. “Oh, you wanna be fucked? Then take it.” He groaned, starting to buck his hips against me like a man possessed.

I moaned at the sudden feeling, letting my jaw drop fully to let out all my noises. I could feel the slaps of his skin against mine, and the smell of sex filling up the small space. His fingers gripped so tightly into my stomach I swear I could feel the bruises already blooming over my stomach. I let him fill me up, his thick cock passing through me roughly, over and over again.

“So fucking warm and wet. You feel..” He paused, moaning and jutting against me faster. “So fucking good.”

I could see the sweat dripping down his brow, and the way it collected down his neck. In this moment though, the only heat I could focus on was no longer the one around us, but the one that came from every brutal pass of his cock, creating a delicious burn I reveled in with every moment he stayed inside me. I moaned loudly, feeling myself get hotter and hotter with every second.

I watched through the mirror as he fucked me into the counter with no restraint, his head thrown back, eyes shut as he continued to use me, plowing into me from behind. I could feel my knees getting weaker, feeling his cock twitch inside of me as I arched my back to take more of him. He groaned at the sensation of him bottoming out, the rhythm of his hips becoming irregular as he continued to rut into me. I rolled my hips against him, hoping to spur on our impending releases. He thrust into me once or twice , until I felt him come with a loud moan, a familiar warmth pooling into my deepest point, but even then his hips didn't still. He fucked his own arousal into me, and I could feel my orgasm rapidly approaching, his lazy thrusts doing me in, and soon enough I was spasming over his cock, moaning loudly.

He pulled out of me, and my eyes fluttered shut at the sudden emptiness. I could feel his cum dripping down my leg, and his eyes watching in fascination as the mixture of both of our releases leaked out of me. He pulled up my underwear, immediately soaking up the liquids, and I groaned at the feeling. He pulled me up, leaning me against the sink.

I watched as he panted against the sink, and I swear, I would’ve fallen over without his steady grip on my hips. He and I were both flushed, my hair absolutely ruined from how hard he’d been pulling it, my tear-stained face still contorted in an expression of pleasure as we both recovered from the highs of our orgasms.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, in between his breaths, looking genuinely concerned. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

I laughed a little bit at that, shaking my head. “You were the perfect amount of rough. Don’t worry.” I say, waving him off a little, assuring him that I got just as much out of this as he did.

As he tucked himself back into his pants, he grinned at me for seemingly no reason. I met his eyes with a confused expression, raising an eyebrow, pressing my lips together. “What are you grinning about?” I ask, trying to fix my hair as I look at him.

He walked over to me, turning me to face the mirror. I felt his chest against my back, and one of his large hands came to wrap themselves around me, before he ghosted a finger over my chest and whispered against my ear. “You still have some of that goddamn popsicle on you.” He says, trying not to laugh.

I rolled my eyes, chuckling a bit as I remembered the entire reason he’d been provoked to do this, and went to go finally wipe off the sticky residue once and for all. “Oh yeah. Popsicle.” I said, teasingly.

“Never do that again.” He says, starting to move away from me as he worked on making himself presentable enough to leave the bathroom with me.

I paused, turning around to look at him, still appearing completely fucked out and dazed as I smirked a bit. “If it gets you to fuck me like that? No promises.”

wow! a short fic from me?! crazy!! i wanted to try my hand at writing something smutty, but short. this was specifically written for @imagining-in-the-margins summer sunshine challenge, so go check that out :3 thank you for any likes, reblogs or comments. <3 i'm eternally thankful

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #smut #writing prompt #writing challenge #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mentioningmargins

3K notes · View notes

wonryllis · 2 months

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daddy issues, my little girl (m) | park jongseong.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹,

preview. you had always had daddy issues, for as long as you could remember. so when jay came along with his caring nature, how could you possibly keep your feelings at bay? not to forget, your roses of love have wilted long before you even knew what love meant but jay, he’s here at your doorstep with a watering can. will you be able to refuse?

or where, new neighbor dr jay park is asked to babysit you over the week. ironically the only man you have ever had a crush on. you are so determined to put aside the feelings but jay makes things so much harder. he is way too sweet and caring and you are way too pessimistic and insecure. how is it going to work with you gravitating towards him in inadvertence and jay welcoming your presence with candor radiance? especially with all of your buried issues coming to life more than ever. false hopes and reserved secrets, reluctant truths and feelings that linger deep. he is right there, two doors away to reach. so why is it that love still feels so far?

meet the cast. daddy park jongseong(jay) with his doll fem!reader

genre. neighbour to lovers, age gap (like 7 years), romance, SMUT MDNI!!, comfort angst, fluff, happy ending, doctor(might change that)!jay with his precious girl. jay literally always at his girl's beck and call, he cares about you a lottttt trope. the "i know you can do it, but let me do it for you" trope. kinda ddlg concept idk? he's like your pillar, comfort person and just everything you have ever needed. practically your dream man come to life. subject to additions later on.

word count. 18-19k so far, est around 35k revamp + second installment.

warnings. DARK THEMES: hints of: daddy issues, attachment anxiety, inferiority complex, abandonment issues, depression, childhood emotional neglect, philophobia, insomnia, social anxiety, hints at emotional/psychological abuse, gaslighting, hints at being suicidal, people pleaser syndrome, mommy issues, thantophobia, atelophobia, atychiphobia, pistanthrophobia, avoidant personality disorder, body dysmorphia. more could be added on release and nsfw warnings will be mentioned in full fic.

theme song. daddy issues by the neighborhood and future by red velvet. on the side you can listen to: love letter by bolbbalgan4, adore you by harry styles, pacify her by melanie martinez, cool kids by echosmith, your existence by wonstein, teenage dreams by katy perry ..

RELEASING. TBD, progress ! 57%

"i’m home!” slipping off your converse, you put the pair inside the shoe cabinet near the entrance and close the wooden door in a sigh before trudging in. the lights in the living room are dimmed, something your parents would never do. it catches you a tad bit off guard but nevertheless you try not to think too much. considering the silence surrounding you they most definitely are out for work and as usual forgot to turn off the lights. with cautious steps you walk futher inside, with all intention to sneak in a pack of chips from the kitchen like a thief even though at this point you’ve practically come to the conclusion you’re home alone, but one can never be too careful.

a cat like shriek leaves you when your eyes land on the back of a figure sitting on the couch, your phone almost slipping through the grasp of your fingers as your eyes widen in shock. startled, your heart more or less stopping in a screeching brake for a split second.

the man visibly flinches at the sound of your voice,“who are you?!-” standing up and turning around to face you,“jay?”

“god y/n, you’re gonna make me deaf,” he complains, face contorting into a tender, teasing expression; a small smile gracing his lips as he walks around the couch and leans against the top of the backrest. you watch as he looks at you, so softly that it makes you wonder, has anyone ever in your entire life looked at you like that? a look radiating such gentleness. maybe not, not until now that is.

“you got home early today, i thought you’d be out for two more hours?” his brows raise in a questioning manner as his gaze shifts to go over the time showing on your living room clock.

“uh, well i was working on a project the last few days but i finished it yesterday so,” you speak unsure if you should even be telling him this instead of asking what he’s doing in here.

“oh okay, that’s good,” taking off his overcoat he walks into the kitchen, folding up his dress shirt’s sleeves on the way,“what do you want for lunch then? do you want to eat takeout? or should i cook you something? you must be hungry,” he takes out a bottle of cold water from the fridge and pours in a glass for you, sliding the cup on the countertop towards you as you approach the space in hesitant and confused steps.

his questions dumbfound you, leaving your brain at a loss, still dazed from his presence before you,“what? why are you asking me that? and what are you doing in my house?” you ask, looking completely clueless when jay turns to look at you expecting it to be some kind of a sarcastic remark. but the lost look in your eyes has him surrendering even if it does turn out to be some joke.

“taking care of you,” jay smiles, straightening his posture in an upright position and moving closer to the counter across which you stand,“technically, babysitting,”

“babysitting? me? but,” it baffles you, is this some prank or are you supposed to know something you don’t? your mind’s mechanical gears slow down, friction arising in between them. you don’t remember anything regarding or relating to the term babysitting. there’s no way he’s serious.. right?

“doll, didn’t your parents tell you they’re gonna be out on a business trip for a week? they asked me to look after you while they’re gone,” what.

yes these past few days when you couldn’t catch a hidden, one-sided glimpse of him in the elevator you did feel weird. and you definitely did subconsciously wish to run across him again, even though you were on a mission to avoid him, but this; this is not what you would’ve liked, this is not what you wanted. this is far from what you can handle, what your messed up self can accept.

“no?” the look on your face has jay almost spilling a laugh, the way your features contort to a whiny crying expression. how cute. he thinks.

“that’s okay, now you know,” trying to imitate you, he scrushes up his nose in a slight pout, reaching out to pat your head twice. and there goes your heart. you never thought you’d like head pats this much, you only remember getting them twice from your father but it felt different. it used to annoy you because he would mess up your hair but the way jay caressed your head it felt you had accomplished something, so gentle and careful yet still close to a ruffle.

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frmisnow · 2 months

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✧˖ ?!— TWO WHORES IN A ROOM, THEY MIGHT KISS. - (SUGGSTV.)

— ‧₊˚ — 🎸: "punch me in the gut, might be the only chance you'd ever have at wrecking my insides ??"

summary. having a lil punching sesh with the arrogant man-whore you oh so despised was not an easy game but def. a fun one at that !

notes. i don't know boxing like thattt so if this sounds a lil stupid i'm sry 😭😭 anyways boxer jk???? SJSPAAKMP

warnings/includes. (MDNI) non idol! jungkook x f! reader, hate fuck if you squint, enemies to lovers??? kinda, DEGRADING from both sides, slut, whore + man-whore mentioned, grinding

you don't know how long you've been circling around eachother, throwing insults left and right - yet nobody had landed the first punch yet. "you know for a man who keeps on yapping about being the best boxer in this shitplace, you're pretty damn scared of me" your eyes never leaving his, box gloves so tight around your hands, your tone sweet in that mocking tone, "you know you've got a pretty big mouth for somebody who claims they're not a slut" he responded no chalently as you didn't even shiver or visably reacted to the insult.

"you sound like you'd die to feel my precious mouth on you" you pouted sarcastically, the circle continuing once again.

"is that a threat or an invitation?" another one-liner fired back, your eyes narrowing - he may look serious but you know he's enjoying every second of this.

and right then and there- in the second he was waiting for you to reply, unfocused for just a split second you throw the first punch.

you immediately bring your fist back, landing a decent hook across his jaw. his head is forced back and eyes widened as he's obviously surprised, though he doesn't react much to the hit. he seems to quickly regain his composure and his eyes narrow sharply, a grin sneaking it's way onto his face: "well what do you know, the pussycat can fight"

it frustrated you that he wasn't fighting back - like you weren't deserving of a punch or two in the first place, like all you were deserving of were little mind games to rile you up but if he could play the game, you could too.

"no fucking shit, i've won more this year then you could dream of, you're just a man whore who thinks having abs and chicks on your dick are personality traits"

his eyes widen just a tiny bit and for a split second you feel you can see actual anger in him, before it's quickly replaced with a sly smirk as he's trying to play cool. he steps forward, getting so close and in your personal space to look taller on purpose, to tower you- to make you look weak, smaller, inferior to him - looking down at you, leaning in even closer and staring right into your eyes.

"you're a lot more fun when you're pissed off you know that?" he looks down a bit more and raises his eyebrows suggestively, "i just have to find the right buttons to press on you"

you're unaffected on the outside, he hasn't even reached any territory that could actually hurt your feelings - "you awfully sound like your talking about my tits, even in your mind there's an image of me permanently printed in, you can't stop thinking of me- you might need to get that chronical sexual obssesion checked at a doctor, that unhealthly ego might as well too"

jungkooks jaw tightens as you can see he's biting his tongue, trying to not react to your insult. looking down again, not saying anything for few seconds as he's processing the response. you can see him trying to not smirk in the corner of his mouth as he's trying to find an insult to answer back-

you took just the time: "huh? did that hurt? does the little pussyeater-for-a-living feel offended? do i need to bring you back to your mommy?" in a whiny tone like you're mimicking him yet still so insanely mocking.

kook tried his very best to sound calm and unbothered but his neck veins were already visable, a little frown on his face as well, ""i think i'm starting to actually get irritated"

"what? like it's hard?" you held eye contact with him without a problem, tension oh so heavy then adding, "c'mon punch me in the gut, might be the only chance you'd ever have at wrecking my insides"

he gets even closer, so close that his forehead is touching yours, still making that suggestive smirk as you see his jaw is clenched so tight. "i'd love to beat that pretty face of yours," he utters at last.

