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pucksandpower · 1 day

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Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

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moon-rivr · 3 months

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woven in cartier

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: one bed (i love that trope sry not sry), miguel teaches reader spanish 🥸, fingering (yes again), nipple play, and oral (f receiving)

author’s note: sugar daddy miguel just has a special place in my heart as a broke college student 😫

word count: 5k

million dollar man (part one)

Miguel had gotten the flights for Cabo late since he figured you two could just start sightseeing in the morning. Despite the fact that you assured him arriving an hour beforehand was good enough to get the whole check-in process done, he still insisted on arriving three hours early to the airport. You held back from teasing him when he complained about the two hours that the two of you had to wait for loading, though you couldn't help the self-satisfied smile that came across your face. "Ay okay, I get it. I'll shorten the time to an hour and a half next time," he told you, poking your cheek after noticing your expression.

"Do you mind putting my suitcase up there?" You asked him, taking advantage of how easy it would be for him to just extend his hands and reach the overhead bin. "Yeah, just go ahead and take a seat," he responded, taking your carry-on and setting it up there with his own. You buckled yourself in the seat, the amount of space in the first class area allowing for you to recline back as much as you wanted.

You would've never been able to picture a couple months ago that the first time you'd be flying would be in first class, or that you'd even be going out to a vacation at all. You couldn't help but think back on all the worry you'd had when you first joined the website, the thought almost amusing now that you're here with Miguel.

"Hey, you okay?" Miguel's voice seemed like the calm in the storm, his voice serving as something that grounded you. "It's just my first time flying, I'll get over it," you assured him, your leg bouncing up and down at the anticipation of when it would take off. miguel reached over, his hand clasping over yours as his thumb ran small circles over your fingers.

"You'll be fine, don't worry. I've got you, mi cielo. Let me know if you need to pop your ears or anything, I got some gum back at the gift shop," he whispered, his voice just soothing enough to calm you down. You nodded, taking a couple of deep breaths as the plane started to move down the runaway.

You tapped on his shoulder after a couple minutes of being up in the air, asking him for the piece of gum now. He took the pack out of his pocket, handing it over to you. You grabbed one of the pieces, unraveling the gum out from the plastic packaging and stuck it in your mouth in hopes that it would ease with the change in altitude.

You handed the pack of gum back to him, his attention on you just to make sure that the sensation wasn't too bad. After a couple minutes of chewing, the pressure in your ears began to build up before eventually releasing in a 'pop.' You were able to relax with much more ease, your head resting against Miguel's until you eventually fell asleep.

"Hey, wake up. You slept for most of the ride," you heard in the distance, your eyes opening up to see that the plane was slowly beginning its descent into the airport. "Thanks for letting me sleep on your shoulder, I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you," you told him, rubbing your eyes as you tried to get rid of the tired feeling coursing throughout your body.

"You don't need to thank me, I'd give you everything that your little heart desired and more if you asked," he told you, unbuckling his seatbelt once the light above the two of you turned on. "The time's 11:39 PM and we just landed in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Please stay seated until the plane has come to an immediate stop," you heard above you, the pilot's voice coming through the small speaker.

"Swear I told them to give us two beds," Miguel spoke up after coming inside the hotel room to only notice one king sized bed in the middle of the bed. The two of you had touched on some lines of intimacy, but it'd never went as far to where the two of you shared a bed together. "I don't mind if you don't mind. Plus I'm guessing that all the rooms are full," you assured him, placing your suitcase in the corner of the room.

"You sure? I don't wanna push you into anything you're not ready for," he told you, setting his suitcase down next to yours. "I don't mind like I said, plus you'll be like my own body heater," you teased, taking your pajamas out of your suitcase and heading into the bathroom to change.

Despite the fact that he'd fingered you inside of a dressing room and almost made you cum, changing in front of him and sharing a bed almost seemed like something too intimate for the situation the two of you were in. But, you couldn't imagine yourself wanting to do these things with anyone else after experiencing what Miguel is like.

You came back to see that Miguel had changed into a pair of grey sweats, his upper body completely exposed to your ogling eyes. You saw a pendant hanging around his neck, a image of the little girl you'd seen around his house inside. His upper body was hairy in a way that didn't make him seem unkempt, but rather made him even more attractive if that was even possible.

You laid down next to him, the feeling of the sheets underneath you cooling down the warmth that lit up inside you just by being in such close contact with Miguel. "You don't have to sleep by the edge, ven pa' acá," he spoke gently, his arms inviting you to sleep closer to him when you turned to face him. (come over here) You scooted over next to him, his hands wrapping closely around you as he kissed your forehead.

"You sure this is okay? I can sleep on that sofa if you want me to," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours as he waited for your response. Your eyes drifted over to the sofa on the corner of the room, the size of it looking like it would barely fit you comfortably. "You'd probably fall and break your hip, old man. I like having you next to me anyways," you told him, your head nestled against his chest.

"Buenos dias. We're going out to a dolphin boat ride later just so you know," Miguel greeted you as you opened your eyes, the smell of pancakes overtaking your nostrils. You sat up on the bed, noticing that Miguel had brought you breakfast and set it down on the nightstand next to you. A combination of eggs and pancakes along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. You figured you might as well indulge in it while it was still warm before getting in the shower to get ready.

"Thanks," you spoke up, letting out a yawn before getting up from the bed. You sat down on the sofa with your plate of food, savoring the taste of the pancakes with every bite that you took. You'd never get accustomed to the feeling of living luxuriously, no matter if it was something as minuscule as just eating pancakes. Miguel laid down on the bed and scrolled through the tv, wearing a white t-shirt along with the grey sweats from last night. You weren't sure of why, but just the thought that he woke up and immediately got dressed just to get you breakfast caused butterflies to take flight in your stomach.

You heard the bathroom door close behind you but you didn't think too much about it, Miguel's hands finding your waist once you finished getting undressed. "Do you mind if I join you in the shower? It'll be less of a water waste, y'know," he asked you, his hands forming small circles on your waist.

You were already pretty certain you did want him in there, but the way that his touch electrified your skin with every caress turned that into a definite yes. "I mean since you're offering to save the planet, what kind of monster would I be if I said no," you told him with a teasing tone in your voice, opening the curtain to get in. He followed suit behind you, letting out a small chuckle at your words.

"Look at us being quite the environmentalists," he retorted, the cool water hitting both of you when you turned on the faucet. The water pressure was much more different than what you were used to, even that was much better than the shitty shower head you had back at your place. You were surprised to find the soap that you used, turning around to look at Miguel with a raised brow.

"No era nada, I was just in the store and I was aware of the trip. Thought you might've liked to have your soap than the standard bar of soap," he brushed it off, dismissing it as if it weren't a big deal. (it wasn't anything) But for someone who hadn't had that kind of effort out into them, it was a gesture that you appreciated.

"Would spend every last penny in my bank account if it meant i got to see you like this everyday," he mumbled against your neck, his hands coming up to your breasts. You moved your head back to give him more access to your neck, his lips eager to take every inch that you were giving him.

His thumbs pinched your nipples as his lips hovered above your neck, his lips closing around your pulse point as he kissed it. You could feel yourself forming into putty just by the motion of his hands, the way that he was touching you was too enticing to not give in. His mouth moved down to your breasts, engulfing your left one as his hand played with your right one.

His movements were in sync, his tongue rolling around your nipple around the same time that his thumb and pointer pinched around the other one. Your hands went down to his wet hair, the strands at the ends taking their natural wavy form. Your fingers dug into his scalp, but he didn't seem to mind the sting given the moan he released around your nipple.

He pressed a kiss to your breast before exchanging places with his hand, his tongue swirling around your right areola with the same eagerness that he'd shown for the other one. "Don't stop, please," you whined, the pleasure that he was providing your nipples going down to your cunt.

"Get against the wall for me, mamita," he told you, pulling away from your breast with a 'pop.' You did as told, his hands spreading your ass apart once he'd kneeled down. His tongue lapped up the slick that was leaking out of you from the attention he'd given to your nipples, running a stripe up from your hole to your clit. His tongue plunged inside of your vagina, eagerly lapping at the slick dripping down out of you.

His tongue came up to your clit, swirling around the nub before his mouth connected to it. He started to suck on your clit, his tongue occasionally moving around it while his finger went into you. Your slick coated his finger every time he pushed it in and out of you, the angle that he was curling it allowing stimulation to your g-spot.

"Oh fuck," you muttered underneath your breath, your body pressed up against the cold tiles while he kneeled behind you. His tongue felt like the most delicious form of torture, each swipe getting you closer and closer to cloud nine. The feeling of the cold water hitting your body as well as the warmth you felt igniting inside of you as he buried his head into your pussy was enough to make you delirious. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to that orgasm, your hips pushing back against miguel's face to meet his movements. "Miguel, you told me to alert you thirty minutes before the boat ride," you heard Lyla, Miguel's phone assistant chime in.

The moment was ruined the second that Lyla spoke up, Miguel's head removing itself from your cunt as he stood up. "Alright, thank you," he spoke loudly enough for the assistant to recognize, the alarm that he'd set up turning off. "Now I'm starting to feel like you're doing all this on purpose," you grumbled, getting off from the wall as you reluctantly reached for the bottle of body wash. "Maybe I am. It's so fun seeing you get all annoyed when your orgasm gets ripped away," he responded, his eyes crinkling in amusement at the glare you gave him. He lathered some soap onto your back, his large hands rubbing it in effectively.

You got dressed in a rush as the alarm on his phone kept beeping, alerting that the two of you would be dangerously close to missing the ride. You grabbed the Chanel bag that he'd bought beforehand, following Miguel out of the hotel. You could've sworn the ghost of a smile creeped up on his face when he saw you with the purse, the color coordinated with the outfit you'd chosen for today. The two of you managed to arrive at the dock before the boat had a chance to take off, the tour guide giving you both a dirty look as they let you guys in.

The boat took off shortly after the two of you sat down, the tour guide speaking through the megaphone about what you assumed were some of the landmarks in the area. After seeing your puzzled expression, Miguel took it upon himself to be your translator of sorts.

"He's just saying that they offer swimming with dolphins after the tour if you're interested in that," Miguel finished up, the boat slowing down as some dolphins came out into view. "Y'know, they're actually pretty cruel animals so I don't get the whole excitement," Miguel muttered in your ear, his hands wrapped around your waist as he stood behind you while you pointed the dolphins out. "You're the one who paid for this so don't blame me for getting excited."

"¿Quieren una foto juntos?" you heard from behind you, a woman looking at the two of you with a smile. (you guys want a picture?) "Si no es mucho problema," Miguel told the woman, passing her the cellphone with the camera app already set up. (if it's not too much of a problem) Miguel kneeled down a bit to be at your level, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he smiled.

