#car seat french fry

[catfindr]

#petfinder #catfinder #cat #kitten #kitty #food mention #car seat french fry #orange tabby #ca #california #1k #5k #10k

[blairelythere]

If I answer your ask 3 months after you sent it, please proceed as if I answered it right away and didn't just spend all that time letting it fester like a stale french fry between the car seats

#askdemonium #thank you and i love you #asks

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Happy New Year!! a kiss for each of you! 🤍 (this ficlet is nsfw btw)

✨✨

Do you think I’d get in trouble for killing Brian?

Steve smothers a smile as he leans against the kitchen counter, his thumbs tapping a quick reply.

If you kill your boss, who’ll pay you?

I’d become the boss. And I wouldn’t make anyone work on New Year’s Eve.

It’s cute how irritated Billy is about working for a mere 5 hours instead of 8. Sure, he had to wake up at his usual time (at the asscrack of dawn) but at least he’s off earlier and off tomorrow.

It doesn’t stop his boyfriend from complaining, of course

Only two more hours and then we can spend the rest of the night snacking and watching movies :)

They don’t have any ‘real’ plans for tonight. They went out last year, to some bar with Robin and Heather, and it had been so goddamn busy that after Billy got a drink spilled on him, they promised each other to stay in next year.

And here Steve is, in their apartment, decorating for their cozy evening and preparing the snacks and drinks. He even got a bottle of champagne to pop at midnight.

Billy doesn’t text back so he figures someone came to pick up their car from the shop, so Steve continues his attempt to string up the small ‘Happy New Year’ banner across the wall above their couch.

✨

Stupid fucking clients and their goddamn cars.

Billy frowns to himself as he clocks out, waving ‘bye’ to his boss and throwing a “Happy New Year,” back at him as he ducks out into the cold.

Parked right in front of the shop is the Beamer, waiting idly, and Billy rips open the passenger door to get in — and freezes as the lights come on inside and Steve’s sitting there with a smile, looking cozy and warm and happy.

It makes the tension bleed out of his body just to see his boyfriend.

And then he flicks his gaze down to the seat and there’s a bag of McDonald’s waiting for him. His usual order, probably.

His empty stomach rumbles with hunger and he sighs in relief as he picks up the bag and sits down, shutting the door before leaning over to pull his pretty boy into a hard kiss.

He feels Steve hum in surprise but reciprocates easily, chuckling as Billy pulls away and all but rips open the bag to stuff a few fries into his mouth.

“I figured you’d be hungry and cranky,” Steve grins, “So I got your usual.”

“You mean you came prepared,” Billy smirks softly as he opens up the little box of nuggets.

It’s fucking sweet how attentive Steve is to him. How he knows how to cheer him up after a stressful day. Billy’s beyond lucky to have him.

Five years and still going strong.

“Thanks, baby,” Billy hums as he leans over again, gives Steve a salty french fry kiss as they’re pulling out of the spot.

“Mm, you’re welcome,” Steve smiles, loving him.

✨

They get home and Billy heads to the shower to wash off the scent of oil and grease from the shop as Steve gets into his usual soft shorts and a worn t-shirt — his usual ‘stay in’ clothes.

They’re also easy for Billy to remove, if needed.

He slips on a pair of sweats and nothing else, joining his boyfriend on the couch amongst the blankets, pulling Steve against him immediately and kissing at his cheek and jaw, mumbling into his ear, “I didn’t kill Brian.”

A soft laugh leaves his pretty boy before he turns his head, pecking his lips and humming, “Good, ‘m glad.”

The TV isn’t even on yet and they’re already making out like teenagers, bundled up under the duvet pulled from the bed and rubbing their hands along each other’s bodies, warming up from the cold.

It’s sweet and slow, soothes Billy’s nerves from his stressful day of last-minute clients showing up with broken whatever’s and busted this and that’s. All easy fixes, but annoying people rushing him and constantly checking in on him — and Brian telling him to ‘hurry up’.

It was the old bastard’s fault for opening for half a day.

But, none of it matters now, not when Steve’s pressing his lips to his ear and mumbling ‘missed you’ into his ear like the lovesick man that he is.

“You missed me while I was at work?” Billy grins, sweet on him and gently brushing the tip of his nose against his boyfriend’s.

Steve gives him a quiet nod and whispers, “Missed my baby.”

Because Billy is his baby. Steve’s to spoil, to love, to care about. It’s soft as fuck and so pussy, but Billy loves it. He loves that he can be soft and sweet with Steve like this, in the privacy of their home.

His eyes half-lidded and staring into those brown doe eyes, Billy smoothes his palm along Steve’s thigh and whispers back, “Missed you, too, sweetheart.”

And they smile at each other, both filled with that mutual love and adoration, sitting in that warmth together until Steve finally gets up to turn on the TV.

✨

It’s close to midnight and they’re on their third movie, Billy laid back across the couch with Steve half on top of him, both of them watching the screen until Billy feels restless.

Maybe it’s the warm, tipsy feeling he has from the snacks and drinks. Who’s to know.

But, he smoothes his hand down Steve’s back under the covers and goes lower, dipping his hand underneath the soft shorts to grab at the flesh of his boyfriend’s ass, feeling firm muscle and soft skin.

“Mm,” Steve hums, acknowledging but not protesting.

Billy gives the muscle another squeeze, a little harder, and mumbles, “Cute decorations.”

Steve hums again, replies with a soft, “Thanks.”

“Did it take you long to put them up?” Billy asks, feeling his boyfriend’s dick begin to press into the side of his hip.

Count on Steve to get hard with just a squeeze of his ass. The guy is hornier than Billy, despite what their friends believe.

“No,” Steve whispers as he turns his head to press his mouth against Billy’s throat, licking across his skin, inhaling the scent of shampoo there.

Billy grips the flesh in his hand again, inches his fingers down to rub at his boyfriend’s rim, feeling the heat of him there and hearing the soft sound he makes.

Steve ruts his hard dick into Billy’s hip again, sighing out a moan into his neck.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Billy hums playfully, feels the flutter of Steve’s hole against his touch.

“You,” Steve huffs, pulling away just to look at him, and that’s when Billy gets to admire the flush on Steve’s face and the way his eyes are half-lidded. “You gonna shut up and do something or you wanna keep talking about the decorations?” He asks in that bitchy tone Billy likes, even quirks a brow.

Billy’s smile grows at that and he pulls his hand out of Steve’s shorts, licks two fingers before putting them back against his hole and humming, “Okay, I’ll do something. I’ll play with your hole until you cum in your shorts.”

The press of his fingers is made slick with his spit, his fingertips rubbing circles against the puckered skin while Steve stares at him, slack-jawed and his blush going from pink to red as the words settle in his brain and he hooks his leg across Billy’s hips, rolling his own to grind his dick there.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Steve whispers, as if he doesn’t love it, panting as Billy doesn’t stop, rubbing and rubbing while they never look away from each other.

Brown on blue the entire time, until Steve’s panting open-mouthed and his face twists pretty, cumming in his shorts just like Billy said he would.

“Mm, there we go, that’s it,” Billy praises softly as Steve ruts his hips, feels warmth bloom against his hip as the cum soaks through Steve’s shorts and against his sweatpants.

Steve’s pulling him into a hard kiss then, sucking on his tongue and still moaning, let’s Billy take over and kiss him deep, licking into his mouth and gently biting his lips.

From the apartment downstairs and above them, they hear cheering, and both of them glance over at the clock on the wall.

12:00am.

They look at each other with matching grins and chuckle, sharing another kiss — this one chaste and sweet.

There, on their couch, they whisper ‘Happy New Year’ to each other between kisses and quiet laughter.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #lemon #bambiwrites

[hwajin]

— anywhere but home

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: — hwang hyunjin | 4k follower event

genre: suggestive, fluffff??

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader

Long after midnight, city lights past you, flashing speedy, bright. Hyunjin's hand on your thigh, the other on the wheel, driving familiar streets, the way to your house. It was far too early. Too early to lose his touch against you, too early yet to say goodbye, too early to leave him for the night.

Your street and he was ready to turn, park you, give you a kiss and leave for home — you couldn't leave him yet.

"Don't turn here. Just keep going."

Surprise laced in his demeanor and he gave you a look, yet complied. Kept driving, past your place, past your neighbourhood, onto streets that still looked familiar, less homely, though.

"Why, you good?"

Another look, a squeeze against you thigh — it was far too early to let him go and you'd be utterly crazy to.

"Yeah, just don't wanna leave you yet. Don't want this night to end."

Your voice barely a whisper, within laced a hint of seduction, of desire. For him, his closure, his devotion to you; you needed him always, through sleep and endless nights.

Another look at you, darker now, more knowing, longing. A firmer hand on your leg, a turn into yet another street, fairly secluded, almost offside. And he stopped the car, swiftly and impatiently, turning off the motor, meeting eyes with yours.

"C'mere."

You found yourself on his lap in moments, shuffling to get between him and the steering wheel, a task uneasy though he moved back his seat for better access. Straddling from left and right, hands on his nape travelling to his washed out hair, his own playing with the hem of your shirt, caressing waist beneath the cloth. And your lips found their places on each other, instinctely. He clashed into you, teeth against teeth and sighs filled the small of the car, silence broken into sounds of initial pleasure.

Hyunjin grabbed onto your hips with more vigour, more purpose, lust laced within his motions, infecting you. You were his and his only as he was yours, and maybe, if you believed it enough, your time would never have to end, this night would never have to end if you didn't leave for home.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @a-cute-french-fry @felixinameadowandthesuniswarm @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @tangylemonade

#hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios

[johnnycadesmuse]

johnny cade x reader

DATING JOHNNY CADE HC'S

warnings: language, sexual references

.・。.・.・☆・゜・。.

CLEAN

when you date johnny, the relationship is going to be extremely extremely affectionate. you will not be able to keep your hands off of each other for long

johnny's love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation as well as quality time. because of this, you and johnny will see each other every. single. day no matter what. and if you go a whole day without seeing each other, the next time you see one another again he will pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist before giving you a big kiss and telling you "i missed you so much"

some nicknames for you he uses are baby, sweetheart, my love, and darling (darlin' in his voice)

he's literally the sweetest and kindest boyfriend ever, even though that's not really surprising. he will always make sure that you are okay, he will always be asking for your permission/consent to do something even if it's small like if you are okay with him taking a french fry even though you two have literally swapped spit so you really don't mind

when you two are alone, there's never a dull moment you two have together. you two are always talking about something, you cannot stop talking to one another. you're always laughing too, sometimes even to the point where you can't breathe because one of you made a joke

at night when you two are about to fall asleep, he will tuck your body into his and wrap his arms around you for dear life but not in a suffocating way ofc, more protective. if at some point during the night you two drift apart in bed, he will subconsciously pull you back into him and tuck his face into your neck

you guys go on a date every week. it's sort of a tradition and the dates vary. sometimes it's something simple like going to the drive in or the dingo, other times it's driving to the outskirts of town and going on an adventure or going to an amusement park

DIRTY

johnny is dominant in bed and i shall die on this hill. even if he is shy, it doesn't mean he's innocent. even with that being said, he is a switch. but even when your on top, he is still in control and is guiding you by putting his hands on your hips and helping you out a bit

johnnys favourite positions are missionary and love seat (where johnny is sitting up and you are straddling his waist). he feels that they are very intimate positions and he loves to watch your face contort into pleasurable expressions as he makes you feel good. they are also the most comfortable for him.

johnny is very vanilla, he doesn't have many kinks except for praise but that's about it. even with that being said, he is willing to try out anything once even if it doesn't sound appealing to him. both of you made the agreement that if you are trying out something new and you are uncomfortable or are not enjoying it, one of you says the safe word and you two stop and continue to have your regular sex

johnny is a boob guy. he likes ass and will still stare at yours and slap it when you two are out of site, but he loves your boobs. big or small, he loves em. he doesn't discriminate no matter what your boobs look like. he is always squeezing them when you two are having sex, and even when you two are alone he'll sometimes just reach over and squish one which doesn't bother you at all. he also sucks on them even if you two are just making out or are maybe jerking each other off. sometimes you also catch him gawking at your cleavage

some praises in bed he will use are:

- "fuck you feel so good"

-"if only you could look at yourself right now"

- "you're such a good girl"

-"your so beautiful"

-"you like how i'm fucking you?"