"oh but then there'd be no face for the men to kiss, is that what you want- oh, is our little kook jealous?"

his voice gets raspy and low, "jealous?" eyes remaining on yours ´, not breaking away even just once till he whispers (though there weren't even any people in the training room you both were in) like he was talking personally to you, he was trying to get under your skin: "you think a pathetic little whore like you would make me jealous?"

you're not hurt- not at all, i mean- if you were a slut, he was just the same. jungkook just had to little of reflecting skills or general understanding to coprehend just that- you punched him onto his stomach, him now stumbling just a bit now on more of a distance from you.

you can see he's struggling to not fall down from the impact of the blow. he clutches his abdomen, looking away from you to not let you see just how effective it wasbafter his lungs get the chance to refill with oxygen, he utters words with more passion than before, trying to mask the pain, "pathetic little whore, i thought you were better than this. but i guess you should stick to the dick, you can't fight like a man"

you roll your eyes at his tiny tries of regaining control: "your jaw that i punched just a few minutes ago says something else, c'mon knock me down- i bet you'd love to just be on top of me yet you're to afraid to even just fight and that's what i call pathetic"

that's where you reached his ego's final straw, lunging forward in rage knocking you down in a turn of events and pinning you to the ground, trying his absolute best to hold you down.

he's basically sitting on your body middle, straddling you in a way, you grinned like you weren't even afraid of him on top or you on the ground obviously you could feel his cock pressing hard against you "oh you got such a boner it's funny"

you saw him play with his left lip ring just how he always did when he was particulary focused, responding: "oh don't act so high and mighty, i bet you ruined your damn panties by now"

now you were the one silent, you truly didn't knew what to respond as.. he was right, fuck- maybe this turned you on more than you thought.

seeming a bit amused by that, his smirk becoming a cocky grin as he starts speaking again, in even more suggestive tone, "what's wrong, little slut? you're not even denying it"

he grinded onto you just a little, just so little against your core that it brought just the tiniest bit of pleasure but left you yearning for more, faster, harder leaving you to put your hands onto his hips, hands looking relatively small on his body.

he looks at you from his position, a mischievous smile on his lips as he moves his hips some more in a slow, grinding motion, while blabbering on and on, "not even i thought it was gonna be so easy to top you"

he tried his best to hide a moan by laughing that only half-working, hips continuing to grind onto you, bringing his lips to your neck, mumbling against the soft skin:

"i won"

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trivia-yandere · 3 months

Text

dilemma

being single and broke on valentine's day is not what you expected - especially when your dealer is waiting for his payment. @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63

word count: 4.063

warning: drug dealer yoongi, oral (m receiving), kissing, smut, praising, weed smoking, unprotected sex, dirty talking, cumshot,

valentine's day masterlist

“Suga…” you murmur to the phone pressed to your ear. The sound of the shower is loud in the background as you wait for the water to turn hot.

“Y/N.” the voice on the other side murmurs, voice deep and a little raspy. “You know you don’t have to call me that. I’ve known you for years now.”

You touch the water and hum. “I know. I like saying it, though.” you respond to the man on the other side. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you from anything. It is Valentine’s Day afterall.”

You hear a chuckle on the other side. “Nothing at all. I was just dozing off when you called.”

You lick your lips. You texted first, asking if he had your usual - nothing but an eighth of weed to hold you off. When he didn’t respond, you called.

You knew Yoongi way back from your High School years that then rolled into college and even now, as you worked at your big girl job. His product was good, affordable and he always threw deals for clientele such as yourself - loyal, as he calls them. There’s been times in which Yoongi would add extra to the bag he sold you just because.

“That’s sad. Figured a guy like you had someone to spend the day with him." The shower water is now hot. “I guess we’re both lonely on this holiday.”

You hear a grunt come from Yoongi. “I guess we are.” There’s silence for a moment from the both of you. “What do you suggest we do about that then?”

You lick your lips, your heart pumping at his sudden choice of words.

Another reason why you liked Yoongi - he always flirted back, no matter how subtle. You ponder if he was like this with all his clientele - but you understood that with you, he was. It never went past light flirting and lingering eyes, but it’s fun to engage with, nonetheless.

“How about I drop off your usual and then we can smoke together?” Yoongi questions, a coolness in his voice. “I have a new strain you can try.”

“A new strain?” you open the shower door and get inside. The water hits your back and you lowly moan at the nice sensation of it. “That would be nice, Yoongi. How long do you think you’d be?”

“Not long. Are you in a rush?”

“No. I’m just showering.”

Yoongi is silent for a moment and you lick your lips in anticipation.

“Getting pretty for our smoke session, I see. How nice.” there’s shuffling in the background as you laugh at his response. “I’ll be there in around 20.”

“See you.”

You scrubbed your skin furiously as if it was covered in the most dirt and grime ever. Your showers lasted longer than 10 minutes - especially when it was an everything shower. How you managed to do everything in 10 minutes was beyond you, but you managed. You still had to get out and make yourself look good without appearing as if you were trying too hard.

You tilt your head in the mirror, mind wandering.

What if Yoongi was just a natural flirt? You were probably thinking far too into the flirtings - here you stood in front of a mirror pondering on what lingerie to wear for a man that sold you weed. Could you get any more pathetic than that?

Then again, what exactly did you have to lose?

You sigh. Your dignity was one - and so was good weed for the low if Yoongi decided to deny you.

“Fuck it.” you shrug away your nerves, deciding that even if Yoongi denied you, that wouldn’t stop you from at least attempting.

You knew Yoongi likes black - it’s all you ever truly see him in. You decided on a lacy black one you only ever wore once - for pictures - and covered it with a long t-shirt that stops at your thighs.

Your phone sounds and you exhale a breath. You place the phone upon your ear and murmur a soft hello. “YN…” you feel the goosebumps of hearing your name come from Yoongi’s lips. “...I’m outside.”

“Coming.” you sing-song.

It’s evening in February and that meant it was a bit chilly out, but you’d choose to ignore the piercing feeling of the cold breeze against your legs.

Yoongi’s car matched him, you thought. It was a black sedan with the darkest tint of windows you’ve ever seen. It stands out in the driveway of your way - your own car wasn’t as new as his nor was the surrounding ones belonging to your neighbors.

The car is still on, but Yoongi assures that the lights aren’t. You got into his car swiftly, admiring how clean it was and how him it felt.

“You look nice.” Yoongi comments, flickering on the light.

“In a big ass t-shirt?” you snort, but even your heart is pounding from the compliment. If he thought you looked nice now, you wondered just how he’d like your lingerie.

Yoongi chuckles. “Yeah.” he nods. “You smell nice, too.”

You bite your lip, glancing at Yoongi's way.

“This is a nice car.” you had to change the subject. Yoongi was such a smooth talker and everything he said had a tone of seriousness to it. It was hard not to be tongue tied around him. “You can’t get all your money just selling weed.”

Yoongi knits his brows. “Sounds like you’re fishing for information.” he murmurs.

“Just an observation.”

Yoongi grasps a small rectangular box. He opens it, revealing pre-rolled blunts wrapped in paper. “You’re correct. It isn’t all I sell.” he says. “But, Y/N…ignorance is bliss.” Yoongi lights one of the blunts and hands it to you. “Ladies first.”

You gently grab the blunt, trying to ignore the way Yoongi’s eyes watch you. You feel nervous underneath his intense stare, contemplating how you would make your move upon him.

Yoongi licks his lips, eyes trailing down to your exposed legs. They appeared soft and smooth and he wanted to test the theory, but he held himself back.

Yoongi blinks when your hand comes into his line of vision. Yoongi shakes his head. “You can keep that one. I’ll light another.” he says, opening the box once more and grabbing yet another blunt.

You giggle. “That seems excessive.” But you take Yoongi’s word for it and continue to smoke as Yoongi lights his own. “Isn’t there a rule for using your own supply?”

Yoongi chuckles, taking a drag of his blunt. “My supply would be fine, trust me.”

“I feel bad though.” you murmur, glancing out the window. It’s hard to see with the tint and you just thought that was perfect. “I made you come all the way here for nothing.”

Yoongi is intrigued. He watches as you slowly turn towards him, body facing his way now in the large seat. He wants to tear his eyes away from the way the oversized shirt rises up your thigh, but it takes him a whole ten seconds to do so - and yes, he did count.

“How so?” Yoongi swallows, finally lifting his eyes to reach yours. He continues to smoke as he awaits your response.

“I don’t have any money.” your blunt was smaller than his now as you take a few puffs before continuing. “I should have told you once I realized. You know, bills, rent and all.”

Your throat feels dry. Yoongi slowly nods his head before releasing a laugh.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to pay me.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders. “You’ve been a loyal customer for years.”

Your eyes watch Yoongi inhale the smoke and exhale it through his nose. Your legs clench, finishing the blunt that has grown small.

“That would be taking advantage of you. I don’t want to do that.” you shake your head.

“I consider you a friend of mine, Y/N.” You feel the jolt in your heart that tells you that your plan was going to fail. “You’re the only one that I would give such luxuries to.”

The jolt is back, but this time your plan was back in action. “Oh?” you ask, opening the window and flickering the small bud out of it. “I consider you a friend of mine, as well. But still…”

Yoongi blinks, tilting his head.

“...I don’t just want to leave without offering you something.”

Yoongi’s unsure if he’s completely understanding what you’re speaking but he doesn’t have a moment to digest, either. You’re fast and swift, swinging your leg around and sitting completely onto his lap. Yoongi gasps when he feels you directly on him, the oversize shirt riding up your thighs once more.

There’s an open water bottle in the cup holder and Yoongi is quick to drop the rest of his blunt inside of it, not caring if he has wasted the rest entirely because you were in his lap. Yoongi is hesitant to touch you - he wants to feel the softness of your thighs. But he allows himself to slowly, telling himself that if you didn’t want him to, you wouldn’t be in his lap now.

“You don’t have to offer me anything.” Yoongi murmurs, leaning back into his seat and looking up at you.

Yoongi’s hands are big and they feel nice on you. You’d recall often staring at them whenever you and he were together - usually when he was bagging your weed.

“I want to.” your hands send electric shocks through him when he feels them onto his neck. “You’ve been good to me after all these years. Always giving me deals, supplying more than what I ask for.”

Yoongi grunts when he feels you begin to grind against him and he is but a man, and within seconds he’s painfully (and embarrassingly) hard.

“You even used to listen to my drunk ramblings when I’d call for weed.”

Yoongi snorts. “They were entertaining.” he admits, recalling the time you’d call him in all hours of the night back during your college days, ask for your usual, then completely change the topic of conversation. He never told you to shut up like you would have in his position.

Your hands slide down from his neck to his chest. You then grip the hem of your shirt and begin to lift. Yoongi watches in a trance, eyes slightly widening. In his eyes, you move in slow motion, taking off the oversize shirt.

Yoongi feels a lump in his throat and he tries his hardest to swallow it. His eyes are fixed on you - the black lingerie you wore that hugs you perfectly. It leaves little to the imagination, a lacy material covering your skin. He can see the outlines of your nipples - aroused and hardened for him.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Yoongi manages to swallow, eyes glancing up to look at you. You’re smirking down at him, satisfied that he was tongue tied.

“You knew you were going to come out here and do this to me.” Yoongi presse you firmly against him, hands roaming up your sides. “That’s why you smell so good and your skin is so soft.”

Yoongi doesn’t intend to hold anything back now - not as you sit in his lap and allow him to touch you freely. He leans into your neck and inhales the sweet scent of your natural aroma mixed with perfume, a scent he’s sure he smelled before. He doesn’t want to think too much into it (or admit that he has smelled you when he’s given you your usual because he wasn’t a creep).

“Guilty.” you mumble, lowering yourself so you’re a few inches from his face.

Yoongi places his lips against yours, moaning into the kiss. It catches you by surprise for a moment, but then you melt into him. His hands roam your body, palms feeling what skin you have exposed.

Your teeth sink into Yoongi’s bottom lip, lightly tugging it. Your palms slide into the back of his neck just as Yoongi’s begin to cup your ass.

“You want to do this here?” questions Yoongi, a dark look in his eyes. He isn’t opposed to it, however, the way he wants to have you would be quite difficult in his car.

“We can go inside.” you murmur, lips kissing down his jawline.

Licking his lips, Yoongi nods. “You know you don’t have to do this if you think you need to pay me.” he has to be sure that it’s something you truly want to do - ignoring that you did come out here in lingerie and willingly sat in his lap after he stated you didn’t have to pay him.

“Maybe I just want to fuck you.” was your response and now, Yoongi is sure that tonight you’d get exactly what you were asking for.

The next is a blur. You managed to put your shirt back on while Yoongi gathered his own belongings and getting out the car. He keeps his hands on you as he follows you back inside your home and once the door is closed, you’re on him once more.

There had to be an attraction prior to this - between the both of you. You’d notice oftentimes that Yoongi’s eyes would wander when he thought you weren’t looking, and he also noticed how you’d become so giddy or flushed when he was around. This was bound to happen sooner or later - but never Yoongi leading it.

So you had to.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask Yoongi, possibly far too late. “I’m not on any birth control.”

Yoongi nods his head, glad that he left condoms in his wallet with him.

“I’m clean.” Yoongi mentions, a dust of crimson on his cheeks.

You smile. “So am I.”

You then fall to your knees, lifting the oversize shirt over your head. You then place them on the belt of his jeans, eyes glancing up at him.

Goosebumps run through Yoongi’s skin at what you’re trying to do and he’s quick to help you. He loosens his belt and you do the rest.

Yoongi’s already hard from seeing you on your knees and the thought of what's about to come next. He watches with his mouth agape as you take his cock out of his underwear, licking your lips.

It’s a rush going through you right now and for an odd reason, you feel yourself clenching around nothing just at the sight of Yoongi above you - and the thought of pleasuring him.

“Shit…” Yoongi murmurs to himself, swallowing once his mouth becomes dry. You’re pumping his cock gently, eyes admiring at how pretty it looked. He was cleanly trimmed, cock erect and twitching in your hands.

You place a kiss on the tip of Yoongi’s cock before your tongue dips out and licks a single stripe upon it as if it was a lollipop. You can hear Yoongi’s breath hitching, and it’s what motivates you to continue.

Your tongue twirls around the tip, sucking it completely into your mouth. Your eyes glance up at the man, satisfied when his eyelids are closed and he’s beginning to pant.