As corny as it was, a dolphin managed to jump up at the same time that the woman clicked on the camera. "Muchas gracias," Miguel thanked the woman after she was done, the woman shrugging it off with a smile. "No era problema. Ustedes me hacen acordar de mi marido y yo." (it wasn't a problem. you guys remind me of my husband and me)

The rest of the boat ride was pretty peaceful, the currents proving to be pretty weak at this time of the day. You went with Miguel down to the bar when the boat turned around to head back to the dock, sitting down on the stool next to him. "Hola, ¿Qué tal? Me puede dar uno de tequila porfa," Miguel ordered, the bartender nodding and getting to work immediately. (hey, how's it going? can i get one of tequila please)

"What do you want to drink?" Miguel asked, turning to look at you as you glanced through the menu board. "I'll just get a virgin cosmo," you responded, looking up from the drink board over to him. You couldn't help but feel a bit of at a disadvantage hearing Miguel speak so fluently with the people around him while you were left to try to piece the words together.

"You mind if I ask why you chose Cabo out of all the vacation spots? Just curious why you chose this one," you inquired, taking a sip from your cocktail before shifting your attention up to him. He stayed quiet, his gaze going from you to the boat windows before he took a swig of his drink.

"I chose Cabo because it was my daughter's favorite place to come to. Before she passed away, I took her to different vacation destinations such as Greece and Italy but she took a liking to this place. Despite it being a tourist spot, I'm guessing it's because it helped her connect to her roots more," he responded after a couple seconds, his gaze coming back over to you after he was finished speaking.

"I know I haven't really spoken to you about her all that much, partly because it just hurts so much to think about her in the past tense. Like as a memory rather than a person. But you're a special part of my life now, and I thought you would've liked to know more about her," he added, his hands playing with the rim of his glass.

You reached over, holding his hands in between your own. "I'd like to know as much as you feel comfortable sharing. Take things at your own pace, there's no time limit for how long you grieve her," You hoped your words were reassuring enough, since you didn't have any experience when it came to dealing with loss at that level.

"I appreciate the fact that you're willing to even listen. I know that you didn't exactly agree to be hearing about this kind of trauma when you signed up for that website," he seemed almost guilty in the way that he spoke, like he regretted sharing the burden with you.

"It may not be what I signed up for, but it doesn't mean that I see you any differently. If anything, I just see you as more resilient. Please don't ever hesitate in talking to me about what you're feeling," you assured him, bringing his hand up to your mouth and pressing a kiss. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, giving you one of his rare smiles before going back to drinking his tequila.

The two of you went back out to the boat deck as the trip was coming to an end, enjoying the feeling of the light breeze against your skin. His hand was resting on your thigh throughout the duration, his touch only adding to the feeling of relaxation that you felt.

The boat stopped by the dock, Miguel allowing for the rest of the guests to get out before he helped you up. He held your hand and guided you back to the hotel, his pace matching yours so as to not rush you. "You wanna out to the hotel jacuzzi? You were really excited to put on that new bathing suit you bought," he asked you, referring to the new Louis Vuitton one you'd bought a couple months back.

"Yeah, we can do that. I might need you to help me pick one out since I bought a new one from Victoria Secret the last time we went," you responded, following him inside the elevator once it opened. "Surprised you managed to get any shopping done during that last trip," he mumbled underneath his breath, pressing the button for the fourth floor.

You felt a bit flustered as he brought that back up, since the two of you just kept brushing over the sexual tension like it wasn't anything too serious. "Surprised you came up with that lie so fast," you tried to tease him back, but your words didn't have the same effect that his did. He let out a small laugh, following you out of the elevator as the two of you headed to them room.

You placed the two sets in front of him, hoping that he’d give you a concrete answer to settle your dilemma. "Well, I think they'd both look good on you," he offered his bit of advice though it wasn't helpful to you while you were struggling. "That doesn't make the decision any easier. just help me pick one out," you practically whined, his expression remaining the same as he leaned against the headboard.

"Think I'll have to see you try them on just to make a good decision," he suggested, the smirk on his face doing nothing to hide the eagerness he felt towards that idea. You picked up the Louis one, changing in the bathroom before coming out to show him. You even went as far as doing a little twirl, receiving a whistle as a form of approval.

After doing the same with the Victoria Secret one, he seemed to be thinking about the decision harder than the last time you'd asked. "Go with the first one, you should save the one you're wearing right now for the beach tomorrow," he finally spoke, seeming to come to the conclusion that you'd made originally. You took off the set you were wearing now and changed into the Louis Vuitton one, coming back to see him changed into a pair of black swim trunks. He grabbed a towel and some flip flops for the both of you, locking the door once the two of you were outside.

You sat in between his legs, the warm jets hitting your skin to ease some of the tension that'd built up during your exams week. You leaned back against him, closing your eyes as you allowed yourself to just bask in his company for the time being. His hand gently traced circles on your thigh, your legs opening to give him as much access as he needed.

"So needy for me, muñequita. I left you all high and dry in the shower earlier hm?" His voice dropped an octave as he whispered into your ear, his hand coming to your inner thigh. You could only nod as his hand pushed the material of your bikini to the side, your cunt exposed for him.

You muffled a moan when Miguel turned one of the jets on, the water pressure hitting your clit at the angle that you were sitting at. "Answer me or I won't touch you, chula. Are you that needy just to have my fingers inside you?" He asked, his fingers just barely hovering above your vagina.

"Yes! Please, I've been thinking it about it since the shower. Could barely focus on those damn dolphins!" You exclaimed, eliciting a chuckle from him in response. He inserted one of his fingers into you, the water pressure proving itself to be a bit difficult. He quickly adjusted to that, establishing a good rhythm as he pushed his finger in and out of you.

His hand pulled away from your cunt abruptly as the door to the jacuzzi room opened up, a couple around your age appearing. They seemed to have a disappointed look on their face upon seeing you and Miguel, like they were planning on doing the same thing you'd done with him prior. "Think we ruined their plans," Miguel murmured in your ear when they walked away, thinking the same thing you had.

"Serves them for ruining our plans," you responded, feeling his erection hit your back the more you leaned into him. Despite the fact that he had a very evident hard on at this point, he did nothing to act upon it. The two of you decided to head back into the hotel room after the water had cooled down, your frustration evident when you stepped into the shower to freshen up.

"Hey, would you mind teaching me Spanish?" You asked him after the two of you finished showering, mostly doing nothing except relaxing in bed. "Any specific reason why you want to learn?" He inquired, looking over at you expectantly. "It's just, I feel like if im here in Mexico, I should at least do the minimum and learn a bit of Spanish instead of expecting everyone to be accommodating," you explained, his expression softening up a bit as he sat next to you.

"Alright, we're gonna go over some basic phrases just so you can get around. Now, I do have to say that it does change from region to region. Like while something means kid in one area, it can mean a completely different thing in another one," he let you know before he started with the mini lesson.

"Okay, so when you're speaking to someone with authority or someone older than you, you want to use 'usted.' But if you're talking to someone casually, like you're doing to me, then you can use 'tú.' It's more about respect than anything else," he started off, waiting for you to finish typing it out in your notes app before he started to speak once more. He went on to talk about how mostly everything was gendered in the language, with a few exceptions. Truth be told, he was proving to be more patient at this tutoring thing than you would've imagined.

"'¿Donde esta el baño?' is how you ask where the bathroom is, 'damas' or 'mujeres' indicates that it's for women," he added, gesturing for you to repeat what he was telling you. You couldn't help but notice the difference between the two of you as you spoke, the accent making all the difference. despite the fact, Miguel still looked proud of you for making the effort. "I know rolling the r's can be kind of difficult but it does kinda change what the topic you're talking about. Like with perra, you have to roll them otherwise it just sounds like you're asking for a fruit," he continued on, your notes app quickly filling up with the notes he was giving you.

"You're doing better than most tourists, don't worry. At least you're taking the initiative in trying to learn," he assured you, rubbing small circles on your back as you laid on your stomach. "You sure?" You were unsure of how well you were doing, since no matter how hard you'd tried in the past hour, you couldn't get the words to sound the same way that he made them sound. Though you knew that he had more experience with the language growing up, a part of you also felt a bit defeated from not being able to master the simple sentences that he'd given you earlier.

"You're not gonna learn it today, it's gonna take time. I'm willing to keep teaching you if that's something you want," he offered, like he wasn't already buried under enough responsibilities as it was at work. "I'll always make time for you, cielito lindo. Tu me importas mas que esos viejos arrugados del trabajo," he told you after you expressed your concern with how busy he was. (you matter more to me than those wrinkly old men from work) The two of you stayed quiet for a couple minutes, his hand gently running circles on your back. "Do you mind standing up for me? I have somewhat of a surprise for you," his request came out of the blue, but you obliged and got up from the bed.

"Stay still and close your eyes for me, muñeca," he told you, your eyes shutting once he was finished speaking. You were relying on your hearing to discern what he was doing, listening to the way that the bed creaked as he got up and the sound of the drawers opening.

You felt his body warmth behind you before he even touched you, your body being able to discern him in any environment you were in. "Alright, don't flinch. Got a snake in my hands," he muttered, his words eliciting a feeling of fear inside of you. You felt a cold metal against your chest, a small shiver running down your spine at the contact. "Alright, you can open your eyes now," he told you, stepping back to gauge for your reaction.

You were half-expecting him to be serious about the snake but when you looked down, you saw a gold necklace on you, his name adorning your neck. "I got the idea after seeing you with the nail. I wanted to get it in mexico since I wasn't too sure about the gold quality back in the states. I hope it's not too much," he told you, your hand coming up to touch the necklace like you wanted to make sure that it was real.

You turned around and faced him, a smile on your face as you hugged him. He still wasn't too good at receiving these sudden embraces, but he was getting better at being able to reciprocate them. His arms came down to your waist, holding you close to his body for a couple seconds. “I love it, thank you."

The words that you wanted to tell him were that you were starting to fall in love with him, but you decided to restrain yourself from admitting it. Swallowing them down felt like swallowing a bunch of dirt, the admission almost threatening to burst out of you with every day that passed by. You knew that you liked to spend time with him, but you never imagined that it would escalate to love.

The last thing that you needed to hear was that every gesture that he'd done was solely out of providing with his responsibility as a sugar daddy, that he only saw this as what it originally was. A transaction. How funny that you'd thought you'd be the one taking advantage of their feelings, without the consideration that you might be the one to catch feelings too.

You knew that Miguel had a tendency to destruct relationships whenever he felt like he was getting too close to a person, that he had enough on his shoulders without having to worry about his actions might inconvenience someone else. So you decided to simply settle for just being his sugar baby, despite how much you longed for his company in even the most mundane tasks.

The truth was a hard pill to swallow, knowing that you couldn't do anything about the love that was developing towards him despite the fact that every bone in your body was telling you to fuck the consequences and just admit it. But, you preferred to be in his life repressing these feelings than running the risk of just not being in his life at all.