-"god I love you"

aftercare is very important for the both of you and you two have it every single time even if it's a quickie in the bathroom of a party or in your car in an empty parking lot. you will always hold each other and kiss each other on the face, neck, hands, etc. you will also communicate and ask questions on whether it was pleasurable and if there is anything the person wants that they didn't receive

he loves giving, he really enjoys going down on you especially. he loves how you taste when he's eating you out and how you tug on his hair whenever he licks or sucks on a certain spot. sometimes he'll even give teasing kisses on your pussy. sometimes he'll finger you at the same time while he sucks on your clit

whenever he fingers you, he likes to put his fingers in slowly just so you aren't overwhelmed. then overtime he gradually gets faster and faster until he's rapidly fingering you

#johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #johnnycakes #ralph macchio #the outsiders #1965 #greasers #1980s television #1980s movies #1980s aesthetic #1980s

[jupitercomet]

How to Utilize a Car Trunk

summary - You and Jake have a heart-to-heart after a driving lesson.

warnings - none I think, it’s not relevant here but Jake is 6′4″ because physics actually isn’t real in the bcu because I said so

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 1.4k

follow the adventures of Jake and Bambi in 107% Rule!

“Okay,” Jake shoots a hand out quickly so he doesn’t slam into the dashboard. “So let’s maybe not brake that hard.”

You put the car in park, your foot still on the brake, and drop your head in your hands. “Can we be done?” You mumble.

“No, Bambi, you were doing so good! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Jake pulls against his seat belt to try and gently pry your hands from your face, but it’s too late. You turn the car off in frustration, tears welling up in your eyes.

Jake’s quick to hop out of the passenger side, traveling around the front of the car to get to your side. As soon as he opens the driver’s side door, you bury your face into his stomach, hiding your expression from him. He pets the top of your head soothingly, taking a breath as he takes in the empty parking lot around the two of you.

“Bams?”

It’s quiet and then a muffled and small, “Yeah?”

“I promise you’re getting better, baby.” He tries to coax your head out of his middle, his thumb stroking your cheek. “You just need a little more practice.”

You pout pitifully, melting into Jake’s palm. “Why do I even have to learn how to drive? You can just drive me everywhere.”

“As much as I would love it if we were, we aren’t together all the time,” Jake reasons with a soft smile.

“But I don’t even go anywhere when you’re away!”

“Okay, how about this, Bams?” Jake tilts his head down at you, his fingers traveling to under your chin. “How about we call it for today, but come back here and try again tomorrow?”

“...The day after tomorrow,” you negotiate.

“Bambi.” Jake warns, giving you a knowing look, and you huff, casting your gaze down only to have his large hand lift your head back up again.

“Fine… Tomorrow.”

Jake bends down, catching you in a kiss. “Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “You wanna stop at Wendy’s before we go home?”

You nod excitedly, rushing out of the driver’s seat quickly, wanting nothing more than to get back to the safe and secure passenger seat. Jake is still fiddling with the driver’s seat, getting it back to the height and distance it was before you started practicing your driving. He lets his hand rest on your thigh once everything is in order, pulling out of the parking lot.

Your music connects to the bluetooth and you sing along happily, tracing the outlines of the tattoos that span across the back of his hand. Jake gives your thigh a light squeeze at the feeling, turning up the volume on his steering wheel when a song he knows you love comes on.

“The usual, Bams?” Jake turns to you before he rolls up to the Wendy’s drive-thru.

You nod, turning the music to a lower volume as he rolls down the window. “And a Frosty please!”

Jake recites your order, pulling up to the window and you leave with your usual order of chicken nuggets, fries, and two Cokes—plus a Frosty. Jake opens his mouth wordlessly and you move to feed him a french fry. He hums in gratitude, kissing the tips of your fingers as you pull away, and you snack on your own fry, turning the music back up as he makes his way home.

“Can I have some Coke please?” Jake opens his mouth again and you hold up the drink for him, keeping the straw steady as Jake’s eyes stay on the road.

“See? You’re the car person and I'm the food and music and directions person,” you say when he finishes, setting the cup back in the cup holder. “So we should just keep doing that because it works really good.”

Jake laughs, grabbing a fry from the bag and blindly putting it in your mouth, squeezing your cheeks together a couple times teasingly. “I can be the food person too, Bambi.”

“Yeah, well, I just can’t be the car person,” you deflate—even the way you take a bite of your chicken nugget is pitiful.

“Hey,” Jake squeezes your thigh, shooting you a glance before he checks the time on the dashboard. “You know what—” He flicks on his turn signal suddenly, changing lanes and driving past the exit that takes you home.

You watch it pass quizzically. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, sweet girl.” Jake pops another fry in your mouth.

You’re finished with your Frosty by the time you reach your destination and Jake pulls you into an overlook, reversing the car so that the trunk is facing the view. The sun is setting now, dusk sweeping over the sky and the city lights are just starting to glow.

Jake presses a button to open the trunk. “C’mon.”

You both get out of the car and Jake helps you into the open trunk, settling in beside you as you both get an expansive view of the sky. A few stars are starting to become visible—this close to the city they’re never truly at their brightest, but this overlook is the best place to see them. Jake moves you to his lap, mindful of the roof of the car, and dips down to rest his head on your shoulder.

“What’s up, buttercup?” He jabs your side lightly in an attempt to remove some of the heaviness in the air.

You sigh, slumping against his chest. “It’s just embarrassing. My boyfriend is one of the top drivers in the world and I don’t even have my license.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about that, Bambi,” Jake assures you, giving you a small squeeze. “You just need a little more practice. You’re getting better.”

You only frown at his words and Jake squeezes you again.

“What?”

“It’s stupid,” you bite your lip nervously.

“Not to me,” Jake turns so his cheek is resting on your shoulder as he looks at you. “Talk to me, Bambi.”

“Just… I like when we drive together. And I know that we’ll always do things together because I literally can’t get to them without you. But if I know how to drive myself, then you won’t need to do that anymore.”

“Sweet girl,” Jake coos softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your pulse point. “I just want you to know how to drive in case there’s an emergency and I’m not there. I’ll still take you wherever you wanna go, that’s not gonna change. I didn’t think that it ever was.”

“Well— Well, good. Because I don’t want it to,” you let your head rest on his shoulder, a bit embarrassed at how easily he’d fixed this problem that had been plaguing you the past few weeks.

Jake smiles. “I don’t like driving without you either, you know. Makes my car feel empty. Hell, even when I’m racing, I’m wishin’ you were there, Bams.”

“Oh my god,” you shake your head vigorously at just the thought. “Absolutely not!”

Jake laughs, muffling it against your lips as he grabs your cheek to kiss you deeply. You melt into him, fingers wrapping around the hand he still has around your middle. A soft noise emanates from Jake’s chest as he slips his tongue into your mouth, his hand traveling from your cheek to hold your throat loosely. 

You pull apart slowly, your lips glistening under the starlight and your chest heaving. Jake lets his hand drop back down to your waist, but before he can say anything, you gasp.

“Baby, look! The stars!”

Jake follows your gaze out the open truck. The sun has fully set, the night sky a blanket over the city, and he can see a stippling of stars overhead, all brighter than usual. When he turns back, you’re still watching them with wonderment. They reflect in your eyes and Jake softens, keeping quiet as you stare at them.

He’s not sure how much time has passed as he looks at the stars and strokes your hips softly, but soon the air starts to get colder and he nudges you softly. “Let’s go home, Bambi.”

When you don’t respond, Jake furrows his brows.

“Bambi?”

He peeks over your shoulder only to see that you’ve fallen asleep, eyes peacefully closed as you breathe steadily against his chest. Jake can’t stop the smile growing across his face and he presses a delicate kiss to your cheek. 

Wiping a bit of Frosty from the corner of your lips, he murmurs, “God, Bambi, you really have no idea what you do to me.”

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#jake seresin imagine #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin au #hangman imagine #hangman imagines #hangman x reader #hangman fluff #hangman au #top gun maverick imagines #x reader #107% rule #buggy's got a pen

[sunlightwoo]

feather

pairing: hueningkai x g.n reader

genre: comfort fic, almost bff2l, slight angst warnings: mentions of running someone w a car rating: 13+

wc: 654

a/n: originally this fic was supposed to be posted in july as a gift but happy late late (like literally 3 weeks late) birthday @fairybinie <3 i hope that your birthday was spent so so well and i feel like it's been such a pleasure to call you one of my close friends :(( i also wanted to say happy birthday to hyuka as well!! this fic is for both val and our favorite maknae so i hope you guys enjoy reading this!!

“I can't take another moment with him.” You groaned before tossing your phone into the backseat of the car and slumping down even further into your seat. 

It was another one of your late night drives with your best friend, Kai, when you had been distracted with the sound of your buzzing for the past 2 hours. The individual that you had been texting, or at least trying to cut off, was someone that you thought would reciprocate your feelings but it ended like any other situationship that you found yourself into. The only thing coming from them was just the same three words that you weren’t looking for. 

‘Send a pic.’

“Am I allowed to run him over with my car?” Kai asks but you sigh to yourself, shaking your head at his question. 

“I think you should be, at this point.” But you always wondered why it was so hard these days to find someone genuine. 

It had been over a year or so since your last relationship, and to say that you were still in your healing process was a bit more extreme said than done. You wanted to find your inner peace at some point, but it was hard when every other person was just like the last, making you want to rip your hair out and never be in another relationship again. 

“Why can’t I find someone that actually wants to know more about me?” You mumbled to yourself quietly and stared at your fingers that were in your lap, but what you failed to notice was the latter’s glance that was focused towards you. 

For the past three years that Kai has known you, he could’ve mistaken all of the supposed platonic dates and actions that you two have done together as purely platonic and just that. He never had thought of you in the light before where you had meant much more to him than a friend. But ever since the start of you looking for other guys to date and find love in, he realizes that he was stuck as the friend that comforts and heals your broken heart at the end of the night. 

Even if it had meant running some of them over, hypothetically, with the car that you both were sitting in right now. 

“I always like knowing more about you.” He speaks up with a small smile, making you turn your head to look at him as a playful scoff leaves your lips. 

“You’re obligated to say that, you’re my best friend.”

Right, he was stuck in the friend zone. 

Maybe someday he will tell you how much you mean to him, in terms of wanting to protect you against the world. The way that love should feel as though you’re a feather floating around in mid air, letting it take its course with ease from the moment that you have found that right person. Maybe that one day will be the day that he tells you about how he wants to be the soft summer breeze that helps keep you afloat in happiness, if you were a feather.

But that day isn’t going to be for today, as he knew that you needed him more now than any other day. 

“Then as your best friend, let’s just go home and watch some Netflix, hm? No more being sad, and let’s just take our time debriefing ourselves at home.” He suggests while holding up a french fry as an offering, a silent one that definitely has more meaning than it should at this moment. 

Another day, Kai tells himself, as he watches as you take the fry with a small smile and eat it, while nodding your head towards the direction out of the parking lot.

And when that day comes, he promises to himself that he’ll be there to keep you safe at all times; to be happy like a feather.

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#kvanity #k-labels #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt fluff #txt angst #txt drabbles #txt x reader #hueningkai #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai scenarios #hueningkai fluff #hueningkai angst #hueningkai drabbles #hueningkai x reader

[wheeboo]

more soft hours sdkjfskd

imagine your blind date falling through and its super late at night but then best friend joshua comes to pick u up and you get mcdonald's or smth at like 11 pm. and hes is kinda sick of all ur dates falling through when he's fr whipped for you (kiss in the car 👀)

guys what if i make a oneshot of this

this turned out a bit longer than I thought LOL

but ugh!!! imagine the hurt you feel in your heart when you finally realise after a good half hour that your blind date had basically abandoned ship, and you're alone all dressed up in a nice outfit while spamming your friend best friend joshua on the phone.

he hears the way your voice is breaking from the tears streaming down your face as you stutter out the location of where you are so he could pick you up. and gosh, he knows he'll do anything for you in a heartbeat as he drops everything that he's doing before grabbing his keys and racing to his car, driving down the streets to come pick you up.

when he catches sight of you sitting down on the curve, he hops out of his car to come racing to your side, instinctively bringing you into his arms so you could melt into his comfort. and it's such a natural feeling between you two--comforting one another, such as the hugs that you exchange that you've always believed to be merely platonic and at the dangerous line of something beyond that.

