#I’m coming back for seconds Oliver

[joekeeryswife]

Hi I wanted to request Felix and reader getting into a huge fight over rumors of him and India hooking up. Lots of angst that leads to fluff😭 thank youuuu

The party - f.c

hello honeys! first Felix imagine eeek. FELIX DOES NOT DIE AT THE PARTY IN THIS FIC! i’m too excited. i hope you like how i interpreted your request🫶🏼 anyways, i hope you enjoy this imagine! (lmk if i should make a taglist for Felix!)

“Venetia, have you seen Felix? i cannot find him anywhere” you had been looking for Felix everywhere. you had left his side for two seconds to get a drink and when you came back he was no where to be found.

“i saw him with Ollie and i think her name is India? find Ollie, he will know where he is” Venetia said as she scanned the room to see if she could see her brother. you furrowed your brows, India was here? Felix hadn’t told you India was coming.

in the two summers you had grown incredibly close with Venetia, she was the sweetest girl and you were lucky that she was your boyfriends sister. “i’ll keep looking but if you see him, please tell him i’m looking for him” Venetia nodded “of course, don’t worry about India. i didn’t know she was coming either. but good luck okay?” she winked.

the house was huge, one of the biggest houses you’d ever seen and finding him would be nearly impossible without some sort of indication as to where Felix was. you went into the garden eyes darting in every direction seeing if you could see the tall boy anywhere but it was no use, it was like he completely vanished.

“y/n darling, are you okay?” you heard Elspeth say as you huffed, you turned to look at her and nodded slightly. “yeah i’m okay, i’m just looking for Felix is all” she smiled “he couldn’t of gone too far, don’t worry about him. i saw him with Ollie and some girl, maybe check the library? or the maze?” you nodded and thanked her as you started making your way toward the maze.

the maze was where you and Felix liked to go when you wanted some alone time. even though you both loved spending time with his family, sometimes the two of you just wanted to be alone and the maze was the perfect place for the.

as you started making your way through the maze you saw Oliver walking back out. “Ollie thank god, have you seen Felix? i’ve been looking for him everywhere” he jumped when he saw you “y/n, what are you doing here?” his thick accent filling the quiet maze.

“Elspeth told me you’d be in here and she said guy were with Felix. is he down here-” you started to walk down the maze but Oliver quickly stopped you. “y/n you don’t want to go down there” your heart started pounding.

“why?” you looked at him and by the look on your face you knew something was happening. “he invited India here. me and Felix had a fight and the two of them came in here. when i came here to apologise the two of them were hooking up. i’m so sorry”

you felt your eyes fill with tears and your heart dropped. Felix was cheating on you? you knew the two of them had some sort of history before you and Felix got together but that was two years ago. you felt your chin quiver and a few tears slip down your face. just as you were about to walk away Felix and India came round the corner.

Felix saw you and the smile on his face dropped when he saw your face. you had tears rolling down your cheeks, he quickly started making his way toward you but you just shook your head and started walking out of the maze.

“y/n sweetheart what’s the matter?” he called out but it was too late, you’d ran off. Felix was confused, Oliver had been told by his mum that he could invite anyone he wanted so he invited India and a few other girls from college.

he left India standing there to chase after you, he was still utterly confused as to why you were crying. he brushed past Oliver who felt like he had succeeded, he had tricked you into believing that Felix had cheated on you which would no doubt lead to the two of you breaking up which mean Oliver could have Felix all to himself.

he saw you running into the house, brushing past the hundreds of people which filled practically the whole house. Venetia saw you crying and was confused, what could have happened in that short amount of time.

Felix lost you in the crowds of people but spotted his sister and briskly walked toward her. “Venetia, have you seen y/n? she was crying and i need to make sure she’s okay” she frowned “i think she went to your bedroom but i’m not too sure, she went in that direction” by the time she had finished her sentence he was already gone, running off to his bedroom to find you.

he ran up the stairs to his bedroom and put his ear to the door, he could hear your small sobs and his heat broke. he knocked on the door and walked in, seeing you sat on his bed with your suitcase half packed with your belongings. “what’s the matter? why are you packing your stuff?” he frowned.

“i don’t know Felix, why don’t you tell me?” his frown deepened. “don’t act so innocent okay? i know everything. and it’s a shitty move that you brought her here. you have no idea how embarrassing this is” he could control the small smile that formed on his face as he saw your jealousy peak through. he thought maybe you were jealous that India was here, not that he was cheating on you with her.

“what? are you a little jealous?” he smirked “i can’t believe you’re making a joke about this right now. i’m going home” his face fell. he made his way over to you “what happened, i’m sorry for whatever i did” he pouted but you scoffed and rolled your eyes “yeah well i don’t think sorry is gonna cut it this time Felix”

“okay i seriously have no idea what you are on about. why are you so upset” he tried to sit next to you but you scooted away from him. a whole batch of fresh tears filled your eyes, your head fell into your hands as you tried to hide how hurt you were. “come on baby, talk to me” he placed his hand on your leg and stroked it gently.

“don’t call me that, not after what you did” you pushed his hand away from you as a few tears fell. “what did i do? you’re confusing me” you looked at him with bloodshot eyes “you slept with India.” he looked at you and burst out laughing “what?” you wiped your tear stained cheeks which probably had mascara all over them.

“Oliver told me that you invited India here and that you two slept together. this isn’t funny Felix, i’m serious. i’m going home tomorrow” you sniffled and he shook his head “Oliver told you that? and you believed him?” you shrugged “well, the two of you looked very friendly when you came walking around the corner so yeah i believed it”

“that is the silliest thing i’ve ever heard. i would never ever do that to you.” he placed his hand on your cheeks and placed a delicate kiss on your lips. “i’m too in love with you to cheat on you” he kissed you again.

“why did Oliver say that? he said that you invited India and that he went into the maze to find you to apologise because you two argued and then he said that you two were having sex” Felix frowned “what? having sex in the maze? no that’s not what happened at all” he shook his head.

“Oliver invited India and he got mad because she rejected him, we argued because i told him to not invite her and he did it anyway. i knew her being there would upset you. i was only being nice to her because her friends left her” he explained, his hands falling from your cheeks.

“i’m sorry i was so mean to you” he shook his head “im sorry that i laughed at you, i honestly thought it was just because you were jealous i didn’t realise Oliver told you that. ill speak to my parents, see if they can get rid of him early” he smiled.

“you know i love you, don’t you?” his eyes started into yours, he hated that you were hurting. you nodded “i love you too” he kissed you passionately.

#fanfiction #imagines #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton x fem!reader #felix catton imagines #saltburn #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader

[irndad]

hi im back! okey so def can see spencer still wanting to hug and snuggle with you even when fighting or mad at each other. he even gets genuinely ??? confused ??? when you try to sleep on the couch instead of in bed at night. he holds you and either reader or him is like "i know we are snuggling right now but i am still super pissed off at you." lol i can just see it. he may be petty when mad but he wont stop trying to touch you bc its a biological need of his and no argument is more important than needing you 🥺

enjoy this I did it very fast!!!! ily

He knows he’s not easy to be with sometimes. She would never say it, but it’s true. He doesn’t always get the jokes, sometimes pushes things too far and without even knowing it the ground gets pulled out from under him. 

And sleep- Sleep is so complicated. The memory of the first time she slept in his bed is etched into a place he could never erase. Spencer had always had trouble sleeping, either fear or alertness plaguing him into the late hours of the night. He used to lie awake, the kind of exhausted that feels like it’s seeping out of your bones, while constantly facts he’d unwittingly memorized about how sleep deprivation can cause brain damage. 

But then she’d come into his life. All soft words and gentle disposition, and there really is something magic about the way that everything just dissipates when her warm, soft body curves into his own. He’s slept well almost every night since. 

Except today, she isn’t coming to bed. 

It’s his fault, and he knows it. He wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t seen him for two weeks (and he hadn’t slept nearly enough without the weight of her form beside him since the last time he saw her) and she’d said that she wanted to be prioritized more. 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, Spence!”

His head was killing him. Was it actually possible, for a headache to kill you? Her voice is audibly upset, and it’s alarming how he could be the cause of it. 

“Please,” he had said through labored effort, “Can we talk about this later?” 

“When would you like to talk about it? Because I don’t ever know if you’re leaving-“

“Do you even know what it is that I do?  That it’s not a choice for me to go? I have to do this. I can’t pick and choose and honestly, I don’t want to. If you don’t get that, we’re not doing what I thought we were doing.”

It sounds foreign, his own voice. And it’s after he’s said it that the sick taste reaches his throat because oh, that means the end. Her lovely face is unreadable for a brief moment, before something like grief splays over her expression.

It’s silent for a beat, and Spencer wishes he could swallow the words back up, rewind his life like a battered VHS tape where he’s not so stupid to mess up the one thing that’s ever brought him peace.

“You’re not yourself, Spencer. I’m gonna give you a minute.”

A minute, it turns out, is hours in the living room. She hadn’t left, thank fucking god, but she hadn’t come back. Of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t the one who needed to apologize. 

He’s just so tired. 

He thinks of her so-sweet voice, the curve of cheek- the junction of her neck and shoulder, and how much he would like to have her pressed against him. He pads out into the living room like a nervous puppy, and sees her sleeping on the olive green couch she had picked out. Her hair was splayed across the arm of the sofa, and her head laid on a throw pillow, their fuzziest blanket draped across her form. 

His first thought is how low he’s dropped, that he’s jealous of a blanket. 

His second his that she is not coming to bed. He sits beside her gingerly, and the scent of her body wash lingers in the air. 

“Are you planning on coming to bed?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” He can tell she wants to sound cold, but the truth is much worse; she sounds guarded. 

“I always want you to.” It’s the most honest thing he’s said today, and it’s just not fair, how much he revolves around her. How he has waited 14 days, 13 hours and 34 minutes to hold her again and managed to ruin it within the first 20 minutes of having seen her again. He grabs her hand, soft and pliant against his in a way that almost makes his heart leap. “Please? Come to bed?”

Her gaze softens, the warmth and light that guides him back in her eyes, and he hopes his relief isn’t too visible. It’s then that she drinks him in. It feels too revealing like she can see right through him. His clothes are old. He’d rushed off the jet to see her, and the half moon circles under his eyes only lend to the unimpressive picture of himself. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, touching the side of his face. He instantly leans into it, the contact more than he’d be willing to give up to save his dignity. “Come here.”

She wraps her arms around him, and he pulls her into his lap, squeezing her tight to his chest, like she might disappear. 

“I’m still mad at you,” she says, looking at him with such affection it betrays her words.

“That’s okay,” he says into her collarbone, “As long as I still have you.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

[i-love-ptv]

High By the Beach

Felix Catton x reader

Smut <3

An: AHHH SECOND FIC BBS!! ENJOY! Also, if I was Oliver, the drain wouldn’t be the only thing i’m sucking on…

(ik Felix smokes cigs but i feel like he’ll get high every once n a while :3)

Felix loves to get high. But he loves fucking you even more. Adding the two together makes him feel like he just might have made it to heaven early.

The sight of you, his angel, wrapping your pouty, bitten lips around a blunt makes his cock twitch inside of you. Although, he makes a mental note of not biting your lips as hard. He couldn’t be rough with his sweet baby. After all, he is a gentle, and passionate lover. For now, anyways.

He always became so soft when high; wanting nothing more than to please you, and show you how much he loves you.

His strokes are sloppy, as he messily pumps in and out of you. Even so, you can still feel and see the passion and love he has for you.

Neither of you ever pay attention to how long the both of you remain intertwined. The two of you could go for hours and not think twice about it; but there are zero complaints from either side.

But sometimes, after he’s had one too many puffs, his mind gets hazy. That’s a given of course, but this makes him zone out. Makes him forget where exactly he is. Leading to him accidentally sliding out of your soaked cunt.

He comes down from the clouds in his head and realizes his mistake.

“s-shit. oh m’so sorry lovie, s’alright..lemme make it all better baby.” He slurs out in a whisper.

Nothing makes him happier than when he blows the smoke into your face; watching your eyes droop as you inhale softly.

The noises that can be heard in the room are his soft, needy groans; the slight bang of the headboard bumping against the wall; his big, heavy balls slapping against your skin. And most importantly, the sound of your high-pitch moans.

That’s his favorite noise in the whole world. It sounds like a heavenly gospel to him; the sweet melody of his angel. He swears it’s the best song he’s ever heard.

“tha’s right m’sweet angel, sing t’me.”

He doesn’t care who hears, in fact, that’s the last thing on his mind. All he can think about is how he’s pressing on your tummy as your pussy clenches around him. How your whines and cries become more rapid and abrupt; how your back arches while he continues to press you down into the mattress.

“c’mon baby, do it f’me. I know y’can”

His eyes shine as you cum around his cock; your pussy sucking him in. His brows furrow as he feels your delicious cum start to drip onto his cock. He looks down and watches the smoke crowd the bed as the base of his dick and his balls turns milky white from your drenched cunt. His thrusts slowly come to an end.

“ohhhh m’sweet angel, y’did soo good f’me.” He coos as he lays on top of you.

As you go to ask him about what he wants to do when it comes to him finishing, you hear soft snores exit his body.

You finish off the blunt and eventually drift off to sleep, the thought of Felix leaving himself unfinished roaming through your mind.

Felix didn’t think about coming, his goal was to give you the pleasure that you need; the pleasure that you deserve.

After all, he is a passionate lover.

#felix catton #jacob elordi #saltburn #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi imagine #felix catton x you #Lee’s Ted Talks #x reader #farleigh start #farleigh start x reader

[hogwartsfirebolt]

the game’s the game

“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”

Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.

“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.

“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”

Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.

“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”

All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.

Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.

He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.

He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.

Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.

There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.

“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.

It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.

“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.

“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”

Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.

“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.

“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”

Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.

“What?”

“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”

There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.

They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.

Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.

“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”

“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.

“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”

The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.

“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.

Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”

Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.

“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.

“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”

“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.

“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.

“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”

Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”

“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.

“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”

Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”

He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.

It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.

“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”

Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.

They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.

“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.

Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.

Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”

He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.

Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.

“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.

They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.

Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.

“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.

Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.

“I thought we could talk.”

Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.

“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”

The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.

“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”

He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”

“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”

Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …

“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”

The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.

“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”

They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.

Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”

“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”

“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up. It’s your quote.”

Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.

Read On Ao3

#quidditch rivals but ohh they’re secret lovers bet NOBODY saw that coming #kinda unsure about the tone shift at the end but ITS LATE I’m sorry ok #I just wanted earnest Harry which is MY FAVORITW THING #drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #my writing #mywriting

[peachesofteal]

Ghost/Soap/female reader 18+ mdni - dark content Running from Simon at the bar because he’s the scary man who wants to pick his teeth with your finger bones… only to find an angel waiting in the wings.

Your second martini is stronger than the first. 

You’re not sure how it’s even possible, considering the contents of a martini is mostly just alcohol, but it stings a little sharper on your first swallow, and you eye the skewer of olives skeptically. 

Oh well. 

More bang for your buck, you suppose. Better to get the job done faster, and cheaper, than the alternative. 

The bar is bustling, and you watch it all from the corner you’re tucked into. Coeds from across the city pack like tinned fish against one another, yelling and breathing in each other’s faces, loud laughter and boisterous conversations bouncing off the walls. Cigarette smoke cloys, orange-red ends flickering in the low light of the evening, blazing bright before they’re snuffed out and replaced. 

Your phone buzzes with a text, ten minutes late, and surprise is few and far between when you read that your activities for tonight have now evaporated, plans cancelled with a simple six-word sentence. 

Sorry, I can’t make it now. 

Asshole.

The vodka is stiff on your lips. Your tongue seeks the rim of your glass, flicking at a leftover drop of olive and alcohol, vermouth herbaceous in the back of your mouth. 

“Seat taken?” A gruff, rough dipped voice calls over your shoulder, gesturing to one of the only bar stools left in the building, and you answer without looking up.

“All yours.” 

“Thanks love.” The pet name straightens your spine, and you sneak a glance, eyeing the bulk settling at your side. “Usin’ that?” He points at the ashtray, thick finger alone in the air, and you shake your head. 

He meets your eyes head on as you turn to look at him, curiosity burning a hole in your brain, and good sense has your stomach tightening into a pit. 

A five-alarm fire rages, gusts of wind and pockets of brush fueling it’s spread, encouraging it to burn far and wide inside you until it consumes everything in its path. 

Danger, it shrieks. Run.

The man’s face is scarred. His nose is crooked. His eyes are dark. He’s a hell baptized image of Ares, a gladiator, a solider. A monster of men. 

And he stares at you like he knows you. 

It’s unnerving enough to set you adrift, free falling through the possibilities. 

It’s danger, but so much more. So much worse. He transcends lethality, strength and bloodlust shining in his expression, a dark beacon lighting the way home. Pine and cigarette smoke, drifting in the stale air. 

Just finish your drink and tab out. Leave. 

“Out by yourself tonight?” You blink at the croon in his voice, serrated tip of a knife dripping with honey, and answer automatically. 

“No.” It’s a lie of course, but you were raised with good self-preservation instincts. You’ve been a girl alone in a bar before, on a train, in an Uber. You know how to tilt the table, load the dice. Pretend you’re with someone, or on the phone, or have someone waiting for you. Lie and pretend. Make it believable. 

The flick of a lighter draws your attention, and he extends a fresh smoke towards you. An olive branch. A trick. 

“Want one?” You twist your face into the most disgusted mask manageable, and he chuckles. “Suit yourself. I’m Simon, by the way.” Lie. You give him something tugged from thin air, something you’re not going to remember in ten minutes time. 

The bartender comes by, and you’re both grateful for the reprieve, and a chance to close out. Until-

“An’ another one of those.” He points at the glass, your eyes going round, cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck. 

“Oh. No, that’s-“ 

“C’mon. One won’t kill ya.” You should tell him it would, it might. Should get loud. More insistent. 

All the rebuttal evaporates when his shoulder shoves against yours, effectively pinning you between the bar top and the wall, heavy thigh bleeding heat against your exposed leg. Your too short dress is now a colossal mistake, and you curse your date for bailing, and yourself for believing he’d even show up in the first place. 

The man, Simon, makes a show of looking around, head on a swivel, roving over the crowd before turning back you with a glint. He knows. He knows you’re not here with anyone. “So, who’d you get all pretty for tonight then?” Smoke rolls from his lips, and the lump in the back of your throat is so thick, it tries to choke you. 

“My- my date.” 

“Where are they?” 

“Not here.” You grit each word, glaring. It only earns you another smile, eyes crinkling in the corner, a shark sniffing blood in the water. 

“Poor thing. An’ your dress is so nice, too. Little short, but… that’s alright. You didn’t know.” He takes a swig of his drink, neat bourbon, room temperature gasoline, and your mouth dries up. 

Didn’t know what? 

The subtle alarm bells ringing in the back of your head become nuclear sirens. 

The martini sweats on the bar top, leaving a wet ring around the base of the glass. Your stomach sours. “Thank you, for the drink, but-“ 

“Drink it.” You haven’t looked away from it, you think, know it hasn’t been tampered with… yet the idea of doing something this stranger, this man asks, terrifies you. 

“I uh…” 

“Don’t wanna be rude, do ya pet?” Fuck. You survey the room, looking for anyone who has noticed you, who has observed this interaction, who has realized what’s happening in this little dark corner. 

No one pays you a lick of attention. If they do, they spot the hulking mass of a man at your elbow and avert their eyes immediately. A few glance back in disbelief, like they recognize him somehow, or know him, before pointedly looking away.  

You’re all but invisible. 

Everything flows around you like water. You’re a rock beneath the surface, affecting a swell, an eddyline, and yet, no one knows. No one can see. 

You swallow half the drink in one gulp, hope and prayer on the wind. 

He’ll leave you alone, once you bore him. Once he realizes he won’t get anything out of you, he’ll move onto someone else. Someone more interesting. 

“How is it?” His leg presses harder on yours, a quadricep like cement halting you effectually, securing your immobility against him with a simple movement. 

He’ll pick you clean, and then pick his teeth with your bones. 

“Fine.”  

“Jus’ fine, eh?” His jaw flexes, and a split second of confusing emotion controls you, forcing new words from your mouth in a desperate attempt to appease. 

“It’s… good. It’s good.” Ice layers across the top of it, and you take another sip for the show, half smile painted on loosely. 

You have to get out of here. You have to go now. 

“If you’ll excuse me…” you flex, trying to stand, but he shakes his head. 

“Where you off to?” Your neck snaps back, indignant, and then you raise your voice over the din, too loud to be considered casual, fingers gripping the edge of your seat until your knuckles hurt. 

“I have to use the bathroom.” Eyes half lidded, he traces you from head to toe before nodding, turning back to his drink almost as if he’s uninterested, grim line of his mouth twisting into a smile and settling around the end of his cigarette. 

Once you’re in the hall, you take a left to the emergency exit, not a right, spilling out the back and into star studded night, gasping for air so cold it shocks your lungs. 

“Whoa, hey there.” An accent croons, and you turn in a panic, palms out. “Easy, easy bonnie. What’s got ye all upset?” Your entire body flags with relief, a rip cord pulled against your sense and judgement. The man, the Scottish man, seems friendly, seems kind, wide blue eyes alarmed and worried, brows creased gently as he helps keep you upright. 

“S-sorry. Sorry, I just… I just had… the weirdest-“ It doesn’t make sense, to try to explain, and nothing sounds right coming off your tongue, so you flail, and he tries to comfort you. 

“Shhh, ye’re alright now. Just breathe.” His palm is firm against your side, and you shake your head, trying to put words to the madness brewing at your back inside the bar. 

“There was a man, and he-“ The streetlamps flare, burning as bright as the sun, and you blink, grasping for your bearings. “He…” 

“He what, bonnie?” His voice is distorted, and the arm at your side now creeps around your back. “What’s wrong?” Your adrenaline surges, leaving your head throbbing, and nausea claws it way up the back of your throat. 

“N-nothing, I…” You’re fuzzy. Everything out of balance, and you gasp for air. 

The door behind you creaks open and slams closed, jolting you in the grip of the Scotsman. 

“It’s alright.” He coos. You’re weak limbed, malleable in his hold, and he turns your face into his neck, rubbing your back, his chest vibrating with every syllable. “Just close your eyes.” He smells good, woodsmoke and juniper, pine and cigarettes, something familiar enough to prickle, far away awareness digging at the soft sinew in the front of your brain. 

Pine and cigarettes. Pine… and cigarettes. 

It’s the last thing your rational mind pieces together before you’re lost to the darkness. 

#ghoap x reader #not edited so mind the mistakes #peach uses PET for the first time everyone #peaches writes #simon riley x reader #sorry had to get this out of the brain

[moonstruckme]

Can I request Spencer x anxious, overthinker reader ? Maybe, overwhelmed or stressed, like almost burnout, but not quite. Because this semester at uni had just been way too much in every way. Thank you 💕 🌸

Thanks for requeting love, hope you're able to get a break soon!

cw: academic stress, reader has symptoms of anxiety

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

When Spencer gets home in the middle of the night, you don’t hear him over the sound of sizzling and your own racing thoughts. 

“Hi,” he announces himself as he comes in, meeting your little jolt with a bemused look. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.” 

“Hey, how was your flight?” You whirl from the stove for the half a second it takes to brush a kiss against his cheek before turning back to keep pushing things around the pan. The momentary distraction is worth it for the emergence of Spencer’s smile, soft and fatigued. “Sorry, I was hoping to have this done before you got home.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says automatically. “The flight was good. I’m happy to be back.” He sets his bag down and rounds the kitchen island to lean against the counter beside the stove, peering at your face. “I hope you’re not making dinner just for me.” 

“I’m going to have some too,” you reassure him. “I’m starving.” 

Spencer’s expression shifts. You get the sense you’ve confirmed something for him. “It’s pretty late. Why haven’t you eaten yet?” 

You wish you could say that you’d wanted to wait and eat with your boyfriend, but there’s never any point in lying to Spencer. 

“I just haven’t gotten around to it until now,” you say. “I have a lot of work to do.” 

“I know,” he replies. You know he does. You’d started venting about your workload before he left for the case, and he’d been kind about letting you continue to do so during your nightly calls when he was away. “Still, it’s a lot to be up until…” He glances at the microwave clock, unsure of what time it actually is. You can’t say you know, either. “Nearly three-thirty. How long have you been working for?” 

You push the vegetables around in the pan, olive oil spitting and burning the skin of your hand. You feel Spencer’s stare narrow on you. “Since I got home, so seven-ish.” 

He frowns. “You’re not feeling tired, are you?” 

You’re not, though you don’t ask how he can tell. You look tired, you know. Every time you look in the mirror lately, you think of the word unkempt. Messy hair, dull skin, purplish crescent moons stamped under both eyes. But you don’t feel like you could sleep if you tried. There’s an urgency in your blood that gets you up early every morning and propels you to work through the day, like there’s an engine inside of you that’s decided it doesn’t need gas to run. You’re always moving, humming, thinking, certain without reason that if you stop it’ll all fall apart. 

You shake your head, and Spencer frowns towards the pan. “What do you have left to do with this?” 

You’re surprised to find, upon looking down, that the vegetables look ready. “Um,” you switch the heat off, “I’m just waiting for the timer to finish on the pasta, and then I’m going to mix them together. It shouldn’t be long.” 

“Okay.” He takes the spoon from you, moving you out of the way with a careful hand on your shoulder. “I can handle that. You should go sit down.” 

“Spence,” you laugh, “I can do it.” 

He doesn’t argue with you, necessarily, just utters a quiet, “It’s okay,” and nudges you in the direction of the couch. 

You don’t have it in you to protest much, not when he’s just gotten home, so you do, curling up with your feet underneath you and pulling a blanket from over the side of the armrest. You think Spencer is going to want to talk, but he doesn’t, just stirring the pasta and pulling dishes out of the cabinet. Maybe he’s exhausted, too. It is late, and he’s been working on his case the same way you’ve been chipping away at your schoolwork, for days and days with little reprieve. 

You thank him when he passes you a bowl, slurping up the noodles the way your mom would chide you if she were here for and comforted by the fact that Spencer’s doing the same. You’re convinced the pasta somehow tastes better than if you’d finished it yourself, your boyfriend’s poor culinary skills supplemented by the love he puts into taking care of you. 

“You know,” he says after a minute, “there’s evidence to suggest that consistent sleep loss can lead to loss of brain cells.” 

You suck a noodle into your mouth. “I sleep,” you tell him. “I’m just having a late night.” 

Spencer gives you a sorry sort of smile. Like he almost wants to apologize for how smart he is, how it keeps you from getting away with anything. “I’ve only been gone for four days,” he says, “but you were texting me after I went to sleep and before I got up every morning.”  

“Only psychopaths look at timestamps,” you joke, looking down into your pasta bowl. 

He shrugs, quiet. 

“What else can I do?” you ask, and you really are asking. “I have deadlines, Spence. Due dates. I can’t just say fuck it and go to sleep at nine every night like I don’t still have work left to do.” 

“Which part is overwhelming you?” he asks curiously. 

You huff. Not at him. “All of it? It’s like every one of my professors thinks they’re my only class. There’s a bunch of essays and projects all due this week, and no break from the regular stuff to give me time to get it done.” You blink into your pasta bowl, ashamed at the emotion bullying its way into your voice. Blame it on fatigue, you guess. “Every day when I get home from class, I have this impossible list of things to do, and it’s like, if I don’t finish, what’s going to happen? My grades will tank, and I won’t be able to get any of the good internships, and then I won’t get a job, and—”

“It’s okay.” Spencer’s voice is quiet, and you might keep going if not for the hand he sets on your wrist. His thumb strokes once over the delicate skin just below your palm. “It’s okay, just try to breathe for a second. Calm down.” 

You do, only because it’s him. When other people tell you to calm down, it’s a demand, a criticism of your display of feeling. When Spencer does it, it's an assurance. That you can relax, because he’s going to make it all right. 

“I failed three classes when I was in college,” he tells you. 

You imagine your eyes bulging all the way out of your head on cartoon springs, lolling towards the ground. “What?” 