Yoongi tries his hardest to remain upright, but then he feels your mouth more. So wet and warm and inviting - you take him into your mouth fully, continuing to suck as if your life depended on it. Yoongi leans against your front door, the back of his head pressed against it.

Deeper and deeper, you take Yoongi in your mouth. You rarely found your own pleasure when it came to pleasuring men - but this is different.Yoongi is hot, you’d admit, and even hotter when he’s moaning and panting because of you. You find yourself cleaning your own legs for any friction.

Managing to open his eyes, Yoongi looks down at you. Your cheeks are sucked in due to all the sucking you’re doing and wet slurping could be heard. Yoongi groans again because, damn - “You’re so pretty.” he grumbles, embarrassed because he didn’t mean to say it aloud and sound so damn whipped.

Your heart jolts at Yoongi’s compliment and it only causes you to suck harder, your jaw beginning to hurt but you refuse to stop because Yoongi (your weed dealer at that) called you pretty.

Yoongi pushes himself out of you - he’s unsure how he managed. His hand grasps your chin as he pants out a pathetic, “I don’t want to cum yet.”

There’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to Yoongi’s cock and it breaks when you slide your tongue over your lips.

“Okay.” you nod at Yoongi. “Maybe next time.”

Yoongi swallows and for a moment closes his eyes. You were a vixen - someone sent by the universe to fuck up his life. And most important, he was willing for you to do so.

“Y-yeah.” Yoongi mentally screams at himself for stuttering. “Next time.” He was known for his cool demeanor, a complete nonchalant person. You were breaking down walls he was certain wouldn’t bulge.

You grin, small and cute, and nod back at him. “Next time you can return the favor, too.” you suggest. “Now I just want to ride you.”

Yoongi shudders. He’s certain now. The universe sent you indeed. It sent you to humble him, telling him that there was someone out there who could break down the walls he placed.

Your bedroom is far while the living room is a few feet away. You lift to your feet, waving at Yoongi to follow you. He does, awkwardly, lifting his pants just so they aren’t dragging across the ground.

You push Yoongi onto your couch, enjoying the sight of the man. “Condom?” you knit your brows.

“Right.” Yoongi mumbles, cheeks tinted red. He goes through his pockets and gets out his wallet. The condom falls out smoothly, a small, square black package.

You watch as Yoongi places the condom onto his cock and soon, you’re hovering above him.

“Crotchless.” you giggle to Yoongi, who appears confused when you don’t remove the lingerie.

Yoongi gulps, nodding his head. You don’t allow him a chance to process, you’re already centering yourself and slowly engulfing him fully.

Yoongi shudders at your warmth, even through the condom, of your pussy. He bites his lip, hands immediately on your hips as you begin to rise and fall. You’re so beautiful, his hands slide up your sides and then cup your breasts. With the lingerie you’re wearing, your breasts are seconds from falling out and he decides to speed up the process.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” Yoongi muffles himself between your breasts, large hands squeezing them. He kisses them, his tongue poking out to lick a nipple.

“Me, too.” you huff, your nails digging into the shirt of his shoulders. You imagined far too many times what Yoongi’s cock looked like and what it would look like inside of you.

Yoongi begins to thrust with you, his left holding the flesh of your ass. His tongue continues to twirl on your nipple in utter boyish bliss. He ponders while fucking you what you’d feel like raw - he imagines how tight you’d be around him, how wet and even warmer than you are now

“Shit…you’re so tight.” Yoongi kisses up your neck. “All for me.”

There’s a change in Yoongi’s tone of voice, no longer a stutter or a tint of uneasiness. You feel it in the way he begins to thrust harder, no longer allowing you to take control. So this was the Yoongi you knew (now know sexually) - cool, nonchalant and dominant.

With each thrust Yoongi hits a sweet spot and you moan with pleasure. His eyes continue to watch you contort with different emotions at what he’s doing. “You’re moaning like you’re in love, baby.”

You suck in a breath at the pet name. Fuck Yoongi, seriously, because you probably did look that way. But it wasn’t your fault - you don’t get fucked this good often and when you do well…

“You haven’t stopped moaning either.” you retort, somehow managing to find your words. You wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, your lips close to his ears. “Almost like you’re in love.”

Yoongi feels it - your tongue. It swipes at his ear teasingly and that’s all he needed to flip you onto your back, hitting the couch rapidly. He throws your legs over his shoulders and lifts his shirt a bit so he can continue to fuck into you. The position allows him to go even deeper, hitting that spot so sweet that you’re wailing.

“So wet. Wish I could feel you.” Yoongi says more to himself than you. There’s a creamy wetness wrapped around the condom, your pussy leaking with pleasure.

You begin to pant, eyes snapping shut. You were beginning to think that maybe you were becoming dick drunk, because your next words surprise you just as it does him. “If you can pull out, you can take off the condom. Cum on me, too.”

“Shit, baby, really?” Yoongi halts his thrusts. Did he hear you correctly? “You can’t be that high.” he jokes.

“Fuck you.” you hiss low. “Just take it off and fuck me, Yoongi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yoongi does as he’s told, quickly getting up to undress his bottom half. He removes the condom and looks around.

“Just throw it-”

“I’m not throwing it on the ground.” Yoongi raises a brow. “I’m not a caveman.” He was far too respectful and sanitary for that,even if it was just for a moment.

You huff and nod, pointing behind you to the direction of the bathroom.

Yoongi dashes down the hall, discards the condom, and rushes back. He kisses your cheek quickly, centering himself back at your whole.

Yoongi winces, then shudders.

You felt better than he’d imagined - warm, wet and still tight. He’s slow at first, trying to collect himself. Your legs are over his shoulder again, and he reaches inside of you deeper and deeper.

“You look in love.” you joke, mocking him. Yoongi hasn’t looked away from your pussy since he started.

“Maybe I am.” Yoongi’s nails dig into your thighs, his thrusts picking up the pace. The sweet sounds of your moans mixed with the wet sounds of your pussy hit his ears. “You’re clenching around me so tight.” his eyes flicker to you, and he smirks. “Like you want me to cum in you.”

Yoongi pounds inside of you, each thrust aggressively deep. You don’t mean to say it - but Yoongi was playing a dangerous game as if you weren’t already high and horny.

“Maybe I do.”

Yoongi grumbles something inaudible. Indeed you were sent from the universe - he’s read about nymphs and you’re beginning to fit the description.

“You do, huh?” Yoongi opens your legs and marvels at the sight of your pussy, his cock being milked with your essence lovingly. His thumbs place itself onto your clit and he rubs. “You’re just talking. Good weed and dick would do that to you.”

Cocky Yoongi is back and damn was it hot.

You opened your eyes to see Yoongi in the act.

A mistake.

Yoongi’s looks completely feral, eyes dark with lust. His hair sticks to his forehead and his mouth is slightly agape, panting to himself. His eyes are fixed to your pussy and you decided to see just what he saw.

You were cumming now - Yoongi circling your clit just as rough as he was fucking you. His cock fits perfectly inside of you and watching the way he fucks you just sends you completely over the edge.

“There you go, baby.” chuckles Yoongl raspily, witnessing you cum for him. “You look pretty cumming on my cock.”

A few more sloppy thrusts and Yoongi’s certain he’s near. He bites his lip, pulling out of you abruptly. His cum spills on your clit, warm and slippery.

You huff, shaking your head. “You managed to pull out.” you murmur.

Yoongi falls back against the couch to catch your breath. “Almost didn’t.” he admits with a laugh. “You hungry?”

You nod your lazily, the side effects of the weed coming to you.

“I can get us something to eat.” Yoongi offers. “Free of charge. You don’t have to fuck me-”

You kick Yoongi, a rush of hot embarrassment running through you, but all the man does is laugh, gummy smile on full display.

#btswritersclub #bangtan smut #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #bts smut #trivia-yandere #bangtanwritershq #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #suga smut #suga x reader #Dilemma #trivia-yandere’s valentine’s day masterlist

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some-bunniii · 2 months

Text

Lucifer in love with an artist reader

・❥ There’s only one good way to start the day… pancakes and ice cream.

warning: mild swearing

You were awoken by something shifting against your chest. You stirred, adjusting slightly as you lay on your side.

You let the covers slide around you, the cool touch of the pillow beneath your face made you smile sleepily. That’s right, you were in your bed snuggled warmly beneath your sheets. Which is not where you remembered falling asleep last night.

Does that mean everything that happened yesterday was just a really weird dream?

If it was, it was the most vivid dream you’ve ever had. And, it seemed a little too crazy to be real. Being thrown off a balcony and being seconds away from shooting a man, all in the same night, was not a usual day for you.

Your brain was still foggy with sleep, and all you wanted to do was burrow your face farther into the pillow and drift off. Except, that pressure on your chest was making it hard to.

“KeeKee.. please, not right now..” You mumbled into the fabric, your voice laced with drowsiness. There was no response from the feline, but the form shifted slightly besides you, as if to nuzzle closer to you.

Sometimes you’d find her sleeping beside you, but that was pretty rare. Even so, you weren’t going to let her ruin your beauty sleep. With gentle movements, you slowly slid your arm forward, and your fingers brushed against soft hair.

Your palms hit a firm surface beneath the silky strands. Did KeeKee always have this long of fur? Did she gain weight too? You only ignored your suspicions, and slowly pushed her off your chest, farther across the bed. Sighing happily, you pulled the covers closer to you, embracing its warmth.

You felt something stir beside you, and the warm figure snuggled back into your chest. You groaned softly, you were too tired to take this attitude from the cat.

Lifting your arm again, your fingers quickly reached up and grasped the warm silhouette. This time, however, you let your hand travel down the form. Until you halted suddenly, your fingers grazing against something smooth and hairless. You didn’t remember KeeKee having any bald spots.

Slowly, you felt farther along. You could feel curves in the surface, cracks even.

What in the worl-

“Is this how you plan to wake me every morning?” a voice grumbled sleepily through your fingers.

Wait a second. There was a person in your bed?!

Your eyes shot open, the curtains thankfully covering the morning light from blinding you as you jumped out of the covers. Instinctively, your leg shot forward, kicking the stranger right in the side. He was sent tumbling off the bed with an audible “oomph,” and a heavy thump reverberated around the room. Followed by silence.

You kneeled on top of the bed, heart pounding as your nerves settled. You blinked, you had recognized that voice. Had that been Lucifer?!

You hurriedly crawled across the bed, your head peeking from off the side of it as you peered below you. Laying face down, was the familiar naked back of the fallen angel. His blonde hair messily spread across the wooden floor as he lay there motionless.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!! Are you okay?!” You yelled down to him. He stirred, his head nodding slowly under the hair.

“You know, not too bad actually. Believe it or not, i’ve taken harder falls.” He mumbled against the wood.

Lucifer shifted, rolling onto his back. He looked up at you, before blowing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. He looked totally fine, if not tired from the sudden awakening. A few rays of the morning light beamed through the window, casting some of his features in a red glow as he watched you. God, he was gorgeous.

“I don’t remember falling asleep in my bed, what happened?” You asked him, slowly sitting up from your position. He mirrored you, lifting his torso from the ground.

“You didn’t expect us to sleep in a chair all night, did you? I’d be cracking my back for days if that was the case. You look so peaceful when you sleep, so I couldn’t bother to wake you. But yes, I moved us to the bed.”

“So yesterday was real..” You whispered,

“Uh, yeah. I killed a bunch of scumbags and saved you from becoming a splat on the pavement. Yesterday was definitely real.”

Lucifer sat up fully, before getting to his feet. He stretched, raising his arms above his head before opening his mouth up in a yawn. He was already dressed in a pair of loose fitting sweat pants as he strolled to the bathroom. Did he put those on using magic?

You stood from the edge of the bed, quickly walking to your dresser and pulling out a casual outfit. You began slipping it on, before turning towards the open bathroom door.

You watched Lucifer’s back flex slightly as he bent over to wash his face in the sink, your eyes drinking in his figure. Lucifer looked nothing like the ancient paintings visualized him to be. Your brain immediately recalled the image of Alexandre Cabanel’s famous painting, ‘The Fallen Angel’.

It depicted Lucifer as wide-shouldered, toned from head to toe with thick muscles. Nice calves too. Yet, standing here before you, he embodied an angel much more than he did in that painting. Elegant, serene, otherworldly.

Like how the candlelight perfectly illuminated his pearly-white skin, as if he was being basked in moonlight. Or how his touch was like velvet sheets against your skin, soft and delicate as he ran his fingers down your waist.

He exuded a certain feminine grace, that enraptured you when those pretty eyes of his sent you looks of adoration as you rambled about your current fixations, or gave him more lessons in art history. You smiled warmly at the thought, he was precious to you, no doubt.

“You know what, I’m thinking.. pancakes! We’ll finally put that big kitchen downstairs to use and make some breakfast.” Lucifer broke you out of your thoughts, as he walked up to you, pulling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Damn, did he change without you even noticing again?

You smiled as he approached, the thought of food making your stomach growl. You were unbelievably hungry, seeing as there wasn’t exactly time last night to stop for a meal.

“That sounds like a good idea, we’ll get everyone else in on it too and eat together, a big hazbin-family breakfast.”

Lucifer nodded as he turned away from you, his eyes scanning the room. “Which reminds me, that means I can give Charlie the tuxedo…” He trailed off, turning to you slowly, a look of panic on his features.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lucifer rubbed a hand down his face, growling at himself. “I must have left the bag with her suit back at the club! Ugh, I'm such an idiot.”

“It’s still early, it won’t take you more than a minute to get across the city. Go get her a new one.” You commanded, pointing towards the balcony doors in your room.