"hey, I'm here," joshua whispers comfortingly, and you feel him rubbing circles at your arms. "come on, I'll take you to get some food. my treat, okay?"

you don't say anything, only giving him a nod as he leads you towards his car. opening the passenger door for you, you hop inside as he settles into the drivers seat. you don't exactly know where he was planning to take you, but you shouldn't be surprised when you arrive at a mcdonalds five minutes later.

joshua, being someone who has stuck to your side like glue for years, has always known your preferences for food, somehow even knowing your regular order for mcdonalds. and when you realise he isn't buying anything for himself, you muster the courage to ask.

"wait, what about you?" you ask him even though it was too late before he pulls up to the next window.

joshua only gives you a gentle smile, and for some reason you feel something leap in your stomach. "I told you, it's my treat for you. have to make you feel better somehow, right?"

before you could protest, he's already grabbing the food from the window and pulling up into a nearby parking space so that you could eat.

"I should've expected it," you mumble while unwrapping your food. "I got all dressed up for nothing. what's funny is that I... I knew that they wouldn't show up. I-I should've trusted my intuition more."

joshua just peers towards you, letting his eyes take in the effort you've put into your outfit.

"I think you look pretty." he says, but it's so quiet you barely catch it, and you feel the blush forming in your face.

"you always tell me I'm pretty."

he quirks a brow teasingly. "but am I wrong, though?"

that alone was enough to make you go speechless while chewing a french fry. what follows is silence, a mixture of comfort, a tinge of awkwardness, but also something unspoken between the two of you. sometimes you wonder how joshua manages to continue sticking with you throughout your constant failed dates.

"you must be sick of me," you chuckle awkwardly. "and frustrated for having to pick me up all the time from these stupid dates."

"I would never be sick of you, Y/N," then he pauses. "I care about you... a lot more than you think."

"but... but, you know that you don't have to stick around like this, you know? you could've stayed home and I wouldn't have blamed you for if you were tired of, like, doing this all for me-"

you find your words cutting off when joshua lands a sudden kiss at your lips, and your eyes widen out of your head when he pulls away with a satisfied grin.

"well, I chose not to," is all he says. "now hush and eat your food before I kiss you again."

#zanna! #slytherinshua #friends ༊ #answered #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #joshua hong imagines #joshua hong fluff #joshua hong x reader #joshua imagines #joshua fluff #joshua x reader #soft hours!

[stevethehairington]

they're in eddie's van, cruising down the road. eddie is behind the wheel, steve is in the passenger seat. it's a beautiful day out, the windows are rolled all the way down, the sun is shining and the breeze is rushing through their hair, fanning eddie's out behind him as he speeds forward.

they'd just stopped for a little lunch, just a quick grab and go since they're on a schedule. steve's got the bags of burgers and fries in his lap, warm against his legs and absolutely delicious smelling.

eddie leans towards steve, tipping his chin up, opening his mouth.

steve gives him a funny look and says, "dude what are you doing?"

"come on, fry me, i gotta," he pinches his voice up to mimick steve, "keep my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road — your orders — so be a doll and fry me."

he opens his mouth wider, and spares a sidelong glance at steve. purposefully veers the car a little bit outside of the lines to kick steve into action.

it works, of course. "okay, okay, jesus, don't kill us over it!" steve says.

he reaches into the bag and pulls put a few french fries and, begrudgingly, feeds them to eddie, who tries to playfully nip at the tip of steve's fingers once he snatches up all the fries. steve glares at him (with absolutely no muster behind it) and eddie cackles happily and grins with a mouthful of fries.

it's disgusting. (steve is endeared).

eddie keeps asking, and steve keeps giving in. he tells himself it's just because if he didn't eddie's already shitty driving would get even shittier as he split his focus between actually comandeering the vehicle and goading steve into caving — or worse, if he tried to wrestle the bag of fries from steve's hold, which steve would not put past eddie. so, really, he does it out of his own personal interest in survival.

(he does not, at all, think about how it's kind of cute, actually. how it's maybe even kind of sort of romantic in a way. how he kind of likes feeding eddie like this. how eddie looks so very happy humming along to the song, bobbing his head and munching on his fries as they go careening over speed bumps.)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mack writes #macks ficlets

[star-girl69]

Ultraviolence

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: NOOOOO WE’RE SO CLOSE TO THE END 😭😭😭😭😭😭 i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of death and murder, swearing, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Thirty - Cult Leader

Chapter Thirty - Cult Leader

—-

2019-

“Stop it,” you groan, pushing Natalie’s face away from your neck. “You smell like cigarettes.”

She smiles, reaching behind you and grabbing a french fry from the rickety picnic table you sit on. Your feet swing in the air, the sun behind a spot of clouds, the rest of the sky bright, bright blue.

“I thought you liked the smell of cigarettes.”

“In moderation,” you say, smiling slightly and reaching for your own french fry. She turns around and starts pacing in front of you, a little jittery, running her hand through her hair. “This is nice,” you say after a moment. “Just, like, going to the park and eating some McDonalds.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You close your eyes and lean your head back, hoping to look a little brighter from the New York summer sun.

“Uh… Natalie?” someone asks, and you look up, seeing a man you don’t recognize, dressed in a dark blue college hoodie, his hands nervous in his pockets. You watch as Natalie nods, taking a step closer.

“Kyle?”

“Yeah, yeah…” he glances around, before pulling something out of his pocket. “Here.”

It’s hidden by her hands, but you know what it is. She looks down and smiles.

“Thanks,” she says, handing the guy some folded-up money.

“Mhm,” he says, nodding, once to her, once to you, before turning around and disappearing into the trees and the hustle of the park.

You want to ask her if the only reason she brought you hear was to buy drugs, but you don’t even want to know the answer.

“I’m tired,” you announce, hopping down from the table. “Let’s go back to the motel. Travis said he’s coming at 4?”

She looks a little shocked, a little concerned, because you’re not really good at hiding your disapproval for the hard drugs she’s gotten into.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, baby.”

You hope you never come to this park again.

—-

2021-

After an awkward Bed and Breakfast stay with Misty and Walter, stuck in the room between them, hearing both of them twist and turn through the thin walls, and then an almost useless trip to the farmers market- you’re driving through the dark and rainy woods, looking for a cult somewhere off of Route 19.

Route 19 is abysmal thing, especially in the New York autumn- cold, wet, and rainy. The trees were just starting to turn their autumn colors, but all it made you think of was the approaching winter.

“Staying Alive” played on the radio, and you were getting itchy with those words repeating over and over again, because you’ve done horrible things in the name of staying alive. Misty seems to think similarly to you, because she switches the radio off- leaving the car in silence.

Walter looks at her and smiles.

Misty pointedly ignores him, and stares intensely out of the passenger window.

You want to throw up.

Walter grabs the musical cassettes from center console.

“So, what’ll it be today?” he asks, unlocking it. “Les Mis? Phantom?”

Misty shakes her head. “I need to concentrate,” she says sweetly. “All of us do.”

It’s obvious that Walter has at least a little crush on Misty, and you almost feel bad watching him smile awkwardly and turn back to the road, dejected.

If you had any kind words to say you would say them.

But you’ve long since run out of words to comfort people.

“Well, I haven’t seen anything purple or cult related yet.” Misty doesn’t answer. “Hey. How about we play a game until we do?”

“That is the opposite of concentrating,” Misty admonishes.

You lean back into your seat, content to watch them play this little game, cat and mouse- Walter trying to win her over and Misty pushing him away.

“I can multitask,” he shrugs. “Two Truths and a Lie? I could be a good way for us to get to know each other.” No answer. “Alrighty. I’ll go first. I once owned a small business where we sold artisanal small-batch goat cheese. And by ‘we’, I mean myself, and a goat named Billy. Two, there’s a non zero chance that Barry Manilow is my biological father. And, three, I have 175,000 of stock in Taco Bell, and I’ve never been to a single one. The beans upset my stomach.”

He waits for her to respond, but she keeps her eyes fixed on the woods, waiting for a driveway, for some sort of anything pointing to where the cult compound could be.

“I can tell you’re thinking really hard.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “I guess you’ll just never know then.”

Misty sighs. “Fine,” she says, turning to him. “Barry Manilow.”

“Nope.”

“Well, then, it’s the goat. Male goats do not make cheese,” she says, a little condescendingly, like she’s cracked the code.

“Billy…” he says, barely hiding his smile, “Is a girl. Ah, ah, ah. They’re all true!” he laughs.

Misty looks so unimpressed that even you feel a little dejected, and you have barely said anything this entire car ride.

“I-I don’t think that you understand the rules of your own game,” Misty says incredulously.

“There’s only ever one rule. Win.”

There was only ever one rule in the wilderness.

Survive.

“Besides, now you know a little bit more about me,” he says, a little smug. “so… win. And since I have you three truths and no lies, it only seems fair you do the same for me.”

“Fine,” she says, adjusting her glasses. “I do not like monkeys. I think we’re asking the wrong questions about the moon landing, and… wait. Wait! Wait! Turn around!” she shouts, practically jumping on top of Walter hitting him, and you see a gated dirt driveway off to the side.

“What? Why?!”

“Just do it!”

Walter turns abruptly, backing up, and turning to drive the other way, blocking off another car and making them honk their horn.

But you make it. Misty reaches into her bag and pulls out a jar of honey from the purple people.

The symbol on the jar is a Yellowjacket.

The same is on the gate in front of you.

“I think we found her,” Misty smiles.

“Holy shit,” Walter says.

Dread curls up like a cat in your stomach.

—-

After waiting outside the metal gates of Camp Green Pine, Natalie finally emerges around a corner, storming towards the three of you on the other side of the gate.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, her face screwed up in confusion, while Misty gasps and runs toward her.

You hide behind Walter.

You weren’t ready to see her again, and maybe you never are going to be ready. You feel a little sick staring at her, because she looks good.

There’s no large bags under her eyes, no jittery, nervous walk, no drug induced glassy look in her eyes. Her cheeks are fuller. She stands a little taller.

You weren’t ready to see her again. And especially not now, when she looks so much better, so much healthier- maybe if you had just stuck around it would be different.

But you waited for years for her to change. And she never did.

“Oh, thank God,” Misty breathes. “You’re safe!”

“Safe? What are you talking about?! And who the fuck is this? And- Y/N?”

You don’t look at her, staring at the ground, seeing Walter move to the side from the top of your vision, sensing the tension.

“Hey, Nat,” you mumble, not sure how hard she’s glaring at you. A reconcilable glare? Or one that’s long gone?

“Well,” Walter chuckles, “I’m Walter. I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about you.”

“We’re here to rescue you! I-I mean, you were… kidnapped, right?”

“No!” Nat shouts. “…Yes. Technically. I was. But it’s no big deal, okay? Lottie sent some people for me, but I’m not, like, being held against my will. At least not anymore-”

You push past Misty and Walter and press yourself as close as you can to the metal gate, staring right at Natalie.

“Lottie?!” you screech. “Crazy Lottie? Psych ward Lottie?!”

“In Switzerland!” Misty shouts. “That Lottie?!”

“Yes,” she says, her eyes wide in mock sarcasm. “That very same one. Guess what? She runs a place here now. She’s helping me, like, reflect or whatever.”

Misty’s mouth is parted open in shock, and yours is too.

“So you and your Hardy Boy can go home.” She turns to you, and you finally meet her eyes, feeling the entire world in your stomach, an entire storm. “And you can too, Little Miss I-Love-You-But-Can’t-Be-Around-You’ or-or whatever. I’m doing a fucking thing here. And I don’t need you all getting in my way!”

She storms away, and you’re left standing under the Camp Green Pine gates, waiting yet again.

“She seems really nice,” Walter says.

—-

After you all pile into the car, no one speaks. The car is silent, besides for the sound of rain hitting the roof.

Walter glances between the two of you with his brows furrowed, apprehensive, which you don’t know him to be.

“Uh… I’m getting the feeling you’re both upset.”

“A little,” you mutter, your temple pressed against the cold window.

“I just don’t… I just don’t understand how I could have missed this. Lottie? I kept tabs on everyone. And I mean everybody. But I must not mean everybody- ‘cause I missed this!”

“Well, ok the bright side, your friend’s okay. That’s why we came here, right? Maybe you can move on now.”

Misty turns to him, her face all scrunched up.

“Move on?”