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I didn’t like them. I never showed up to class, and eventually I just failed. I didn’t really care.” His mouth slants sheepishly. “I probably should have, but I still don’t, actually. You can get a job either way.” 

Your laugh is dry. “Spence, I think it’s a little different for genius prodigies.” 

“Not really,” he says, thumb still pressing into your wrist, and you finally realize he’s been taking your pulse. It’s strangely touching, the way he cares for you so quietly. “Even if you did fail these classes because of the assignments this week, the odds are actually pretty good that you could get a job. And you won’t fail, because you’ll still finish and the work will be great. I know you.” His long fingers stretch up your forearm, a caress. “I know you get really nervous about these things, but you’ll do better work if you sleep more. You’ll be more efficient.” 

“I can’t,” you admit quietly. 

A tiny, sympathetic crease appears between Spencer’s brows. “You can,” he promises. “I’ll make you some nighttime tea and we’ll make sure all the curtains are closed. We should turn off your alarms, too.” 

You bite your lip. “I have class in the morning.” 

“You can miss one. You have to miss a lot for it to really affect your grade, trust me.” He gives the base of your hand a little squeeze. “I’d know.” 

Your laugh is half breath, but Spencer smiles anyway. “Okay.” You’re giving in way too easily, but a morning spent in bed with your boyfriend sounds heavenly. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” he says sincerely, releasing your hand to pick up his fork. “We’ll go to bed once we finish this, okay? And I’ll pick up breakfast tacos for breakfast tomorrow. Protein is good for brain function.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The days pass like cold mud – slow, uncomfortable, and relentless.

But they do pass.

Eddie had said he could give Steve the time he needed, and he’d meant it; he would wait out the two weeks and be there on the other side to talk to him. To hope for a second chance.

They see each other here and there, mostly in passing: Steve comes to pick a few of the kids up from a gaming session; Eddie stops in at Family Video with Jeff, Gareth, and Oliver to grab a movie (where Jeff and Steve exchange a surprisingly friendly greeting); they occupy separate sides of the room at a group dinner.

Each time, Eddie is sure to at least acknowledge and wave at Steve, in spite of any protective hovering and scowling Robin might be doing if she happens to be present. Steve gives cautious nods in return at first, but as they near the deadline, he’s returning Eddie’s distant greetings with a hesitant smile and that ridiculous little finger-wiggle wave that Eddie had been reluctantly charmed by in the beginning.

And in the meantime, Eddie plots.

He is not, by nature, an optimist (strangely, between the two of them, that’s Steve’s area), but in this instance, he plans for the best: the idea that Steve will say yes and let Eddie take him on a proper date. And as improvisational as Eddie likes to be, he’s also a veteran dungeon master and plotter of all sorts of campaigns; if you want long-term plans to go off without a hitch, it pays to be prepared.

So, he plots.

He brainstorms and makes lists of all of Steve’s favorite things and schemes out elaborate romantic gestures and draws on all the knowledge he’s retained from the romcoms he’d whined about having to watch with Steve but had always given in over when Steve gave him that puppy-eyed look that Eddie has no defense against.

(And somehow, he’d continued to think they were just friends. His lack of awareness should be studied as a scientific anomaly.)

He thinks Steve would be proud of his accumulated work (and Eddie himself isn’t ashamed of it, but all the same, he makes sure to hide the notebook where none of the guys will ever, ever stumble across it, because they would never, ever let Eddie live it down).

In any case, the ticking down of two weeks finally comes to an end, and Eddie stands in front of the phone earlier than he’d normally care to be awake, hoping that his work will pay off.

Steve picks up before the fourth ring, just like he always does, and answers the phone like a dork, just like he always does.

“Harrington residence, Steve speaking.”

This is where Eddie normally makes a joke – says he’d been trying for the funeral home and asks if Steve happens to have a shovel and some time on his hands; says he thought he’d had the number for the Hawkins Gentleman’s Club and asks if Steve is much of a dancer; once, he’d even affected a terrible New York accent and spun some lines about how he’d been trying to call a speakeasy. He can always hear the laughter caught behind Steve’s dry responses to his nonsense, and he always loves it.

But now is not “normally,” and Eddie only just manages to sound like himself as he replies, “Steve. Just the Harrington I was hoping would speak.”

“Eddie,” is all Steve says for a moment; he sounds almost surprised, but not displeased. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Eddie says back. “So, I know punctuality has never been my strong suit, but it’s, uh. It’s been two weeks. Pretty much on the dot. And you said I should come talk to you again, so…”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, no, did you – You can come over. If you want to talk, still,” Steve says – stammers, really, like he’s been caught off-guard, like he really hadn’t been expecting Eddie to call.

“Well, if I didn’t change my mind in two weeks, I’m not gonna change my mind in the fifteen minutes it takes to get to your house,” Eddie says.

“Sure,” Steve says, a little steadier now. “Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”

“You definitely will,” Eddie assures him. “See you in a bit, Steve.”

“Yeah. Yes. Bye, Eddie.”

It’s awkward, but – it’s something.

The only reason Eddie doesn’t break an egregious number of traffic laws on his way to Steve’s house is because he simply couldn’t bear the irony of getting arrested now, of all times. With his luck, he’d get sent up the river and Steve would be left waiting and waiting at his house before coming to the conclusion that Eddie had never really cared about him after all, only to be found surprised and jaded several years later when Eddie is finally released from prison and makes his first stop the Harrington house and – Christ, Eddie’s had romance on the brain too long. He’s going to have to binge reread Lord of the Rings or something to get his head back on straight.

He pulls his head out of the clouds and his van into the Harrington’s ridiculously massive driveway and heads up to the door with a vibrating surplus of energy sustained entirely by nerves and determination.

It seems like he’s not the only one running on anxiety power, though, based on how quickly the door opens after Eddie rings the bell.

It’s the first time Eddie’s really seen Steve up close since the trailer two weeks ago. He looks– better. He’s still tired, Eddie can tell; he’s got that slightly droopy look around his eyes and an almost painful set to his jaw that’s nearly impossible to spot if you don’t know what to look for – and most people don’t (but Eddie’s spent a lot of time learning Steve, even if he hadn’t picked up all the right tells). But he still looks better, and Eddie finds himself relieved.

“Hey, there,” he says, giving Steve a nod. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood, y’know. Thought I’d drop by.”

Steve shakes his head, a tiny smile quirking up at one corner of his mouth. “Come in, jackass.”

“Fine way to treat your guests,” Eddie drawls in return, gratified when Steve’s smile grows just a tiny bit more.

He takes off his shoes at the entryway (Steve hardly ever asks anyone to take off their shoes, because worrying about the state of your floors isn’t cool, but it bothers him all the same, and so Eddie takes them off) and follows Steve through to the living room, where they both perch awkwardly on the couch and sit in an equally awkward silence for about thirty seconds.

“So… you said I should come talk to you,” Eddie says finally.

“I did, yeah.” Steve nods.

“You said to tell you if this was still something I wanted,” Eddie goes on.

“I did, yeah,” Steve says again. “And… you’re here.”

“I told you I wouldn’t change my mind, Steve.” Eddie’s hand twitches, almost instinctively reaching out for a spot on Steve’s knee, or around his wrist, or threaded through his fingers, but he doesn’t think he can take Steve freezing up or pulling away again. “This – you, us – I still want it. I want to do it right. If you’ll give me the chance, I want to treat you how you should be treated.”

Steve nods. “Okay.”

Eddie blinks. “Okay? As in – just, yeah, okay?” He knows he’s not making much sense, but he’d been sort of prepared to have to make his case – to extol the virtues of the perfect dates he had planned, to sing the praises of all the things he knows now that he should appreciate about Steve, to lament the loss of trust and ease between them, but instead Steve is just sitting there, watching him with a funny sort of smile on his face.

“I was… I was never going to say no, Eddie.” Steve shrugs. “I just really needed you to think about it. To make sure this—a real relationship with… with me—is really what you wanted. Because if it’s not, if you took it back again, I don’t think I’d– I just really needed you to be sure.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, low and serious, “I have never been more sure of anything in my life. A real relationship with you is exactly what I want.”

Steve’s smile twitches, changes into something a little more familiar, a little warmer. “Okay.”

“You’re never gonna regret it, sweetheart,” Eddie says, can’t help bouncing a little in his seat as his nerves turn to excitement, to elation. “I have the corniest, most romantic dates planned, I swear, I’m going to knock your socks off. We’ll unlock your inner Molly Ringwald.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve shakes his head at Eddie. “You really don’t have to do all that. I’m not– putting you through a trial, or whatever, we can just go back to what we were doing, right? Just with… I dunno, more awareness.”

“Noooo, no.” Eddie shakes his head right back. “You said you didn’t want to pretend nothing ever happened, and you shouldn’t have to. I want to do this, Steve. Let me take you on a real date.”

Something unreadable flashes across Steve’s face, and suddenly his smile is wrong again. Sort of plastic – like he’s trying, but it’s not quite reaching his eyes. But before Eddie can ask what’s wrong, Steve is shrugging.

“If you insist…”

“I most certainly do,” Eddie says firmly. “I’m gonna romance the shit out of you.”

At that, Steve releases a helpless snort of laughter, and the plastic smile is gone, blown away by a real one.

“You’re making a super good argument for it,” Steve says, and Eddie grins.

“Aren’t I?” He bats his eyelashes. “So tell me: you free on Friday night?”

“I’m working, actually. Someone has to dole out dumb romances to other people out on dates,” Steve says drily, as if he himself hasn’t seen most of the films he’s maligning.

Eddie hums. “Saturday?”

“I could probably get someone to cover my shift,” Steve hedges, teasing and flirty and everything Eddie’s missed in the last few weeks.

“So you’ll be free?” Eddie asks.

“As a bird – as long as that bird isn’t a robin, considering who’s going to have to cover for me,” Steve says, and Eddie pulls a grimace.

“Yeah, maybe don’t tell her why you need the shift covered. I get the feeling she wouldn’t be as agreeable if she knew I was involved,” he says.

“I don’t think Robin’s ever been agreeable in her life, and she’d probably resent the accusation.” Steve smirks. “But as long as she doesn’t think I’m sneaking away to see you, and if I take the Monday morning shift she really hates, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Let’s plan for Saturday?”

“Saturday it is!” Eddie pops up off the couch, both unwilling to sour the mood by overstaying his welcome, and suddenly overflowing with the need to set preparations in motion. “Six o’clock, sharp! I’ll pick you up.”

“Do I get to know where we’re going?” Steve asks, one eyebrow cocked.

“Absolutely not. The surprise is part of the experience,” Eddie says.

“Dress code, at least?” Steve wheedles, and Eddie supposes that’s fair.

“Casual. And bring a jacket,” Eddie says.

Both of Steve’s brows go up now, as he rises from the couch to follow Eddie back out towards the door. “Telling someone to bring outerwear to a date is usually a red flag, man,” he says, watching as Eddie shoves his shoes back on.

“But you love being outside,” Eddie counters, glancing up at Steve with a grin.

“I,” Steve pauses, blinking at him. “I guess.”

“And no more hints,” Eddie says, rising from the floor and reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you on Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice warming around a small, pleased smile, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Can’t wait.” Eddie throws one last grin at him before stepping out into the brisk, late fall air.

He doesn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Part 7

-

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The tag list is full at this time, but I'll be posting this fic to Ao3 soon, so hopefully people can subscribe there if they want update alerts?

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #things are going to start picking up soon 👀 #solar wrote

[stvolanis]

hii i have a req :farleigh coming into your room one night and blindfolding you and duct-taping your mouth shut pretending to be a home intruder. You know it's him so you pretend to put up a fight but you've been baiting him for months now so your so wet and needy it’s giving away that you love this.

Love this idea Anon!💋💕 your brain is absolutely magnificent!!

Intruder Alert!

(One-Shot)

PAIRINGS: Farleigh Start! X Fem! Reader

WARNINGS: Farleighs a weirdo, foul language, mutual pinning just on the low, not rlly angst but reader has doubts about Farleigh wanting her?, Venetia being Venetia, reader acts innocent

NSFW WARNINGS: sub/dom undertones, bondage (F!receiving), slapping, spitting, dub-con, power play, slight size kink, forced breeding, vouyerism, mentions of fingering, perv!Farleigh, possessive! Farleigh (if you squint). if I missed anything I’m sorry!!💕

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Farleigh Start felt as though you had it out for him the moment you stepped your high heeled foot through the large doors of the Saltburn mansion.

Your scent lingered in the air behind you, wherever you went. It’s was in all the rooms you perched yourself in. The green room, the blue room, etc. Farleighs nostrils flared, deeply inhaling the scent of vanilla and cherrywood with a hint of musk discreetly as he sat across from you at the dining table, dinner being served before you.

For months, you’d been prancing around in little to nothing; driving him absolutely batshit insane. Wearing those flimsy little tank tops that stuck to you like second skin, no bra underneath. Your hard nipples displayed for everyone to see, much to his dismay. They spilled at out at the top when you’d lean across the dining table to grab the mashed potatoes and Farleigh had to hold back a groan.

You wore the shortest mini skirts he’d ever laid his eyes upon. God forbid you strolled outside together as a family when it was windy. Everyone would have a show put on for them of your white cotton panties, a pink little bow adorned on the front. It made Farleighs cock painfully harden even with just a glimpse.

You were so naive, so trusting and innocent; or so he thought. Farleigh thought you were oblivious to the effect you had on him, so when he walked past your room one night to the sound of your soft moans slipping from the cracks of the door, he was happily surprised.

The door was cracked; almost as if you wanted someone to find you like this. Almost like you wanted him to find you like this.

So obviously, Farleigh took this as an invitation to watch.

Your fingers danced underneath the same cotton panties he’d seen previously, pushing in and out of your needy cunt. The sound of your slick so loud and prominent, a clear sign of your arousal. The curly haired man fisted his cock like a 13 year old discovering porn for the first time, embarrassingly cumming fast.

And for months, this went on. Months of him purposely passing by your room, hoping to hear the sound of your voice on the brink of an orgasm. For months, he spat into his large hand, jerking himself off while he watched you hump stuffed animals, pillows, and the way you played with your puffy pussy.