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starrystevie · 7 months

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18+ | explicit sex & smoking | read here on ao3

it's 1996 when steve's world gets turned upside down again.

or, well, technically it's a few minutes into '97 when everything changes. he's at a new years party that his ex timothy is hosting and everyone is still hooting and hollering as they ring it in, pressing sloppy kisses to cheeks and lips with arms hooked around necks.

steve doesn't get kissed. not because people aren't eyeing him with a smirk and mischief and open arms of their own. no, he doesn't let himself get kissed because something feels... off about the night. the energy is weird, buzzing through his skin like electricity, keeping him on edge in a way he hasn't been since he left hawkins for boston in the fist place.

it isn't long until he figures out why.

timmy is walking up to him with his hands on some guy's shoulders, pushing him backwards with a wide smile like he's trying to convince him of something. the guy is about his height, short cropped dark hair and a leather jacket, the sight of his back alone getting steve excited. timmy always did know his type to a t.

"hey!" timmy yells over the music as he catches steve's eye. "got someone for you to meet."

once the guy turns around, the smiles on both steve and the mystery guy's faces fall before their minds catch up with them and plaster them back together. even with the short cropped hair, even with the piercing in his eyebrow, even with the stubble spreading over his defined jaw, steve would know that face, that heartbeat, anywhere.

"steve, i wanted to introduce you to someone. jamie, this is steve, you know... the guy i was telling you about?"

timmy's trying to be helpful, not even attempting to be subtle as he pushes the two closer together with a wide grin. steve's going on autopilot, reaching out a hand to grab the one outstretched towards him, but his brain is going a million miles a minute.

"nice to meet you, steve," eddie, or... jamie, says, palm pressed tightly against his own.

steve can't say anything, focusing too much on the warmth on his palm and the way his deep voice shakes through him like thunder and the way he feels like he's 19 again with a stuttering heart.

"what are-" he starts.

eddie shakes his head and tugs on steve's hand. "not here. come on."

they end up in a secluded corner, close enough that steve can smell smoke and leather polish and the sharp bite of his cologne. close enough that he can see the lines starting to appear on the corners of eddie's eyes, the stray grey hairs popping up in his beard, the questions swirling behind his eyes.

"eddie."

"jamie," is all he says back, not even bothering to look away from steve's eyes. "it's jamie now."

they both sigh like they don't know where to start because they don't. steve grapples with all the questions in his mind before settling on one. the one that tore through him late at night. the one that stayed on the tip of his tongue anytime he heard a van backfire or metallica.

"where did you go?" he knows it sounds like an accusation because it is. he doesn't let himself feel bad when eddie (jamie) flinches.

"feds," he replies easily, sneaking a cigarette out of his pocket and putting it between his lips. he tilts his head back to light it away from steve's face, blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. "once i got better, they scooped me up and brought me to boston. new name, new hairstyle, new life. at least they let me choose my name so i didn't get stuck with some thing awful."

steve snorts. "so you ended up with 'jamie' how?"

"middle name's james. it just made sense." he says it with a shrug and puffs at his cigarette again.

they look at each other for a moment. steve watches his tongue flit out of his mouth to wet his lips, watches the overhead lights glint off the metal of a surprise tongue piercing, watches his throat swallow around nothing but spit.

he can see, feel, eddie doing the same. he hams it up, pulls his lip between his teeth and makes it a show, looks back up at eddie from under his lashes. takes in a deep breath when eddie inches closer to him until their hips are bumping and steve plucks the cigarette out of his lips for a puff of his own.

he's 19 again, in love or like or lust with a boy in a leather jacket that has the world against him. he's 19 again, working a hand over himself to thoughts of his crush who up and vanished without so much as a goodbye. he's 19 again, crying after he comes, wishing he could go back in time before he met curly hair and a battle vest.

"so how do you know tim?" eddie whispers like he has to be quiet even though the part is loud and no one could hear them if they tried.

"how do you know him?" steve asks back, blowing out smoke and putting the cigarette back between eddie's barely spread lips.

his eyes flick down to look at steve's still pursed lips from when he angled the smoke over his shoulder. "we used to fuck, once upon a time when i first got to boston."

steve hums like it's the answer he expected and maybe it is. "same here. dated for about a year."

eddies eyes grow wide and his hip bumps into steve's like it's a question in and of itself and maybe it is. "didn't know you swing that way, harrington."

"well, you don't really know anything about me then, do you? didn't back then either, munson."

his eyes goes even wider, something like fear and shame and comfort and hope swimming in them. "leonard. it's leonard now."

steve hums again, says 'jamie leonard' like he's feeling it out on his tongue. tasting it between his teeth. teaching his mouth how to form the words instead of what he really wants to say like 'eddie' or 'munson' or 'i'm still somehow in love with you no matter your name'.

"jamie leonard," he says again, breath hitting eddie's lips. he shivers when he sees his lips part a bit more like he wants to swallow the sound and air that steve gives him. "we have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"

steve's apartment isn't all that big, isn't exactly small either but it has everything he could possibly need. he has a living room that looks out over the harbor and a kitchen with all new appliances and eddie munson naked in his bedroom. you know, the essentials.

their clothes are all over the floor, eddie's motorcycle helmet flung somewhere in the vague direction of the armchair in the corner but the smack it makes when it hits the wall makes steve think there's probably a hole in the drywall.

but eddie's sucking on his cock, hands wrapped around his thighs as he takes him even deeper, eyes flicking up to meet steve's, beard scratchy as it rubs against his sensitive skin. he's never been blown by someone with a tongue piercing but he doesn't think he can ever go back now.

the last thing on his mind is wondering if there's a hole in the goddamn wall.

"oh fuck, yeah there you go. feels so goddamn good," steve breathes out as he feels the back of eddie's throat on his cockhead. he tangles a hand as best he can in his short dark hair to try and coax him even deeper. eddie hums at either the praise or the tug on his hair or the way it feels as he works his tongue over steve's cock and it makes him jolt unexpectedly.

if he could go back in time and tell his 19 year old self that eddie was alive, that he was okay and breathing and learning how to suck cock like a goddamn professional, he'd do it in a heartbeat. save himself a few years of pining and fly straight out to boston to see it for himself. he's sure robin would have preferred to not have to listen to his whining everyday about brown eyes and dark curls.

eddie brings a hand to cup his balls, finger teasingly pressing into steve's taint, bobbing his head eagerly like he wants him to come in his mouth, but steve has other plans. he tugs eddie off of his cock quickly, lines of thick spit falling between them and sticking to his chin before crowding him up against the pillows.

steve kisses like he's dying and eddie is survival. he kisses him like he is drowning and eddie is the shore that he's clawing his way towards. he kisses him like 19 year old steve could only dream about.

soon enough, steve's sliding into him with a groan that he lets eddie swallow from him. the headboard knocks heavily into the wall a few times making even more possible holes, but all steve can focus on is the heat around him, the way eddie's whines bounce off the walls of his too empty bedroom and cover him like a blanket.

he likes fucking this way. he likes being able to watch as someone's face contorts into pleasure, like to see eyes rolling back and mouths dropping open and sweat beading around their hairline. likes seeing eddie fall apart.

"steve, oh my god," eddie's voice is still deeper than he's used to as he moans so he angles his hips up more to hear it again, the low timbre snaking through his veins and leaving fire in its wake. "don't stop."

"i won't," he groans into eddie's open mouth. "wanted this for so long, for fucking 11 years, not giving you up yet."

it's a bit more open than steve normally is when he first fucks someone but this isn't just someone. this isn't fucking a stranger he picked up in a bar that had almost the right shade of brown eyes and patches on his jacket that are almost the right shape. this is eddie. his eddie. or well... jamie.

"fuck, i'm gonna date you so fucking hard, harrington. yeah, right there keep going, shit-"

he's babbling as steve works his hips faster, tangling their free hands together to press above their heads on a pillow, and it's everything steve could have asked for. hearing his name fall from the lips he's dreamed about for years, sharing the same air as they breath into one another.

he thought he was over it, thought he had moved on at least a little bit from a halfway stranger he knew in his teens, but with the way they're both looking straight into each other's eyes begging each other to see them, he thinks they might both be back in 1986.

"what do-" steve cuts himself off as he whimpers, close, so close to the finish line. "what do you want me to call you? is it jamie or-"

he's shaking his head on the pillow, leaning up to bite at steve's lips and pull it between his teeth. he looks serious and certain when he says, "no, that name's not for you, it's... i need-"

steve brings his hand down to work over his cock and revel in the way his eyes roll back until he can only see white. he hits something that makes his eyes fly back open and he gets to see his favorite shade of brown again.

"eddie," he whispers. leaning down quickly, steve presses a kiss to his ear before whispering his favorite name there too. "eddie, baby, come on. let me... come on, eddie."

it feels silly to be chanting a name of a ghost as intensely as he is. but he can see it crawl over eddie like it's bringing him back to life. like he isn't bones on the ground in an alternate dimension. like he isn't a plain headstone in a graveyard next to a forgotten trailer park. like he isn't playing pretend with a fake name and a fake life.

steve says eddie and it brings him home.

afterwards, they lay together in steve's probably too soft bed, tears drying on both of their cheeks as they catch up. as they tell each other secrets that their younger selves could never dare. as the piece together the lives they have and the lives they want to have and slot each other into the mix.

steve has a hand in eddie's hair, eddie has one trailing over steve's arm that's slung over his chest. he's always been a fan of cuddling after sex.

"y'know," eddie mutters, "tim's been trying to get me to meet his hot teacher friend for months now."

steve hums, presses a kiss to his temple. "and he's been trying to get me to meet his hot motorcycle tech for months, too."

there are a few holes in the walls from the headboard and eddie's helmet, but steve thinks that they can patch those up, too.

he's still jamie leonard to the outside world. he's still a guy who doesn't have much family other than a mysterious uncle in indiana and doesn't have many friends other than ex boyfriends. he still introduces himself with a handshake and says a fake name like it's real.

but when he gets home, when he crawls onto a couch that overlooks the harbor and has arms wrapped around him, he gets to be eddie munson once more. and with the ghost of a man in his arms, steve harrington feels more like himself than he ever thought he would.

#this was going to be something entirely different but i couldn't stop myself so.... here u go #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie smut #unedited so pls ignore any typos teehee

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3rachasdomesticbanana · 26 days

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Among Strangers | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: A handsome stranger takes it upon himself to take care of you in a crowded subway as you try to evade a man that had been following you after a night of drinking.

•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, stalking, public unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, crowded area, sex with a stranger, biting, possessive chan, brief mentions of bondage and claustrophobia with a surprise ending. (I think that's everything)

an: This was first posted on my Wattpad but it was pretty ass and didn't do well so I fixed it up a little bit (a lot... Like it was so bad lol) and figured maybe it would be better appreciated here.

Part II

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

After a chill hangout at the bar with some friends from work, you all decide to head home. It's been a chill night with not too much drinking. Since you live close by, walking home seems like a good idea for some fresh air. But as you split from the group, you realize you're not alone. You start to get this eerie feeling like you're being followed. Looking over your shoulder you see a hooded figure and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. At every turn there he is, shadowing your every move, sending shivers down your spine.