“Didn’t Natalie tell you to go home?”

“Yeah, but it was obviously an act. I mean, if they’re really holding her hostage, the first thing they’re gonna want her to do is cut ties with all her close friends. That’s, like, Cult 101.” She sighs, and you can’t stop staring at the window. “Maybe… maybe Lottie is jealous of what Natalie and I have. I mean, you can’t buy that kind of friendship. But you can kidnap it. And try to…”

“Murder for it?” Walter asks.

“Excuse me?”

You sit up now, narrowing your eyes at Walter.

“Your… friendships are more complicated than most,” he tries to explain. “Kidnapping, cults, death.” He tilts his head. “Adam Martin.”

Your heart stops.

Misty shakes her head slowly. You press yourself up against the back of her seat.

“Misty…” you mutter. What the fuck has she told this guy?

“Look, the story you told about Adam’s grieving mother was moving, but like any good citizen derivative, I followed up. I’m sorry to say, Misty, you slipped on this one. She’s very much dead.”

Misty presses her mouth into a tight line, and your heart is thumping in your ears. So loud you think they can hear it.

“So, I-I-I laid it out. See why you would want to lie about something like that. And I deduced that… you… probably killed him. Maybe to help a friend?”

“You think I’m capable of murder?”

You’re both capable of worse.

“Sure,” Walter says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “You’re charming and impulsive. Which are traits of most serial killers. Only… you pull it off.”

You can’t pull your eyes away from him and how calm his face is.

“And, Y/N, I don’t know if you’re apart of this, so my apologies-”

Your heart jumps into your throat and you think of cleaning awya his blood, the smell of bleach, the sound of saw in the next room-

“I-I don’t even know an Adam,” you laugh nervously.

He tilts his head and smiles. Well, not anymore, he seems to say.

He sighs, seeing the way you grip onto Misty’s chair, and the way she has gone so terrifyingly still.

“Look, my grandmother was convicted of killing my Grandpa Joe. Even though she got about 30 years, she never failed to send me a birthday card. S-she was thoughtful like that. Like you.”

You glance over at Misty. She looks absolutely heartbroken. Mad- in a way. At herself? At him? The world? If you squint… it almost seems like she’s crying.

“I’m just trying to say I like you. Despite your extracurriculars.”

Misty nods slowly, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You need to go,” she says, coldly. “Come on, Y/N!”

You scramble for your overnight bag, listening to Walter stammer and stutter- actually confused as to why Misty is doing this.

You follow her to the back, watch as she opens her trunk and grabs the big bag she insisted on bringing.

“But- I-I’m your ride,” Walter says in disbelief and desperation.

“I’ll figure it out. But whatever this is? Us? Consider it over.”

She slams the trunk shut. And after a moment, his car starts again and he drives off, leaving the two of you on the side of the road.

Misty takes a deep breath.

“Misty… are you alright?”

“Yes,” she says after a moment. “Are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s go.”

Both of you turn around to the gates of the cult. The Yellowjacket symbol on it.

—-

Misty presses the buzzer again and again and again. You think the sound is going to become trapped in your brain.

Then, someone rounds the corner, the gate creaking open, and you slump your shoulders, your bag almost touching the ground, putting on your best pleasing look.

“Finally,” Misty gasps. “Can you help us?” she sniffles, walking forward, her suitcase getting caught in the wet dirt.

She breathes heavily, gasping, night has fallen.

“Please,” you beg, about to pout if it means you’ll get in there. Not because of who is inside of there. But just because Misty wants it so bad. And don’t you owe it to her? As a fellow Yellowjacket-adjacent? Labeled as one throughout the years. “I wanna join.”

“Me, too,” Misty breathes.

And they let you inside.

—-

The next morning, you watch as Misty dumbs everything from her pockets. Ranging from the bar of honey, a toothbrush inside a case, to mini binoculars, and a syringe.

“Okay,” she mutters, and both of you choose to ignore the odd looks from the man helping you. Misty’s phone dings.

“Are we forgetting something?” the man asks, and you immediately grab your phone tighter. Misty sighs and takes out her phone, going to check the message, when the man suddenly snatches it from her.

You gasp and step back, frowning.

“Wait-”

The man tuts her, dropping the phone into the bowl.

“But- t-that could be important!” Misty gestures.

“Misty. You’re what’s important. Charlotte will help you see that.” He flicks his pen from you to the bowl. “Now, you too, Y/N.”

You sigh and hold your phone out, staring at it in the pretty black case with the small fake diamonds that looks like stars on the back.

“Take it,” you mutter. “I can’t do it.”

Misty watches in shock as the man grabs your phone and puts it in the bowl.

“What about emergencies? Like, um, a heart attack, or, or, a fire.”

“There’s a landline in the kitchen. But… it’s not for social calls.”

All of you stare at the phone still alight with a notification from Walter. He puts his purple-robed arm over the phone screen.

“Trust me. I’ve been where you are,” he says, standing up. You both follow him. “It’s not easy at first.”

The fact that he’s dressed head to toe in purple makes it hard to take him seriously.

“But...” he brushes his hand over both of your shoulders, “Our phones keep up captive to other people’s priorities. Oh, Charlotte. This is-”

“Misty. Y/N.” Her eyes are wide in shock.

“Hello, Charlotte,” Misty says, all ominous in a way that makes you have to hide your laugh.

The supposed Cult Leader steps forward, wringing her hands together, a disturbed sort of look on her face. One that you would have sported in the wilderness. But even in a place surrounded by the woods- this is nothing compared to the wilderness.

“Leave us,” she says to the man. He walks away swiftly.

“Hi, Lottie,” you say softly. She keeps staring at Misty, her jaw clenched.

“I thought you’d be more excited to see me.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

Misty steps forward.

“I’m here to retrieve my friend Natalie… from a kidnapping that’s looking more and more like a good old fashioned brain-washing by the hour. So, I think the better question is… what are you doing here? What is all this?”

Lottie gets this wistful look on her face, and you can tell she truly feels at home here, she’s truly proud of it. Exactly like a cult leader would, but, whatever.

“We’re a community. Of love and spiritual growth. And I help people… heal from past trauma. So they stop running from themselves.”

“Look. I don’t care if you’re running a cult here, or whatever, and I won’t call the IRS about what I assume is your routine tax evasion.”

“We saved her.”

Even now, Lottie still towers over all of you, and you feel a little small and tiny next to her. Like there’s no room for you to breathe, to speak.

“We saved her. She tried to kill herself.”

“What?” you breathe, and Lottie finally turns to you. Misty scoffs and mutters under her breath. Lottie places her hand on your shoulder. “Oh, God,” you mutter, raising your hand to your mouth.

“I don’t believe that,” Misty says, even though you know Natalie. You know she likes to run. You just always though she would look back, though. She wouldn’t ever shut the door all the way. “You two aren’t even friends.”

“Oh,” Lottie mutters, raising her hands to her temples, like she’s suddenly been hit with a horrible migraine. Before you can ask if she’s alright, she’s looking up at you again with bright eyes. “Can you two stay a while?”

“Stay?” Misty says, incredulous. “Here? Wha- No.”

“It could be helpful for Natalie,” Lottie encourages. You shake your head.

“No, no, Lottie, she doesn’t want me here. I… I should go.”

“You’re running,” she chastises softly. “And it could be helpful… for you, too, Y/N. And you, Misty.”

You look over to Misty, and you know she’s considering it. And if Lottie has truly made some community here- because this place is big and full of nice furniture. She has to have done something here.

And… maybe it could all be different this time.

—-

2019-

The motel room is dark and dirty. Half done lines of coke sit on the wood table. It’s cheap and blocky. They’ve been laughing all night.

The joint is in your hands, a comforting, familiar weight. And it reminds you of the girl you love.

The woman you love has fallen to the floor.

Travis keeps yelling for her to wake up. The paramedics give her Narcan and everything else that will supposedly make her better, make her wake up, and you start crying when you realize it won’t bring her back to you.

You brush her hair out of her face, whisper, and she wakes up, and it’s not her, and you cry more.

The room is moving too much.

Did you snort a line too? You can’t remember. You can’t. You can’t.

“I saw it.”

She’s groaning, breathing heavily, and you’re trying to convince yourself this is just a fever dream. You lean your head against Travis’s shoulder.

“I felt it.”

She starts shuddering, slumped against the bed, and you cry and cry and cry some more. That’s all you can do.

“We brought it back with us.”

She reaches one hand out towards the two of you. Half on your head, half on his shoulder. He starts crying too.

“Travis… nightshade… we brought it back with us. We brought it back with us.”

—-

taglist:

@sweetdayme4427 @dreaming-for-an-escape @peachydoki @happysparklingshadows @zhivaxo @maraudeerrs @karsonromanoff @onlyangel-444 @subastronaut @iheartnatscatorccio

everything taglist:

@emilynissangtr

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

[angeltxqrs]

our little diner date (jjk)

Jungkook had graduated high school but he decides to come visit you, and to take you out on a date

Paring: 80’s Popular Guy!Jungkook x Fem!Reader Theme: Drabble; Sugesstive, fluff Word Count: 796 Warnings: swearing, get’s a little sugesstive towards the end but nothing happens

The sunshine peeks through the window of Jungkook’s 1980s muscle car. His lips smack together as he chews on his bubblegum. He patiently waits for you to get out of school. He wanted to surprise you by picking you up and taking you on a date, but little did he know you had already known about his plan. He had his tattooed hand on the steering wheel and the other on the door handle. He looks around for you, but once his eyes land on you, he smirks. He notices your signature short white tennis skirt, which you always wear when you're around him. You walk towards his car as you softly smile at him. You then get to his car and open the passenger door. "Hey," you say in a casual/excited tone. You get into the car seat and put your school bag in the backseat before putting on your seatbelt. You then turn to look at him; he looks nice. He’s wearing a denim fleece jacket with a white tank top, a black tie, a belt, matching denim jeans, and some black boots. Plus, his hair is longer than usual, making it look like a bob. "What?" He asks, noticing your eyes on him. "Nothing so… How about that date?" You softly smirk at him as he almost mimics your smirk. "You’ll see," he says before putting his car in drive and beginning to drive off.

You guys soon pull up to a cute diner that’s around town. You both get out of the car and walk inside with Jungkook’s hand on the small of your back. You walk up to the waitress as Jungkook asks for a table for 2. The waitress then leads you two to an empty booth and hands you both the menu when you are seated. She then leaves you two alone, and you look at the menu, deciding what to order. You continue to look at the menu to see what you're craving when you notice Jungkook’s eyes on you. You softly chuckle before saying, "I didn’t think you would take me to dinner." "I was hungry," he replies as you nod. Once you two have both decided on what you want, the waitress comes back and gets both of your orders in. You two then hand back the menus to her as she leaves once more. You then look back at Jungkook from across the table and smile. "You look pretty today." He says leaning over and tucking some of your hair behind your ear. You softly chuckle before nodding. "And you look handsome today." You reply before smirking and winking. He smirks back at you, saying, "I look handsome every day." He says this while taking a sip of the Coca-Cola that the waitress just came out with. "That’s true," you agree while nodding before taking a sip of your water.

It was the end of your date. You and Jungkook both got your meals; both had hamburgers and french fries. You were only down to the last of your fries, and you agreed to share them with him. You dip a fry into the side of ketchup on your plate and look at him. "You know, if you still weren’t so goddamn popular, I would have already asked you out." You eat your fry, and Jungkook chuckles, "Sorry, I’m just too popular with the ladies." He smirks at you before eating a fry himself and crossing his arms, resting them on the table. "You are" You sigh as I look at him. The same smirk was plastered on his face as his tattooed hand moved over onto yours. He took it, and his thumb gently caressed your soft skin. "But that’s okay because you're already mine." He brings your hand up to his mouth and leaves a soft, tender kiss on it. You softly blush at his touch, and you get a tingle down your body. Your hand is still in his, and he rests it on the table. He looks at you and says, "How about we get out of here?" He cocks his head to the side. You nod, and you both get out of the booth. Jungkook paid for the meal and left his cash on the table, plus a tip. Jungkook’s arm wraps around your shoulder as you both walk out of the diner. "Oh, and I may or may not have planned something for you once we get back to my car." He smirks, looking down at you. You look back. "Like what?" You raise your eyebrow in curiosity while you both walk to his car. "You’ll see," he says in a low, suggestive tone. He leans down and presses a soft kiss on your lips.