And for months, you knew.

The first time Farleigh watched you come undone, finding his own release, he didn’t clean up after himself. You opened the door shortly after your orgasm to go pee, only to step in warm cum on the floor. Felix was asleep, as was Oliver. You knew the only person usually up at this hour was Farleigh, just as you hoped, he had taken the bait.

For months, you put on a show for him. Sometimes even wearing lingerie of his favorite color. You discreetly watched him through the crack of your door, and picked up on what made him cum faster, or what made him cum more. Pink, you learned, was his favorite color on you. You knew he liked watching you fuck yourself onto your pink vibrating dildo. And he loved watching you hump your satin pillow.

Farleigh couldn’t ever look you in the eyes during breakfast, or when you lounged out by the lake in nothing but a thin layer of sunscreen and your baby pink bikini, top barely hiding anything. He didn’t look you in the eyes while playing tennis, even when going against you. He didn’t look you in the eyes during dinner, especially not even when you asked him to pass you something.

Farleigh was, dare i say it, ashamed.

He was ashamed by the way you made him feel, ashamed of what he did early every night outside of your door. You were just—so easy, so nice, and pretty. The sweetest girl in town, for miles to come. He wanted you, badly. But he assumed you wanted anyone else but him.

You tried to subtly flirt with him, make moves, but Farleigh just thought that you were trying to be nice, or make him feel more included about whatever it was you were doing. Venetia was the first to connect the dots.

As a promiscuous woman herself, she knew what you were doing, and honestly applauded you for it; though she grew aggravated at the two of you for never physically acting on it with each other.

“Just fuck him already. If you know he wants you, then why not just get it over with. I’m tired of you guys walking on eggshells around each other.” She dragged out as she painted her nails a blueish hue, her hair prettily braided. You sighed. “Not that easy, Vee. M’too scared. What if he doesn’t want me after we have sex anymore?” You worried.

Venetia rolled her green eyes with a smack of her glossy lips. “Farleighs a lover boy at heart, I’ve known him for fucking ever. If anything, he’ll be the clingiest little shit you’ve ever met once you’ve banged.” She said with a playful slap to your ass as you got up from your bed.

You giggled. “Think I can pull it off tonight?” You asked with a raised brow as you clicked the TV on. Venetia nodded her head with a smug look. “Oh, definitely.” She chuckled out when you gave her a little twirl, jokingly showing off your body. “He won’t even know what to do with all that.” She sighed out, dramatically falling back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

You took your place next to her in the empty spot, your head rested on a pillow. “What if this goes south?” You ask, glancing over at her. She pondered for a moment before she exhaled deeply. “Well, you’d have to leave Saltburn, Obviously, for starters.” She began. you playfully slapped her arm with an eyes roll.

She smiled. “It won’t, trust me.” She said with a reassuring nod. And you did. You trusted her.

Tonight was the night. You’d decided as you wore the skimpiest outfit yet. The one you had stashed away at the back of your closet, for special use.

A baby white tube top with lace on the hem of it, tacky rhinestones written out to spell “dolly” in almost a cursive. You paired it with the shortest skirt you owned, a jean mini skirt that was flared out at the bottom. You didn’t wear panties, but you did throw on some white fishnets; something you knew Farleigh enjoyed, as he stared at you more when you wore them.

The finishing touches was a bedazzled choker snug against your neck and a Pearl necklace with your initial on it, and your favorite platformed sandals. Your toes had white tips, freshly done to match your manicured nails.

You sighed softly as you looked at yourself in the mirror, gliding your hands down the sides of your body before adjusting anything that needed to be adjusted. Your hair was down, styled to your liking. God, you hoped this went as you wanted.

As you exited your room, roaming the long narrow halls, down the stairs till you finally found your way to the dining room. The whole family was there, minus the deceased family friend Pamela, and the seat next to Farleigh was conventionally empty thanks to Venetia who usually sat by him.

You could visibly see him tense as you took your seat swiftly next to him, sending a small smile. You acted like you didn’t see the way his eyes raked over your figure from head to toe. He adjusted himself in his seat with a cough, and Venetia shot you a knowing look from across the table as she brought her wine glass up to her lips with a smile.

Your hand discreetly found it’s way to Farleighs thigh, looking over at him with a smile. “How are you these days, Farleigh?” You asked, batting your eyelashes up at him. He clicked his tongue, almost portraying annoyance, but you knew better. “I’m..” he started, his eyes trained on your hand that squeezed his. “Fine. I’m fine.” He spat out after a moment, gulping.

Your hand trailed to his crotch, giving it a squeeze with a tender smile. “Yeah?” You asked again. He sucked in a harsh breath. “Yeah..” he repeated mindlessly, focused on the way your gentle hand stroked along his hardened cock through his jeans. His brows furrowed together in displeasure when your hand left where he needed you most.

He clicked his tongue, his hand finding it’s way to your cunt, brows raised at his discovery. “No panties, hm? Dirty girl.” He whispered, just loud enough for only you to hear. His finger dipped into your pussy, teasingly almost. His thumb circled your needy bud and your thighs squeezed together, which you soon regretted as his hand left from between your legs.

“Farleigh..” you whimpered. He rolled his eyes dismissively. “Be good.” Was all he said as a response.

The night carried on, with laughter from jokes shared around the large table. Conversations kept your mind from trailing back to the need for Farleigh fingers in you, but a constant reminder was his heavy hand on your thigh, squeezing every once and a while to let you know he was listening to every word you spoke, even if it wasn’t directed towards him.

You blushed under his gaze. The confidence you had suddenly disappearing as you became shy all of the sudden as you sat next to him. Fantasies of him bending you over the table, having his way with you, clouded your mind. He’d do it so easily, too.

How easy it would be for him to overpower you, taking what he wanted without remorse. You needed him just as badly as he needed you, and that’s exactly why you had to dismiss yourself from the chattery table early. You needed to take your mind elsewhere, away from the suffocation of Farleighs stalking presence.

When you made your way back to your room, you made sure to leave your door cracked every so slightly, enough for a lingering invitation to the man you craved the most.

But, as soon as your head hit your silk pillow, you were fast asleep. Consumed with comforting darkness and your mind finally blank—that was till you felt a hand cover your eyes. You gasped in shock as it was soon replaced with some kind of cloth secured tightly around your head.

You were flipped onto your stomach as your arms began to flail around, desperately trying to defend yourself against your intruder. “Please—stop!” You whimpered out. You felt rope tie your wrists together, bound together, no freeing movement as you tried to wiggle them out, but to no avail.

“I’ll do anything—just—please! Don’t hurt me!” You nearly sobbed out. A deep chuckle was heard, almost familiar, and then it clicked. You continued your cries as his hand trailed down to your sickeningly wet cunt. Farleigh clicked his tongue. “Filthy little girl, getting off on this. Y’so fuckin’ wet, pretty baby.” He cooed, almost mockingly as two slim, yet long fingers prodded into your entrance before easily sliding in.

“Oh fuck!” You whined as his fingers curled into your g-spot. His thumb rubbed your clit soothingly, and his mouth found its way to your now exposed breast. His tongue swirled at your nipple, before biting down hard enough to leave a distinctive mark. You let out a yelp as he sucked your sensitive bud into his mouth, releasing with a loud pop.

He jiggled your boobs together, shoving his face between them as his fingers began slamming into you. “Oh- oh my god!” You moaned out through tears. His thumb circled your clit painfully faster, almost agonizing as he easily brought you to the brink of an orgasm.

And you were right there, so fucking close. Like the tips of your fingers were touching the clouds, almost entering a paradises; and then it was snatched away from you within a second. You shined in protest, sniffling. His hand had left from between your legs for the second time tonight, and your frustration grew.

Farleigh folded you into a mating press, your knees pressed against your shoulders and his heavy wet against you, but what caught your attention the most, was the heaviness of what hung between his thighs. Hot and heavy against your wet cunt, gliding through your folds gracefully.

He pushed his fat tip into you first, then slowly bottomed out till you could feel the curly mound of hair sat above his cock. It scratched against you just slightly, but you didn’t mind. You took him so good, so pretty under him. Your hair was a mess, and your makeup smeared from tears and sweat. Your legs spread, almost like a present for him to take and unravel himself as he saw fit, and that’s just what he was going to do.

His hand snaked up to your throat, finding it’s place securely before asserting his dominance by squeezing roughly. Forcing you to really realize the situation you were currently in. Really, he could do anything he wanted to you. He could use you for hours, if he wanted, as a punishment for the months of torture he endured as you flaunted yourself to him.

“Look at you, such a mess. And to think, I thought you were a good girl.” He chuckled as his lips skimmed over yours, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw the faintest amount of blood, yet still prominent enough that he could taste the tang of it on his slick tongue. He was enamored with you and the way you felt wrapped around him.

He pounded into you like a wild animal, free of its cage. He fucked you like he’s never fucked anyone before, and this is his first time; but you know it isn’t. His pace was so erratic as he burrowed his hips into you, his jackhammering cock pounding and prodding at your sore cervix, surely to be bruised painfully in the morning.

The way he had you angle hit deep in you, and you longed to see him above you. You wondered how he looked right now. You could only imagine his hair matted to his forehead with sweat. His lean body pressed against yours, his stomach glistening in the lighting. If you could see him, you’d know hes exactly how you imagined—but a little more needy.

Needier than his voice made him seem, deep and dominant, heavy with authority. His voice made it seem like he wasn’t as effected as you were, but that was so far from the truth. His jaw was slack, head falling back as he let out breathless groans and moans above you. At one point, he bit down on his lip, trying to hush himself from the small whimpers that threatened to spill at the tightness of your snug cunt.

“Please, M’so close!” You whimpered out, your hands balling into fists. You wished you could feel him, hold him against you—claw at his back or the bed sheets—tangle your hands in his curly locks, but you couldn’t. And you knew that this was your punishment. “Beg for it, slut. Be a good little bitch and beg for it. Say sorry for being a whore while you’re at it.” He huffed out with a groan and almost a laugh.

Your breathing became heavy as his hips slammed into yours harder than before, knocking out the air in your lungs. “Please, Farleigh! N—Need to cum, p..please! M’sorry, m’so sorry, won’t d—o it again!” You all but yelled out. “Lemme cum, pretty please. I’ll be a good girl.” You said, yelping when his hand came down, slapping your clit.

“Awh, you wanna cum? This is the only way you’re allowed to.” He said, his tone heavy and dark. You gasped when his hand came down again on your clit, over and over again. The pressure of it mixed with the stinging pain had you spiraling, and a few more slaps to your sensitive, engorged bundle of nerves had your orgasm tumbling over uncontrollably.

Your body shook and spasmed as you orgasm wracked through you. Your nipples poked at his chest, creating friction from the sensitivity and tears pricked your eyes, but were hidden beneath the fabric that covered your eyes. “Farleigh!” You moaned his name out like it was a prayer, and he reveled in it.

“M gonna cum too, baby.” He moaned out. Your hazy mind was recovering just enough to realize what was going on. “Pull out, Farleigh.” You ushered him. He shook his head, as if you could see. “Gonna stuff this cunt, so everyone knows you’re mine when you’re knocked up.” He groaned, his head burrowing in your neck, sucking at the skin.

“F—Farleigh, Wait!” You begged, feeling his cock pulse inside of you, almost tearing you in half from the sheer size of it. The overstimulation was too much, and you couldn’t find yourself to fight back on him releasing inside you anymore as you felt another orgasm shake through you for a second time.

Farleigh came the same time as you, sure enough painting your pink, gummy walls white with a loud moan, the loudest you’ve ever heard him this far. When he pulled out, he sickeningly watched his cum ooze out of you, mesmerized by the way you pulsed and clenched around nothing, whining at the loss of his cock stuffing you full.

“Took my cock so well.” He praised as he took off the fabric covering your eyes, untying the ropes around your wrist. The tightness of them had left a mark, and you suspected that it would bruise in the morning too, but exhaustion consumed you and all you cared about was falling asleep next to Farleigh, which you did happily.

The comfort of his arms wrapped around you, and the kisses he laid all over your body as he cleaned you up made you hum out a soft sigh. He cleaned your cunt, and wiped off any access sweat your body had created with a warm rag gently.

You were content like this, almost domestic as he laid alongside you, legs tangling together. His body had grown cold, and it was a welcoming contrast to your skin as his cold feet met your hot ones. Soon enough, you were asleep.

The last thoughts that plagued your mind were what was to come after what happened tonight. Your only hope being that he would still want you, but the way he held you against him, almost like he was afraid of losing you, made you feel a lot better.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[chlorinecake]

A non con fanfiction? On sunghoon or jake

Btw love you're fanfics! Lots of lovee!🤍

cross my heart and hope to die

syn. Basically while your university hosts a school event, Jake convinces you to help him break into an abandoned frat house before fucking the living daylights out of you

pair. star student!fratboy!jake x gullible!fem!reader

warnings. swearing, guided f. masturbation, cum eating (?), tit play, hickey, petnames (angel, doll face), cnc themes, mild degrading and exhibition kink, light choking/slapping/hair pulling, unprotected sex (stay safe guys), creampie, not proofread

word count. 2.1k

Today marked the day of your university’s annual student and staff celebration, and as promised in the lengthy event criterion, would offer free refreshments, entertainment, awards, and most importantly, a place for everyone on campus to fit in.

Or at least… mostly everyone.

You and your university’s proudly dubbed star student and “spoiled brat,” Sim Jake, occupied yourselves with other plans for the evening.

To most people, Jake in a nutshell was someone who’s brain matched their pockets.

Not that you were particularly interested in Jake’s money or brilliance… you just simply found him attractive. Very attractive.

His strikingly sharp smile, almond brown eyes, perfect cupid's bow, olive skin, strong hands... you could go on for days about how beautiful he was to you.

Gosh, looking at him alone was like a wet dream.

So much so that you'd do basically anything just to be in his presence, despite your own impending bashfulness getting in the way.

And he noticed it. All of your fangirl tendencies...

Despite that, your relationship with Jake wasn't necessarily ideal: you basically just did whatever he asked of you, leading to the partial friendship you two now share.