Lucifer followed your finger, and then nodded quickly. “You’re right, I’ll go do that.” Quickly, he adjudged his bow-tie, before heading for the doors.

It wasn’t until his hand was just inches from the handle, did you see the rather large reddish-purple mark sticking out from the crook of his neck. Your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed as you realized what exactly caused the bruise. How did you not notice that before?!

Quickly, you ran up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face you. “Wait! You.. well-you, um… got something on your neck?”

He regarded you for a moment, confusion written across his face. “Something.. on my neck?”

Your cheeks heated again, and you quickly reached up to grab the top of his shirt. On even further inspection, and a slight adjustment of his collar, you could make out the fainted curved indents of teeth marks along his collar bone.

Did you bite him that hard last night? You shouldn’t have done that. What if Charlie saw it? That would be so awkward.

“From.. last night,” you finally uttered, “when I got a little carried away.”

Lucifer’s gaze narrowed, and then they widened slightly as he understood. A smirk tugged on his lips as he backed away from your grasp. “So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’? It’s not normal for people to be walking around with hickeys all over them for everyone to gawk at!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms.

“Why, so they won’t know I had you screaming my name, drenched on top of that table?” He asked, motioning towards the very same dining table that you had been laid over in pure bliss the night before.

You quickly averted your gaze to stop a mental picture forming, and instead met his eyes. Sending him a glare for his bluntness. Walking across the room, you bent down and pulled his overcoat from the side of your bed. Brushing off any dirt, you made your way back to Lucifer.

Silently, you wrestled him into the white garment. He stood there and watched as you adjusted his tall collar, trying your best to hide any love marks. After a little more fussing, you felt satisfied with your work and stepped back.

“There, you’re ready to go! Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to go remind everyone that I am alive.” You spoke. Last night, Lucifer had told you Angel Dust had been dropped in the lobby. It was late enough where everyone should have been asleep, and since nobody came to look for you after that, you assumed Angel had passed out and was probably working through a nasty hangover somewhere in the hotel.

You leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Lucifer’s lips, before nudging him towards the balcony doors. He turned, pulling them open and crossing the threshold. You stood in the entryway, watching him stroll to the black, metal railing. He glanced over the side, contemplating for a moment.

“Now, watch how the pro does it.” Lucifer teased as he turned to face you, his back leaning against the railing. With a little boost, he flipped himself backwards and vaulted over the metal bars. Your eyes widened in shock as he began to fall.

Right as his feet left the balcony, you ran to the railing peering over the side as you watched him plummet to the ground. Beneath him, a large, golden portal swirled alive waiting for him.

He waved up to you just as he crossed it, the portal swallowing him up and vanishing without a trace. You smiled, shaking your head at his little performance before turning back towards the doors.

For a few more minutes, you were busy tidying yourself up and trying to look presentable. You quickly squeezed some soap out of the little yellow ducky on the sink counter, and washed your hands and face. Soon, you noticed you were also adorned with a few love marks from Lucifer, and you sat in front of the mirror trying to hide them the best you could.

Feeling satisfied with your work, you turned away and headed for the doorway that led into the rest of the hotel. Grasping the handle, you slowly cracked the door open, peeking your head out slightly as you listed.

You could hear loud voices down the halls, in the direction of the lobby. There were multiple of them as if everyone was gathered in the same room, you exhaled a breath before straightening. Time to face the music.

Heading down the stairs, you strolled through the hallways. The voices became more and more audible as you closed in on the large, open room.

“-and then, I looked behind them and there was this guy all bloody and shit, pointing a gun right at Lucifer! I barely saw anything else happen b’for I was sucked into this.. golden portal or something.” Angel Dust’s voice echoed through the lobby, as he retold the events of last night. He was standing in front of the T.V, the residents of the hotel listening from the couches circled around him. They leaned in, engrossed in his story.

“Next thing I knew, my ass hit the floor right here. God.. I was just so out of it I practically passed out where I was. I don’t remember seeing either of them after that.. hey! you!” Angel’s eyes widened as he noticed you walking towards them. Suddenly, the entire hotel’s gaze was locked onto you.

Charlie quickly shot up from the couch, hurrying over to you. She scanned your figure, searching for any injuries as you stopped before her. After noting nothing serious was wrong with you, she took your hand, gripping it tightly. “Where have you been? Angel just told us everything that happened! Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, I'm fine. I wasn’t hurt at all.” You assured the princess, smiling at her. Turning to the spider-demon, you scanned him for any injuries as well. “How about you, Angel. Are you okay?”

“Pfft, yeah. I’m okay. Just a lil shaken up, especially after watching you almost get shot. It seemed you got a good sleep, though.”

“Wait, you’ve been here this whole fucking time. Did anyone else know that?” Vaggie called from the couch, crossing her arms as she stood up.

“I did. They’ve been here all night.” Nifty spoke from the floor, her single eye staring into you.

How did she know that? Did Nifty.. hear anything?

“Uhm.. yes, that’s right. Yesterday was just rough. So, I went to sleep right away.” You answered, lying through your teeth.

“And my dad?” Charlie questioned.

You shrugged, “I have no clue.”

“Well, at least our dear friend is back safe and sound!” A familiar voice exclaimed from next to you. You jumped slightly, turning to see Alastor and his award-winning smile as he looked at you. “Charlie insisted that I come find you, but I assured her you are capable of handling your own affairs. Especially, with our lovely king to protect you.”

You smiled slightly at him, “Yes, indeed. I’m sorry for not coming to see you guys sooner. I just got.. distracted.”

“With what?” Angel asked, an eyebrow raised and hands on his hips. You paused, before opening your mouth to speak.

You weren’t able to get a word out before you heard a thumping coming from the front doors of the hotel. Everyone turned towards the noise, and through the stained glass, you could make out the silhouette of a rather tall hat peeking from the bottom of the glass.

“Well, ain’t that a little too good of timing.” Husk grumbled from the bar, as he leaned over the counter to get a look at the doorway. You silently agreed, that was fast.

Charlie recognized the familiar figure as well, and quickly ran to the door. She yanked it open, and there he was. Lucifer stood, adorned in his full outfit, a pink bag in his hand as he strode into the room. Next to you, you swore Alastor’s grip on his cane tightened.

“Charlie, good morning! How are you doing, sweetheart?” Lucifer beamed as he embraced her, who accepted the hug gratefully.

“I’m good, dad. But, what about you? I heard what happened! Did you kill people?” She eyed him with a firm stare, as if in disapproval of his actions.

Lucifer shrugged, “Only bad people, I had to protect your spider-friend over there. You should keep a better eye on him.”

“Apparently,” Charlie sighed, glancing at Angel behind them before turning back to her father, “and where have you been?”

Lucifer’s gaze momentarily landed on you, and you shook your head slightly. ‘Don’t say anything about it,’ you commanded him through your eyes. Especially not with everyone in the room, hungry for more information.

“Oh, wellllll, I was just in town and snagged this for you!” Lucifer lifted up the pink bag, a nervous smile on his lips as he held it out for Charlie to take.

Eyeing it curiously, Charlie gently took it from his hands. She peered into it, her eyes widening as she reached in and lifted the garment from its wrapping.

It was that same red suit that you had eyed through the glass display the day before, gold lapels shimmered in the light above. It was very beautiful, and you thought it would look good against Charlie’s ivory skin.

Charlie didn’t say anything, instead, she just stood there. The tuxedo in her grip, opened fully to reveal the entire garment. Her fingers lightly trailed down the front of it, grazing across the buttons and textured sleeves. Her eyes were unreadable, a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“Did you.. buy this for me?” She asked after a moment, looking up at Lucifer. He met her gaze, seemingly a little nervous from her reaction.

“Well, you said the one you had was getting a bunch of wear and tear, so I thought that would look perfect on you. Do.. you like it?”

“I love it!” Charlie exclaimed with glee, she set the suit aside and pulled her father into another bear hug. “Thank you so much! It's wonderful, especially since it’s from you!”

Lucifer exhaled a sigh of relief at her words, he tightened his arms around her, trying to capture every second of her loving gesture in his hold. He smiled warmly, and for a moment it looked like he was going to tear up.

He didn’t, instead he pulled away, straightening his back. He cleared his throat, rubbing at his face before looking back at Charlie. The adoration in his eyes was on full display, and if anyone ever doubted that the mighty king didn’t love his daughter, you’d slap them.

Adjusting his collar, Lucifer turned towards the group of onlookers. “Now, who wants some pancakes?”

Everyone seemed to perk at that, and Nifty hopped from her spot next to Alastor, raising her hand in excitement.

“As long as they are sssstrawberry pancakesss!” Sir. Pentious declared as he rose from his seat, slithering towards the swinging doors, where the large kitchen lay behind. His little eggs waddling after him, a chorus of ‘oh boy!’s rose from the shells.

“Cmon,” Husk beckoned Angel Dust as he left the bar, “Let's get something in your stomach to fight that hangover of yours.”

“Oh, yes please” Angel smiled, joining the bartender. Even Alastor seemed interested in joining them in the other room, as he slowly followed behind the group.

“I’m kinda feeling waffles today.” Vaggie spoke up, her hand entwined with Charlie’s as they walked.

“We can make whatever you wish,” you responded, smiling at her, “except, maybe not eggs. At least with the company we’re keeping.”

Pushing open the red doors, the flooring shifted into large, white marble tiles. The room was stuffed with cabinets and pantries, multiple fridges also dotted its perimeter. Long, creamy-white stone countertops lined the walls, as well as a large kitchen island in the center of the space.

There was an empty space on the other side of the room, big enough to hold a large dining table and chairs. It was actually a great place to do something like that, but where could

Behind you, Lucifer was pulling different ingredients out of the fridge. The shelves were surprisingly well stocked, even the pantries above as he continued to pull out items of importance.

“Dad, shouldn’t you take off your coat?” Charlie asked beside him, as she tied an apron around her waist. You tensed, slowly pivoting to their direction.

Lucifer halted, a box of baking powder hanging in mid-air between his fingers. His gaze snapped to you, then back to Charlie. You were desperately hoping no one could see the sweat beading down your forehead.

“You’re right,” Lucifer started, as he placed the baking powder on the counter, “I can’t cook with such loose sleeves.”

He snapped his fingers, and it seemed like the coat began to melt against his skin, shifting into a white turtleneck. The long neck sleeve covered the hickeys that peppered the sides of his throat, continuing to hide your previous entanglement. And, damn, he looked really nice in that outfit too.

Tying on a red apron with the words ‘Kiss the chef’ embroidered on the front. After pulling up his sleeves, Lucifer began to pull out mixing bowls and other utensils.

“Just you wait, Charlie, after today you’ll never want anyone else’s pancakes again. My recipe is the best there is.” He spoke, puffing out his chest slightly as he addressed his daughter.

Charlie only laughed softly, pulling out a box containing waffle mix as she sidled up next to her dad. “I don’t doubt that one bit!”

As the two continued prepping to cook, you turned to grab an apron of your own. As you walked to the wooden hooks hanging on the wall, you took note of the others around you.

Angel, Husk, and Sir. Pentious huddled together over another counter, a carton of milk and a jar of strawberry jam laid in front of them.

“How ‘bout we make ya some strawberry milk while we wait, snake boy?” He asked, a playful smile on his lips. Sir. Pentious nodded quickly, his hood raised in happiness.

Using a tablespoon to take a few scoops out of the jar, he plopped them into an empty cocktail mixer that he borrowed from the bar. Pouring in the milk, he placed the lid on the mixer, before handing it to Husk.

With a few shakes—and a couple of party tricks consisting of him catching the mixer behind his back, and spinning it across his forearm—the lid was popped off, and Husk poured the bright pink liquid into the glass cup in front of Sir. Pentious.

Both demons clapped for the bartender, who smiled proudly at the reaction. Sir. Pentious gingerly lifted the glass to his lips, before taking a small sip. After a moment, eyes lit up, a large smile on his face.

He took another large gulp, before thanking Angel Dust and Husk for the drink.

“Oh, and don’t forget about my egg boisss.” Sir. Pentious turned to Angel Dust, pointing at the small group of eggs looking enviously up at the drink in his claws.

Angel looked down, his eyes darting to the ingredients in front of him, before he simply shrugged. “Alright, who’s thirsty?”

“I would like some, please!” Frank yelled excitedly, the eggs behind him jumping in place with large smiles on their faces.

Angel Dust chuckled, turning away to grab more glasses. Husk was already preparing the scoops of jam, licking a small mess of the red foodstuff from his claws.

Grabbing the apron from the hook, you adjusted it to your figure, tying it tight behind your back. Next to you, Vaggie was holding a knife in her hand. She was looking down, a firm gaze aimed at Nifty.

“No, Niff. This is not a place to run around with a knife. You can get it back after breakfast.”

Nifty’s shoulders drooped, a frown on her face as she walked away. She passed by Alastor, who stood silently, watching the bustling group of demons. Wasn’t he going to join in? He was technically part of the Hazbin family.

Slowly, you approached him, and his gaze snapped to you. His smile widened as he turned to you, the cane at his side rolling between his fingers.

“Ah, hello there, my friend! Good to see you alive and well, ha-ha,” His eyes squinted as he tilted his head at you, “what can I do for you today?”

“Don’t you want some food? We’ll be cooking soon. It doesn’t have to be breakfast, I think we have enough here to make whatever you want.”

Alastor actually contemplated your question for a moment, his eyes staring off in thought. “Hm, well, there was something I had in mind, but the seasoning it needs is not in my possession anymore.”

“What happened to it?” You asked curiously.

“I simply gave it to someone more in need of it than I. Hopefully, she’ll be putting good use to it.”