#bts #bts army #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jjk #jungkook fluff #bts suggestive #jungkook suggestive #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts jungkook fluff #bts jungkook suggestive #bts jeon jungkook

[matty-bear]

III. Heat Of The Moment [N.S]

Type: Chapter three of The Influencer series

Pairing: Nick Sturniolo x Male!OC

Warnings: SFW, fluffy

Summary: Nick and Finn have a very successful shopping spree and have a small recap in a McDonald’s parking lot. What will happen when things get a little heated when Finn uses a silly excuse to get closer to Nick in the car? 

Notes: Writing this chapter took me so long cuz I hit a block 😖 I started sweating cuz I thought I wouldn’t be able to finish the chapter today but I did 🔥 Happy reading and hope you enjoy this chapter! :DD

WC: 3541

CH1 CH2

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

“Dude, you found so much shit at those thrift stores. Like I’m honestly jealous.” Finn says, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he chews on a few french fries. 

“Says the person who hit the jewelry jackpot literally minutes after.” Nick retorts, a small laugh escaping him as he digs in his McDonald’s bag. 

The moon and stars have finally overtaken the sun in the sky as Nick and Finn sat in a McDonald’s parking lot. About ten bags full of clothes and accessories were in the back seat of Finn’s car, a clear sign that both boys had a very successful shopping spree.

It took them a minute to figure out what they wanted to eat and when Nick suggested McDonald’s, Finn immediately agreed and he drove to the nearby joint. Now they were talking about whatever their minds desired to help pass time. 

“Okay true, but like 50 percent of the bags in the back are sweaters and jackets you found at the thrift stores. I actually wanna steal that black and gray star sweater you found in one of the bins.” Finn defends, his eyes shooting up to bore into Nick’s. 

“You can borrow it if you want. I know I'll be wearing it a lot but I won’t mind you borrowing it when I’m not wearing it.” Nick suggests, his eyes shifting up and locking with Finn’s for a moment before he breaks it by looking down at the food in his lap. 

“You serious?”

“One hundred percent! Just text me when you wanna wear it and I’ll head over to yours and give it to you.” Nick looks up at Finn, a small smile spreading across his lips when the latter smiles widely and stuffs another fry in his mouth. 

“I’ll make the best fits I swear. I won’t let you down.” Both males giggled at Finn’s statement before silence fell over the two as they focused on finishing their food. Feeling rather uncomfortable with the silence and occasional chewing, Finn reached over to the radio and turned it up, the voice of Chase Atlantic immediately filling the car. After a few minutes, Nick and Finn both finished their food and sat back against their seats. 

“That was really fucking good.” Finn states as he looks over at Nick, his eyes trailing over his delicate features that are highlighted by the moonlight shining through the windshields 

“Oh, for sure.” Nick agrees with a small nod. “My McFlurry being mixed brought me pure happiness.” Having the feeling that someone’s staring at him, the red-head turns his head to look at Finn, panic flooding through his veins when he realizes that the male was already looking at him. The latter, feeling embarrassed that he got caught staring, quickly turns away and clears his throat, the small blush on his cheeks barely being evident to Nick who’s still looking at him.

“Do I have something on my face?” The red-head asks, trying to play off his flusteredness as he adjusts his position in his seat. 

“Umm..” Finn begins, looking back over at Nick. He finds himself staring at the male again before he leans in closer towards him. “Yeah, you have a little something right here…”

Nick’s eyes widen in panic as Finn raises his hand up to his face and gently brushes his thumb over his lip. The older’s eyes shift up from the red-head’s lips to his eyes, which are still slightly widened in panic. Finn’s gaze softens as he looks at Nick, his thumb still resting on his bottom lip as they both lock eyes. The two stay in that position for a moment, the only sound being their light breathing and the faint sound of a singer playing on the radio. 

Before either boys had the chance to potentially do something more, the loud sound of a car honking startled both of them. Finn jumps at the sudden sound and quickly retreats back to his seat as Nick immediately looks down at his lap, the rings on his fingers seeming to be the most interesting thing at the moment. Both males share the same shade of blush on their cheeks as they sit in the car, the newfound tension eating both of them up alive in a matter of seconds.