Though, the only boundary Jake’s favors hadn’t passed yet was anything sexual, all the while one way or another, he planned to change that.

Now, you wish you could say this particular night was all his idea, but you knew deep down in your heart that you had every intent within your own gullible will to join him in his folly.

To give in.

“Hey, you almost done in there, doll face?,” Jake whispered from behind the halfway opened door to the dean’s office, extending his head to take a look down the hallways as if preparing to cross the street.

You two couldn’t risk getting caught.

Not in here, and not over this.

“Yeah, I.... I’m locking the drawer back now, just gimme a few more seconds,” you replied while focused on the task at hand, locking the dean’s desk drawer back and doing a quick check to make sure everything was in the same place you’d found it initially before leaving.

Everything except the key to your university’s former frat house, which had since five or so years ago become a vacant property of forgotten memories and potential.

Of course Jake thought to seek your help with getting the key, hoping that someday, he and his friends would be able to reoccupy the place.

“Alright, we’re good to go,” you said, meeting him at the door as you both ran down the left hall, a flight of stairs, along a few sidewalks, and onto the football field.

“The house should be a few more minutes from here,” Jake added, taking your hand in his to guide you, his touch practically sending electric waves to your heart.

It was starting to get dark quickly, and you weren't sure if the event was coming to an end or not, given how quiet everything suddenly became... but still, you were more focused on exploring anyways.

For better or worse, you were just too curious, too desperate for Jake’s attention.

Click.

You finally unlocked the door upon trying the three other keys you stole from the office, taking in the view of the place that looked as if it’d been kept clean over all these years, with an audacity to smell of pleasant florals, citrus, and pine.

“Hey, where’d you get that?,” you asked Jake, noticing the can of soda he sipped from, and the way his lips glimmered under the faint lighting.

“From the party… I must've been thirsty earlier and forgot I brought this with me,” he said, puppy eyes looking around before meeting you, “want some?”

“Uh, sure, thanks,” you said shyly, taking the soda can to sip, even though the fizz was a bit faded for some reason.

“Oh! Sorry, ____!,” he suddenly yelped, having nudged your hand to take the drink away and accidentally spilling some of the sparkling liquid all over the top you wore.

“Ahh,” you sighed quietly, feeling the cold and sugary drink stick to your skin, “it’s fine, Jake... there’s gotta be towels in here somewhere anyway.”

“Hey, maybe check upstairs, if there's a main bedroom, there should be some cloths in there,” Jake offered, going to discard the can as you did just as he said.

You found a room eventually, where hand towels with dainty cross embroidery at each corner laid on the bed. They stood out like a sore thumb considering the erotic playboy magazine covers hung up on either end of the headboard in gold picture frames.

Jake came back quickly, watching as you plopped yourself on the bed, your chest jiggling a bit with you’re movements as you wiped up your shirt.

He laid down beside you with a groan, yawning out of boredom more than tiredness, “Wonder what kind of shit went down in this room,” he though to himself before glancing back at you. “That’s not gonna work, you know? You’re gonna need to change your entire shirt at this point.”

“But… I don’t wanna risk getting caught by taking anything else, seeing how I’ve already messed up this nice towel,” you rationalized with him.

“Take off your shirt, angel,” Jake said in a husky voice, sitting up now on the bed to look at you better, his gaze practically undressing you itself, “you just look so uncomfortable with it on…”

Your nipples were hard thanks to the cold drink, so they poked through your outfit, just enough for him to get a good sneak peek.

There was something about the tone of his voice that made you feel different this time, though. Nervous.

“I’m fine… really,” you replied before continuing, “So what do you think about the frat house," you asked, still patting the wet spot of your shirt with the towel, ignoring his previous comment.

"Hmm… It's pretty nice... spacious... the condition isn’t too bad, so that means less work for me and the boys,” he answered, shamelessly staring at you, “plus, it already has everything we need in it.”

The place really was like a hidden resort house.

“Yeah… now that you mention it, I wouldn’t doubt they still have some soap in here, too. I really need to wash this stain out, anyway—”

Jake’s hands found your shoulder first, pushing you back first against the bed before straddling you, hooking the lower seam of your top with his fingers and pulling it up over your head.

“W-what’re you doing, Jake?” You stuttered, nervous as you laid half naked beneath him.

“What you obviously couldn’t do yourself,” he slithered, lips already meeting your sweet breasts, thanks to his little soda accident earlier.

You regretfully moaned, already feeling your core warm up at his actions. The effect he had on you was honestly a bit embarrassing.

“M-maybe we should go back downstairs-”

“But you don’t want to…” he whispered against your skin as he left a trail of kisses all over your chest.

“J-Jake, this isn’t why I came here with you-”

“You know how much I like it when you do as I say, angel... now I just need you to keep being a good girl for me, okay?”

“Jake, stop-” you whined, feeling as his hands toyed with your panties.

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t been dying for me to touch you like this,” he grinned, looking up at you with the sluttiest eyes as his hand sat just above the wet spot of your core.

He snickered to himself, “You want this, don't you?”

His hand harshly smacked the tender skin of your inner thigh, a loud sound filling the room as your body flinched.

“Yes,” you yelped in discomfort, biting your lip to hold back any tears.

“So why are you telling me to stop?”

“I was… I don’t…,” your mind was getting fuzzy, chest starting to heave as you struggled to think with his finger circling your clothed clit.

What had gotten into him?

“You were cold because I spilled my drink on you, and now I’m helping you warm up again,” he smiled, mouth connecting with your neck as he continued to suck relentlessly, skillfully teasing your heat as he marked you, “Right, ____?”

“Jake,” you whined, arching your back once you felt his fingers apply pressure.

“Shhh,” he cooed, pulling down your bottoms the rest of the way and spreading your legs.

Leaning back, he finally spoke, “Touch yourself for me… and use two fingers so I can see how your pathetic little pussy struggles to take it.”

And of course, you did just that, already slick enough to put on a nice show for him.

He slapped your face when you closed your eyes, telling you to look at him the entire time.

You continued to pleasure yourself before him, a bit of moisture seeping from your aching hole when he slapped your tit this time, “Oh, you like the pain, don’t you slut? Can’t come without it, can you?”

“Nngh, no,” you answered for reasons you don’t understand, fucking yourself faster as you circled your hips, just as he snatched your wrist, licking the juices from your fingers.

“Up,” was all he said before taking you to the window, bending you over the sill.

“It’s getting stuffy in here, I say we let some air out, yeah?”

All you did was nod dumbly as his words, his belt buckle hitting the ground with a clink as his dick found your entrance, shoving past your slimy tightness with his lips kissing down your back.

His grunts sounded animalistic as he picked up the pace, his accent thick and strong with each curse that slipped from his mouth.

Jake’s hands found your neck, gripping tightly as his thrusts sped up, fucking you back and forth with you your head resting at the window.

“Look up slut, so everyone can see your cute little face tear up while I fuck you from behind… fuck you like my good little cock whore. Taking all of me so well— mmm.”

He pulled your hair by the roots, causing a loud moan to slip past your mouth as he stretched you out. “You’re such a slut for pain,” he grunted, “am I wrong, angel?”

You whimpered at his words, barely even present with how dizzy you felt, “you’re always righ— mghh, yes, right there...”

He pulled you from the window sill, shoving your face against the ground as he continued to thrust from behind, your tits shaking with his aggressive thrusts.

Picking you back up by the elbows, he pistoled into you, fluids trickling down your thighs and glistening against his pelvis as your poor thighs shook from all the pleasure, your weak moans dancing off the walls.

He thrusted in and out of you, fucking you into overstim as he chased him own high, taking pleasure in the way you squirmed whenever you felt his tongue against your skin.

His hands slid up your ribs before cupping your tits again, gripping at them relentlessly as his moans grew louder, breathier.

Needier.

Your hips bounced against his as you helped by fucking yourself on his cock, throwing your head back against his chest as you both came at the same time.

“Aww, fuck,” he groaned loudly, loosening his grip as you felt him paint your walls with his warm release.

Despite how out of breath both of you were, Jake picked you up and brought you to the bed, taking the same towels from earlier to clean you up before joining the empty spot beside you.

The three keys you borrowed from the dean's office were as good as misplaced by now, you and Jake both too tired to give a shut about looking for 'em now.

“You can’t tell anyone about this…," he started with a rasp voice, "nothing about tonight… not your friends, and especially not mine,” he said, pulling you close to him as you laid in only his jacket and your panties, Jake himself wearing just a t-shirt and jeans.

You looked into his face, that was unbelievably more striking with a post-sex glow.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you answered softly, as both of you stared at the ceiling, hearing nothing more than your hearts beating and a few faint sounds from outside.

Still, the fact remained that you’d do anything for Jake… even sexual favors now.

“Thank you,” he whispered back, but you were already fast asleep, the final thought on his own mind being that the abandoned frat house would be a place just for the two of you now.

❊ Thank you all so much for reading this quick fic !! I honestly think it's kinda garbage, but I hope someone out there finds it enjoyable at least (probably gonna make a revised version of this for another member tho, we'll see...) !! Also, make sure to check out my masterlist for more reads like this ~

❊ [Perm] Taglist: @squoxle @ashgonedash @nikisdubblchococake @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33

#enhypen smut #enhypen #enha #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake sim smut #sim jaeyun hard thoughts #jake sim hard thoughts #jake sim hard hours #jake x reader #jake hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #jake hard thoughts #enhypen x reader #sim jaeyun smut #shim jaeyun smut #jake headcanons #enhypen headcanons #jake smut #enhypen jake smut #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun headcannons #sim jaeyun hard hours #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard headcanons

[leahsgirl]

valentines sucks

— in which y/n’s original valentine’s day plans fall through and leah decides to take her out herself.

pairings - leah williamson x female reader

warnings - minor swearing but that’s about it really

a/n - an early valentine’s day post because i have the patience of a three year old, here’s some fluff for the lovely day 💐💒

—

“Babe wake up.” shaking the body next to you in bed, you was answered with grumbles before you could hear faint snores again. “Baby, come on get up, it’s valentine’s day!” With a reluctant sigh, the man next to you shifted so his upper body was pressed against the headboard, rubbing his eyes for a brief second.

“here.” an excited grin covered your face as you handed him a red envelope and a neatly wrapped present. “well go on; open it.”

the brown haired boy peeled open the envelope, revealing a handmade card covered in red lipstick kisses and cut-out hearts made from card. “To Tobias, happy valentine’s day, i love you, thanks for another year together, love y/n.” He placed down the card and reached for the present, tearing the wrapping paper open to reveal a homemade scrapbook. “Look inside, theres a surprise.” At this point you was itching with anticipation, personally you thought you’d outdone yourself with the valentine’s day gifts this year and couldn’t wait to get your boyfriend’s reaction.

Tobias pulled out a folded piece of paper, opening it up you watched as he read the words on the page. “We’re going Canada?” He looked confused. “Well I know it’s always been one of the places you’ve wanted to go, plus you said you had some family down there so I thought this is the perfect opportunity to go visit them.”

“y/n I don’t know what to say.” The olive skinned boy replied as he looked over the piece of paper again. “Hm most people normally say thank you.” You laughed as you moved closer to him. “Do you like it?”

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he gave a weak smile and nodded. Oblivious to his change in demeanour, you pressed your lips to his pulling him in for a short but sweet kiss.

“Okay my turn!” now crossing your legs and holding your hands out, you shut your eyes.

“Oh..uhm..shit yeah.” Tobias got up off the bed, walking back and forth as he tried to find something to give you. A fun fact you should know about Tobias; he’s a pretty shitty person - you just failed to acknowledge it at this point. “Listen y/n-“ He sunk back onto the mattress. Opening your eyes you notice he’s looking anywhere but you. “You forgot didn’t you?” The lack of response told you everything you needed to know, your mood instantly deflating.

Scoffing, you got up out of bed and made your way into the bathroom. “y/n wait I can make it up to you.” Tobias rang out but you were choosing to ignore him.

Whipping out your phone, you decide to text your fellow teammates/friends:

y/n - he’s only gone and forgot again, i’m at a loss for words, valentines sucks

meado - you deserve better y/n i’m sorry

geo stanway - break up with him! break up with him!

y/n - you say it like it’s easy

elton - do you want me to come and twat him?

lee lee - be ready in 15 mins, wear something warm.

Despite the curiosity, you follow the defenders instructions, throwing on some light wash jeans and a beige jumper, finishing off the look with a matching beanie. Unlocking the door, you find yourself face to face with Tobias. “Where are you going?”

“Out. Also i’d appreciate if you weren’t here when I get back, I think it’s best we both have some space.” With that you leave the room, grab your bag and leave the apartment.

You didn’t have to wait for Leah for long, you was only stood outside your apartment complex for a couple of minutes before you caught a glimpse that famous blonde hair. “My car’s around the corner, come on let’s go.”

“Hello y/n, hello Leah, it’s nice to see you, it’s nice to see you too. And they say chivalry is dead.” You said sarcastically as the older girl was already turning around to head back to her Audi. She pauses, waiting for you to catch up “Sorry, it’s just we’re on a bit of a time limit.”

You raised your eyebrows quizzically, “care to tell me where we’re going? and why I had to dress warm,”

She glances you up and down before smiling like a mischievous kid “Nope and Nope, you look beautiful though.” You could feel the blush creeping up on your cheeks at the compliment. “Leah Williamson: The charmer.”

“Always.” The blonde winked at you before opening the car door and sliding into the drivers seat. “Mind if I connect my phone to play music?” Leah shook her head and you started pressing all sorts of buttons on the touchscreen device. Eventually you got up CarPlay with it displaying Leah’s last played song “‘I see the light’, Seriously? How old are you?”

It was the blue-eyed girls turn to blush now, witnessing a sense of embarrassment come over her. “Hey it’s a good song from a great film, i’m going to ignore your judging.”

You raise your hands up in defence “No judging - I actually think it’s quite cute. In fact it gives me even more evidence for my ‘leah williamson is actually a massive softie’ list i’m compiling.” She gives you a stern look but you know she’s only playing and you continue to shuffle songs until you come across one you like.