Nervous about the idea of him following you home, you hop onto the subway thinking you could hide among a sea of people. With the size of the crowd there's no way he could find you. You're confident it'll work as you weave your way through the crowd, tripping over your own feet in a rush to lose him. You aim for the door at the end of the car on the other side just to create some distance between you and him. You steal a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding, checking if the man is still behind you. But in a rush, you accidentally step on someone's foot, sending a jolt of embarrassment through you.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, cheeks reddening. “I'm so sorry.”

When your eyes meet the stranger in front of you, you're met with kind gentle brown eyes belonging to a beautiful man with dimples and perfectly styled hair buzzed slightly on the sides.

“No worries.” He smiles sweetly showing off his perfect dimples while his velvety Australian accent engulfs you and calms down some of the panic in your chest.

Looking over your shoulder again, you catch sight of the man coming into your view. His gaze meets yours, and a smirk plays on his lips before he casually looks away. Panic surges again, your moment of peace gone, sending your heart into overdrive and your eyes to widen in alarm. The handsome stranger in front of you notices your reaction and follows your line of sight to the man in the black hoodie, mirroring your concern.

"Hey, you okay? That guy giving you trouble?" His voice cuts through the chatter of the people around you. His voice, laced with a hint of concern and tinged with something darker, making you snap your attention back to him.

The dim subway lights overhead cast shadows across his young face, highlighting his handsome features more rather than diluting them. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach realizing just how worried for you he is. He glares at the creep and the muscle in his jaw ticks once.

“He’s been following me since I left the bar. I was too afraid to go home so I tried to make a detour to shake him off but he's fucking relentless.” you explain in a quiet hush.

The creep looks over at you again as if to make sure you're still in his eyesight and looks away quickly to not draw attention to his shady acts.

“Maybe he'll back off if he thinks we're together? He looked away pretty quick when he saw me. I'll stay with you for however long you need. Just to be sure that you're safe.” The stranger beside you says sweetly.

You felt fucking lucky to have run into someone willing to help you, to keep you safe. You could've ended up locked in some damp dark basement if not for this man you thought to yourself. You can already feel the mild tipsiness from the alcohol wearing off and you feel more alert and aware of your surroundings.

“Thank you so so much.” You reply and the man holds his hand out for you.

“I'm Chris.” He gives you an award winning smile that lights up his whole face and yours.

You mirror his smile and take his hand. One shake and you gasp at the sudden static shock that you feel spread throughout your whole body rather than just your fingertips. His hand is soft and warm and your body suddenly feels hot all over as if you drank a lot more than you really did.

“Y/N.” You introduce yourself timidly and he gives a small nod of his head.

The train rattles to a stop and opens the doors behind you and Chris, letting on more people eager to get home after work. It becomes increasingly crowded and you're forced even closer to Chris. So much closer that you have to take a couple of steps back in an attempt to have some space, only for your back to hit the glass window of the other doors. Another stop and more people push in, bringing the creep closer to you and forcing Chris's chest to push into yours. He apologizes, placing gentle hands on my arms.

“If you get uncomfortable let me know. I'll try and make space.” He tells you, placing a hand above your head as the train rumbles along.

“Y-yeah okay.” You mutter, feeling the hard muscles underneath the white button up shirt he's wearing.

With the alcohol completely gone from your system now, you realize that the situation you're in is beyond embarrassing. Your breasts are rubbing against his chest with every rock and shake of the train in an almost lewd way. Granted you are thankful that he's keeping you away from being pressed up against some weirdo or worse the guy following you but still, It's awkward. There's no way he can't feel your heart beating so rapidly. The train makes a sudden bump and your bodies are pushed together even more.

“Sorry.” You whisper when your hands instinctively go around his middle. He chuckles and you feel it vibrate through your chest, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter awake.

“It's okay y/n. You give great hugs.” He says, the butterflies go mad and your face grows warm.

He's so sweet and so good looking there's no way he was flirting with me just now. No way, he's just a really sweet guy. Yeah… he's just being nice.

As the train continues to go on you feel eyes on you, burning a hole straight into your skull. Looking around Chris's muscular frame you see the creep, staring, lewdly licking his lips and undressing you with his eyes, no doubt. You squirm to try and get out of eye sight but Chris's strong hand holds you still.

“What's wrong?” He whispers. His voice makes you shiver against him and his fingers tighten on your arms briefly.

“That creep is staring at me.” It makes you feel disgusted. Your skin crawls the way his eyes slide over your face.

Chris curses under his breath and pauses. “I'll push up to give you enough space to turn around so he can't see your face. Maybe once these doors open we can quickly get off and lose him then.”

You nod at his idea and he pushes on the door, putting an inch between you two. It's not a lot of space to move but you try your best, turning around facing away from Chris and the creep. Now, at least like this, your breasts aren't crushed into him. Only now, your ass is pressing against his front. From one awkward situation to another…. This is what I get for going out after work on a Wednesday. You think to yourself. I should've gone straight home or at least changed.

The skirt you decided to wear to the office today is now hitched up just barely covering your ass. If you can just keep still maybe he won't notice and the situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it is.

“So uh what do you do for work y/n?” Chris asks and clears his throat. You can feel every word against your back.

“Uh, I work at CBO. I'm an editor over there.” You feel him nod behind you slowly.

“I heard they're supposed to get a new CEO. Some big shot is what the news is saying.” He responds but you shrug. You haven't heard much about the new CEO except for that he's the son of the previous CEO as well as the new owner now that his father is retiring.

“I'm sure he'll be a great boss. I actually haven't met him yet. I don't even know what he looks like” You utter softly sounding uncertain. Would he be a great boss? Would he take care of you? Who knows he could change everything with just one hand.

══════════════•✦•✦•══════════════

The train enters a tunnel and you watch the lights outside in the darkness flick and zip past in a blur before noticing Chris's reflection. His eyes are on you, studying your face in the glass of the door. Your eyes meet in the all the air gets sucked out of your lungs like a sudden punch to the gut. His gaze is smoldering, far too hot to be on the receiving end of such intensity. No one says a word although his lips slowly form a sexy coquettish smile.

“Do you need me to stay with you when we get off while you call your boyfriend?.” He whispers.

You shake your head no, eyes still on his reflection. “Don't have one of those but I can call a friend to pick me up.”

As you're about to open your mouth again to thank him for the hundredth time, the train comes to a screeching stop and the lights in the car go out. Men and women grumble and some even scream. The force causes Chris to slam into you and your skirt bunches up further about midway up your ass. In a panic you tell him and he curses under his breath.

“I'll try to fix it but I have to touch you, y/n. Is that okay?” Him asking for consent to touch you makes him that much more attractive.

“Yes, please.” You say, just as a voice is heard over the speaker.

“Passengers, please be patient there seems to be some debris on the tracks that is blocking our route. They're already taking care to remove it. We'll be moving on shortly.” The voice is replaced with calming elevator music playing loudly.

That's a smart way to keep everyone calm so that no one panics. Only one panicking right now however is you. The feel of Chris's fingertips against your bare thighs is driving you insane. His touch is hot but you shiver like his fingers are made of ice. Why is it turning me on so much when he's just trying to fix my skirt?. The move is too slow to be legal that's why. His movements feel so sensual.

“Sorry, I'm trying not to draw attention.” He explains as if he can hear your thoughts.

Shit you want to stop him. To say never mind and to leave it as is and pray that the train will be stopping soon to let some people off… but you don't. Instead you hold your breath and squeeze your legs together. Your arousal grows to an unbearable high. It's just a simple touch. Why is it driving you crazy? You aren't inexperienced at your age by any means. You've had lovers before but this man's fingers, they burn wherever he touches.

“The material of your skirt seems to be stuck on my fly.” He says and the urge to crawl into a hole is strong. “I can fix it but I'll have to lower my zipper. Tell me what you're comfortable with y/n.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear.

Loose tendrils of your ponytail flutter around your ear from his breath and you mentally remind yourself to breathe. Would it be selfish to ask him to lower it? What if he's uncomfortable with that? This isn't just about you now.

“I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

He places his palm flat against your thigh comfortingly. “Whatever you decide, I won't be uncomfortable. As long as you're comfortable y/n, then so am I.” The conviction in his voice calms you and you give him a curt nod once.

“Lower it please.” You whisper, your voice sounding small with embarrassment.

His hand moves again from your thigh to your ass and you bite your lip hard. His knuckles graze the bareness and you unexpectedly feel him stir from inside his black slacks. Seems like I'm not the only one turned on by the other. Slowly and agonizingly, he lowers his zipper to not be heard over the piano and violin playing through the speakers.

“There. Are you okay?” You don't feel okay. You feel like you’re on the verge of dying from embarrassment and horniness. You can feel the opening of his pants against you and his growing erection pressing into your ass.

“I'm okay.” You lie. “Thank you Chris.”

Out of habit whenever you're riddled with anxiety, you shift your footing which only makes your ass rub against his erection more. “Shit. I'm sorry, I move around when I'm in an embarrassing situation and this takes the cake for me.”

He chuckles softly. “It's okay. I uh, I can't really control it unfortunately. Not when I've got such a beautiful woman like you in my arms. You make it… difficult to say the least.”

You rest your forehead onto the cold glass feeling the blush take over your whole face and he chuckles again.

“If I knew my evening would be like this I wouldn't have gone to happy hour with my co-workers.” Your sad confession fogs up the glass and you close your eyes.

He places a comforting hand on your hip. You're so packed he can't seem to stand the way he was before. His arms are restricted from raising any further than your hips now.

“It's okay y/n it's not all bad. We got to meet after all.” He says, making you smile.

“That's true. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't run into you.” His hands linger and you get so used to the heat that when he finally does move them away you feel cold and shiver under him. He groans softly, sending something like an electric current to the space between your thighs. That sound… you want to hear it more. Biting your lip you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Y/n…” Chris quietly says, sounding amused. “What are you doing?”

You shake your head feigning innocence. “My feet. It's these heels, I'm sorry.”

Why did I do that? I've seriously lost my mind but why do I want to do it again? The feel of him hard against your ass must be making you certifiably insane. This isn't right. Your better judgment screams at you. It's just your hormones getting out of hand.

When he places both hands on your hips and leans in, you expect for him to call you out on that blatant lie but instead he whispers, “Do it again.” All while slowly playing with the hem of your skirt.

You stifle a silent gasp, jaw dropping in disbelief, yet you obediently follow his instructions moving your hips just slightly. When you do, his left hand grips onto your hip tight and he sighs. His erection, that's fighting itself to stay inside the confines of his briefs, jerks forward against the fabric. Before you can shift again, his right arm wraps around you and his fingers find the wetness of your panties.

“So I'm not the only one fighting temptation I see.” His warm sweet breath fans across your cheek and your body sags a little in his arms when his fingers begin to dance.

Focusing on your breathing is all you can do so you don't faint from his touch. And trying to stay quiet now becomes a struggle the more his fingers move.