“You ready to head out?” Finn asks suddenly, his voice cracking slightly due to his nervousness. Nick doesn’t say anything in response and instead nods his head. Finn clears his throat once more as he reaches for the gear shift to put the car in drive, regret and embarrassment filling him as he drives out of the parking lot. 

~~~~~~ 

“This is your place, right?” Finn asks as he pulls into Nick's driveway. 

“Yup.” The latter replies sadly, a small frown appearing on his lips as he peers out the window to see the large house in front of him. 

“You need help with hauling all the bags inside?” Nick quickly whips his head around to face Finn, his face lighting up as he looks at the male. 

“Please?” Finn nods his head with a small smile before he opens his door and slips out of the car, Nick following soon after. The red-head scans the passenger seat to make sure he didn’t forget anything before he shuts the door and opens the backseat.

He goes to bend down to grab his bags off the floor of the car but halts when he sees Finn grabbing most of his bags. When the latter goes to stand up properly, his eyes land on Nick and a small giggle escapes him when he sees his dumbfounded expression.

“You good over there?” Finn asks, a small smile creeping up onto his lips as he stares at the male across from him. 

“Yeah…” Nick replies, his tall frame bending down to grab the remainder of his bags. “You don’t have to take most of my stuff, you know.” 

“I know.” Nick furrows his eyebrows in confusion before both him and Finn shut the back seat doors. Nick waits for the older to run up to him before he guides him up to his house. He sets one of his bags down to fish his keys out of his pocket and unlock the door. 

“Small house tour I suppose.” Nick jokes as he picks the bag back up and walks inside. A small chuckle from Finn causes a small smile to appear on Nick’s lips as he ascends the steps, the blue-haired male following close behind him.

When Nick arrives at the top of the steps, he whips his head around to scan the first floor. When he doesn’t see Matt or Chris, he lets out a small sigh of relief and turns around to look at Finn, his doe eyes looking up at him making his heart skip a few beats. 

“You can set the bags in my room.” Nick starts as he turns back around and walks to his staircase. “If you see that it’s a mess, no it’s not.” Nick shoots Finn a small smile before he guides him up the steps and passes the small loft area to go to his bedroom. 

He nudges the door open with his foot and walks inside, ‘Blind’ by SZA immediately filling his ears as he walks further inside his room. Finn walks inside Nick’s bedroom shortly after he does and looks around the room, his eyes slightly widening in amazement at the sight of the multitude of electronics, posters, and small trinkets in his room. 

“Dude, your room is sick.” Finn says, the sight of the bat phosphorescence fixture on his nightstand bringing a small smile to his face. 

“Thanks. It needs a little more decoration but I’m happy with where it is right now.” Nick replies with a smile as he sets the bags in his hands down near the foot of his bed. “You can set the bags here by the way.” 

“Oh, right.” Finn tears his focus away from the bat fixture and hurries over to Nick and sets the bags down. A small huff escapes his lips as he shakes his arms and looks over at the red-head, his gaze softening as he looks at him. 

“I really enjoyed hanging out with you today, Finn.” Nick says softly, his head turning to look over at the mentioned male who quickly looks away to avoid being caught staring again. 

“Same here.” Finn agrees, a small smile spreading across his lips as he looks back at the younger. “Thanks for the small house tour.” 

A small laugh escapes Nick’s lips. “Don’t mention it.” 

“Do I owe you a house tour now?” 

“I’m afraid you do.” Nick shoots Finn a teasing smile before he continues, “I’m actually dying to see what your place looks like. I feel like you’d have a badass room.” 

“Don’t have your standards too high now. I have a pretty simplistic place. My room on the other hand is a whole different story.” 

“So you have a sick ass room?” 

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see for yourself.” Finn laughs softly when Nick frowns, his long legs taking him to walk closer to him and ruffle his hair. 

“Hey!” Nick exclaims as he playfully shoves Finn’s hand off his head. “Can I go over to yours next hangout then?” 

“I don't see why not.” Finn replies, his smile growing at the sight of Nick smiling widely. “Say, ima head out now. I need to figure out where ima put all the shit I found.”

“Lemme walk you out!” Finn nods his head softly at Nick’s suggestion and he takes one more glance around his bedroom before exiting and heading downstairs. Nick follows closely right behind the male, a dorky smile staying glued onto his lips as they both exit the house and step outside again.

He watches as Finn takes his keys out of his pocket to unlock his car, the bright orange headlights lighting up a small section of the sidewalk as they both walk up to the older’s vehicle. 

Nick stops a few steps away from Finn’s car as the latter runs over to get in the drivers seat. The male buckles himself in and sets his hand on the gear shift before he looks over at Nick through the passenger window. He looks down at his door to roll down the window and bends his head down a little to see the red-head better, the smile the male is sending him causing him to smile himself. 

“Today was fun.” Finn shouts, his voice barely being audible over the rumbling of the car’s engine. 

“I agree!” Nick replies. “I’ll be looking forward to our next hangout.” 

“Same here. I’ll text you later! Goodnight, Nick!” 

“Goodnight, Finn!” With that, Finn rolls his window back up and waves goodbye to Nick before he drives off. Nick watches his car grow smaller as he drives down the street and he turns to go back inside when his Tesla is out of sight.

A stupid smile grows onto his lips as he shuts the door and ascends up the staircase. The moment he steps foot in the living room, he jumps when he’s met with Matt and Chris staring at him.

“What…” Nick mumbles, slowly taking a few steps towards the kitchen. 

“You brought Finn in.” Chris states. 

“He volunteered to help me carry my bags in. That’s it.” 

“You two were up in your room for a good minute. Did y’all do anything fishy?”

“Chirs!” Matt scolds as he smacks the younger’s bicep. “How did y’all’s hangout go?” 

“Good!” Nick replies, an immediate smile appearing on his lips as he fills a glass up with water. “He brought me to a lot of shops and I hit the jacket pot at the thrift stores. Finn himself found some pretty cool shit at the well known shops but I definitely bought more stuff than he did.” 

“Care to share what you bagged?” 

“Hmm…” Nick hums in thought as he puts the glass we was using back in the cupboard. “Maybe tomorrow. Ima go up to my room to sort everything out.”

“Alright, see ya Nick.” Nick bids the two boys goodbye before he walks up his stairs, a long yawn racking through his body as he stretches his sore limbs. When Matt hears the male’s door shut, he turns around to glare at Chris.

“What?” The younger asks as he turns around in his spot on the sofa. 

“You need to stop being up his ass about Finn. That’s why he hasn’t told you shit.” Matt scolds, his eyes rolling his annoyance. 

“Dude, I wanna fucking know what’s happening and who the hell this kid is! I don’t want Nick hooking up with a guy who’s gonna screw him over.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, but I doubt Finn is like that. He genuinely seems like a nice and chill guy who wouldn’t wanna cause any harm to Nick. And I’m sure we’d know if he pulled something by now. Just take a chill pill and tone it down a little. I’m sure Nick will tell you all the shit he told me if you stop getting on his ass.” 

A heavy sigh escapes Chris’ lips as he rubs his hands over his face and gets up. “Alright. But if that guy pulls anything on Nick, I’m finding where he lives and putting his ass on blast.” 

“Me and you both.” Matt nods his head in agreement and watches with furrowed eyebrows when Chris walks to the staircase leading down to his room. “Where are you going?”

“I wanna play Fortnite.” 

“Can I join you?”

“Hell yeah. Go hop on and I’ll invite you to my party when I see that you’re online.” 

“Word. Ima go up to Nick’s room real quick and text you when I hop on.” 

“Word.” Matt gets off the sofa and grabs his phone off the armrest as Chris heads downstairs to his room, his footsteps growing quieter with every step he takes.

Matt walks over to Nick’s staircase and walks up the steps, the voice of Melanie Martinez growing louder as he gets closer to the older’s bedroom. When he arrives at Nick’s door, he knocks softly a few times before he lets himself in. 

“What’s up, Matt.” Nicks says as he pulls a hoodie over his head. 

“Just wanted to come in to know about the details regarding the hangout today.” Matt replies as he takes a seat on the red-heads bed. He looks over at Nick, the smile growing on his lips causing him to smile himself before the older walks over and sits next to him. 

“Well…” Nick begins, a stupid and dorky smile staying glued onto his lips as he looks down at his hands. “We went to some thrift stores first and like I said before, I hit the jackpot and dropped like 200 bucks combined at the two thrift stores we went too. Finn didn’t really find anything apart from a few tees so we went to some other shops. That’s when he found the jewelry jackpot and bought a shit ton of accessories. He found such cool and cute shit like I’m honestly jealous. Anyways, we kept walking around, went into a few more stores to look around, and window shopped before we called it a day and went back to his car. At this point we're both a little hungry so we ended up settling on getting McDonald’s. So he ordered, paid for both of us even though I told him not to, drove to the parking lot and we sat there and talked some more. And then… um..” 

At the sight of Nick growing quiet and his face flushing, Matt’s jaw drops and he shoves his shoulder. 

“DID YOU TWO KISS?!” Matt practically screams. “Nicolas Antonio Sturniolo! I thought you preached about taking baby steps in relationships and here you are sucking face with a guy on the first hangout?” 

“NO!” Nick exclaims,his body jumping on the bed a single time as his face grows hot. “We didn’t kiss! Listen to me!” 

“I’m listening, kid”. Nick bites down onto his bottom lip and looks down to fidget with the hem of his hoodie. 

“When I turned around to look at Finn, I caught him staring at me…” Nick starts, looking up to look at Matt who nods his head and gestures him to continue. “When he realized he got caught, he quickly turned around. I then proceeded to ask if there was anything on my face and he said yeah and started leaning into me. You do not understand how much I was panicking when he brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. He kept his hand on my lip and we both locked eyes for a good minute. I swear to god he was gonna make another move but a stupid, loud ass car ruined our moment.” 

“He definitely likes you, Nick.” 

“You really think so?”

“Nick, don’t be dense. He said that you had something on you as an excuse to touch your lips and probably would’ve kissed you if y’all weren’t interrupted.” 

“You’re right...” Nick falls back onto his bed as he covers his face with his hands. “I think he regretted it though.”

Matt looks down at the older with a confused expression. “What makes you say that?” 

“He seemed embarrassed after that whole thing happened and didn’t speak to me on our way here. He seemed very flustered, Matt.” 

“Maybe it was the heat of the moment type thing.” Matt lands a reassuring hand on Nick’s knee. “I’m sure he’s just like you right now; being really confused on whether or not he has feelings for you. Just, take it slow alright? Don’t jump into relationships so quickly, they end very quickly, trust.” 

“I know, I know…” Nick removes his face from his hands and looks up at Matt. “He said I could go over to his place for the next hangout so I’ll get to know him more then. I mean we hit it off really well today but I’d rather be safe than sorry.” 

“I completely agree. Set boundaries if you get uncomfortable or if he starts taking things a little too quickly for your liking. Don’t let him step over you, Nick. I don’t wanna see you getting hurt. Especially considering how you’re actually making progress towards a possible relationship right now. You’ve never gotten this far with crushes before and it’s so endearing to see you get all excited about this guy.” 

A small smile spears on Nick’s lips as he sits back up. “I promise I’ll tread carefully about this.  And thanks for understanding me and not being up my ass like someone.” 

A small chuckle escapes Matt’s lips when he sees Nick roll his eyes. “Speaking of Chris, I told him to get off your ass and calm the hell down. He said he’s just worried about the kind of guy Finn is since he doesn’t really know the guy. I also think that him teasing you is just the younger sibling in him. You know how he gets when either of us have sudden love interests.”

“Oh, I know. I just don’t need him being weird when Finn comes over to hangout.” 

“Rest assured that when he comes over, I’ll make sure Chris doesn’t come near either of you.” 

“Thanks, Matt.” Nick smiles warmly at the latter, the younger returning the smile with one of his own. “If he really gets off my ass about Finn, I’ll tell him all the details and shit. But as of right now, he’s not getting shit from me because he’s being really fucking annoying. And you better not be telling him anything!” 

“I’m not, I swear! It’s your business to tell, not mine.” Nick sends a suspicious glare towards Matt as the younger raises his hands up in defense. 

“Okay, good…” Nick sends one more glare to the younger before he drops the act and lets out a tired sigh. “Okay respectfully, can you please get the fuck out? I’m really tired.” 

“Yes, sir.” Matt giggles when Nick swats his side with a pillow. He quickly backs away from the older and sends him an innocent smile. “Goodnight, Nick.” 

“Night, Matt.” Matt leaves the room and gently shuts the door behind him as Nick falls back onto his bed with a sigh. A small smile spreads across his lips when ‘High School Sweethearts’ by Melanie Martinez plays through the speakers on his desk. He scoots back on his bed a little to lay down on his back more comfortably before he slips under the covers. He fixes his gaze onto his ceiling as he softly sings along to the lyrics, his fingers lightly drumming along to the beats on his blanket.

He lays there for a moment, tiredness taking over his body every second that passes by. Eventually, the song ends and ‘Recess’ begins to play. Melanie’s soft and calming voice ends up lulling Nick to sleep as she sings the first verse, the music creating background music in the red-heads dreams as he sleeps soundly. 

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo x reader #nick x reader #nick sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris x reader #matt x reader

[daisymintt]

Merlin: [from the back seat of Arthur’s car] I have a standing "shotgun" in this vehicle, and everyone knows it! Arthur, is that an old French fry? I am in a metal cage of despair!

#bbc merlin #merlin incorrect quotes #incorrect merlin quotes #incorrect quotes #the adventures of merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #king arthur #arthur x merlin #merlin x arthur #bbc arthur #bbc arthur pendragon #incorrect merthur quotes #bbc merthur #merthur #psych tv #psych

[ddejavvu]

Whenever Kurt pulls over and he isn’t driving anymore, he always wants to pull you to sit in his lap instead. Over time it gets a little less awkward to be dragged over the gearstick, but he likes being able to hold you, and be close to you, on his breaks. Whether you’re both just snuggling, or he’s pulled into a drive thru car park, so he can share his McDonald’s with you, he keeps his hands warmly around your waist. Or settled on your lap. Or rubbing your thighs because he likes playing with them. Or stretching his tickling fingers over your stomach as you feed him a french fry. He just loves feeling your touch surrounding him, likes the physical affection you give and how he can be himself and just relax into you. Even if he does find it hard to not squirm and wiggle, the first few times you’re pressed into his lap. Especially because the first few times you were on top of him, or vice versa in his car, was car sex

join headcanon day!

AW THAT'S SO CUTE :( sharing mcdonalds yes!!!! he feeds you fries where you're laying against his chest, and he lets you play on his phone (i guarantee he has shit like temple run and that chopping game and those ball-rolling puzzles on there) until someone needs a spree driver and then you have to sit back in your seat :(

#kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle headcanon #headcanon night

[xesarchives]

Big Brothers - platonic!gn!reader x clay jensen + justin foley

anon asked: Hi there! Would you mind writing sth with Clay and Justin and the prompt "I warned you, he warned you, mum warned you" from your prompt list? Thank you :)