A lady friend? You wanted to ask about this ‘someone’, but felt prying wouldn’t get you anywhere with the mysterious overlord. Instead, you beckoned him to follow as you walked towards the counter space Lucifer and Charlie were situated at.

You both stopped at the creamy-white marbled island. On its surface, was a large recipe book and different ingredients spread across. Alastor had to like something here, even if it wasn’t a decaying deer.

“Let’s see.. we could do french toast, yogurt parfaits, breakfast burritos, oh! We even could make hash browns! What do you think?”

Alastor bent down to look besides you, his eyes scanning the pages. He opened his mouth to speak, before his gaze snapped to another demon coming into view.

“Darling, i’ve finished the pancake mix. I was thinking you could…” Lucifer stopped, locking eyes with the Radio Demon. A frown formed on his lips, and his brow furrowed. “Oh. It’s you.”

That smile Alastor held widened, as he straightened himself and turned towards the fallen angel. You grimaced, not again.

“Your majesty! What a pleasure to see you this hellish morning, I apologize for not being able to greet you when you arrived earlier.”

“A tragedy.” Lucifer responded mildly, before his eyes settled on you.

“Well isn’t this nice! The four of us, all working together to make this breakfast special.” Charlie appeared besides her father, a smile on her lips as she tried to lighten the situation.

“Yes, I was just asking Alastor what else he thinks we should make.” You nodded along, before turning to the demon for his input.

“It appears your menu contains a less-than-ideal amount of meat, my friend. Perhaps, some bacon roll-ups? They were a staple for meals back in my days on earth. Very simple as well, just cream cheese, bread, and bacon!”

You were aware of what he was talking about. They were made by putting cream cheese on a slice of bread, before using a strip of bacon to roll it into a ball. You’d spear it with a toothpick and bake it for about twenty minutes, and wala, an odd delicacy.

“That is a great idea! Isn’t it, dad?” Charlie asked, nudging her father with her elbow, prodding for a response.

“It sounds kind of gross.”

“Dad!” Charlie turned, a slight growl in her voice. “Say something nice!”

“Bacon is much better than venison, though!” Lucifer quickly responded, following his daughter’s demand. You place a hand to your face, sighing at his antics. A hint of smile played on your lips as you walked forward, pulling Lucifer away by the arm.

Charlie turned back to Alastor, their conversation inaudible as you walked away. You went to the opposite side of the kitchen, where the bowl full of pancake batter lay. Flour messily covered the countertop,

“You two need to learn to get along, you bicker like an old married couple.” You said after a few moments.

Lucifer shot you a look, visibly distraught by your comment. “That guy gets on my nerves! If it weren’t for Charlie liking him so much, I'd smite him.”

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy,” you teased, leaning against him. You both sat there for a few moments, silently indulging in each other's presence. Later, you’d ask to seek his company in the privacy of your room. For now, you pulled away, grabbing the mixing bowl.

“So, what did you need my help with?”

“I thought you’d like to give the pancakes a little.. shape,” he started, turning towards the stove and spinning the dial, “use that artistic talent of yours and make a delicious masterpiece, hm?”

You perked, he wants you to make pancake art? What a wonderful idea! This was something you have never done before, but you’ve seen enough videos to imitate it. “I’ll go get some dark food coloring, and another mixing bowl.”

Lucifer began placing pans onto the stove burners, placing small amounts of butter in each. They sizzled as the pan began to heat. You stood besides him, slowly stirring the batter as you hummed to the tune of ‘innsbruck, I must leave thee’

Soon, Lucifer was humming the notes as well, and you smiled warmly as the two of you stood-by-side, drowning out the other’s chatter with your little tune.

Nearby, Vaggie and Charlie were giggling to each other as they placed the waffle mix into its designated maker. Small bowls of different fruit and syrup spread around, as they prepared the toppings.

Alastor stood beside them, a large cooking fork floating mid-air in front of him. Small tendrils snaked around the utensil as it occasionally lowered to the pan in front of him to adjust the bacon.

“Hey, Al! Why don’cha give us a table over here so we can have somewhere to eat?” Angel Dust called, a stack of plates in his hand. The egg bois stood patiently around him, each holding a set of silverware and napkins.

Alastor turned to the spider-demon before humming a confirmation. Lifting his hand, he snapped his fingers. A large oak table materialized from a cloud of green smoke, a long, red table-runner rolled free as it hung slightly off the edges.

Chairs seemingly rose from the floor like the undead, rocking slightly as they settled around the table. The egg bois rushed forward, clumsily climbing up the chairs as they began placing the silverware. Using his extra arms, Angel quickly placed the plates down, before doing the same with the glass cups.

Husk raised Nifty by the waist, allowing her to reach over the table and pour the different liquid contents into their respectable glasses.

Strawberry milk for Sir. Pentious and his bois, water for Alastor, and chocolate milk for Vaggie and Charlie. Apple juice filled Lucifer’s cup, and your favorite drink was topped to the brim right next to his.

In front of you, two bowls of batter laid beside the stove you stood at. One was a dark brown, the other a much lighter shade.

You had cleaned two ketchup bottles, before slowly pouring in the different batters and filling them full. Using the bottles, you’d make batter shapes on the pan, and use the lighter shade to fill in the lineart.

Right now, you were attempting to make the outline of a duck—who would have thought?—for Lucifer. It was coming out surprisingly well, in your opinion. The lines were rather smooth, and the beak looked like a beak so all seemed good.

You switched bottles, ready to begin filling in the pancake. Before you felt someone sidle up behind you, fingers grazed softly down your back with familiar warmth.

“What are you doing now?” Lucifer peeked from behind you, getting a glimpse of your work. You moved over slightly, inviting him in front of your cooking easel.

“Take a guess,” you smiled next to him, “I figured you’d want something cute to start off your day.”

“Well, it seems you made it too cute to eat.” Lucifer pouted, as he stared at the little pancake. You laughed, reaching for a spatula and gripping the pan handle with the other hand.

“And it’s too cute to let it get cold and then throw it away.” You spoke, lowering the spatula into the pan. You shimmied it underneath the pancake, before flipping it quickly. As it landed, the image of the duck became much clearer, the lines flat and smooth.

“I’m just glad you love me enough to combine my two favorite things.” Lucifer smiled, before he nuzzled his cheek softly against yours. You moved your head slightly, letting your lips graze against his cheekbone.

Looking down at the pancake, you lifted it slightly to check whether it was done. Seeing the golden-brown hue, you lifted the ban from the burner. Slowly, you slid the duck-cake onto the finished pile.

There were two plates of hot, delicious pancakes. One was simply everyday pancakes, which Lucifer had made. Yours on the other hand were handcrafted Each one was a unique shape. There was a smiley face, an octopus, a butterfly, a fish, and now, a duck. You smiled proudly at your creations.

Picking up the plates of pancakes, the two of you walked towards the dining table. The egg bois were already seated, and the others were finishing up their tasks.

“Finally, let’s eat!” Vaggie called towards the group of demons slowly gathering around the table. Charlie picked up a few waffles from the stack, and placed them on a few plates.

Vaggie appeared next to her, a small plate of french toast in her grip as she too began moving around the table.

Alastor set a large, flat dish in the middle of the table. Small toothpicks stuck out of the bacon wraps, steam wafting slowly from the interior. Nifty reached out and grabbed one, placing it on her plate.

You turned towards the pile of pancakes, grabbing a spatula to begin setting them on a separate plate before Lucifer slid beside you, watching your movements.

“I’ve got this, Darling. You go sit down.” He nudged you away from the plates, towards the table. You sent him a warm smile, before turning and taking a seat next to Sir. Pentious and Husk.

“Saved a seat for me, did’ya?” Angel Dust smiled at Husk, before plopping down into the seat next to him. He had a large fruit bowl, a multitude of sliced colorful produce nestled together.

“Only because you’d bitch if I didn’t,” Husk replied, a faint smile playing on his lips as he drank from his glass. To be honest, this was the first time you saw Husk take a sip of something that wasn’t alcohol.

Charlie lowered the large plate of remaining waffles onto the table, before brushing her hands against her apron and walking to her own seat.

“Dig in, everyone!” she exclaimed, her smile infectious as she served herself a stack of french toast.

Nifty’s eyes widened in delight as she took a bite of the bacon wrap, while Sir Pentious marveled at the designs of your handcrafted pancakes.

“Here you go, little lady.” Lucifer bowed slightly to Nifty, setting down the steaming tower of pancakes in front of her. She clapped her hands with giddy, before turning to Lucifer and giving him a pat on the cheek.

“Good boy.” She teased, before bursting into giggles.

Lucifer’s smile faltered, and he leaned back. He chuckled nervously, backing away to grab more food. He quickly walked around the table, before setting waffles onto each of the eggs boi’s plates. They licked their lips hungrily, as they stared down at the delicacy in front of them. Lucifer stood up, a hand slowly reaching behind his back.

“A good friend of mine told me you boys fancy ice cream, is that right?” He looked at Frank, who nodded his shell rapidly. Lucifer grinned cheekily, as he pulled forth a large tub of vanilla ice cream.

“Well, good thing for you, nobody said you can’t mix a little dessert with breakfast once in a while.”

The egg bois practically went berserk seeing the holy grail of yummy deliciousness. They vibrated happily in their seats as Lucifer scooped a large glob on top of each egg’s waffles. It began to slowly melt, running across the waffles surface like syrup.

He stepped back, as the eggs began to devour the food on their plates. Mumbling a thanks through their full mouths as Lucifer strode away, grabbing pancakes for himself.

He sat down across from you, his eyes moving from the scene around him and then on to you. He stared at you for a moment, while you were busy stuffing your face with the food on your plate. After a moment, you met his gaze.

“Food too hot, or something? You keep staring at me.” You teased, tilting your head at him.

“It’s just hard to tear my gaze away,” he spoke, “when there is something much more delicious in front of me than the pancakes on my plate.”

Your cheeks heated, and you averted your gaze, reaching out to grab a bacon wrap. You twisted the toothpick between your fingers, and inhaled the scent as it wafted from the small bundle.

It wasn’t too bad, and you were about to take a nibble before you saw Lucifer’s watery eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him, and he only sniffled in response.

“You’re going to eat his wraps before you eat my pancakes?” He pouted, lowering his head in mock-defeat. Rolling your eyes playfully, you took a fork and cut a small piece of pancake from the rest. Taking the bacon wrap, you stabbed the other end of the toothpick through the small square.

Lifting the bacon-pancake duo to your lips, you pulled them from the toothpick with your teeth. You swirled it in your mouth, your eyes rolling back as the flavors burst on your tongue.

When you looked back at Lucifer, he was staring intensely at you. A smirk playing on his lips, before he sighed dramatically.

“Now what is it?”

“Nothing.. just thinking about how that could be me.”

You burst out laughing when those words left his lips, shocked at his sudden bluntness. Sir Pentious turned to you, giving you a look of worry as you almost choked on your food.

After a moment, you cleared your throat. You sent Lucifer a glare for almost killing you, and he only chuckled before turning his attention from you.

Charlie, who had been sitting a few chairs away, turned to you. She smiled warmly as she spoke, “thank you for helping us with this. I really liked your butterfly pancake!”

You returned the smile, nodding your head. “It was no problem at all, I think we all deserve to have a good meal surrounded by friends. It’s you who brought us all together, so thank you.”

Charlie blushed at your words, before turning her attention back to Vaggie. Who was talking to her about an idea regarding the hotel.

You looked around the table, taking note of the smiling faces and cheerful conversation. Alastor was helping Nifty cut some of her pancakes, his precise strikes with the knife seemed familiar to that of cutting steaks.

Sir Pentious was handing his eggs each a piece of french toast, helping them drown it in syrup as they sat there happily. Slight traces of ice cream still around their mouths.

Angel Dust and Husk were busy picking fruit from the bowl, with Angel making some kind of lude comment as he watched fruit juice dribble down Husk’s chin. Who only growled and playfully swatted at the spider-demon.

Your gaze stopped in front of you, resting on Lucifer. He had finished almost his entire plate, and now was resting his chin against his knuckles. His elbow rested against the table, and he shifted slightly to tilt his head at you.

“Well, what do you think? Would you have preferred breakfast in bed?” He asked, taking another sip of his apple juice.

You shook your head, smiling at him. Contentedness spreads across your features as you let the food settle in your stomach.

“No, I could get used to mornings like this,” you spoke softly.

Lucifer nodded, his fingers reaching out to graze yours. You laced your index finger with his, and tapped his knuckles softly.

“Yeah, me too.”

who doesn’t enjoy some fluff about cooking with your lover? just pure fluff today, but i hope you guys enjoyed this! :)

sorry about that long wait, forgive me 🙏

taglist: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @kottenox

#lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hellaverse

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bratzforchris · 1 month

Text

Ways to Say "I Love You", C. Sturniolo

Summary: Five times you knew Chris better than himself, and the one time you didn't<3

Pairing: Chris x feminine reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking/hangover (y'all i know he's techinally not of legal drinking age in the USA. this is fiction)

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I genuinely need this man in my life so bad actually. Anyways, enjoy some tooth rotting fluff. XOXO<3

“Bruh,” Chris groaned, leaning his head back against the couch cushions. “I feel like shit and I don’t even know why.”

You looked up from your phone, eyeing your boyfriend up and down. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he whined, rolling off the couch dramatically. “My head hurts and I’m tired.”

You sat up from the gray couch, standing over Chris, who was sprawled on the floor, pouting and whining. You definitely felt bad for him, but at the same time, you knew Chris tended to over dramatize the smallest, most random things. “Do you have a fever?”