The car journey was pleasant and entertaining, talking about pretty much anything and everything along with a quick game of would you rather. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, it’s probably why you liked being around the taller girl so much. Leah parked up and the two of you got out the vehicle. “Hold my hand?” You accepted the extended arm and laced your fingers with hers, choosing not to acknowledge how right it felt.

Syncing up steps, Leah guided you towards an area that got noisier the closer you got, nonetheless brighter. “Welcome to London’s biggest funfair.” The blonde announced.

“How on earth did you know I always wanted to come here?!” Looking around, you could see a multitude of various rides and mini-game stalls, not to mention your ultimate favourite; the ferris wheel. “I listen y/n, that’s how.” Just that sentence alone sent your stomach flipping. “What do you propose we do first?”

Scanning around, you take notice of the bumper cars and smirk to yourself “How about a good olé head-to-head at bumper cars?”

The mention of competition was enough to get Leah to agree, trailing along behind you to get in the queue. She was so going to win.

Now as it turned out, she in fact did not win, and instead is complaining of whiplash. “Stupid pissing game.” She grumbled causing you to snicker “it’s alright Lee, i’m sure after another one..or one hundred goes you’ll be able to have a chance at beating me.”

Lots of games later, you sat yourselves on a bench, holding one of the greatest inventions known to man. “I can’t believe you’ve never had warm donuts, you’ve been missing out.” You weren’t being dramatic when you felt a piece of yourself shatter when Leah told you she’s never tried the popular carnival dessert. “They’ve just never really appealed to me.”

“And that ladies and gentlemen is what is wrong with society today.” Opening the box and letting the smell hit you, you broke a donut in half, holding it out for Leah to take a bite out of. You watched as the blonde ate the sugary treat and widened her eyes “Okay they’re gorgeous.” She revealed as she went for the other half.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Hey do you mind waiting here for a few minutes, I’ve got to go do something real quick.” The defender got up off the table and waited for your approval before actually leaving. Once you nodded, she was off in the opposite direction, leaving you with just the now empty donut box and both of your belongings.

However, after around ten minutes she returned, holding something behind her back. “Okay close your eyes and put your hands out.” Following her orders you do exactly that, feeling a soft weight now in your possession. Taking a look, in your hands was a small brown bear with a heart attached to its claws. “Happy Valentine’s day y/n.” Leah spoke softly and your heart was beating faster than it does when playing a match. “Lee you didn’t have to do that you know.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Also, I had to win something to make up for the bumper cars.”

You shook your head smiling “Oh so it wasn’t a cute little gift, it was to restore your overinflated ego.” quirking a brow, it was Leah’s turn to smile like a little kid “Guess you could say we got the best of both worlds.”

You both decided you should probably start to head back. But not before riding the ferris wheel that is, heading over to the massive thing hand in hand.

Once secured in by a metal bar, you wait for the ride to commence. “Can I ask a question?” You turn to look at the girl next to you, she nodded. “Why did bring me here? why did you even take me out at all?” It was Valentine’s day after all, you guys weren’t dating, you was sure she had people higher up on her list she wanted to see today of all days.

“You need to leave him y/n.” The sentence was stated so effortlessly but you couldn’t help but feel a punch to the gut sensation. “you deserve better.”

“He never used to be like this.” You mumbled under your breath but the blonde still caught it, deciding just to drop the matter.

“What’s with the love of funfairs anyways?” Leah asked, gripping onto the bar harder now you were at the very top of the contraption.

“My dad used to bring me to them all the time as a little kid. My mum was always travelling the country with work so I guess it was his way of getting me to cheer up. Not to mention he would always win me a stuffed animal and then we’d end the day with the warm donuts. You smiled at the memory. “Then he got sick and we stopped coming.” It still stung a little when you reminisce over your father’s diagnosis and how you watched him deteriorate with each and every hospital visit.

“I’m sorry y/n, i didn’t mean to bring him u-“ You cut in, “No it’s okay don’t worry, you remind me of him a lot actually.”

The skipper looked at you confused “Do I?”

“Well he was very kind, funny, determined and not to forget sometimes arrogant - all characteristics you share.” Leah swatted your arm, “I’m not that arrogant.”

“Oh yes you definitely are.” Chuckling as you intertwined your arms. “But I wouldn’t change you for the world if that makes you feel better.”

“It does make me feel better actually.”

Now you were sat in the car on the way home, scrolling through socials on your phone. Leah was concentrating on the road, cursing out the odd ‘dickhead’ or ‘twat’ here and there. “Do you reckon if I post a picture of us at the funfair on my instagram we’ll get floods of dating accusations?” Ever since being in the public eye you’ve been very careful about what you chose to share on your social media; people are like vultures and you’re the bait. According to articles and fan pages, you’ve dated everyone on your squad and more, some have even suggested your relationship with Tobias is a pr stunt, but your personal favourite is that you’re apparently pregnant because you had a break from social media for a few months.

“All the fans already assume we have a thing going on. Post it if you like.” The older girl was right, back when you transferred to arsenal three years ago up until this day fans have always had their conspiracy theories around the pair, you never played into it however, just letting them think what they think, sending them into frenzies if a post was ever made with the two of you together.

Humming in agreement, you start crafting out your post, thinking of an appropriate caption before pressing share. “Done.”

Another twenty minutes or so had passed and you could tell you were getting closer to home, recognising certain buildings. It was around this time when Leah had started very quietly singing along to the song playing through the speakers. The blue-eyed girl had a very pretty voice in your opinion and you often didn’t understand why she felt embarrassed singing in front of people.

You continued to watch the girl, a genuine smile making its way to your lips.

put your lips close to mine

as long as they don’t touch

out of focus, eye to eye

‘til the gravity’s too much

i’ll do anything you say

if you say it with your hands

Now you don’t know if it was the way she was singing the lyrics, or the way the sunlight was bouncing off her face to give her a gorgeous sun-kissed look, or how every so often she’d make eye contact with you and smile. But somehow, all you wanted to do was-

“Okay pretty, we’re here.” Pulling you out of your little daydream, you looked out the window to see you was in fact outside your apartment.

“Okay well thank you for doing this for me today, it means a lot.” Leaning across the gearstick, you pulled her in for a side hug.

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

And I would follow you, follow you home

I'll follow you, follow you home

You pulled back to look at the defender, examining her whole face. She watched as your eyes flicked down to her lips, and back up. It could have just been both of your imaginations, but the tension was thick. You could drop a pin and you’re convinced you would hear it.

You found yourself leaning in, faces only inches apart now. The thing that shocked you the most was that Leah made no attempt to move back, instead she kept her gaze firmly locked on yours.

“Sorry for what I’m about to do.” Were the final words you breathed out before pressing your lips on the defenders. It started out light, almost afraid if you applied anymore pressure, she’d back away. But those fears were squashed when you felt a pair of lips kiss you back, this time with more intent.

You could feel a warm hand travel to the back of your neck, pulling you closer if that was even possible. Running a hand through her blonde locks you felt a smile playing at the girls lips as she continued to kiss back.

Pulling apart your chest was heaving. Suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings you wave her goodbye and exit the car, taking one last look at Leah before practically running up the steps to your building.

Once inside, you reach for the phone in your pocket that has just buzzed. Unlocking it you see you have one new message.

from: lee lee

break up with him.

#leah williamson x reader #woso #leah williamson #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #lionesses #england lionesses #y/n #when is it my turn #i want a gf #i want a boyfriend #just cried #treacherous #taylor swift #taylor swift lyrics #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x y/n

[lnfours]

tis the damn season | l.n

summary: happy december! you know what that means, time for holiday parties with rich families and a run in with a certain someone.

warnings: ex bf!lando, rich kid!female!reader, a bit of second chance romance, light drinking, language, a little bit of awkwardness but mostly not so secret pining after not seeing each other for so long, fluff (this is kinda bad and not proofread so enter at ur own risk)

masterlist | ask box | listen

⋆꙳•❅*• •*❆ ₊⋆

it was finally time for the annual holiday party your family threw every year, or the ‘event of the year’ as everyone else called it. the christmas tree was up in the foyer, the smell of gingerbread and snickerdoodles lingering around from the cookies your mom had picked up from the bakery down town.

plenty of people had already arrived when you descended down the stairs, smiling as you passed by familiar faces, unsure on names to say hello to them. you locked eyes with your mother, who smiled and waved you over.

“y/n! there you are! come say hi!”

you said polite ‘excuse me’s to the people blocking your path before you joined your mother at her side. your heart slightly dropped at the familiar faces of who your mother was talking to, but you put on your best fake smile.

“y/n, love! how’re you?!” cisca smiled, pulling you into a short hug. you hugged her back and nodded.

“i’m good,” you gave the man next to her, her husband adam, a quick hug as he pulled you in also, “how’re you guys?”

“we’re good, flo and lando are around here somewhere,” she smiled, “unfortunately oliver and savannah couldn’t make it.”

you nodded, “well, i’ll be sure to find them and say hi. say hi to oliver and savannah for me.”

“we will!”

you bid a ‘see you soon’ to the three, making your way back to the party, making sure to grab a glass of champagne from one of the waiters walking around the house. it didn’t take long for a squeal to catch your attention, the girl walking quickly towards you. you laughed as she pulled you into a hug.

“y/n! it’s been so long!” flo squealed happily, smile still bright as she pulled away from you, “how’re you?! how’s university? any cute boys?”

you smiled, eyes traveling to the brunette who was approaching flo, a smile on his face as he politely pushed through the crowd. your brain didn’t even fully register what she had asked you, your eyes meeting his.

he had gotten prettier since the last time you saw him, his hair curlier and fluffier and he had started growing his facial hair. he was dressed in a suit, one that made him look way too good for your liking.

you raised your eyebrows, attention fixing back to the girl in front of you who wore a smile, a knowing one at that, “good! how’re things with you?”

“flo, i thought we were sticking together-“

his sentence was cut off as he finally approached the two of you. his eyes on you, the way your hair was falling and the dress you wore and how the straps hung loosely off your shoulders, the way it was designed to do.

“sorry,” his sister mumbled back to him, “look who i found!”

lando didn’t tear his eyes from yours, “yeah, uhm, hi..?”

his greeting hung in the air like a question and you smiled softly, sending him a tight lipped smile, “hey,”

the younger girl looked back and forth between her brother and the girl she knew he had been in love with since you were kids. of course, she knew about the breakup that had occurred a few months back, but she was determined that the two of you were soulmates.

and it was time for her to work her magic, turning to her older brother, “i’ll leave you two to catch up, gonna go find mum.”

lando opened his mouth to speak but closed it when he watched her quickly split from the pair. you chuckled softly, taking a sip from your glass, watching him nervously scratch the back of his neck.

“so, um-“

“how’re you?”

the two of you had started at the same time, stopping when you realized you were talking over each other. you both let out a soft laugh.

“you first,” he said.

you breathed in, “so, how’re you?”

he nodded, “good, good. how’re you? your mum said you should be done with university soon?”

you nodded, “yeah, hopefully this is my last semester. uhm, how’s racing? saw you got a couple podiums recently.”

“yeah, no, it’s been good,” he said, “obviously, we’re on holiday right now so just trying to figure out what to do with my free time.”

you nodded, “i’m sure you’ll figure something out, or max will,”

he chuckled, “yeah, i suppose you’re right,” his eyes looked over you again, “you look good. gorgeous, actually.”

you could tell he was nervous and you felt your stomach turn into knots as you looked down to the floor to hide the way your cheeks were reddening.

“thanks,” you said, “you do too. see you can finally grow facial hair.”

you both let out giggles as he rolled his eyes playfully, “alright,”

“well done, truly,” you teased again as the two of you continued laughing. he shook his head, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

you had forgotten how it felt to have him around. how giddy he made you and how he made you feel, and now it was coming back in waves. you weren’t sure if it was because it was the first time seeing him since the breakup or if it was because it was him.

the night progressed and he told you stories about how it had been for him traveling the world and you told him stories about your professors at university.

“wanna get some air?” you asked, thumb pointing to the door to the balcony outside. he nodded, following your lead as you led the two of you through the crowd. once out on the balcony, you leaned against the cement wall as he closed the door.

you looked out to the darkness contrasted against the bright christmas lights lighting up the neighborhood. he joined you, resting his arms against the cement, subtly looking over at you through his peripheral vision.

he didn’t miss the way you shivered, the cold air making your skin cold. he looked over at you now, “‘re you cold?”

you shook your head, “nah, i’m okay-“

“no, i know you hate the cold,” he said, shrugging off the jacket to his suit, you standing up straight now as he motioned for you to step closer. he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, engulfing you with his cologne and the warmth from his body. your eyes met his again and you looked up at him with a soft smile, “warm?”

you nodded, “thank you,”

“‘course.” he said.

the silence fell between the two of you again before he broke it, “do you, uhm, ever think about… us?”

you looked back over at the boy next to you, “‘us’?”

he nodded, “yeah, like why we ended? y’know, things like that,”

you let out a breath, “i do, yeah,” you said, “do you?”

he licked his lips nervously, looking back at the lights, “all the time.”

you gave him a soft expression as he turned back to you, “lando,”

“no, i know,” he said, leaning back up as he huffed softly, “i just, i don’t know. i don’t know why we ended things, why i let you get away, y’know? i mean, you were it for me for my whole life, and i fucked it up.”

you shook your head, “no you didn’t,”

“well, i didn’t try,” he said, looking back at you now with a guilty expression, “you deserved better than that.”

“i mean, you were it for me too,” you confessed, “you still are.”

his expression changed, stepping a bit closer to you, “i’m sorry-“

“don’t, it’s okay,” you said, “you’re a busy man.”

“i should’ve made more time for you.”

you shook your head, “i didn’t really make an effort either, it’s okay.”

he reached out nervously, tucking a strand of hair from your face to behind your ear. you leaned into his warm touch, your cheek cold from the soft wind blowing in the winter air.