Posted June 10th, 2020

this is my favorite thing I have ever written and even if you aren’t a fan of 13rw I highly suggest you read this

I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be a sibling!reader x Justin and Clay but I did it anyway where the boys are helping reader with their first heartbreak. It's just a Lil blurb. I hope you enjoy it!

104

“I warned you, he warned you, even mom warned you”

Word Count: 559

“Hey, you’re home from work early, what are you doing in here?” Clay asked as I walked into his and Justin’s room. I plopped onto Justin’s bed hugging his pillow. “You okay?” Justin asked noticing the tears on my face as he rushed to my side. I shook my head letting out a sob. Justin pulled me into a hug. “Was it Jeremy?” Clay asked standing at the end of Justin’s bed. “Yeah” I managed to sob out, hugging tighter onto Justin. “I knew it! I warned you, he warned you, even mom warned you! I’m gonna kill them!” Clay yelled causing Justin to send him an angry glare. “Not now, asshole,” Justin said, rubbing my back. “Sorry” Clay said sitting on the other side of me. “I want you to beat his ass,” I said wiping my eyes with my sleeves “why? What did he do to you?” Justin asked checking to see if I had been hurt anywhere. “He cheated on me” I whispered. “I’m gonna kill him!” Justin yelled standing up. “I need you can you do that later, J?” I asked leaning into Clay’s side and letting him put his arm around me. “Yeah, yes of course,” Justin said sitting by down next to me and kissing my temple. “Wanna go to Monet’s or Rosie’s?” Clay asked making me look up at him. “Yeah, sure I guess,” I said. Clay nodded and got up rummaging through his drawer. “What are you doing?” Justin asked letting me lay my head on his shoulder. “Looking for this” Clay closed his drawer holding up the hoodie I always stole from him. I smiled a little catching it when he tossed it at me. “Thanks, Clay,” I said standing up and pulling it over my head.

Justin handed me a french fry “thank you” I mumbled receiving a small smile from the boy. “You feeling any better, Y/n?” Clay asked taking a drink of his milkshake. “Yeah, thanks to you guys” I smiled at them eating the fry. “So, what’s this guy’s address?” Justin asked leaning forward. “Why?” I asked eyeing the two. “We’re gonna go buy a shit ton of Toilet paper and tp his house,” Clay said nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.

I laughed watching Justin throw another roll at Jeremy’s window. “Oh shit!” Justin yelled grabbing my hand and signaling Clay to stop. I gasped seeing the lights had turned on. We all ran towards the car almost tripping as we attempted to open the doors. “Holy shit!” Clay yelled as he began driving. I laughed putting the leftover toilet paper on the seat next to me and buckling my seatbelt. “Think they saw us?” Justin asked catching his breath and then letting out a quiet laugh. “Oh absolutely!” I said causing Justin to laugh even harder. “Feel better now?” Clay asked smiling back at me and quickly looking back at the road. “Oh, 1000% I definitely needed that, it’s gonna suck when you guys leave, what will I ever do without my big brothers?” I dramatically leaned backward. “You look at me as your big brother?” Justin asked looking at me. “Of course J and tonight proved it, you are just as much my brother as Clay which means I am forever calling you JJ” I smirked. Justin laughed and said. “JJ huh? Sounds good to me”

#justin foley x reader #clay jensen x reader #13rw imagine

[kelyon]

Courtship 6: Second Date--Dinner

Lacey has a date at Mr. Gold's house

Read on AO3

The goosebumps on Lacey’s bare legs were bigger than her boobs, but Mr. Gold’s reaction was worth it. The light from the Cadillac’s dashboard shone a gleam into his dark eyes, a faint glimpse of white teeth when he grinned.

“Miss French.” His voice lingered over her name. “What a lovely skirt.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gold,” she smiled. 

She made sure the red skirt covered her backside as she slid into the passenger seat. It wouldn’t do to rub her naked pussy all over Mr. Gold’s leather--at least not until she knew if he’d like that. 

He reached over and put one hand on her leg. His hands were big enough to span the whole of her thigh. The black leather gloves contrasted so much against her white skin she could see the shape of him even in the dark. Heat seeped through his gloves onto her flesh. He gave her a squeeze and put the car into drive. The whole way to his house, he kept his hand on her.

Miss French shivered, even as she warmed up. She had done what Mr. Gold asked, and he was going to reward her for it. This was going to be a good night.

****

This time, Mr. Gold took her to the back door of his house. It opened up into a kitchen that was about half the size of Lacey’s entire apartment. All the appliances were shiny and new. Everything was so clean it looked like it had never been used. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, no crumbs or stains on the counter, no layer of greasy grime on the cupboard doors.

“Wow,” Lacey said as she looked around. “This place looks serious.”

“That is the impression I try to give people,” Mr. Gold said wryly. He ushered her inside and went to the front hall to take off his coat. When he came back, he had also taken off his suit jacket.

Lacey had never seen him without a jacket on. She licked her lips. 

Mr. Gold kept moving. He took an apron off a hook on the wall and tied it behind his back. Then he went over to a massive stove and pulled some covered dishes out of the oven. He set them on trivets on the counter, then took the lids off to check the contents inside. Apparently satisfied with what he saw and smelled, Mr. Gold put the lids back on and turned away. He picked up a frying pan from a rack over the stove and spun it in his hand before putting it on top of an unlit burner. He turned to her. 

“Would you like to fetch some things for me, Miss French?”

Lacey stood up straight. Miss French was ready to do whatever he asked. “Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“In the icebox you’ll find a roll of butter and a plate with steaks on it. Bring them to me.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

The inside of his fridge was just as spotless as the rest of the kitchen. Everything was organized. Matching glass containers stacked on top of each other in neat rows. There was enough room to set a plate down on the center shelf without having to wedge it on top of three other things. 

The steaks were smaller than she would have hoped, each one about the size of a hockey puck. Lacey had never seen steaks that were round before--maybe this was something new. She brought the plate and the butter over to Mr. Gold. 

“Good girl.” 

He didn’t put any special emphasis on the words, but they were still enough to make Miss French blush. He saw her reaction, and grinned. 

“Do you like making yourself useful, Miss French?”

“I-I guess so,” Lacey shrugged. “Never really had much of a choice in the matter. I grew up hearing that there was always something that needed doing.”   

Mr. Gold made a thoughtful sound. 

He had rolled up his sleeves to pick up the meat and press it into  some kind of spice mixture. This was the first glimpse Lacey had ever gotten of his wrists. In a normal relationship, wrists wouldn’t be something to get hot and bothered over, but nothing that was going on between her and Mr. Gold was normal. 

That was why she liked it so much. 

He melted butter in the frying pan, tilting it from side to side to spread the butter around. The steaks sizzled when he added them to the hot pan.

“Now,” he nodded back to the fridge. “There’s a jar of beef stock and a container of minced shallots. Will you bring them to me?”

Lacey bit her lower lip. ‘Beef stock’ meant absolutely nothing to her, unless he was talking about some Wall Street financial thing. She knew she had read the word ‘shallot’ before, in the context of vegetables and good food, but she couldn’t picture one in her mind. 

“Um. What do those things look like?”

Mr. Gold’s smile was surprisingly warm. “The beef stock is a brown liquid, it should be in a glass jar close to the door. Shallots look like finely chopped purple onions.”

“Oh,” she said. It sounded so simple when he said it. Like something everybody knew. Like something Lacey would know if she wasn’t such a stupid Old Town yokel. Low-class, that’s what she was. Ignorant. Why was he even bothering with her?

Because she had potential. That’s what he had said last time. Because she was interested in the same weird shit he was an expert in. Because she was willing to learn, to become something better than what she was.

Miss French found the beef stock and the minced shallots. When she got back to Mr. Gold, he had flipped over the steaks and was in the process of putting them on a platter and putting the platter in the warm oven.

He took the ingredients with thanks and another wave of heat washed over her. He measured out a wooden spoonful of shallots and cooked them in the frying pan with the meat drippings. 

“You’ll want to stand back for this,” he said. There was a short bottle of some kind of booze on the counter beside him. He took the bottle and poured out a generous glug into the pan. Then, like a madman, Mr. Gold tipped the pan forward into the burner so the alcohol ignited. For a few seconds, he had a frying pan full of orange flames over the stove. 

He looked at Lacey as he controlled the fire, grinning at her with perfect confidence.

“Jesus,” she whispered.

“Not remotely.” Mr. Gold gave her a devilish wink.

When the alcohol flames burned themselves out, Mr. Gold added the beef stock to the pan. He gave the mixture a stir and set it down on low heat.   

Then he busied himself with rolling his sleeves back into place. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out two little doodads made of gold. When he fastened them to his sleeve ends, the words ‘cuff links’ popped into Lacey’s head. Another thing she had read about but never encountered in real life before. 

  “Now,” he said. “I’m going to plate up our dinner, but I want you to bring the plates into the dining room.” He brushed by her, lingering only long enough to hiss into her ear--“Serve me.”--and then he was on the other side of the kitchen.

Lacey let out a shuddering breath. The order was so quick and so quiet, it might have never happened at all. It might have been subconscious, might have been planted directly into her head--though her head was not where Lacey most keenly felt the effects. 

Miss French shivered and then obeyed.

Mr. Gold had set the plates on the counter. Two identical pieces of meat supported leaning stalks of asparagus in front of a cloud of mashed potatoes. A brown sauce covered the meat and dripped artful dots onto the unoccupied white china. Their plates at Bella Notte hadn’t looked this elegant.

Carefully, Miss French took a plate in each hand. She didn’t know where Mr. Gold’s dining room was, but there was only one door out of the kitchen, so she could make an educated guess. 

Mr. Gold was seated at the head of a long, dark table. He had taken the apron off and  put his jacket back on. There was a second place set at his left side. Miss French placed a plate in front of him, then walked behind him to put the other where she was going to sit. The chair was already pulled out for her. 

Again, Miss French made sure to smooth the back of her skirt and make sure she didn’t leave a mess on the embroidered seats of Mr. Gold’s dining room chairs. He saw her do it, and he grinned.

“Dare I hope that you remembered the second part of my proposal?” He poured red wine into her glass, then his own. “It wasn’t just that you wear a red skirt.” 

Miss French’s cheeks burned, but she looked him in the eye. “I remembered, Mr. Gold.”

“If I were a coarser man, I’d make you prove it to me before I allowed you to eat.” He picked up his fork. “But you are a guest in my home, Miss French, so I’ll permit you a touch of courtesy.”   

“You’ve been nothing but courteous, Mr. Gold.” Miss French took a cloth napkin out of a gold napkin ring engraved with a G. She set the napkin delicately in her lap. “After all, what more could a good host offer his guest than a series of screaming orgasms?”  

Mr. Gold’s knife scraped harshly against his plate. He cleared his throat. “You have high expectations, Miss French.”

“So do you, Mr. Gold.” She picked up her glass of red wine, determined not to flinch at the taste like she had at the restaurant. “I’m just trying to match you.”

She took a sip of the wine, and blinked. It wasn’t bad this time! It wasn’t bitter or dry or whatever bullshit people said about wine. It was fruity and sweet, like something Lacey would actually drink. 

Mr. Gold was watching her, his expression somewhere between amused and pleased. “Tolerable?” he asked her.

“Extremely.” Miss French took another drink then set the glass down. She made sure to turn it so Mr. Gold wouldn’t see her lipstick marks on the golden rim. 

“I selected a sweeter vintage than the Marias we had at the restaurant,” he said. “This is a Cocteau, from the year 1946.”

“You know those words don’t mean anything to me,” Lacey admitted. 

Mr. Gold smiled indulgently. “It’s a good wine,” he said. “Sweet and simple, for a… less refined palate.”

Lacey’s face went hot. Was she ever going to stop feeling like an idiot around him? Mr. Gold was so cultured and classy. She had to be better if she was going to be good enough for him. 

“I am willing to expand my tastes,” Miss French defended herself. “I just have a lot to learn.”

“Of course you do.” Mr. Gold gazed at her over his own glass. He took a slow sip, then swallowed. Still looking at her, he licked his lips. “You need a teacher.”

Lacey gave a self-effacing grin. “I did always get good grades in school.” 

“I recall,” Mr. Gold said. “Valedictorian.”

She looked down at her plate, silently cut into her meat. The knife slid through the steak like it was butter. Under a layer of crisp brown char, it was a dark, luscious red. 

“In retrospect,” she said. “I think being praised for my supposed intelligence is the worst thing that could have happened to me.”

“Really?”

“Good grades don’t equate to actual intelligence. School is just memorizing answers people have already told you and then maybe writing a paper about it. And spending your life with your nose in a book means you never get to experience anything that isn’t on the page. Thinking any of that stuff will get you anywhere… it’s just stupid.”

“It could have gotten you into college, if your circumstances had been different.”

She shook her head. “Even that was never really a guarantee, just a promise. And promises are broken all the time.”

To keep herself from talking more, she finally took a bite of her steak. Her mouth exploded with pepper and salt and the rich, savory sauce. The meat pressed between her tongue and the roof of her mouth and started to melt. It seemed to slide down her throat without her even having to chew it.

“Oh my God,” Lacey whispered. 

Mr. Gold grinned at her. “Never had filet mignon before, Miss French?”

If she opened her mouth, the flavor might escape, so she just shook her head.

“It’s steak au poivre, to be specific. Now that you’ve tasted it, try the wine again.”

She picked up her glass and took a sip. The splash of fruit and sweetness that had been perfectly pleasant a few minutes ago now seemed like a revelation. The flavors of wine and meat clashed and cut through each other in a cacophony that was also, somehow, a symphony. 

“Oh, wow.”

Mr. Gold chuckled and went back to his own meal. “You have good taste, Miss French. You can appreciate the finer things in life. Your only deficit is a lack of experience.”

Miss French swallowed. Pacing herself, she shifted her focus away from the filet mignon. The steamed asparagus was crisp and fresh, seasoned with lemon juice. The potatoes were creamier than anything she’d ever eaten before, and smoother than anything besides the filet mignon.

“Do you eat like this all the time?”

Mr. Gold scoffed. “Like this? All this butter and red meat? No.” He carved off a slice of filet mignon, and placed it on his tongue. He savored it for a moment, then swallowed. “No, tonight is a night of indulgences. For both of us, I think.”

“The mashed potatoes are excellent.” She took tiny forkfuls, to make it all last longer. 

“Technically,” Mr. Gold said, “they are whipped potatoes.” 

Despite her better manners, Lacey snorted. “I suppose that makes sense, given the kind of stuff you’re into.”

Mr. Gold wasn’t grinning, but his eyes held that peculiar gleam. “Does the thought repulse you?”  

“If it did, I would have told you last time. Or I wouldn’t have come back.”

“Being with me is only going to become more intense, Miss French.”

“I like a challenge.” She stared into Mr. Gold’s eyes. “Is it really going to be whips and chains and stuff?”

“I ask again, does the thought repulse you?”

“No.” Miss French spoke with absolute conviction. “If I’m honest with you, Mr. Gold, I’d say it kind of excites me.”