Chris shook his head, rolling from his back to his stomach, but not getting off the floor. “I don’t feel sick, but I just feel like horse shit and I don’t know why.”

You observed him for a moment, before an idea dawned on you. Having ADHD, Chris tended to forget to eat and drink, so hyperfixated on something or too many thoughts in his head blocking the reminders to fuel his body. He was medicated for it, which both helped and hurt. Sometimes, he would be able to focus enough to remember his meals, but other times, the meds would dissipate his hunger cues. “When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?”

“Hmmm,” Chris’s blue eyes looked thoughtful for a moment before he shrugged. “Dunno. Which is weird because I’ve usually had like, six Pepsis by now, but we’re out and Matt didn’t go to the grocery store yesterday, so…I don’t know.”

You shook your head with a soft chuckle, helping your boyfriend up off the floor. “I think that might be the problem, sweetheart. Is there something you want to eat?”

“Do we have chicken nuggets?” Chris asked you, picking up one of the stim toys he had left on the floor last night as he followed you into the kitchen. “That reminds me, isn’t it weird that chickens can’t fly? Like…are they even real birds?” he asked you.

“I dunno, hun. Google it.” You told him gently, pulling the bag of chicken nuggets out of the freezer.”

“Do you think chickens are sad that they can’t fly? Like do they look at cardinals and go ‘Damn, why can he fly but not me’?” he hummed, flicking at the toy.

Chris was wrapped up in his own little world as you made his lunch. He didn’t even get the chance to Google his chicken question before he was distracted by a Spotify notification, which led to him loudly singing a Lil Skies song, dancing around the kitchen. As much as you hated how difficult ADHD could be for him, Chris had one of the best personalities you had ever met; he was bubbly and outgoing, always the life of the party and always willing to cheer you up. You quickly plated his nuggets, along with some other random foods that you knew he would love, before sliding the plate across the island too.

“See if that makes you feel better.” You explained with a soft smile.

You watched as Chris downed the food, along with a Gatorade you had given him, only to see a smile dawn on his face.

“I feel better now,” Chris mumbled shyly after a while. “Thank you. You’re the best girlfriend I could ever ask for. You literally always know me better than myself, it’s kinda weird.”

“Why is it weird?” You asked with a snort.

“Cause it’s like you’re magical or something. Which it would be really cool if you were.”

You smiled, kissing Chris’s soft brown hair. “I love you too, hun.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Tour life was difficult. No one would deny that. As much as the triplets were absolutely loving the Versus tour and all the antics they were getting to do, as well as meeting fans, they had to admit that it was exhausting. Not only were they running on an extremely tight schedule, it was wearing on Chris the most, simply because he was getting next to no alone time with you. It wasn’t that he simply wanted the alone time for sexual reasons, rather, you were the only person that could calm his mind, letting him just be.

“Baby,” You hummed, softly stroking the brunette’s face. It was still dark out, just past six am, but you had a surprise for him, and you knew Chris would later complain about his sleeping in if he found the missed opportunity. “Wake up, honey.”

Chris wriggled beneath the blankets, sleepily blinking his blue eyes. He was freezing and it was dark out; way too early to be awake. “Too early.” he groaned in his morning voice, rolling over to face the wall with the blanket bunched around his shoulders.

“I have a surprise for you.” You said, a bit more excitement in your voice as you shook him harder.

The word ‘surprise’ immediately woke the boy up as he rolled to face you. You were already dressed in one of his hoodies and a pair of leggings, eager to get on with your plan. You were practically bouncing up and down like an excited little kid, hoping Chris would love what you had come up with as much as you did.

“Why the fuck are you awake? It’s dark out,” he moaned. “Come cuddle me instead.”

You snorted at your boyfriend’s dramatics, quietly pulling back his blanket so as not to disturb Matt and Nick. “Get dressed, you big goof. We’re leaving in ten.”

As much as he wanted to argue and go back to sleep, Chris couldn’t deny that he wanted to understand what had caused the giddiness in your aura. He quickly pulled on his favorite hoodie and sweatpants, cramming his messy hair under a snapback as he followed you down the bus steps and out onto the quiet, dark sidewalk. He didn't know where the bus had stopped during the night. Philly maybe? But he didn’t get time to think about that as you simply nodded to one of the members of the triplets security and then took his hand, dragging him down the sidewalk.

“Where are we going? I miss my blanket.” Chris pouted.

“Me too,” You nodded, trying your hardest not to disclose the surprise. “But I do have something that’ll make you feel better.”

Chris didn’t know where you were going at this point, but he followed you anyway. He would’ve followed in any life, had someone asked him the question. You two continued to walk for a few more blocks until you stopped in front of a brightly lit diner, its neon signs illuminating the darkness of the street.

“Pancakes?” Your boyfriend asked, perking up as the smell of bacon drifted from the restaurant. “Goddamn, I knew I made the right choice dating you.”

“I am pretty amazing,” You giggled, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Let’s eat.”

You stepped into the diner together, immediately being sat at a booth and having your order taken. You and Chris both ordered an immense amount of breakfast food, quite tired of the protein shakes and cereal that came with bus life.

“How did you, um, find this place?” Chris asked bashfully, stirring his straw around his Pepsi.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee. “I was just looking for things for us to do alone and it came up,” You hummed. “I love Matt and Nick, I really do, but I also like to have one-on-one time with you, and I could kind of tell you needed some, too.”

“How do you always manage to know exactly what I need when I need it?” he asked with a chuckle, brushing his hand over your knuckles.

You smiled, a blush dotting your cheeks as your waitress came over with a tray full of all the food you had ordered. “I just do.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Baby,” Chris whined, sprawling out across your shared queen sized bed. “Don’t leave me. I don’t need food, nor do I want it.”

“But you do.” You said pointedly, looking him up and down as you slipped on your Uggs.

“Nuh uh,” he fought back, smashing his face against a pillow. “You’re making me feel sick by not laying with me.”

“I’m not making you feel sick. Your choices are making you feel sick. No one told you to drink as much as you did.” You chastised gently, crossing the room to kiss his forehead.

You and Chris, as well as his brothers, had gone out last night with a large group of friends, to include Johnnie and Jake, Tara, Larray, and Sam and Colby. Things had gotten a little…out of hand, leaving you with a very hungover Chris, who was making miserable noises as he clutched his stomach.

“You’re not even laying with me,” Your boyfriend pouted. “My head and tummy hurt and I wanna be cuddled and you’re being mean.”

“You’re so grumpy when you’re hungover,” You snorted, kissing his forehead again. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

Chris whimpered again as you propped him up with several pillows, tucking him in and making sure he had water and a bucket nearby. You had opted to get him IHOP, figuring a good amount of carbs would ease the symptoms he was currently experiencing as a consequence of overindulging in alcohol. The time between you leaving the triplets house, picking up food, and returning home was less than forty five minutes total, but it felt like an eternity to your hungover boyfriend who simply wanted cuddles and for his headache and nausea to go away.

You entered the bedroom, takeout bag in hand. “I’m back. Nothing to cure a hangover like a big, greasy breakfast,” You smiled, settling onto the bed and pulling out plastic containers of food. “Once you eat, you can take some ibuprofen for your headache.”

“I’m not hungry.” Chris whispered softly, feeling too unsettled to eat.

“You know your tummy will feel better once you eat.” You cooed, stroking his stomach over the comforter.

“Nuh uh.” he groaned, snuggling further into his pillow and blanket.

“It will and you know it. You know you can’t drink that much, hun. I dunno what you expected to happen.” You explained softly, pushing some hair out of his face gently.

As much as he wanted to continue to whine and be difficult, Chris had to admit you were right. A good breakfast and some sleep sounded really, really good right about now. He softly sat up, taking a sip of the Gatorade you had left on his bedside table last night. “Mkay…I’ll try to eat, I guess.”

You didn’t say much as you two began to eat your breakfast. You knew Chris probably had a raging hangover headache right about now, and you didn’t want to make it any worse. Once your boyfriend had had enough to eat and taken the pain relievers, he curled up into your side, placing your hand on his stomach.

“...you were right,” he admitted quietly, always hating to be wrong. “Now I need belly rubs and sleep.”

“So demanding,” You fake huffed, kissing his forehead. “Get some rest, hun. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Chris Sturniolo was not the type to let anyone know he was upset. Sure, he would jokingly whine and complain about things when he felt like being irritating to his brothers, but he would never actually let anyone see when his feelings were hurt. You knew this about him, and after a little over a year together, you knew the signs that he was feeling this way as well.

The four of you were currently sitting in Matt’s car in a random parking lot, filming a car video. You opted to sit in the back and mostly listen with an amused look. After all, this was the triplets video, not yours. They hadn’t really planned a topic for today either, which ever bubbly Chris took to his advantage.

“I need to pee,” he stated to no one in particular. “I got a new water bottle and so now I’ve been motivated to stay hydrated so I need to pee.”

“Why did you say water bottle like that?” Matt snorted.

The boys continued back and forth with their bickering for a while, mostly making fun of the way Chris had said the word. You simply sat and laughed, enjoying all the weird conversations that came up, that is until Nick harshly interrupted Chris.

“Do you ever shut up?” he asked. “Like genuinely, do you ever shut your mouth?”

“I do sometimes.” Chris protested.

“Nuh uh,” Matt interjected. “You couldn’t go five minutes without talking. I bet on it. You’re one of those people on the list Nick was talking about. The one who could benefit from being quiet.”

“Fine. Time starts now.” Chris ‘locked’ his lips and pretended to throw away the key.

You knew he was just going along with the video, but you could tell by the slump of your boyfriend’s shoulders and the way he had his forehead resting against the cool window that the comments had hurt him more than he let on. Nick and Matt continued to talk for a few minutes, before landing on a topic that immediately sparked Chris’s mind. He quickly decided to speak up, forgetting about their ‘challenge’.

“You can’t do it,” Matt laughed, a triumphant look on his face. “Chris can’t stop yapping…wait, that should be the title of this video.”

Nick laughed and fist bumped his middle triplet, but you found the joke far from funny. Chris had slowly curled into himself throughout the duration of the video, speaking less and less. He was still appearing to be smiling and having a good time, but his overall demeanor had shifted, and you could tell his brothers’ teasing was getting to him.

“We should get home. It’s getting late…” You mumbled softly once the car had quieted down.

Chris turned around in his seat, giving you a thankful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Matt nodded at your statement, turning the key in the ignition and beginning the short drive back to your shared LA home. Everyone was quiet, which was a rare occurrence in this car. You would’ve thought that Matt and Nick would’ve noticed Chris’s unusual silence, but somehow they didn’t. Your boyfriend lingered to get out as his brothers clomped inside the house, laughing about a random joke.

“You okay, hun?” You asked, climbing from the backseat to the driver’s seat, resting your hand on his arm.

“‘M fine.” Chris mumbled, leaning his head against the window.

“You don’t act very fine.” You whispered gently, running your fingers through the soft, brown curls at the nape of his neck.

“Do you think I talk too much?” Chris whispered quietly, turning towards you.

Under the bright light of the garage, you could see unshed tears welling in his lash line, threatening to spill. That’s how you knew Chris was upset. He almost never cried, unless he was really and truly upset.

“Honey,” You said sadly, running your thumb across his cheek. “Of course not, bubba. I love listening to you talk.”

“Well Matt and Nick sure don’t.” he huffed grumpily, but a sniffle made its way out.

“Yeah…I was going to talk to them about that, actually. They were kinda being dickheads to you tonight.” You whispered, always hating conflict between the triplets.

“They were right,” Chris groaned, burying his head in his hands. “I can’t shut my fucking mouth and everyone thinks it’s annoying!”

“Sweetheart,” You cooed, pulling him into a hug across the console. “I don’t, and I say that with every promise in me. I love listening to you talk, Chris. Your voice is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard and I learn so much from you every day.”

“Really?” he sniffled, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Really, hun,” You smiled, softly brushing it away. “I love you.”

Chris smiled, giving you a soft peck on the lips. “You always just know, don’t you? You always know when I’m sick or tired or when something’s wrong. God, I love you.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You had always loved music, ever since you were little. Something about how a simple arrangement of notes could make a person feel so many emotions captivated you. It was like a language that you didn't have to learn to understand. By the time you were eleven, you’d been playing guitar and ukulele, and that later expanded to piano and bass. Music was absolutely your therapy, and you took every opportunity you had to practice your craft.

You were sitting on the floor of your and Chris’s shared bedroom, strumming softly on your acoustic guitar. For once, the house was quiet because the boys were out filming a video, so you took the time to practice one of the new songs you had been working on lately. Being a music major allowed you very little time for your separate projects, so you would take whatever chance you could get.

The silence didn’t last long, though. Just as you were playing an Em chord, Chris burst into the room, flopping on the bed. “Hey mamas, how was your day?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but continued to strum your guitar. “It was wonderful…until I was so rudely interrupted.”

“You know you love me,” Chris teased, rolling onto his stomach and propping his chin in his hands. “Play me a song.”

“God, you are so demanding,” You chuckled. “What’s next? An autograph?”

“Mhm. On my boobs.” Your boyfriend smiled.

You shook your head with a laugh, throwing a guitar pick at him. “You’re insane.”

You didn’t waste any more in Chris’s antics, though. You fulfilled your boyfriend’s request, quietly beginning to play Falling like the Stars and singing along. Chris said nothing more, cherishing the sound of your voice. He loved hearing you sing and play guitar. It soothed him, allowing him to see the passionate parts of you that only came out in your music. He wished that he could do the things that you did, but he had just never taken the time to learn an instrument.