“Is this okay y/n?” You can only nod, too afraid of accidentally moaning and embarrassing yourself anymore today. He just chuckles and stops the torturous tango that his fingers were doing. “Use your words baby girl. Tell me if it's okay or not.” he instructs.

“Yes. It's okay, more please.” You hoarsely whisper, voice thick with lust.

Chris doesn't move, doesn't make a sound for what feels like minutes rather than seconds. Afraid that he might not have heard you, you open your mouth to repeat yourself when his fingers slip under the satin of your thong and into your slick folds.

“Good girl.” He says, his voice dripping with sex.

You lay your head back onto his shoulder as he works you just barely over the edge. Long fingers slipping in and out, massaging your thoroughly drenched cunt with ease. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit and everything around you begins to blur. Lust, that primal urge, it ignites like a flame inside you, pulsating with an insatiable hunger that courses through every fiber of your being. You're so close to cumming around Chris's fingers, soaking his hand with your desire. You want to tell him just how close you are but if you let up on the hold your teeth have on your bottom lip you won't be able to control the sounds you'll make.

The lights come on just as you're about to come undone and he quickly removes his fingers just as quickly as he inserted them. The train begins to move again and you squint at the sudden light overhead that blinds you, breathing heavily. Before your eyes can adjust to the light and before your core begins to crave Chris's touch, you feel him fumbling behind you freeing his cock and distracting you from the frustration of your denied orgasm.

“Is there anything I should know?” He inquires, sounding like he's in a business meeting.

You don't need to ask what he's referring to. The real question though is do you really want to do this here, with someone you just met? What if you get caught? You both could get arrested. You could get fired. But there's no room in your mind for logic right now with the thrill and your need to cum clouding you. Fuck it.

“No nothing, I'm good. This is what I want.” You see his reflection smile.

“Good. Now, keep your eyes on me y/n.”

You feel the tip of him, covered in precum pressed firmly on your ass and his hands slide under your navy skirt pushing it up further. He hooks his thumb under the string of your thong and pulls it to the side. Your eyes never leave his face.

“No noise.” He warns, situating himself behind you, lining his cock up just right.

His cock feels thick and hot slipping between your thighs. You're so wet that there's little to no resistance as he pushes further and further until he's fully inside you. You let out a shuddering breath and your eyelids flutter close, feeling his warmth.

“No noise, remember? Look at me y/n. I want to see you when you cum on dick.” He tells you quietly, his voice more quiet than a whisper.

Your eyes fly open and stare at his reflection in awe of how gorgeous and composed he looks. He looks calm, like he's doing nothing other than waiting for his stop but his hands tell you otherwise. You feel it in the way he's gripping you to steal himself and to keep from bucking his hips into you at full force like he wants to. Like you want him to.

Instead he has to go at such an aching delicious slow pace so that the people behind him or next to you both aren't aware of what's going on. Your fingers long to hold onto him, to anything really. You're stuck standing still with your palms flat against the glass in front of you. Your breathing begins to fog the glass but you keep your focus on Chris and notice how his eyes go half lidded.

The brown seems to have gotten darker than the warm milk chocolate from earlier. One of his arms snakes around you and he presses his hand flat on your belly giving him more leverage. When he starts to move just a tad faster your heart rate skyrockets. The fear, adrenaline and lust mixing together creates an intoxicating concoction. Every glance, every touch, becomes charged with an energy that enthralls you. Your pulse echoes in your ears, drowning out all rational thought.

Chris's thrusts are covered up by the rocking of the train as it speeds down the rails. Your orgasm isn't far at this rate. Like a slow burn you feel it building up. A simmering that starts deep within your core, radiating up and outward. You're struggling to stay standing, to stay quiet now.

Your breathing comes out in ragged pants and your knees threaten to buckle the closer he brings you to ecstasy. You aren't the only one struggling, Chris's breathing is just as shaky and primal as yours and you hear him whisper something in another language before he murmurs “Fuck.” Into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. When your walls tighten around him he curses again and his gaze looks wild.

“Why do you feel so good around my cock y/n?” He asks but you don't dare respond. He smirks, grinding himself into you. “You take directions s-so well. So… obedient.” He whispers.

You can hear how he's losing his control. His composure has melted away and he no longer looks calm and collected. He looks like a man high on sex and chasing the release that's within reach.

“Y/n… fuck. Tell me, can I cum inside you? Will you let me fill you? Use your words beautiful.” He nips your neck just below your ear and you tremble.

“Yes. You can,” You bite your lip again to hold back what would've been a loud gasp when the train jerks Chris forward causing his cock to slam into your sensitive cunt. “You can cum inside. I'm so close Chris.”

“Then cum baby. Fucking cream on it y/n. Shit, so good.

Hearing him lose himself like that is your undoing and you're falling apart around him. The air becomes heavy with the heady scent of arousal, thick and intoxicating, swirling around you and Chris like a seductive veil. Each breath is laced with the taste of pleasure. Time seems to stand still as you stare at him. Eyes wide as you breathe through your nose squeezing your lips shut tight desperate to make no sound at all. Your cunt convulses around his cock begging to milk it of every drop.

The aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper. His own orgasm right at the edge. His arm tightens around you, hugging you closer to him. his breath becomes shallow and erratic as he reaches his climax.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whispers and he bites down hard on your neck over your fast pulsating pulse, sucking your flesh to keep himself from telling you how you belong to him now.

He bites you to keep the grunts and praises from tumbling out of his mouth uncontrollably. Because something about you makes him lose control. He doesn't do shit like this. He's careful, always planning and thinking things out. He just doesn't do spontaneity. He didn't plan this, it just happened. You just bulldozed into his life and he can’t get enough. What is it about you that makes him desire this cunt he's currently filling to the brim that he craves to make sore and swollen with his cock until the sun rises? Whatever it is, he's already addicted. He needs you in his own space, tied up nice and pretty like a gift only for him to unwrap. Fuck. He's already thinking of all the positions he'd have you in if you were at his place.

You watch in awe at how intense and irresistible he looks while he spills himself inside of you. His eyes hold so much power over you. You feel the weight of his possessiveness in his unwavering stare and it excites you immensely. You find yourself thinking of asking him to come back to your place where you'd be free to move around, cry his name out without anyone around. You're curious how sex with Chris would be in a more relaxed setting. If this orgasm was intense you can't imagine how it would feel when he isn't holding back.

He slowly pulls out of you, fixing himself as best as he can and then fixes your skirt back in place. He places a sweet kiss to the back of your head, chest still rapidly rising and falling. When you blush he chuckles.

“You're a cutie y/n. After all that, you blush from a kiss. So adorable.” He murmurs and you shift your feet. “If we don't get off soon I'll end up going for another round if you keep that up.”

You giggle and look back at him, “Sorry, I'll behave.” You sweetly say.

“What if I don't want you to?” He says instantly.

You blink at him, your face reflecting shock in the glass, and he chuckles. “To be honest with you y/n, I'd love to see you again if you'd let me.”

“Me? Seriously?” You whisper in disbelief.

“Of course. Preferably somewhere less crowded. I think after today I'll be just a little claustrophobic.”

You laugh and even after what just happened you can't believe how incredible of a guy he is. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you while you laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh y/n?” He whispers and you shake your head. “Why does something as simple as hearing you laugh make me so hard? What have you done to me?”

A shiver of pleasure runs through your body and he exhales quietly.

“I'd fuck you again right now if we weren't about to stop.” He tells you followed by the robotic female voice informing everyone to wait until the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open.

As the subway doors slide open, Chris grabs your hand and pulls you through them, dodging the rush of commuters that are eager to go home. With ease he leads you away from the hooded creep that's desperate to find you, vanishing into the shadows behind a massive pillar. You peek out from behind Chris who scans the area cautiously. When the man doesn't see you he hops back on the train, disappointment evident on his face but relief floods over you. Glad that's over.

"Thank you Chris." you say, sending a quick text to your best friend for a ride. “For saving me I mean.”

"It was my pleasure, y/n." he replies smoothly, grinning at you, his gaze lingering on your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Anytime you need saving, or anything really just give me a shout, yeah?" He hands you a sleek black business card with fancy gold letters.

Maybe you will call him, because you really can't imagine that you'll get the memory of how he felt inside of you out of your mind. Besides, he made it very clear he wanted to see you again and how could you turn a man like Chris down?

After saying goodbye when your bestie arrives, you watch Chris walk away in the side mirror as the car eases into traffic. Glancing at the card in your hand, you see it reads "Chris Bang, CEO and Co-owner of CBO," and you feel a wave of shock and mortification wash over you.

“Who was that hottie?” Your friend asks bobbing her head along to the radio when she stops at a red light.

“My new boss…” You say, still feeling his warm cum still inside of you.

“Also... what the hell happened to your neck?”

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midnight-hotel · 3 months

Text

Missing (Alastor x Reader)

My first fic in 4+ years, please go easy on me. This story occurs during and after the final episode of season one. Enjoy and feel free to give feedback!

Coughs racked your body as you struggled to take in a breath of dust polluted air. Pain shot through your undoubtedly broken ribs and back with every cough, blood splattering across your bottom lip and tongue, amplifying the smell of iron in the air. Wrapping an arm around yourself, you stared up at the executioner who was quickly approaching with their broken spear.

‘Shit- I might actually die here…’

They lunged, ready to plunge their holy weapon through your skull. You tried, with all your might, to push off the wall and away from death’s path, failing to notice that it wouldn’t have come to begin with. The next time you looked back at the angel, they were on the ground, covered in their alarmingly golden blood, several holes littering their body.

Looking around, alarmed, you realised that you had been saved, but by who? Your eyes briefly met with Angel Dust’s, and in that moment, you knew your saviour. With no time to show your gratitude, you spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground and stood, grabbing the angel’s broken weapon to take as your own. If Alastor’s shield could fail, then there was no way you could take a moment to stop and breathe, everyone needed you to keep fighting, as much as you needed them to as well. You could only hope they were all okay.

It seemed like there was no end to the onslaught of angels. They just kept coming out of that damned doorway into heaven. You were growing tired, injuries burning and only getting worse, but stopping now would only lead to your death and possibly the death of others. Stabbing another Angel through the chest, you kicked their body away, stealing their intact spear to replace the broken one you had left in the corpse. That’s when you heard more commotion from behind and then an irritatingly familiar voice. Turning, you understood why everything had kicked up a gear.

Adam was still alive? But that could only mean…

“Alastor!” His name tore up your throat as you quickly looked up towards the roof of the hotel. Shit- he couldn’t be… but would he have really allowed Adam to get away and rejoin the fight?

Dropping the spear in your hands, you ran for the hotel, barging in through the doors and rushing up the stairs. You needed to get to him. He couldn’t be dead.

Third floor.

The whole building began to shake as you reached the third floor. Looking down the stairwell, just barely able to see through the dust, you could make out Dazzle and… was that Vaggie? You contemplated jumping down to help- Dazzle was clearly not about to get up but… you needed to get to Alastor. Vaggie would be fine. So, you continued running up the stairs- cursing yourself for not being in better shape.