His grin this time was wide, something almost close to genuine. Miss French’s heart skipped a beat. She had made him happy. 

Fuck, she wanted to keep making him happy. 

“Of course, I always want you to be honest with me. Particularly about what excites you.” He had only eaten half of his filet mignon. He cut off a final sliver and then pushed his plate away. “Now, finish your meal. We need to put this table to better use.” 

“What use is that?” Miss French asked, even as heat raced through her. 

“I invited you here so I could have you for dinner, Miss French. That is precisely what I mean to do.”

****

When the meal was done and the plates were cleared, Mr. Gold had Miss French sit on top of the table. He placed her on the long side, near where she had been eating. Once again, Lacey made sure her skirt was arranged so a layer of fabric was between the polished wood and her naked flesh. Once again, Mr. Gold saw what she was doing and snickered. 

“Do you think you’re fooling anyone, Miss French?” He stood in front of her, his hands on the table, his arms boxing her in on either side. Mr. Gold wasn’t a big man, but he knew how to use his body. He leaned in, his breath hot on her ear. “You act so demure, so ladylike. Do you think people can’t see what you really are?”

Shivering, she gripped the edge of the table. “What am I, Mr. Gold?”

“You tell me,” he said quietly. He placed one hand on her bare thigh, his fingers just brushing her hemline. “If people in this town knew you were coming here, to my house, without a stitch of clothing on under your skirt, only because I’d asked you to, and only after I had given you money--what would they call you?”

There was an incredible stillness inside Miss French. The kind of stillness that can only be found when a vibrating object meets another object vibrating at the exact same frequency and they cancel each other out. The truth of Mr. Gold’s words met the truth of her reality and everything stopped. It was a moment of perfect clarity, perfect understanding. Most importantly, it was a moment of perfect acceptance. She knew what she was, what she had always been deep down. All Mr. Gold was asking her to do was admit it. 

“I’m a slut.” Her voice sounded strange, but she couldn’t stop herself from talking. “That’s what people would say. They’d say I’m a bad girl, a whore.” She blinked. Her Uncle Manny’s face flashed in front of her. Heat pooled in her eyes. “They’d say the smartest kid in Storybrooke should know better than to associate with you.”

Mr. Gold held her face, forced her to look at him. “Are you a kid, Miss French?”

“No, Mr. Gold.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m a woman.” She swallowed. She tried to remember what he’d told her in the shop when he’d given her the money to buy her skirt. “I’m a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to get it.”

Still holding her, he stroked her jaw with his thumb. “Even if you had been the smartest kid in Storybrooke, did that get you anywhere? Does that have any bearing on what you are now?”

“No, Mr. Gold.”

“Did you think it would?”

He knew she had, he was just trying to get her to say it. Anger flashed through her--at him, at herself, at the whole fucking world and all its lost potential. She stared at him, hard as a diamond. 

“I did, Mr. Gold.”

“By your own admission, what does that make you?”

“Stupid.” She closed her eyes, let the tears roll down her cheeks. “I’m stupid, Mr. Gold. And I’m a slut, Mr. Gold.”

He pressed in and kissed her. It was a surprisingly soft kiss, not like the possessive biting that had left her with a hickey that still hadn’t faded three days later. No, this kiss was gentle, reassuring. He was telling her that she had done hard work, and she had done it well. This kiss--like all signs of affection from Mr. Gold--was a reward. She kissed him back, relishing the chance to be as honest with him as she had been with herself. This was the truth. This kiss, this moment, this was more real than anything else in Storybrooke. 

She knew it in the deepest corners of her heart. 

He broke away slowly. His hands rested loosely around her neck. He pulled back the collar of her black button-down and grinned when he saw the hickey at her nape. He must have been thinking about it too.

He looked at her with warm, dark eyes. “Do you know what happens to stupid sluts, Miss French?”

She shook her head. “No, Mr. Gold.”

He pulled her towards him for another kiss. This one was short and sharp. Then he took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her down onto the table top. 

“Stupid sluts get their pussies eaten, Miss French.”

****

She lay on her back, her arms above her head on the table. For a second, she had an odd thought that was waiting for something. She felt like she ought to be moving, like some external force should be pulling her by the wrists to be in the exact position he wanted her to be in.

Lacey blinked a few times, to clear her head, then pulled herself back to the other edge of the table. Her legs dangled over the sides. She was still wearing her sensible black pumps. 

Mr. Gold stood between her legs. His cane off to the side, he rubbed her thighs with both hands. Miss French hoped her flesh was soft and tender to his touch. She wanted to be as pleasing to him as his filet mignon had been to her. She wanted him to enjoy her. God, she wanted him to devour her.

“You’re wiggling,” he observed. “I expect more self-discipline than that, Miss French.”

“Or what, you’ll tie me up?”

He squeezed her thigh and gave her a smirk. “Not this time, my dear. But perhaps I need to remind you of the rules.”

“I’m not going to touch you, Mr. Gold.”

“No, you won’t. Tonight, you’ll keep your pretty hands gripped to the edge of the table, no matter what. If you do try to touch me, or do anything cheeky, I’ll stop what I’m doing and take you home that instant.”

Miss French shivered. Threats sounded so good in his mouth. She wanted to obey him just so he would keep talking to her. 

“And you’re only going to come when I give you permission.” His fingers dug into her flesh. His grip was so strong it hurt, in the best way. He leaned over her on the table to whisper. “I intend to make it very difficult for you, Miss French. See if you can be a good girl for me.”

Breath shaking, Miss French pulled herself together enough to speak. “Am I going to get anything? If I follow the rules?”

Mr. Gold stroked the whole of her leg, thigh to ankle, contemplating her question. Thank God Lacey had taken the time to shave her legs again.

“If you obey me, my dear Miss French, if you do exactly as I say, then when we’re done here I will allow you to join me in the study.”

Miss French’s breath caught in her throat. There was nothing she wanted more than to go into Mr. Gold’s study again.

“That sounds good,” she whispered. 

“So we have a deal, dearie?” 

Mr. Gold’s grin over her was animalistic, wild. Or at least as close to wild as a man as self-controlled as Mr. Gold would allow himself to get. A desire ignited inside Miss French: Even more than she wanted the pleasures and passions he could give her, she wanted to see what his passion looked like. She wanted to make him lose control.

“Yes, Mr. Gold,” she whispered. “We have a deal.”

The briefest flash of pleasure burned in his eyes, then his face was gone. He stood between her legs again. For the first time, his hands went under her pretty red skirt. 

From the back of his throat came a dark, hungry sound. When he raised the skirt up over her waist, Miss French felt cool air against her heated body.

Cooler than it should have been. His hands were gone. After a moment, Lacey pushed herself up on her elbows so she could see what was going on.

Mr. Gold was looking down at her. He was frowning.

Lacey’s stomach plummeted.

“Is… something wrong, Mr. Gold?”

He shook his head. “More fool me not to expect it.”

“What?”

“This…” As he searched for words, he used one long finger to slide over her mound. “Carpet.”

Lacey’s face went hot. Her hair? He was annoyed because she had pubic hair? 

“Oh,” she said softly. “I’m… sorry?” 

Mr. Gold seemed so disgusted that Lacey felt like she had to apologize. Like this was some fundamental act of hygiene that she had completely ignored.

Clearly he wasn’t going to have any more use for her, at least not tonight. She started to sit up. “You don’t have to--”

“Stay where you are, you filthy creature.” His palm covered her hair. His fingers plunged into her core. Mr. Gold made a noise, pleased and ravenous. “Did you get this wet just from dirty talk? You really are a slut, Miss French.”

A high whine left her throat. Miss French drifted down to the table. “Do whatever you want to me, Mr. Gold. Whatever I deserve.”

He began to rub slow circles over her cunt. “See, that’s how I know you’re not a nice girl, dearie. Those are words a nice girl would never say.”

“I’m not a nice girl,” she whispered half to herself. “I’m a stupid slut. A filthy, stupid, whore.”

Mr. Gold grunted his agreement. He was still playing with her pussy. Two fingers sank inside her, then slowly withdrew. 

“Look at me, Miss French.”

Miss French obeyed, propping herself up on her elbows again. Mr. Gold stood in front of her with his lips parted and two fingers in front of his mouth. They glistened faintly from her juices, the fingers he had just put inside her. 

He waited until she was watching him, then he inhaled deeply through his nose. He waved his fingers in front of his face like he was swirling a wine glass. Then he brought them up to his lips.

Jesus Christ. 

He closed his eyes as he savored the taste of her. When he opened them, and saw that she was still gaping at him, he grinned. 

“I don’t normally tolerate hair in my food,” he said. “But you present too sumptuous a meal to resist.” Slick with saliva, his fingers grazed over her opening. “More importantly, I made a deal with you, Miss French. And I am nothing if not a man of my word. You held up your end of the bargain, now I am duty-bound to do my part.”

Without another word, he bent down and put his lips on her cunt.

It was surprisingly slow at first. He just kissed her. It felt like a continuation of the kiss they’d shared earlier. Mr. Gold’s mouth was gentle, coaxing. His lips brushed softly against her folds, her clitoris. Waves of pleasure rolled over Miss French’s body, but they were warm, comforting. She thought it would be new and strange to have someone eat her out--since no one ever had before--but what Mr. Gold did to her felt familiar, somehow. Like she had given him her body a thousand times already and was ready to do it a thousand times more.

Mr. Gold broke away. He looked up at her with hooded eyes. Miss French saw the sheen of moisture on his chin.

She took a breath. She tried to say something, but she couldn’t think of any words worth saying. 

He dove in again, harder now, faster. His tongue made wide, long licks across her pussy. Miss French rose up from the table, but Mr. Gold followed her. His strong hands gripped into her hips, pulling her down and forward, closer to him, closer to his mouth. 

She clutched the back edge of the table, hanging on for dear life. She wanted to grab him. It seemed so natural to touch him in this moment, to run her hands through his hair and press him closer, closer, into her most hidden center.

But Mr. Gold didn’t want her to touch him. If she tried anything like that, he would stop what he was doing and send her home. She couldn’t bear that. Miss French couldn’t tolerate even the thought of being apart from him. 

As he kept working in her--licking and sucking, pressing against her with his nose and his teeth--she felt the pleasure rise up.

“Oh,” Miss French whispered. She tried to fight off the feeling, tried to stave off her climax, but there was nothing she could do. “Mr. Gold, please!”

Immediately, he pulled away. His face rose up from between her legs like a cackling demon. 

“Good girl.” His voice was dark and rich, velvet to the ears. 

Miss French’s breath shook. She had to take several breaths before she knew for sure that she wasn’t going to come. “Th-thank you, Mr. Gold. Thank you for stopping.”

He wiped off his cheek on the inside of her thigh. “You’re not skilled enough to control yourself while I’m still stimulating you.” He gave her leg a quick kiss. “Not yet, anyway.”

He had such a practiced, easy nature when he hinted at what else he had planned for her, what her future might be if she kept playing his games. There was a casualness, a matter-of-fact certainty. Mr. Gold got what he wanted. That was just how this world worked. He would get what he wanted from her. He would mold her into whatever he wanted her to be. It was just a fact. Miss French’s only choice was whether or not she benefited from the process, whether or not she enjoyed it.

So far, she was enjoying it very much.

Mr. Gold kept eating her in fits and starts. He teased her to the brink of orgasm, then pulled away, again and again. She tried to hold herself together, tried to keep her body from doing the thing it wanted. Not yet, not until Mr. Gold said so. It didn’t matter if she wanted to come; all that mattered was if he wanted her to come. He was in control. His will was the only thing that mattered, the only thing in all the world.

Moans filled the dark dining room. Moans and grunts and the quiet, intimate noises of flesh against flesh. Mr. Gold ate her out like he was trying a musical instrument, seeing what movements on what parts produced what sounds. It seemed experimental, but he was already an expert. Somehow, Mr. Gold knew how to play her body. He knew where to find the sensitive spots, how to touch them just enough to make her squeal.

“You’re such an easy fuck,” he sneered. His hands twitched over her clit, sending out shockwaves of pleasure with every motion. “If I let you, you would have come a dozen times already.”

Just his words made Miss French clench and tighten. It was true, of course. Mr. Gold could have made her come a dozen times, a hundred times. She gripped the edge of the table so hard she probably left nail marks in the wood.

“I could just leave you like this,” he chuckled. “I could drive you back to your father’s house drenched in your own desire. Unfulfilled, unsatisfied--but you’re used to that, aren’t you Miss French?”

Lacey grit her teeth. He had one finger pushing hard against her clit and it was taking every ounce of concentration not to come.

“Answer me,” he teased her.

The best Miss French could do was nod. He pushed even harder against her. 

“That’s not what I want, dearie. You’re not going to come until you say what I want to hear.” 

“Yes!” she squeaked. The effort of holding herself together brought tears to her eyes. “Yes, Mr. Gold!”

“Good girl,” he hissed. “Now, come.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before she was thrashing against the table. He kept his hands on her for a moment as he watched her shake and flail, then he sank down to use his mouth on her again.

Miss French kept coming. Every time she thought she might be done, Mr. Gold added more fuel to her fire. His tongue probed at her, filled her, covered every inch of her. Everything he had done earlier to tease her he did again--only harder and faster and longer. Now that he wanted her to come, he wouldn’t let her stop.

“Fuck!” Mr. Gold snarled as he jammed his fingers into her again and again. “Is there any fucking end to you? Are you ever satisfied, you whore? Am I going to have to pull men off the streets just to keep you happy?”

“No!” she shrieked. “No, Mr. Gold! Please, Mr. Gold! I only want you, Mr. Gold!”

Her body proved her words with an intense orgasm. She clenched around his hand, sucked him into her. A heavy rush of wetness pulsed out.

Mr. Gold sneered. “And you squirt, too. Of course. The perfect fucktoy does everything.” His hand jabbed at her as he spoke, every motion bringing with it a new crest of pleasure. “You take anal on the first try. You orgasm from anal sex. You’re a sopping mess before you’re even touched, and you come like a multiorgasmic machine.” 

His free hand grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up. Miss French had to blink a few times before she could focus on his face. He looked furious.

“What else do you do?” His other hand gripped her jaw. His fingers were hot, damp from her juices. “What other tricks can the pretty little sex doll perform? Do you come from having your nipples played with? Or vaginally? Do you come from pain?” His hand slid down from her jaw to her neck. “Do you deep throat on the first try? Do you get off on swallowing?”

All Miss French could do was shake her head, very slowly. “I don’t know, Mr. Gold. I’m--I’m not a virgin, but I promise I’ve never done any of that.”

He let his hands drop. He stared at her like he didn’t believe what he was looking at. Didn’t he think she was telling the truth? Or didn’t he think she was real?

“We’ll see about that,” he said, quietly but not softly. “Can you walk?”

Miss French slid herself off the table. Her legs were wobbly, but she could stand.

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“Good.” He jerked his head toward a door. “Because we’re going to the study.” 

#courtship #rumbelle #golden lace #rumbelle fic #golden lace fic