“can i get a redo?”

you smiled, “only if i do too.”

he chuckled, “you can have anything you want.”

you raised an eyebrow, “anything?”

he hummed, “anything, i mean it.”

you smiled, “if that’s the case, then i want you.”

his smile was contagious, a soft chuckle pushing past his lips before he responded, “i suppose i can make that work.”

you laughed, reaching and slipping his hand into yours. he squeezed it lightly, just like he used to. you leaned into him, his hand that you weren’t holding onto moving to pull you closer to him by your waist. you stood there for a minute, your head resting against his chest as you listened to the fast beat of his heart.

you moved your head, looking up at him as he smiled down at you, letting go of your hand to cup your cheek again, thumb brushing against the skin gently before you spoke, “can we go inside?”

“god, yes please,” he breathed, “it’s fucking freezing.”

you chuckled, leaning away from him, “you could’ve had your jacket back.”

he shook his head, “‘s alright.”

as he went to open the door for you, he spotted the familiar little flower hanging from the doorway. you noticed his pause, looking to where his line of vision was going.

“mistletoe.” you laughed softly.

he smiled, pulling you over to him, “c’mere,”

you joined him under the doorway, the plant hanging above both your heads as he leaned down, his hand back on your cheek. his lips brushed against yours as the two of you breathed.

“are you going to kiss me or not?” you smiled.

he shook his head playfully, “now i’m really thinking against it.”

“just shut up,” you mumbled, pulling him down to your level by his shirt as you collided your lips together. his kisses were exactly how you remembered them, soft and full of every emotion he could possibly squeeze into them. his hand on your cheek as the other found its home on your hip. your hands wrapped around his neck, nails tangling into the curls at the nape of his neck.

you both pulled away, giggling softly as you matched each others smile.

“merry christmas, lando.”

he nudged his nose with yours, leaning in for another kiss after, “merry christmas, y/n.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff imagine #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris imagines #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x you #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagines #f1 #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

[mrdrwrites]

Pairings: Oliver Quick X !fem reader

Summary: part two of this fic, you wake up and Oliver keeps his promise.

CW: NSFW!! kissing, bad language, spanking, breeding, overstimulation, sir kink, praise, degrading, pussy plugging, playful resistance

WC: 2.1k

warning: i am dyslexic so don't expect all words to be spelled correctly, also i don't autocapitalise my words

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the next morning i wake up with a weight on my chest, i pry my eyes open to see Oliver above me, naked and smirking.

‘good morning baby,’ he leans down and kisses from my bare shoulder, up my neck, and to my lips.

i kiss him back, fragments of last night coming at mine in stabs, my pussy throbs at the thought of what Oliver promised last night. the kiss soon gets heated and the blanket covering me is thrown to the side, my naked body on show. Oliver doesn’t stop kissing me however, no, his lips move further down my body, stopping at my breasts.

‘such pretty tits y/n,’ he compliments, ducking down to capture my left nipple in his mouth.

i let out a strangled sort of noise as he sucks and flicks his tongue over my now hardened nipple. my hand moves to his hair, gripping it when he nips at my skin and a whimper leaves my lips.

‘look at you,’ he lifts his eyes to mine, ‘already making such slutty noises for me.’

i can feel the heat pooling in my stomach which ultimately makes my pussy throb.

Oliver leans back up to my face and grabs it in his hand, ‘you going to be a good girl for me?’ he questions, grip tightening just a little.

i nod frantically, needing him to use me in the ways i want. he gives me a quick smirk and i feel his bare knee slide between my legs, touching my cunt.

‘i need you to use your words my love,’ his tone is condescending, ‘are you going to be a good girl for me?’ he asks again.

‘yes sir, i’m going to be a good girl,’ i answer his question, knowing the use of the word sir will turn him on.

he leans his head down to my face and kisses me slow, his knee rutting against my wet pussy. i begin to grind myself into it, all of a sudden needing the friction as my mind goes hazy with lewd thoughts about the man above me.

Oliver pulls away slightly from my face, ‘is that how needy you are, huh, using my leg to get off like a dog in heat?’ he tuts at me, a hand moving down to my breast and pinching my right nipple.

i let out a hiss but continue my movements into his leg, ‘yes sir, i need you so bad,’ i moan out as he hikes his leg further up so the pressure gets worse on my throbbing pussy.

‘stop for me,’ he eyes are staring into my own, knowing i wouldn’t disobey him.

i stop my hips and whine when he moves his leg away.

‘i think you need a little punishment for last night, don’t you?’ he questions, a finger sliding between my breasts, ‘you undressed in the kitchen. acted like such a little whore, and then came to bed and had a sulk because i wouldn’t fuck you.’

i say nothing back, my mouth agape. he gets up off of me and sits on the end of the bed.

‘cmon y/n. lie over my knee, be a good girl now,’ he’s still looking at me with those intense blue eyes that i love.

‘yes sir,’ i mumble, getting out of bed and over to where Oliver is sat.

i stand in front of him for a few seconds, fiddling with my fingers. we had never done anything like this before and i was scared, but i’d be lying if i said demanding Oliver wasn’t making my pussy drip with need. after two minutes of me standing awkwardly Oliver speaks up.

‘y/n, do you want to do this? you can say no. we have our safe word remember, you can trust me,’ his hand reaches out to my arm.

i give a little sigh and nod my head, ‘yes sir i want to do this. i was very bad last night and i deserve to be punished,’ his lips move up into a smirk and he drags me onto his knee, belly side down.

‘how many do you think you need?’ he teases, hand moving up and down my back but eventually settling on my ass.

‘however many you think i deserve, sir,’ i reply, suddenly feeling very turned on.

he lets out a grunt and i can feel his hardness pushing into my side. the first slap to my ass was a surprise, i jolt up and make a noise of pleasure.

‘count after i’ve done each one, think you can do that for me baby?’ he asks whilst rubbing my ass where he just spanked me.

‘yes sir,’ i reply, ‘one.’

‘good girl,’ he delivers another harsh slap to my ass, the stinging sensation feeling so good.

‘two,’ i squeak obediently.

soon enough two slaps turn into twenty and my ass is aching, no doubt red.

‘you did so well baby,’ Oliver is still rubbing over my ass to soothe the pain.

i push my body up into his hand and sigh contently, ‘thank you sir.’

Oliver’s hand begins to wander from my ass to between my legs, my pussy is dripping from all the spanking and Oliver can see, and feel, that. his fingers move between my pussy lips, getting them wet before sliding them into me. i let out a moan and grip at his legs, he takes that as a sign to push further. his long fingers graze my g-spot and he curls them in the way he knows i love. i push my ass back further into his fingers, needing more of him.

‘don’t be a brat y/n,’ he warns, ‘you get what you’re given. is that understood?’ his hand rakes through my hair, pulling my head back.

‘yes sir,’ i whimper, the pain from his grip and the pleasure from his fingers building up my orgasm, ‘i need you so bad.’

the fingers in my pussy get faster at that and my head is pulled further back.

‘you’re such a slut y/n,’ he teases, ‘getting off from my fingers that are barely doing anything. i bet you’d cum right now if my finger toyed with that clit, wouldn’t you hm?’ he taps my clit with a free finger and i let out a choked noise.

‘yes sir i would. fuck, please let me cum. please,’ i beg, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

‘no,’ his fingers are out of me in an instant, ‘you need to prove to me how good you are sweetheart.’

his grip in my hair is gone too and just as i’m stealing my breaking he spins my around on his knee so that i am in a sitting position, facing him.

‘there’s my pretty girl,’ he coos, lifting a hand up to wipe away tears i didn’t even realise had fallen down my face.

he pulls me closer to him, his dick pressing against my soaked cunt, a moan falls from my mouth and i shift back and forwards to get some friction.

he halts my motions with a hiss and a single slap to my ass, ‘stop y/n, unless you would like another twenty slaps to that little ass of yours i suggest you stop acting like a whore,’ his tone is dangerous, pupils so dilated his eyes look black, ‘understand?’

‘yes sir,’ i reply without thinking.

‘good girl,’ his hand slides from where it rests on my ass to my clit.

he rubs circles into it and before i get the chance to make a noise he takes my mouth in his own in a rough kiss. my own hand moves to his hard dick, wrapping around the head at first, knowing how sensitive his tip is. he groans against my mouth, bucking his hips slightly into my hand. the precum leaking from his dick is the perfect lubricant as i slide my hand up and down him. for every one stroke i do down to the base i do three at his head. the way he likes it.

‘stop y/n,’ he groans against my lips once more, ‘i want to cum in you. i’m going to breed you baby.’

my hand is off his dick in an instant, ‘yes sir,’ i moan as he quickens his pace on my clit.

‘fuck Oliver. i’m going to cum,’ his other hand moves between us and enters my pussy.

‘good girl, come on baby. cum for me,’ he speeds up even more.

i lean into him, chest heaving, grinding into his hands. my orgasm comes head on, it shakes my entire body. my cunt clenches around Oliver’s fingers and shudders when he continues to finger fuck me, his pace not slowing. i ride out my high on his fingers and overstimulation begins to set in.

‘fuck Oliver stop, i can’t,’ i try to voice my thoughts but im cut short with a moan that falls from my lips.

‘you can baby. keep going. you’re doing so well i’m so proud of you,’ his pace continues.

my second orgasm comes much quicker than my first but as i’m more sensitive it hits harder and i am screaming profanities into Oliver’s neck. he removes his fingers from my spent hole and just as i think he is done his cock is pressed against my clenched entrance.

‘cmon baby, one more. do one more for me,’ he coaxes, the tip of his cock now inside of me.

i nod against his neck and as i do im picked up, his cock no longer in me. he puts me on the bed so i am laid stomach down and props my ass up with the many pillows we have at our headboard. when he thinks i’m ready he plunges into me.

i leap forward when his cock brushes my g-spot, ‘fuck Oliver,’ the pleasure is blinding. i never want it to end.

‘what’s wrong baby?’ he questions, speeding up his thrusts, knowing he is hitting the spot i need him to every time.

i don’t answer him, instead opting to bury my face into the blanket on the bed, moaning his name over and over.

‘get your face out of that blanket,’ he slaps my ass, ‘i want to hear what i do to you.’

i obey him and by the time i am closing in on a third orgasm my voice is hoarse and my pussy is sore.

‘fuck Oliver i’m going to cum. please let me cum,’ i beg, tears streaming down my face from the overstimulation.

he continues pounding into me, ‘cum baby, you can do it.’

at his words i’m pushed over the edge once more and my pussy clenches around his cock. he pushes down on my lower back and drills into my pussy, sounds of skin slapping skin, my screams of pleasure, and his moans fill the room.

‘fuck Oliver please. fucking cum in me. i need you to,’ im fully crying now, the pleasure is too much for me im a stimulated mess.

he gives one last long thrust and pushes himself into me right to the hilt and empties himself into me. i whine at the warm feeling and he moans, giving a final few small thrusts, pushing his cum further into my pussy.

he pulls out a moment later, spreading my pussy with his hands, ‘you looks so good filled with my cum baby,’ he coos, ‘wanna plug?’

all the energy has left my body but at the mention of plugging my pussy with his cum still inside i find it in myself to reply with a simple, ‘please.’

he gives me a quick ‘okay’ and gets up from the bed to retrieve the pussy plug from one of the drawers in our room. he returns to me a second later and eases the plug into me. i let out a whimper, completely fucked out. Oliver pulls me into him, sorting the pillows out then placing me into them and wrapping a blanket around me. he slides into bed beside me and wraps an arm around my waist.

‘you did so well baby. i’m so proud of you,’ he gives me a quick kiss on the forehead and an even longer one on my lips.

‘i love you Oliver,’ i mutter, my eyes feeling heavy despite only waking up an hour and a half ago.

‘i love you too y/n’ is the last thing i hear before my eyes shut and i am asleep in the arms of my loving boyfriend.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

@douceurrrr requested a part two so i thought i would give it a try. lmk what you think of it, this is my second time writing smut ever so im a little inexperienced.

as always @lovandr thank you for helping me get back into writing, i love you 😚😚

#syds stuff #oliver quick fluff #oliver quick fanfic #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick #oliver quick saltburn #oliver quick smut #saltburn hyperfixation #sir james catton #saltburn fic #syd writes #saltburn #felix catton fanfic #felix catton fic #felix catton x reader #felix catton #venetia catton #elspeth catton #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #i am feral #feral #i need him #farleigh start #farleigh start fanfic #send help #bro wtf

[lawsfuckasshat]

✙ ✙ ✙ olive branch. 🕊️🫀

gn!strawhat!reader, pre-dressrosa.

warnings: swearing, brief death mention, pre-relationship, law’s perspective, very short and hopefully sweet. not beta’d.

a/n: first time posting my writing ever… i hope it’s alright! i don’t think there’s an official reason for why law dislikes bread, but i like the headcanon that it’s because corazón doesn’t like it either :))

“so, is it like, a yeast thing?”

law rolls his eyes, face painted with his typical scowl. as cool, mysterious, and annoyed as ever. he crosses his arms, leaning back against the mast.

“no, __-ya.” he utters. you nod sagely, like you’re studying the guy under a microscope, and don’t seem deterred by his attitude in the slightest.

“then… is it a texture issue? ‘cause i totally understand that, i really don’t like-“

“i’m finding it difficult to understand why you want to know so badly.” law wishes that his intentionally curt answers would make you stop pestering him, would make his heart stop skipping beats every time you tried to pry open his hard outer shell. ‘mind over matter’ works well in every other aspect of how he presents himself, but the blood rushing to his face refuses to cooperate with him. great.

“i just wanna understand you,” you reply earnestly, “and what goes on in that pretty head of yours, is all. ya know?” for a split second, law is afraid that his heart has failed, if the free-falling drop in his chest is anything to go by. how could you say something like that so easily? right to his face, like you were talking about something as simple as the weather?

he tries to carefully pick his words, running through dozens of possibilities in his head, brain scrambling to say something, anything that’ll get you to leave him alone to wallow in his thoughts (…you think he’s pretty?) you wouldn’t really leave him alone if you left though, would you?

instead, he chooses to ignore you. head tilting down, one of his crossed arms coming up to tug the bill of his hat further down his face, shoulders slightly scrunching in. he feels like everything his body is doing is absolutely, incredibly, extremely obvious to you. his palms sweat uncomfortably and he’s so goddamn aware of your presence next to him, it’s driving him up the wall. he wishes he wasn’t so awkward, so scarred by all the loss in his life.

you don’t say anything, just turn your body and lean back against the mast with him. he briefly thinks his stonewalling worked.