Sixth Floor.

The building shook again. ‘Shit- I don’t know if I’m going to make it up there.’ It sounded like the fight had made it to the top of the hotel already. Based on the rubble constantly falling overhead and how the place was quickly falling apart.

Seventh Floor.

There was a bright light- a flash really- and you think you heard screaming? Fuck it, there had been non stop screaming for the past hour, what was one more? Your vision had hardly cleared from the flashbang when the whole building started to come down. Dropping to the ground, you tucked yourself into a corner, hoping that there was enough structural strength in that section of the building to prevent you from being crushed. The last thing you could recall was the feeling of something falling on top.

Who knows how much time had passed before you were being pulled from the rubble. There was too much going on- too many people talking at once, too many people hovering… you reached out, swatting away the faces that were too close.

“Alastor… where’s Alastor?” you croaked, trying to push yourself up into a seated position. Your beaten body screamed at you- begging for you to just lay there and rest, but you needed to know if he was okay- needed to know where he was.

Multiple hands helped you up, but you took no notice of who it was. From who you could see, the makeshift army hadn’t lost too many numbers but everyone was about as fucked up as you were.

“We… don’t know…” You turned your head to Charlie who looked as if she had been crying. Of course she had… out of everyone, losing anyone would have hit her the hardest. Your heart sank. No one had seen him? Looking around at the others- even Husk shook his head, almost looking worried, before he spoke up.

“He’s not dead. Not yet anyway. That asshole’s probably hiding away somewhere, butt hurt that he lost to an angel,” he grunted out, subconsciously bringing a hand to his throat. Of course Husk would know if Alastor was gone… he’s bound to him after all.

“He could be buried under there though- we need to search. He could be dying in there,” You tried to argue, standing only to stumble back into what used to be the hotel.

Angel Dust grabbed you by the wrist to stop you, pulling you back. “Easy there Doll Face. We’ll find him or he’ll show up. You’re in no state to go digging through what’s left right now.”

It wasn’t fair. How could everyone walk away from the disaster that was once their home while there were still people missing?

That was three weeks ago. As you laid in bed, in a room provided by Lucifer himself to those who had nowhere else to go, you stared up at the ceiling, thinking the last few weeks over. Everyone’s injuries had been healing pretty well, though yours were a tad worse since you had the building come down on top of you. There was a lot of talk about rebuilding the hotel. Plans had been drawn up and Charlie and Lucifer had teamed up to clear the rubble from the original hotel so that everyone could start building fresh when the time was right.

There was also a lot of talk on what to do about the lost lives. Memorials were being planned out, names of the fallen cannibals taken down in order to properly remember those who sacrificed themselves for the cause, a painting for Pentious and even a statue of some kind. You hadn’t really been listening to that part. You hadn’t listened to much at all really, either constantly lost in thought or bed bound by your injuries. You were getting pretty sick of not being present, physically and mentally.

As you closed your eyes to sleep, something inside the room moved. Eyes snapping back open, you quickly looked to where you saw the movement, just barely catching the tail end of a shadow disappearing from outside your door. Climbing out of bed, you pulled a robe over your bandaged body and quickly exited the room, looking around for whatever it was that you had just seen. There was no one in sight. All the other occupied rooms in the hallway had their doors closed and lights off, so you doubted it was one of them. Right as you were about to head back into the room, you saw it again, rushing around a corner.

Quickly you ran after it, hoping that by the time you reached the corner, it wouldn’t have disappeared. Injuries, mostly healed but still tender, began to ache from the sudden strain as you tried to keep up with the shadow that passed through another door.

Before you could open it and continue your pursuit, you had to stop and catch your breath. Healing ribs ached and your once punctured lung protested with every deep breath taken. Sucking in one more deep breath, you pushed yourself to open the door, leading out into the courtyard. Pretty big place for just one person to be living in most of the time, but this is the home of the king of hell himself, so you supposed it was fitting.

Subconsciously holding your ribs, you looked around for the shadowy figure again, but in the dark, there was no way you would be able to see it so easily. Without really realising it, you had walked further into the courtyard, admiring the garden in the small amount of light that was available. ‘Lots of roses… surprised there isn’t an apple tree or something.’

“They are quite beautiful aren’t they?” A voice suddenly spoke up, making you jump. Whipping around, wincing as your bruises and stitches stretched, you eyed off the culprit.

“Of course, I much prefer Nerium over roses.”

“Alastor…” Standing before you was the man who had made this last week a living hell. Did he not realise how much sleep you had lost, not knowing if he was okay? How worried you had been?

“Only because they’re toxic you freak…” you retorted softly, not even sure if he had heard it as you slowly approached him.

“I had a feeling it was your shadow I had seen… You’re the only sonofabitch I know who can do that.”

Stopping just short of the man, you stared up at him with tired eyes. He looked down at you, that stupid grin on his face, like it always was.

“Now Darling, must you use such language during our happy reunion? Aren’t you happy to see me?” He mocked, before you weakly punched him in the chest.

You hadn’t even realised it but you had started crying sometime after seeing him standing there. “You asshole… Don’t you know how fucking worried I was about you? Where have you been?” You hit him again, hardly bothering him by the looks of it, as he hardly flinched with every hit. He was a lot stronger than you were… but you supposed you didn’t really want to hurt him.

“Why couldn’t you have at least told us you were okay? Why didn’t you show yourself? I was scared you were dying under the hotel or something- after losing Pentious- I don’t know what we would have done if we found you dead as well.”

A hand dropped onto the top of your head, silencing you and you stopped hitting him, dropping your arms and instead, falling forward to rest your head on his chest.

“I apologise for causing you such grief my dear. I must be honest, I had some loose ends I needed to tie off before I could return. If I had been able to inform you of my whereabouts, I would have,” Alastor remarked, a familiar, almost comforting radio static coating every word.

“Everything is okay now though isn’t it? We’re all alive and we can start rebuilding the hotel much faster now that I’m back! Though I must say, I am honoured that you care so much!”

You shut your eyes, concentrating on the hand that was gently petting your head before pulling back. “You’re a liar. You got hurt. You can fool everyone else as much as you want Al… but you can’t fool me that easily. I’ve known you far too long for that. You got hurt and you should have come to me. Hell, I was coming after you- to help you and I got crushed because of it!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, or blame him for the building falling on top of you, it just happened. You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand and watched as his gaze softened a little while his smile remained.

“You said it yourself (Y/N), you’ve known me too long, to think I didn’t get away. But, if it’s all the same, I apologise. I truly never meant to frighten you.” Alastor cupped your cheek, gently guiding you to meet his red gaze. “I promise, from now on, I will assure you I am okay before running anymore of my long term errands. Okay?”

Anyone could tell he was still hiding things from you, but what more could you do? You knew him well, but you didn’t think anyone truly knew what was going on inside of Alastors mind other than Alastor himself.

“Okay…”

“Wonderful Darling. Come now, I do believe we should be getting you back to bed. Those wounds aren’t going to finish healing if you keep running around like a headless chicken.” Spinning you around, he set a hand onto your lower back and started heading you back to your room so that you could get some rest. Typical Alastor… always quick to disturb and dismiss… but at least he was okay. You felt like, as long as he was okay, maybe you could be okay as well.

#admin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #x reader #reader #oneshot #angst #injury

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roosterbruiser · 10 months

Note

If it's not too early to request for the sleepover.... this prompt with Jake “next time we get into an argument, i’m reminding you that i took your virginity.” 🥰

it's just how you and Jake operate. you get into little tizzies--about everything, about nothing, about dinner, about the weather, about driving, about the dog, about the overhead light in the living room.

they're no big deal--not really. usually the two of you are grinning in exasperation, rolling your eyes playfully, blowing raspberries in jest when the other gets the upper-hand. there's never any yelling, never any true anger. just a slight back-and-forth, one accompanied by little pinches of the thigh and light nudges.

it's rare that any quarrel lasts more than a few minutes--which is why you're so frustrated right now.

"you're not listening," you accuse Jake, dragging your hand down your face.

the sun is beating down relentlessly, your hair hot to the touch and your shoulders beginning to darken.

Jake, standing beside you with his comically over-packed hiking backpack, throws his arms up in an exaggerated shrug.

"yeah, 'cause I don't listen to people when they're wrong," he says, squinting at you beneath his aviators. he gestures to the sign before you again. "it says the Peacock Trail is west. baby, I navigate for a living! don't you think I know my cardinals?"

groaning, you fidget with the rolled band of your biker shorts and then widen your eyes at him.

"yes, but--!"

"--no but's! just listen to the fighter pilot," Jake exclaims, glancing at you from the top of his aviators. he gives you an award-winning grin. one that makes you really, really steam. "and everything else will be gravy, baby."

stamping your foot into the dust, you sigh.

"we don't want to go on the Peacock Trail," you say shrilly. you point to the correct trail--the one you read extensively about the night before like you always do--and then glance at him. "we want to go on the Patriot Trail!"

Jake debates this for a moment, following your finger. and with an internal sigh but no outward change in his appearance, he realizes that you're right. shit. he hates it when that happens.

and here he is, standing in his athletic clothes and his over-stuffed backpack and his new tennis shoes, thinking he's hot shit. he glances at you--you haven't broken your dubious gaze from him.

even though he really hates not being right--like really, really hates not being right--he hates to truly exasperate you even more. besides, it's a beautiful day. a rare Saturday off paired with a blue sky and new hiking shoes and, best of all, you. everything else is just dust, he decides.

just as he's about to admit that he's wrong, just as he's about to tuck his tail between his legs, you grin at him.

"ha! you're wrong! you know you're wrong," you laugh, shaking your head at Jake as he stares back at you with his jaw slack. "trying to I'm a fighter-pilot me like that's ever worked."

"but I was just about to--!"

"--no but's! just listen to the fighter pilot's girlfriend and everything else will be gravy, baby," you say sweetly--and mockingly--before leaning up to peck his shocked lips.

you start for the trail--the correct trail--and Jake watches from a few paces behind. he's stunned, really. no one has ever returned his words so quickly, so fiercely before. Jesus.

but then you turn, squinting beneath the yellow sun, and give him a grin.

"c'mon, flyboy! time's a-wasting!"

flyboy. he hates that term.

"you know," Jake starts, finally moving his feet. "next time we argue, I'm so going to remind you that I took your virginity."

with a gasp, you halt and turn to him. there's that award-winning grin again.

"you wouldn't dare," you say quietly.

"oh, I would," he says, nodding emphatically. "I really, really would."