You looked up at your boyfriend on the bed after you finished the song, smiling softly. You watched Chris for a moment, observing his body language and the way he was looking at you. “Do you…want to learn?” You asked him quietly, a blush dotting your cheeks.

“You’d teach me?” Chris’s cheeks and ears grew pink as he looked at you shyly.

“I’d love to.” You nodded with a smile.

Your boyfriend clambered off the bed, sitting down next to you on the rug. You softly began to explain the different parts of an acoustic guitar and how to hold it, before moving onto chords and strumming. Chris had always been a fast learner when he put effort in, and right now was no different. Within the hour, he was already playing slow, soft songs. The chords were still vibrating and it took him quite a while to change them, but it was a song nonetheless.

“I’m not as good at it as you are.” he pouted after a moment, setting your guitar aside gently.

“Well I have been playing for ten years, bub.” You chuckled gently, kissing his face.

Chris wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him and kissing you back deeply. He loved you with all his heart, and you taking the time out of your day to share your passions with him only made him love you more. As the kiss grew heavier, Chris fell back onto the floor, still holding you as he giggled.

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to play guitar, you know that?” he asked, pecking your forehead.

“I could tell.” You smiled.

“You always can.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“It’s such a nice day out today.” You hummed, soaking in the sun as you laid on your towel.

Chris fidgeted beside you anxiously, but made an acknowledgement towards you statement so as to ‘throw you off his scent’. He had been planning this surprise for months now and he was currently using every muscle in his body to keep his mouth shut so as not to spoil it.

You two were basking in the sun on the beach in Santa Barbara, towels laid out. You had noticed Chris had been unusually quiet all day, but didn’t really think much of it. The beach usually kept him in his own little world, too distracted by the roar of the ocean and the sand between his feet to notice anyone else. You both had always loved the beach, and moving to the LA area after living in Boston your whole life had been a welcomed change. You practically went to the beach every weekend, but today Chris had led you to a new spot he had found. It was rather secluded, but you loved it all the same. It made things more intimate between the two of you.

“You’re quiet today,” You said after a while, rolling over and propping yourself up on your shoulder. You looked Chris over from head-to-toe, admiring the tiny features about him like the way his curls had grown more pronounced with the salt air and the birthmark on his back. “Beach getting you relaxed?”

“I, uh, yeah. You could say that,” Your boyfriend tried to smile sheepishly, looking you over. Your lavender bikini hugged you just right, making him even more nervous. If he fucked this up while you looked so gorgeous, he would never forgive himself. “Wanna take a walk?”

You smiled, sitting up quickly and beginning to gather your towel. “Sure!”

“No!” Chris said a bit too hastily. “I mean, you don’t need to bring your towel…I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You can’t just leave your stuff on the beach, Chris.” You giggled.

“It’s not like anyone’s gonna steal it. Just–trust me, please?” he asked, giving you those blue puppy eyes you could never resist.

“I guess so,” you fake huffed, taking his hand in your own. “C’mon, let’s walk before the sun sets on us, silly.”

Chris smiled, taking your hand in his own and starting the trek down the beach. The ocean was calling him as you two strolled westward towards the sunset, but that would have to wait. At least until he had finished his plan. The silence between you was comfortable like always, but this time it thrummed with passionate energy. Chris was pretty sure you had no idea what he was planning, but then again, you knew him like the back of your hand.

“This beach is so quiet. It’s nice when it’s just us,” You smiled. “How did you find this place?”

“Oh, y’know, doing what I do best. Poking around.” Your boyfriend laughed nervously as you came to a beautiful expanse of rock along the beach.

You immediately ran towards the beauty, smiling up at the wonder of nature. “This is gorgeous.”

Chris took the opportunity of you having your back turned to feel in the pocket of his swim trunks for the tiny box that he had been hiding from you for over a month now. He would admit that he had definitely had a bit of a struggle keeping the secret from you, but it was worth it to see you now, on this gorgeous beach, looking even more beautiful than the view around you. The brunette turned his head to where Nick was hiding out of sight, holding his camera. As much as he wanted the two of you to be alone for this, he wanted the pictures infinitely more. He couldn’t wait to tell his kids about what would be the best day of his life one day, that is, if you said yes.

He took a deep breath, pulling the box out of his pocket and then tapping you on the shoulder. “I have a question for you, ma.”

By the time you had turned around, Chris was on one knew, holding a tiny, velvet box that held a gorgeous, heart-shaped, diamond ring. “Oh my god…” You whispered, hand flying to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes.

“You are my best friend, baby. I’ve loved you ever since I saw you that day in ninth grade algebra class. Finding out you felt the same way about me was probably the best day of my life. You always listen to every crazy, stupid, and dumb idea I have and I love you for it. You know me better than I know myself. I love loving you; you are my first, last, and only love. Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“Oh my god, yes!” You squealed, throwing yourself into his arms as Chris slid the ring onto your finger.

Chris sniffled as he spun you around, hugging you tightly and kissing you. “This is why I’ve been acting weird today,” he chuckled and blushed. “I was worried you’d find out. You know literally everything.”

“Not everything,” You smiled, showing him the diamond. “You kept the secret so well. Who all knows?”

“Well,” Chris admitted shyly as Nick stepped out from his hiding spot. “Nick knows, obviously, because I needed his help capturing the moment. Matt knows too. Other than that, no one else.”

“You’re amazing, Chris,” You whispered, kissing him again. “I’ve wanted to marry you since I was fifteen years old, you know that?”

“I love you so much, ma. Always have and always will.”

As Nick continued to snap photos of the two of you in front of the sunset on the beach, you couldn’t help but to feel your heart swell. You hadn’t known what was going on with Chris this time, but for once, you didn’t even mind.

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wrongplacerighttime · 23 days

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bartender!harry x you

your favorite bartender names a drink for you, and you're almost convinced its the end of the world, until your heart leads you back to him.

featuring: soft!harry, an apology, and a cat named Sylvester.

tw: 18+!!, mentions drinking, angst, lots and lots of fluff, soft smut, small itty bitty breeding kink if u squint really hard.

wc: 5k

marigold

A typical Saturday night for you looked like this:

One too many whiskey shots, karaoke with your friends, and passed out on the way home in the uber someone ordered.

This Saturday wasn’t any different so far.

You had just gotten off the stage, out of breath from singing Strawberry Wine a little too loudly with your friends. You wove your way through crowds of sweaty bodies and made your way to the bar in the back.

And there he was. Your favorite person on earth.

The bartender.

It wasn’t because he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life, or the fact that he listened to you whenever you were spiraling wistfully through your drunken thoughts.

It mostly just came down to the fact that he made really good drinks.

Harry knew exactly how you liked your whiskey, at what point in the night you’d want a margarita to cool off with (usually after the karaoke), and he knew when to cut you off before you regretted it the next morning.

So when you stumbled over to the bar looking for his signature smirk, he was already sliding the glass across the lacquered surface, placing a lime on the rim once you settled yourself on the barstool across from him. He went back to washing glasses, biceps flexing and relaxing between motions under the sleeves of his black tee as you sip on your drink.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye, keeping you within earshot while some prick named Garret flirts with you. It almost hurt his feelings when he didn’t hear you rejecting his embarrassingly cheesy advances. He knew he could treat you better than any other asshole in this place, so it always surprised him when you would leave with one of them. He just wanted you to be safe, and he knew that the men that frequented his bar weren’t some of the finest to grace your presence. He would try his hand at flirting with you, tell you how nice you looked, and use his pick up lines that worked with so many others.

But they never worked on you...or so he thought.

You were an enigma to him, a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“Leave me alone, Garret. I’m not leaving with you tonight.” He heard you mumble, however, Garret was persistent. He glances over out of the corner of his eye and sees that Garret has you cornered in your seat, his arm around the back of your chair and the other steadied on the bar as he leaned into you. You were trying to create space, but he was practically pushing you up against the wall and Harry didn’t like that. He threw the towel over his shoulder and turned to face the situation.

“Garret, she said she wasn’t leaving with you. I suggest you get lost, unless you want to be barred from my establishment.” He says calmly, but firm. He leans his weight into his own arms placed on the bar, muscles flexing and veins popping, cocking an eyebrow upwards as he watches Garret intently. Harry's eyes never leave Garret as his flick between the two of you. He mumbles expletives under his breath before pushing from the bar and stumbling away. Harry hears you breathe out a sigh you had been holding in and when his eyes meet yours you smile.

“Thanks. He’s relentless.” You pause. “Sometimes I go home with him so he’ll just leave me alone.” You confess and he’s never heard you say anything like this before, he's not even sure you understood what you implied. Instead of replying immediately, he listens. Listens to you ramble about Garret and every other guy that attempts to win you over with their drunken pick up lines. He was scrubbing a glass, lost in his thoughts, thinking how it would look to have you upstairs in his apartment, dancing around the kitchen with each other when you clear your throat, plucking him from his daydreams.

“I asked you a question, Har.” You giggle as you sip through the straw in your glass.

“Sorry, flower. I was a little distracted.” He peeks over, smirking. “What did you ask?” “I asked if there was anyone special in your life.” Curiosity getting the better of you, because he always listens to what you have to say and you're tired of talking about yourself. He'd never talked about a girlfriend before and you're not sure how someone as beautiful as him could be single.

“If you count my cat, Sylvester. Otherwise, no.” He informs you and you widen your eyes.

“You have a cat?” Your words slur together in disbelief and he nods.

“Does that surprise you?” He asks with a chuckle.

“Just don’t strike me as the cat type.” You pause, thoughts swirling through your head. “I want to meet him.”

“I promise you don’t. He’s a terrorist.” He jokes, laughing between his words. “I found him outside under the dumpster when he was just a baby…I haven’t known peace for a single day since.” He says in a serious tone and it makes you laugh. He brings down bottles of liquor and mixes and juices from the shelf above his head and mixes up concoctions, tasting them before pouring them out. To you, it seems like a waste. You let him go on for a while longer before you decide to interrupt.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Just been working on a new signature to add to the menu. Can’t get the ratio quite right though.” He mutters and you watch as his hands move expertly around the bottles, mixing exact ratios without having to measure them out.

You chat for a while longer, enjoying his company until your friends find you and they’re ready to leave. You tell him goodbye and he watches you until you disappear out the door, wishing he had the guts to tell you how he feels outright instead of dancing around the topic, and how he only has eyes for you every time you come in here.

You’re the sole reason why he works on Saturdays.

He’ll never forget the first time he saw you at his bar. He was upstairs in his apartment reading when he looked at the clock and noticed it was nearing closing time, an hour or so left until the straggling patrons would be forced out and he knew that last-call had already been announced. He went down to see if the bartender working needed help with anything before he turned in for the night, and when he stepped in he saw you laughing with your friends at a high top table.

It was over for him then.

He hung around for the next hour, nursing a draft in a glass he poured himself and fighting the sleep begging to take over his body. Your group wasn’t paying attention when all the lights came on, brightening the dimmed room, you didn’t notice you were the last ones here and if he was waiting for an excuse to talk to you…that was it. He made his way to you, weaving through chairs and tables and when you looked at him, finally, he almost lost the words he wanted to say. Stuttering over them, he felt embarrassed as you smiled at him and you and your friends hopped from your stools and left, but not before he mustered the courage to ask you if you were coming back anytime soon and you nodded, informing him that you and your friends had been coming every Saturday for a few months now, his bar quickly had become their favorite spot. He felt guilty that he hadn’t paid attention before, but he made sure he was the one behind the bar every Saturday since then.

Now, here you were. Walking out laughing with your friends, like you did every Saturday, without a second look back at him…even though he willed it to happen every time.

Yet, he couldn’t wait until next week to do it over again.

Next Saturday comes and it’s unfamiliar territory for you this time. It was your turn to be the designated driver, you and your friends trying not to pay excessive amounts for rideshares anymore. While your friends make their way to a table, you detour to the bar and when your eyes meet Harry's, his hardened expression turns to something lighter as you approach. He’s smiling, a toothy grin that has you biting the inside of your cheek and looking at the floor.

Maybe it was the lighting…or maybe it was the idea of him. You had never really seen him while you were in a sober mindset and this was a different dynamic. He knew the drunk you, the one who was confident and not afraid of anything.

Truth be told, you were a little nervous to talk to him. He always pushed shots towards you when you walked in, and you were grateful for the confidence boost it gave you because otherwise you didn’t think you’d even approach him.

But it’s hard to remind yourself that you don’t need to be nervous, it’s just Harry.

“There’s my flower.” He greets you with the nickname he penned for you after a few weeks of chatting and getting to know you. He pushes the shot towards you but you shake your head as you hop up onto the bar stool and he cocks an eyebrow at you, confused at your refusal. “Are you sick? Do I need to take you to the ER?” He jokes and you laugh.

“No, actually. I’m just taking on the role of designated driver tonight.” You rest your chin in your hand and sigh. He replaces the whiskey with a glass of ice water feigning hesitation, mouthing a “sorry” as he moves down the bar to take other orders.

He’s busy for a while so you sit and watch him sling drinks and pour drafts. He’s comfortable, he’s confident, and you feel a sense of longing for him, willing him to come back over and talk with you…and you wonder why you’d never accepted his advances before. It could be that you were scared, not thinking he was serious and that he was just being a friendly bartender. You were always drunk and the alcohol clouded your judgment slightly.

But you always knew when he was flirting. He would clear your tab, and you would walk out paying literally nothing more often than not. He wouldn’t even let you tip him because he refused to take your money and he insisted that he made enough.

As if he could read your mind, he came back over and was breathing heavily out of breath from trying to keep up, the amount of people in the bar nearing capacity. Still, he smiles at you and as he’s catching his composure he grabs bottles from the shelf above him.