“that’s okay.” you utter. there’s no rejection anxiety, no hurt in your voice. law’s shoulders and hidden scowl don’t relax, but he huffs out a hushed sigh. he stays quiet otherwise and waits a long minute before chancing a glance at you.

you’re leaned back against the mast, body language lax and open, although your arms are loosely crossed. your eyes are closed, skin sun-kissed. gentle sea breeze brushing across your clothes. you look warm, he thinks. he wishes you would reach out and touch him, but he also doesn’t 100% know if he’d like it. maybe he would.

law hates taking risks. he needs everything carefully planned out in his head before he makes a move, especially with the fruits of a thirteen year long effort coming to fruition in the next few days. he’s prepared to die kicking and screaming, fighting tooth and nail. he can’t fuck a single facet of his plan up.

then again, he’s dealing with the straw hat pirates here. a crew known for miracles. law steels his resolve and takes a calculated breath.

“someone i cared about a great deal didn’t like bread.”

the way you grin at him makes risking the olive branch worth it.

@ lawsfuckasshat 4.2.24

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #✙ my writing ✙

[s-sugustar]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 — 𝖮𝗇𝗒𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗈𝗉𝗈𝗇

🎧﹒𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬﹒✢﹐— friends to kiss, friends don’t have sex, then what are we?

🎧﹒𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠﹒✢﹐— onyankopon x black!fem!reader

🎧﹒𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ﹒✢﹐— unrequited love, angst-ish

🎧﹒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭﹒✢﹐— 1k

🎧﹒𝐚/𝐧﹒✢﹐— just a lil sumn. Haven’t written in awhile so i’m giving yall this. not proofread.

"Been missing you, y'know." Ony rasped against your ear, after giving you a light kiss to the cheek. The two of you sat in his car, air condition blasting through the fans and you two sat quietly enjoying the music that played on the radio; not too loud but just enough to cover the silence that you two sat in. Eyes low and hooded as your head laid against the rest, high out of your mind, giggling at Ony trying to sing 'Pull Up' by Luh Kel. "I pull up to yo crib every time I miss you. " Ony mumbled, puffing out smoke from the blunt he had not too long passed you.

It had been two hours since he pulled up to your house, blowing the horn for you to come outside and spend some time with him. Of course, you couldn't resist. The blonde waves with a fade and a tooth grill on one of his canines, the olive-green hellcat charger with leather seats; not to mention your name in Italics on the passenger seat head rest.

His outfit was another story. Green hoodie with white t-shirt and all-black sweatpants and the green crocs that you had bought him for his birthday last year so that you two could have matching crocs.

You two weren't together as many speculated but you had been close friends for quite some time. The dynamic between the two of you was odd but neither of you said anything. Just as Connie said, 'Just going with the flow' and that's what you two had been doing all this time.

You liked whatever was going through but sometimes your mind wandered and you ended up wishing that the two of you had something going on.

Maybe it had the false realities you had made up in your mind about your relationship with him, but you knew that would never happen. You knew that he had his mind made up of not getting into any relationship from the time before. You remembered it like it was yesterday.

"You look so beautiful in this dress." Ony complimented, his thumb and index finger played with the hem of your dress. You sat on his lap with your hands around his neck, rubbing shapes onto his neck.

His brown eyes stared into yours, he was high off the love you gave him and loved every second of it while you searched from some sign or clue; wishing that some sort of emotion would appear in his eyes since he never spoke on how he felt.

"What do you think about relationships Y/n?" he asked, looking up to meet your gaze. You quirked an eyebrow before formulating the words to answer his question. “I love every aspect about them. Once you find that person you really cherish in your life, the person you think ‘Yea, I want to spend the rest of my life with’, I think that’s when you know. It’s just not about the thinking about them all day long or the cute little texts they send but it’s how they make you feel on the inside and no, I’m not speaking about sex Ony” you stated, pausing to squint at him when he heard the last part, you playfully rolled your eyes before continuing.

“You’ll know when the time is right. What about you?” you pondered, tilting your head, waiting for his response. Lost in thoughts, Onyakapon rubbed his chin before he answered, shaking his head to confirm his thoughts. “Nah, relationships aren’t my thing. Hasn’t been for awhile. Not since I’ve been around you.” he grinned, making a joke out of something you cherished dearly, but you said nothing. You weren't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing in what he said but it did pull you back slightly.

You looked at him in confusion, head titling to a side. " What do you mean?" You weren't sure on how you felt on his statement so before you jumped to any conclusions you asked him to further explain his statement. "I don't do relationships Y/n. Too much stress and effort but whatever this is we got going on, I like it. No titles, nothing. Just two friends kissing and fooling around." he explained, rubbing circles onto your exposed thigh in hopes of calming whatever thoughts had come into your mind.

"Friends don't kiss and fool around Ony. Friends to buy other friends expensive clothing to wear to 5-star restaurants, to spend time with each other Ony. " You commented, slowly pulling away from hi embrace. He slightly rolled his eyes before answering, " But we do." You laid in his embrace a while longer before getting back into the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt across your body. You hadn't said much after that as the ride went on, and Ony noticed this but kept quiet. When he made it back to your house, you were quick to get out of the car, but Ony stretched over and pulled the door shut. Before you could protest, he quickly summarized, "Are you upset about what I said earlier?'

Nodding, you heard him sigh. "I get you don't like relationships and what not but I'm not going to go on in a friendship just messing around with you and it gets nowhere. You know how I feel about them Ony. We know each other so why you can't just trust me, Trust me and we can get through this together." By the end of your small speech, you were practically begging Ony to try at having a relationship with you. But with the look on his face, you could already hear his answer. "This was pointless." you muttered before getting out of the car.

When you shut the door to your flat, you silently wished that Ony would come knocking at the door, begging you to open the door so that the two of you could talk and maybe try to work things out. Yet, your imagination can only go so far.

#— 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓! #— 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ✧ #— 𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐧 ! #— 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧 ! #x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader #blk!reader #onyankopon x blk!reader #anime #attack on titan x black reader

[untoldstar]

yandere! pervert neighbor x fem reader

TW: yandere themes, nsfw themes, stalking, obsessive behavior.

hey everyone! kinda an intro to a new oc that I’m not completely sure I’ll write about, even though I’m writing about him I still feel repulsed by the concept but if I do write about him again his name is oliver! which is a name that popped up into my head while writing this and I was like “yep that works!” which summarizes my process of choosing oc names.

He had heard that there was new neighbor moving in soon but he didn’t care much for it, nor did he want that to happen, to him neighbors can be a nuisance sometimes but he mostly prefers to keep to himself, he was walking past his living room window and that’s when he caught a glimpse of you carrying boxes inside the house, he hasn’t even realized his movements stopping and him standing at the window watching you for several minutes.

He didn’t know why but he found himself opening his door and walking towards your house which was right in front of his, convenient, he offered you help with carrying all the boxes but he really just wanted to get closer, he didn’t know why he just wanted to be near you, you were beautiful and so pretty, nice too! unlike all the crappy neighbors that moved in before.

He was so engaged in every word you said, he didn’t want it to end, he offered his help with unpacking but you declined saying his help with carrying the boxes was more than enough, you really were an angel~ He insisted but in the end, the rational part of his brain dragged him back to his house.

His day carried on as usual but with him glancing at your window every few seconds and brainstorming excuses to see you, was there anything he had to warn you about the neighborhood? maybe the house structure? should he go traditional and bring you a pie or something? he wanted to see you again so bad.

The sky had darkened and he made his way to your door knocking, he ordered pizza that turned out to be too much for him silly him! he invited you over to hang out feeling giddy when you agree which he would never admit to out loud.

The atmosphere light and comfortable, you both spent the night talking and now you were in the middle of telling a story without noticing he had already zoned out completely, as much as he adores your voice and every single thing you say but with you both sitting so close on the couch and you looking so beautiful he can’t help but have his mind wander to him trailing his hand up your thighs, leaning close and capturing your lips between his, pulling you even closer, kisses becoming more heated and before you know it he’s above you with his tongue swirling with yours, groaning as he grinds his cock against you, his hand slowly trailing down into your pants to feel just how wet you are for him-

He blinks and breathes in a sharp inhale when he hears you curse out, jesus he had to calm down, it was getting late and you had to go home, as much as he loves spending time with you he desperately had to make you leave before you notice his cock getting hard.

Once you leave he cleans up and heads upstairs, when he’s done with his night routine and gets under the bed covers, a light switching on from your bedroom catches his attention, sitting up he realizes he almost has a perfect view of your bedroom window from here! he smiles softly when you come in to his view, no longer pushing away the feeling rising up in his chest. His eyes widen when you your hands grab the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head, you only had a lamp on so you weren’t exposed to the entire street but he definitely could see you with how close your houses were. You moved down to take off your pants and underwear then bent down to pick up the shirt you left in the ground, fuck, were you doing this on purpose? you must be, you must know that he can see you right now, that he’s watching your every move his eyes not letting a single inch of your body escape his gaze, you must know that he won’t be able to sleep a wink tonight from the image you’ve engraved into his mind, he could see himself being in your room right now sitting in the bed with you on top of him, bouncing on his cock as he groped every inch of you-

This was so wrong, he knew that he knew how wrong it was for him to sit there and watch you in your most vulnerable state but he can’t take his eyes off of you no matter what your doing, he feels hypnotized. He sat and watched you until your lights finally went out, he’s your neighbor after all and neighbors look after eachother right?

part 2

#yandere #yandere blog #obsessive yandere #yandere neighbor #fem reader #male yandere #oc #yandere oc #yandere neighbor x reader #yandere x reader #stalking mention #obsession #tw yandere #neighbor x reader #why do ​I name my oc’s like they’re goldfish

[samkerrworshipper]

acl’s | sam kerr x reader

this is me trying to work through my devastation but it’s 3am, i’m crying and writing this on my phone. :( it’s a blurb btw

you have to admit the timing of the call should be a little bit of a shock.

it doesn’t cross your mind when your girlfriends contact pops up on your phone, but in hindsight it probably should.

it’s not odd for sam to call you multiple times a day when she’s away on camp, if she has a spare minute here or there, so you are delighted when you see her face pop up on your screen.

you press the green button almost immediately, pulling your phone up to rest at your ear.

“Hiya chook, how’s the weather treating you?”

When you don’t get an immediate response you become a little bit worried, but nothing abnormal.

“Y/n? It’s Emma here.”

It’s when the voice of your fiancés coach hits your ears that you are immediately worried.

“Emma, what can I do for you?”

You’ve talked to Emma hundreds of times, but you can tell from her voice that this is different.

“Look, Sam’s just come off the pitch after a little incident, it’s looking like she’s done her ACL.”

Your gut wrenches, and it takes all of your power to stop your lunch from pouring out across the dining table your sat at.

“What?”

Your head immediately begins to reel, 9 months. That’s the Olympics, Emma’s last season at Chelsea, so many things that Sam has over this year that are now done.

Your mind goes back to Sam’s previous ACL injury, how she’d talked about how it had been the hardest thing mentally and physically for her, that it was almost the end of her career.

“It’s not looking good, we’ll have to wait until she’s had scans to confirm the severity but both her and our doctors are fairly certain it’s her cruciate ligament.”

You take a deep breath, fuck.

“Okay, okay. Is she okay?”

It’s a stupid question, of course she isn’t okay, she’s done her fucking acl, but your concern goes further than her obvious injury.

“She’s in a lot of pain, and she’s pretty torn up. Millie has been keeping her company but all she wants to do is talk to you.”

You nod your head, you know you shouldn’t have to prepare yourself to talk to her but you take your time to take a deep breath, keep yourself strong for her.

“Can you put her on for me please, Emma?”

You hear some bustling around.

“Of course, she wanted me to call you to get the facts straight, but i’ll put her on now.”

You hear a little bit more bustling before complete silence, and that seems to be your queue.

“Sammy, honey?”

You hear a deep, laboured breath crackling from the other side of the phone.

“I’m here.”

Her words are strung out, you know that Sam will be trying her hardest to keep it together, she simply isn’t one to be publicly over emotional, no matter the situation.

“Hi honey.”

You know the best thing right now is to leave her to talk about her injury, you leave ghe ball in her court.

“My whole year is over.”

You hear her voice break, and you know that she’s crying even though you can’t hear any sobs or evidence of tears.

“I’m right here chook, so are all the girls, whatever you need.”

When you hear a sob, it takes everything you have to not start crying with her.

“Need to see you, need you here.”

Sam’s not a needy person, so to hear her asking for something like this is concerning to you.

“How about I turn on facetime chook, will that make you feel a bit better?”

When you hear a little murmur of a ‘yes’ you click the button, waiting for it to connect once she accepts the request.

It’s a matter of seconds before you are met with the visual of Sam, her head resting on Millie's shoulder on a physio bed, tears cascading freely down her olive skin.

“Oh Sammy honey.”

She only begins to cry more, and you are fairly certain once this call ends you’ll be rushing straight to the bathroom to expel all of the bile that’s built up in your throat.

“I’m supposed to be captain, I need to be okay, I need to play the olympics, I couldn’t play the fucking world cup. This could be my last major tournament.”

You want to tell her that she’s being ridiculous, but it would achieve nothing, Sam needs to feel validated in her feelings right now, not like you and the whole world are against her.

“Sam this isn’t your fault, you couldn’t have avoided it, it was just a stupid freak accident, unfortunately it happens in the sport you play.”

Sam looks so broken, Millie’s matching her energy, the normally energetic blonde looking very sullen.

“What if this is it for me?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, it’s a stupid statement but a very real feeling that Sam has.

“Sam, how about I come to Morocco? I’ll catch the next flight out, and i’ll come and be there for you, is that something you want?”

You don’t want to step over her boundaries, but just the look on her face tells you that she needs to be comforted, she needs to cry and whilst her teammates are great, Sam is never going to be that vulnerable in front of them.

“You don’t have to.”

Her own statement contradicts every single feeling you can see inside her.

“I want to.”

Sam’s tears only begin to fall heavier.

“Please, I need you.”

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