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nouearth · 8 months

Text

poolside banters.

dick grayson x male reader.

summary: it's your final day at the summer resort, and dick has a way to end it with a bang.

wc: 3.4k. warnings: resort!au, explicit smut, blowjob (r giving), handjob, frotting, thigh-fucking, public exhibition, humping, body worshipping, muscle worshipping, established relationship, playful bantering, daddy!kink, big dick!dick resort owner!dick, thwaites!dick.

a/n: finally done with my dick grayson smut! it's been so long, and this has been in my drafts for a while. i've been so busy, but i finally came around to it! ahhhh, i hope you guys like it! it's something new since i've been inspired by a certain video (ahem) on frotting.

Large palm trees sprouted beneath the clear sky and bristles danced in pursuit of the mellow jazz that played from stereos. The summer was cooled by the gentlest breeze, and you could hear the wealthy patrons collectively ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ when the flame of their bodies began to simmer from a hard boil.

Across from you was the vast beach that swallowed the rays of the sun, glistening every pulp while visitors joyfully soaked within the dewy radiance. It was a scene straight from a feel-good film, and you couldn’t help but reflect the smile of fond memories onto your own face as you kicked back onto the lounge chair by the pool.

The crowd around you was sparse compared to the beach-goers. Most preferred the finite space of the pool to keep their children in close proximity, while others, like you, preferred the light the sun gave out when they read a novel.

Jesus, he’s messing with you! How many times are we going to get back together with this douche?! You scoffed and turned to the next page of your thriller novel after flushing the character’s irrational decision to return to their toxic partner with a soda.

Upon noticing the orange hue cast over the paper, you figured the next chapter would be better saved for the airplane ride back home. You slotted your bookmark in between the printed pages and set it on the table at your side, finishing the rest of your drink with several fizzy gulps.

“Quick dip before we head in?” Dick’s voice startled you and you inhaled sweet bubbles that started a coughing fit. You turned towards him after catching your breath, laughing when you’ve become infected by the light sound of your boyfriend’s chuckle.

“Oh, so now you want to swim?” Your hand reached over to shackle his dangling fingertips with yours and then hopped off the lounge chair and onto your feet. Quick tugs pulled Dick up, freeing him from the slumber that had captured him hours prior.

“I told you I prefer swimming with no one around!” He was awakened to his senses with a yawn and an overhead stretch, pushing his broad chest out and capturing the cast of light in the process. “Peaceful and quiet, and it’s not like they—“

“—can kick out the owner of the resort, I know, I know!” Your teasing always put Dick in a jovial mood, and he thanked you, like always, with a kiss when you pulled him up. As if he read your mind, or rather scorched his hand against the beating warmth of your skin, Dick slid your button down off your body and tossed it onto the chair.

“But I have a feeling there are limits, y’know!” You continued, leading the short walk to the pool. He stuck behind you, following and listening close with his arms wrapped around your waist. “There has to be something they won’t tolerate.”

“Tolerate?” Dick hummed, letting hands roam around your shoulders and arms first, and squeezing at the firm skin to relieve you of the muscle tension you’ve been complaining about since the airplane ride. “We should test out to see how much they can tolerate then.” Then his hands cascaded towards your bottom, cupping a handful of clothed flesh, but with the way Dick had kneaded your ass, the swimming trunks mind as well had become part of your body.

“Hey, hey—“ You jolted at the sudden touch, then cowered back into his hands because with an arch more; you’d embarrassingly expose how easy and quick it was to turn you on. You could hear him snicker into the back of your neck, a grin spreading wide, and you reached back to swat at his hands.

“Dick, there’s people…” Your voice trailed off as you looked around, because everyone had gone back in now. Was.

He persisted, the begs only made him curl his fingers deep into your mounds in a similar way he had done to his stress ball. Red; the color of his ball; the color of his frustration when shipments were delayed; the color of assault when he goes out on nightly patrols. His chest rose and pressed against your back and when you reached back to hold his forearm, affectionate and loving; the red burned a lovelier hue.

Dusk was settling into the sky, and all that was left was you and your boyfriend, and the pool that greeted you in a harmony of gentle waves. He squeezed your bottom, then hips in response, hooking his chin over your shoulder to peer at the solitude.

“That never stopped us before,” The positioning of his hands circled to the front of your trunks, and then past the waistband when the tent seized his hand. He wrapped his large hand around your length, squeezing softly as it grew into his palm, and you sighed.

It was always easy to give into Dick.

“Restaurants, parking lots, public bathrooms,” He began listing, remembering the fond memories with his own tent aiding his memory, twitching and prodding your bottom. “…clothing racks, back of the bus, during my meetings—“ Your cock grew harder into the gentle motion of his hand, into the memories that was more so evidence that you and Dick should be banned from traveling in public, pumping you into the familiar stiffness until your trunks felt like they had shrunk when Dick pulled his hand out.

You bit back a groan at the loss of friction, the mesh net of your trunks merely providing sufficient builds to your pleasure when you squeezed and rubbed at your tent.

“Noticed how all of those times didn’t start with me? I don’t know how you get horny so quickly—“

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Look at yourself right now!” Dick defended with a playful sputter, grasping you from the front suddenly and giving your cock a tug.

“Yeah!” You gasped, then laughed when he pushed you back into him, and his throbbing bulge. “Once again, you started it!” Teasingly, your hips pushed back in nonchalant swirls, masking it as a sway of dance while his hands were still kept around you.

“And?” He pushed forward, burying a groan into your neck while you swayed. “I always finish it, too.”

“True…” While your head leaned back onto his shoulder, peacefully swaying under the approaching night, you reached back and snuck your hand down his trunks to feel the source of the constant prodding at your bottom. “I can attest to that.”

“Fuck…” His voice lowered into the side of your neck, clutching at your hips as some kind of control to keep him from fucking wildly into your fist, even if you had tempted him with the tightening of your palm.

Dick grew heavy into your hand. You stroked the weight until it sank deep into your skin, until your wrist exhausted itself, until you were frustrated by the confines of his trunks.

“Back to the chair?”

Dick catalogued the surrounding area. Palm trees barely obscured windows, columns of the thick material enforced onlookers to hide behind them. The risks abound with every scan across the vicinity, yet the feeling of adrenaline surged through his veins, turning back to you with a hankering smile.

“We’re here to test their limits, aren’t we?”

“Fuck.”

“Look at me,” Your eyes swept from corner to corner at every little sound that set an alarm of panic, overriding Dick’s voice. It was quite comical to him, watching the caution in your eyes ignite with every blink while your hand soldiered through, stroking his cock by the pool-side. “Baby.”

“Hm?” After foraging the area clear, you casted your gaze upwards to meet Dick’s doting eyes, and the pain on your knees was suddenly more tolerable.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Even though you were always more hesitant to the idea of public exhibition, and Dick’s constant teasings of being caught didn’t exactly help, it always ended smoothly. His hand fell down to the back of your head, petting slow to placate your worries. “I promise.”

“You never know! I just don’t want you to get fired, or worse… open a press conference with an apology, and I’m joined by your side or something.” The thought made him laugh, then a sigh replaced the echoing sound when your lips wrapped around the plump head of his cock, sucking and laving your tongue around the glans reminiscently to the rhythm of the gentle pool waves.

“I did warn you that we’d be together every moment in life.” Dick sucked in the cool air as you took more of him in, freezing a moan into the walls of his throat. You held the base, covering the first few inches of meaty girth with spit and love as you sucked the salt and musk off of him, cleansing Dick with your wandering tongue, and the heat of his groan was enough to melt the ice block.

“And I’m not turning back.” His cock hung over your face when you unfurled your hold around him, kissing the throbbing flesh from the tip to the sticky underside of his length, then to his balls, where you enveloped the heavy sack with sloppy sucks.

“Mm.” His hips pushed forward and his palm on the back of your head gently applied forward in a silent want to bury his spit-covered sack onto your face. They rolled and dragged across your features with the help of his grasp, and you stuck your tongue out in case it needed a new glow from its endeavor.

Pulling away, you took him in again by inclination. His cock sank into your mouth deeper, and your hand wrapped around the girth that never had the fortunate to have met your tongue. You sucked, bobbing your head up and down while your fist swiveled in pursuit of your lips, coating Dick’s thick cock with the remnants of saliva that your tongue had left.

“Fuck, baby…”

Dick’s hand had left your head now in favor of supporting his habit of crossing his arms behind his head while you worked at his cock. You’d notice it when he felt overwhelmed, stressed, de-stressed, pleasured, or maybe all of the above. Either way, it made your heart jump ten-folds because it made him all the more alluring—pornographic, if you had to be lewd.

His biceps caught onto the light, flexed when you began playing with his balls while you continued on shoving him down your throat. The light highllghted the muscles that you’d find always yourself latching onto when you crossed the street, when you slept together, when he was frustrated with work, when he’d fuck you into the couch, when you’d ride him on the patio; it was your comfort and seeing the muscles flex under the light, you’d wish you had appreciated it more.

Him, more.

Several moments later, you pulled away to catch your breath, but before you could do so properly, Dick pulled you up onto your feet and into a kiss, where he whispered his gratification in between soft and doting swipes of his lips. “You suck me off so well, fuck.”

“Yeah? Am I a good boy, then?” One arm twined around his neck, while your other hand dropped to jerk your aching cock, playfully slapping it against his own cock in between sessions before pressing a chaste kiss to his full lips. “Daddy?”

His breath hitched, eyebrows cinched a wrinkle in between, and his face lit up when the words that had come out of your mouth had rendered properly.

You and Dick always liked to try something new every now and then, to add more heat to the flame of your endeavors together, and today was the day you’d let your fantasies come alive. Stemmed straight from one of the novels you’ve been reading during the trip, it was quite ludicrous but your boyfriend didn’t have to know that.

“You’re an extremely good boy, baby…” His forehead leaned onto yours and he stared into the light of your eyes, harboring it for himself as he took your cock into his hand and stroked it to the accelerating pace of his heart. “And since you were such a good boy, how do you think daddy should reward you?”

“Hm…” Your mind ran across many thoughts, but then fell silent upon realization, breaking character when you whispered as if there was an audience watching your performance. “Babe, we don’t have lube—“

“Oh shoot… what about the sunscreen—“

“Dude, did you not read that post about this guy going to the ER and having his dick numb because—“

“Okay, so no sunscreen…”

“Oh!” The lightbulb above your head flickered, and you grinned, pulling him close again as if there wasn’t a brief intermission prior. “Ahem, well… there was something I’ve been wanting to try…”

Dick pressed a laugh into your lips, half-kissing you while a grin remained as you had his curiosity piqued. “What’s that?” His hand maintained the blood flow to your erection, stroking and thumbing the head at times.

Your shoulders rolled back from the tender touch and in midst, took Dick’s cock into your palm and pressed it lower, to where you stepped closer to him, flushed against his chest and Dick held you stable now, and released once it cushioned snug in between your thighs. Your cock pressed up against Dick’s pelvis, and your arms twined back around his nest while his was anchored around your waist.

“A good boy who’s able to suck cock well, and think on their feet. How did I get so lucky?” He softened another chuckle into your lips, where you inhaled him like oxygen, and fused your affection for each other into one when he began thrusting, slow and short to keep your cock confined against his pelvis.