“Remember that drink I was making last week?” He asks and you search your memory to pinpoint the moment he was talking about. You faintly recall him mixing drinks and tasting them before dumping them down the drain, so you nod. “I think I finally got it right.” He says while pouring the concoction, placing it in your view once it was complete, then he perches an orange on the rim and slides it towards you.

“I said I wasn’t drinking.” You joke, knowing a sip won't be enough to have you feeling any effects, bringing the glass up to your nose and sniffing, the scent of citrus and schnapps filling your nostrils and when you sip, there’s a hint of something floral that you can’t quite place. It’s perfectly layered, the orange fading into yellow seamlessly like a sunrise left unblemished in a cloudless sky, shimmering just slightly in the low lit atmosphere.

And it’s so good.

“Do you like it?” He asks, waiting for your response and shifting his weight nervously. He needed it to be perfect for you…because it was for you. You nod, swallowing and meeting his eyes.

“It’s delicious. What are you calling it?” You ask and the corner of his mouth pulls up in a half grin.

“I think I’m going to call it a Marigold Sunrise.” He says, the volume of his voice almost getting lost in the chatter around you both and you could’ve sworn you misheard him.

“I’m sorry?” You almost choke, sputtering over your words. “Marigold?” “Yeah, actually. I remember one night you told me they were your favorite. I added the floral notes, I think that’s what it was missing. It's yours. I made it for you.”

Your head spins momentarily at his words. He remembered? You were sure that conversation happened over a year ago. You stare at him, blinking with a blank expression painted over your face. You don’t know how to react. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a drink.

Except your mind convinces you this makes things more complicated than they need to be. He’s just the bartender at the bar you frequent, this meant you were going to have to find somewhere else to go, because you couldn’t actually spend your time here anymore knowing he probably expects you to give him something in return.

But he’s not just a bartender. He’s Harry. The reason why you come here. The reason why your friends tease you incessantly on the way home every Saturday…because you’re always watching him when he isn’t looking, slotting yourself behind the bar with him in your doe-eyed daydreams. Daydreams you thought would never come to fruition.

“Harry, this is…too much.” The words tumble from your lips before you really think about them. His brows pull together, confusion lacing his eyes.

“What? I thought—” “Whatever you thought, save it. I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for this.” Your tone is harsher than you wanted it to be. You push the glass away and gather your things, walking away from him without so much as a glance back. You find your friends, apologizing for ruining their fun but that you would take them somewhere else, wanting to be anywhere but here.

Harry stands behind the bar, dumbfounded and lost on what he did wrong. He watches you leave, holding the door for your friends. Your head moves slightly, and he can just make out the outline of your profile. He thinks you’re going to look back at him, come back and explain to him what he did to make you react this way.

But you don’t.

This time he doesn’t know if you’ll come back.

The street was quiet and the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, blue hue taking over the dark of the night. The bar was dark except for the light left on behind the bar and the neon hanging on the walls. He might even already be in bed. After you left earlier, your friends requested a bar on the other side of town and you drove them there on autopilot, sitting at a table staring blankly at the wall, the sounds around you muffled from lack of focus on your part. When they were ready to leave, you got them home safely and aimlessly drove around with no destination in mind. You let your mind wander, and after you finally placed your feelings you found you had subconsciously made your way back to him, back to the bar. Like your heart was making your decision without you even realizing. Like it knew where you needed to be.

So you forced yourself out of the driver's seat and timidly made your way to the door. You didn’t know if he would be able to hear you, but you knocked on the glass of the front door anyway. You hug yourself around your torso, the chill of the night air making you shiver slightly. After a moment you’re about to give up, but you see him come around the corner and his eyes widen at the sight of you, his expression reading that he very much was not expecting you to show up at this time, or even at all. The bar closed at 3:00 AM and it was nearing 5 as you stood there waiting for him to open the door.

“Come in, it’s freezing out there.” He says as the barrier between you swings open, the bell above ringing in your ears. You step inside, finding reprieve in the warmth of the bar. You watch him in the afterglow of the neon. It feels out of place, being here in the early hours of the morning, neither of you having had any sleep yet and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. You look towards the floor, fiddling with your fingers and you feel terrible that you’re keeping him from sleep, which you’re sure he’d rather be doing after the way you left him earlier.

“I’m sorry, I’m interrupting your rest. I should just go, I don’t know why I came.” You say sheepishly, gesturing a thumb towards the door and you almost turn around before he grabs your arm before you get the chance.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re here. I was almost asleep.” He yawns, stretching his arms over his head and you shake your head.

“This can wait, really. I’ll let you go back to—”

“Flower, I said it was okay. I want you here.” His eyes search yours for a moment before he looks away, towards the stairs that lead up to his apartment. “Do you want to come up? I’ll get you some water.” He nods his head behind him and you nod wordlessly, following him as he takes you to a peek inside of his personality. You stay silent as he grabs a glass from his cupboard and moves through the small kitchen. You allow your eyes to wander around his space, and it’s not anything like you were expecting. You would never think a bar owner lives here, and if you had to describe it, it would be something like a masculine dark academia with a modern twist throughout the interior. He sits the glass in front of you before leaning against the opposite counter and you feel your nerves bubble in your throat when you remember why you’re here.

“Harry…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run away like that earlier. I really am flattered that you made your new signature something for me.” You pause, collecting your thoughts for a second before speaking again. “I’ve just never had anyone make anything for me before, I’ve never had some grand gesture done for me.” You motion with your hands, ultimately letting them fall against your lap again. “I know it sounds silly, and that might not be grand to any normal person, but I got scared…” Trailing off, you look down at your hands in your lap. “I don’t even know why I got scared. I really like you, and I don’t want to scare you away.”

The silence is deafening, the clock ticking on the wall counting the seconds as dawn creeps into the sky. You think he isn’t going to say anything.

Then he clears his throat.

“You could never scare me away.” You force your eyes to meet his. He comes around the counter, closing the space between you slightly. He stands in front of you, searching your face for anything he can find, as if he’s memorizing every freckle, the dip of your nose, the pink of your lips, everything he never wants to forget. “I want you…all of you. Everything you’re afraid of. Every good, every bad, everything in between. I want it all.” He steps forward and takes your hands between his, bringing them to his lips and kissing over your palm once. Resting his cheek against it, you cup his face, tilting your head slightly and biting the inside of your lip to keep your emotions at bay.

You’re both silent for a beat, conveying feelings through subtle glances ghosting over each other's features. You’d never seen him this close before.

He’s right here.

And he’s yours.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper and you nod once, slightly sucking in a breath, preparing for him to surge forward. He shocks you when he doesn’t.

His touch is gentle, featherlight over your jawline and your exhale is shaky, nervous like you’ve never been kissed before.

Your mind wants to wander…wants to get lost down the memory lane of bad lovers and all the times your subconscious thought of him, how it manifested him in your dreams.

His lips brush over yours and pull you from your thoughts. His hand wraps around the back of your neck, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck and he pulls you closer. His tongue darting out to wet his lips before he presses them to yours…and you melt, sighing against him as you fist his shirt. He was hesitant, like he was testing your boundaries.

You wanted him to know you were all in.

He pulls away just far enough to meet your eyes and if he were being honest, he thinks you’ll run from him again.

You’re thinking how the kiss didn’t last nearly long enough.

“Kiss me again. Please.” You whisper, and he doesn’t hesitate, bringing his lips back to yours like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. This kiss is more than the first.

More desire…more eagerness…more everything.

His hands find your hips and pull you closer to him, dancing lightly under the hem of your shirt and your skin burns under his touch as you part your thighs and he slots himself between them. Your arms link around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and arching against him. His hands splayed across your back, feeling his want for you growing between your bodies and it makes your belly flip. Your hands drop from his shoulders, running over the expanse of his biceps and mapping their way to his waistline, dipping below the band of his sweats and palming over the fabric of his briefs eliciting a groan that transfers from his mouth to yours. He pulls your wrists from his body and pulls away from your lips, looking at you with dark eyes and his chest rapidly rising and falling trying to catch his breath.

“We don’t have to—I don’t expect you to sleep with me. I hope you know that I’m not just doing this to get myself off.” He places your hands against his chest, holding them there. “I meant it when I said I want all of you.”

“I know. I want all of you, too.” You whisper and he smiles. “I just want to show you how much.” You fist his shirt again and pull him back down to you. “Please let me.” You mutter against his lips, pecking lightly and he nods. He tugs at your hand, pulling you to a stance from your place at the counter and he leads you into his room.

Once there, he pushes you gently onto the bed and climbs over you planting kisses over the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck pulling a whimper from your mouth and he travels lower. He pushes your shirt up and runs his nose along the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in its path before you pull it over your head and throw it across the room. He smiles against you, crawling up and finding your face while peppering small kisses over your cheeks and the tip of your nose. His forehead meets yours and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamed of having you like this, flower.” He mumbles and you hum, a dopey smile playing on your lips.

His fingers caper down your torso, finding the button of your jeans and flicking it open with a certain expertise. You help him push them off your waist while your lips meet his once more, the naturally sweet taste of his tongue like candy on yours is something you would crave for the rest of your life. He disrobes his own clothes, barely breaking from your lips to pull his shirt over his head and tossing it towards the same general area as yours.

He spreads you open with his fingers, trailing a digit through your arousal and you shudder at his gentle touch. He teases your aching hole, petting over it continuously, drawing a whine from your throat.

“Tell me what you want, angel.” His voice is low, gravelly in the back of his throat. “Already know, just need to hear you say it.”

“You. Just need to feel you.” The intonation in your voice is nothing short of begging, and he’s not wasting time. He doesn’t want to play, doesn’t want to tease any more than he already has—barely has. He’s just as impatient as you are, fisting his cock and pumping once…twice before he drags the tip through to collect you all over him.

The feel of the most intimate part of him against you sends fireworks bursting through your belly. He lines up, pushing himself in and you both release a sigh, something just felt like it was falling into place. Like it was always supposed to be this way.

He halts when he’s fully in, pausing briefly to let you adjust to the stretch. Your hands grip around his biceps, indenting the muscle beneath his skin and he sets his pace…slow and sensual. You can feel it all, a fire igniting in your heart at every grunt and every groan he doesn’t hold back from you. You let your hands wander down the length of his torso, wrapping around his back and leaving the shapes of crescents in his skin. The sensation forces him to drop his head into your chest, licking and kissing down the valley between your tits as you arch your back, wanting him impossibly closer than he already is.

His pace picks up, his hips meeting yours with more fervor than before. Your eyes flutter closed again and he supports his weight above you on one arm. His movements never falter as he wraps one hand around the back of your neck and forces your mouth on his, teeth clashing and his tongue slips in. He moans into your mouth, the sound so sinful that you clench around him.

“Fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that m’not gonna last.” He mutters with a shaky breath. You smirk, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and sucking lightly before letting the plump skin bounce back into place. He chuckles and you push his sweaty curls away from his forehead. You pull him down to you, your mouth just over his ear and you taste the saltiness on his skin as you lick a path up his neck and he swears under his breath.

“Want you to cum for me, Har. Please. Need to feel it. Need you to fill me.” You whine into his ear and he mutters something incoherent.

“Need you to first, flower.” He pants through gritted teeth. His thrusts become hurried. He’s hitting every spot that you need him to, pulling his cock all the way out to the tip before sliding back into you in a way that has you so close, your resolve dancing on the thinnest of tightropes. He brings his hand to his mouth, spitting on his fingers before slotting it between the two of you, petting slow circles over your clit, and you tumble over.

“I’m gonna cum.” You say, your voice fading into a whimper when you feel the familiar burst of pleasure dance down your spine straight to your core. Your walls flutter around him, willing for him to spill inside of you. The stimulation sends him falling from his own cliff, his hips stutter before you feel his cock twitching and the warmth of him painting you and he drops his forehead to your collarbone, riding out his high slowly.

The both of you lay there, catching breaths for a moment while you run your fingers through his hair and down his back and back up again. Your thighs were still wrapped around him, but you let them fall to the bed and he hums as he slides out, laying beside you and tangling his fingers with yours. You turn towards him and smile

Wordlessly, you revel in each other's presence. He traces your jawline with the back of his hand, you poke his cheek with your finger and he laughs. He stands, pulling you with him into the bathroom. He starts the shower, pulling you to his chest and kissing you lazily while the water heats up.

In the shower, he spoils you a bit, washing your hair for you while you lean into his touch, your back pressing against him as he works his fingers on your scalp deliciously. He takes special care of washing over your skin with sudsy soap and if you weren’t so tired you probably would’ve entertained him with round 2 in the shower. Instead, when he rinses you off he sends you on your way and informs you what drawer he keeps his shirts in while he cleans himself.

Clad in an old, washed-out band shirt, you flop onto his bed and under the covers, exhaustion quickly setting in. You hear the water shut off, but not before you feel the mattress sink from some other presence in the room. Your eyes open and see who must be Sylvester coming closer to you and you grin, extending your hand to him and he sniffs before nudging his head against your fingers. He makes a spot beside you, curling his tail around himself as Harry steps from the bathroom.

He dresses himself and joins you, a look of confusion passing over his face in the orange glow of the rising sun filtering in through the window. You mirror it back to him and he laughs.

“He doesn’t even do that with me.” He informs you, gesturing to Sylvester fast asleep by your legs and you smile tiredly. “Now you really can’t leave.” He whispers, planting a kiss to your forehead before finding his own comfort under the duvet.

And lucky for Sylvester, you didn’t plan on going anywhere.

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