“I think you’re just rubbing off on me, if I’m being honest.” Your nose pressed into one another as you held each other impossibly close, buckling into each other’s bodies as Dick sandwiched his thick cock in between your pillowy thighs, your own cock throbbed and dripped with thick pre-cum as it pressed to his body.

“Well, I’m definitely rubbing something.” His hands dropped to your ass, where he began kneaded at the mounds as he stabilized his position into keeping a rhythm to his thrusts. His thick cock rubbed in between your thighs, and he’d groan when you clenched around him, restricting his movements to mere bumps.

“Shut up—“ You could feel his pre-cum spreading thick along your flesh, and you squeezed once more to pull another delightful sound of him, another drip that layered on your sweaty skin.

In midst, you held his arms tight, admiring his muscles whenever they flexed as he fucked into your tight thighs until he breached through with several desperate plunges, moaning when the cold air met the slit of the sticky head. His body was your rock, your support, as you thrusted your cock over his pelvis. It slid and pressed into his skin as you thrusted, finding a rhythm of Dick’s own hips, and your bodies collectively move together like a dance. Humping each other like animals when you felt close, then slowed at an excruciating pace to a symphony of moans into the night air.

“Fuck me, daddy— fuck.” You begged into Dick’s lips, hissing because you felt your cock become swollen than before, beating red at the tip as if he was the cause of this pleasurable allergic reaction. You humped him desperately, rubbing your cock against him while allowing your thighs to stick to Dick’s large cock like glue.

“You want my cock so bad, don’t you…” He pressed into you, harder and deeper. It was unfulfilling at first. He wasn’t exactly fucking into anything, but he loved the control he had of your body in this position. Dick clutched into your ass, separating and squeezing the mounds as he maneuvered your body to his liking. “Taking my cock in any way you’d like…”

Back and forth, Dick pulled your body into his and met every plunge of his cock in between your thighs. Occasionally, he’d pull farther for a change of pace, rubbing his cock against you for a brief frot. The stimulation seized drips of pre-cum to layer upon your cock and Dick’s for a slimy friction, mutually gliding over one another. The two cocks mingled, caressed, and slid while you two held each other close until Dick took it upon himself to cushion his cock back in between your thighs and began fucking you again.

Breathless, Dick fucked into your thighs while desperately holding onto your body in fret of letting you, as if he wasn’t the one in control. His nails sunk deep into your ass, but you only took it as his love for you, wearing the indentation like battle scars while you humped into him. Your balls fit the curve of his cock, rolling over the ample shaft with pride, and you rubbed Dick’s chest. Broad, sweaty, and muscular, pinched at his nipples, and then tugged because you needed him close.

Closer than before because you were close.

“Keep fucking me—“ He slapped your ass once, growling into the open-mouthed kiss, and you jolted into him, fucking your cock against his pelvis at a snappy rhythm. Your thigh clenched from your stance, providing Dick a confinement that was a nightmare to breach through, but when he did, it was incredibly fulfilling and eye-rolling, slipping completely out to repeat the cycle as the addiction for the brief catharsis had only been building.

Moans deposited into another’s mouth, swallowing and taking each other in with complete rapture, and then withdrew when your chest swelled and stomach pumped with a familiar feeling that had been accumulated through dry-humps and desperate yet intimate endeavors.

“Dick—“ You choked out, clutching onto his shoulders, then his hair, then his arms, because your legs felt weak, wobbly like spaghetti noodles, like all the strength had been lost in your calves when you thrusted for the last time, and relieved yourself in heavy, thick ropes. “F-fuck, fuck!”

A shudder in midst of Dick’s eager and continuing thrusts, you shot cum all over his pelvis, stomach, and even aimed high enough to have stain his chest. Tremors surged, and Dick held you close to keep them confined, but to also selfishly reach his own heaven as he neared his climax within seconds of watching you in awe, emptying yourself all over him.

“Baby, I’m going to come—“ His lips collided into yours for a messy kiss. Tongues chased pink flesh after pink flesh in pursuit of the sweet taste of one another. Swiveled and swirled while Dick violated into you with his big cock, mingled with either sides of your thighs, bruised your ass with his hands, glued his chest to yours with your cum; all of the simultaneous friction built his stomach to bubble in a powerful acclamation. He was as breathless as you were, shaking the haziness in his vision as you fed into the fog with your touch and voice. You stroked his chest, squeezed them, then his biceps, and then his toned stomach, made him feel loved and worshipped as you moaned at the mere sight of his muscles flex and pulsate as his high approached.

“Oh fuck…” Dick delivered several more thrusts into your thighs, you held them close to prevent an opening, before spilling and shooting his thick seed all over your soft yet toned flesh. One load shamelessly came after another, pulling multiple moans out of Dick, and you swallowed them all as you felt yourself layered thick and warm with his cum from beneath, bathing in them as if it was the summer sun. Throughout his climax, your hands maintained its wander, easing the tremors that sent Dick’s body into subtle jolts and goosebumps with cascading warmth and affection, and then kissed him once more, like you always did towards the end.

“You always make such a mess.” Lethargy quickly crept over you, and you practically pushed all of his weight into Dick’s arms as your muscles almost gave out, yawning, but the sticky and thick cum uncomfortably dripping down your legs kept you alert.

“You seriously cannot be complaining.” He scoffed, stepping back so you would get a view of how drenched his toned body was, kudos to your loads.

“That’s just sunscreen—“

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

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reiding-writing · 23 days

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hi red !! i'm sending through a rec for your climacteric event hehehehe <3

spencer reid x fem!reader with the colour prompts red 1 ("You're bleeding."), green 2 ("You're safe here, I promise."), and purple 1 ("You know you're my best friend, right?") please? LOVE YOU LOADS RAHHHH

SCARECROWS [CLIMACTERIC]

1. “You’re bleeding.”

2. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

1. “You know that you’re my best friend, right?”

WARNINGS: reader injury, blood duh, mentions of being stabbed <3

spencer reid x reader || hurt/comfort || 1.6k || event page!!

a/n: you adding the direct quotes made my job so much easier in finding them rip 😭 thanks for the request ml <333

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!

Sometimes you wondered why you joined the FBI.

If by making one different decision you’d be in a completely different career in a different part of the country with a husband and children living in a two story house with a white picket fence.

Spencer would probably fill you in on the butterfly effect, how a single flap of a butterfly’s wings could change the trajectory of the wind and spin into a tornado, or in your case, leave you stranded and unarmed in an overgrown cornfield with your only company being the crows flying overhead.

It was arguably, definitely, your fault, but what were you supposed to do when the unsub was running off into the night after you’d finally tracked him down.

He’d slipped under the radar for too long, you weren’t going to let it happen again.

Though you weren’t going to lie, you were starting to regret not waiting for the rest of the team.

How were you supposed to know that the welfare check you were sent on would turn into a chase?

They were twelve minutes out last time you checked. You didn’t have signal anymore, who knew how close they were now.

All you knew was that you were a sitting duck with an empty magazine in an unfamiliar location with a light level so low you could barely see your own feet.

You’d lost the unsub a good few minutes ago, and you weren’t about to stand around with nothing to protect yourself with, so you started running back the way you came, hopeful that it would bring you out back at the farmhouse, with floodlights and a phone signal.

You weren’t that lucky.

You never were.

—

“Oh my god—“ Emily sounds like she’s seen a ghost as she cups her left hand over her mouth, her right lowering to her side until her gun is limply resting in her fingers.

Her face is a mix of relief, astonishment and absolute horror, and as the team follow her gaze they mirror one by one until the whole group is frozen in abject shock.

You were alive, thank god, but you were also stumbling backwards out of the corn field like a final girl in a horror movie, completely disheveled and torn up with your attention completely focused on the rows of stalks in front of you like you were afraid something was going to pop out and finish you off.

The sight was enough for Spencer to feel like he was going to throw up his stomach, although whether out of relief or anxiety he wasn’t exactly sure.

Either way he was pocketing his gun and practically sprinting in your direction the second he got a full view of you, no care for what you were running from in his mind whatsoever.

At least you were okay.

“Hey-” His hand barely grazes over your shoulder before your instincts kick in and you swing your elbow outwards with the intent of sending it straight into his face.

It hits him directly underneath his nose, sending his neck back sharply to stop any worse injury occurring under the force of your arm.

It doesn’t deter him though, and he doesn’t so much as even cover his nose from the pain as he takes your arms in his hands to swivel you in his direction so that you can see that you aren’t in danger.

“Hey- Hey, it’s just me you’re okay, you’re safe here I promise,”

The flicker of absolute terror in your eyes makes him swear his heart is going to shatter, and even as he watches it fizzle out under the realisation that he wasn’t someone to be afraid of that small pit in his stomach didn’t disappear.

You looked bad.

Your hands were grazed and raw, you were covered in mud, half of your shirt had been ripped from the hem and tied around your left thigh — presumably as some sort of makeshift bandage, and you were so much paler than you usually were, all of the colour completely drained from your face until you looked almost translucent under the mix of moonlight and blared foglights.

“You’re bleeding— Did I do that? I’m sorry—” You reach up your hand towards and he swerves to take it in his own with a shake of his head, clasping his fingers gently around your shaking palms, careful not to irritate the angry red covering them.

“Don’t worry about me, are you okay? What happened?” His eyes roam anxiously over your frame, lingering specifically on the torn piece of fabric around your thigh that is slowly but surely turning from a charcoal grey to a dark maroon the longer you stand talking.

“I- He ran and- and I followed him and then I lost him and- I don’t- He doubled back on me and I didn’t-” Half of the words coming out of your mouth were almost completely incoherent, and he could see your pupils refusing to dilate even under the direct beam of one of the SUVs’ headlights.

“Okay okay, calm down, take a breath for a second,” Spencer gives your arms a small squeeze to cut off your attempt at an explanation, glancing over your shoulder where the team is still grouped together, with Morgan and Hotch on the phone — presumably for an ambulance and some backup respectively— and the others watching you cautiously, unsure whether they should join in on Spencer’s examination of your health.

“How did you hurt your leg?” You follow Spencer’s gaze downwards towards your thigh, and it’s like the second your eyes recognise what it is you completely loose control of all of your motor functions from waist down.

“Woah—” Spencer takes the sudden change in your weight distribution in his stride, or at least he tries to, shifting his arms underneath your armpits to stop you from hitting the ground underneath you and supporting your weight with his own as he stumbles a few steps backwards. “Guys—”

Emily is at your side immediately, alleviating some of your weight onto herself so the two of them can hold you upright.

“He had a weapon…” You wince under the searing pain in your leg, the adrenaline wearing off fast and hard now that your body knows it’s no longer in danger.

“What kind of weapon?” The concern seeps from Spencer’s voice to soak into your skin, leaving your heart to accelerate under the knowledge that you were injured bad.

“A uh… fork, like a gardening fork… He stabbed me with it…” Although more coherent now, your voice was slowly fading into small mutters and whispers, like the exhaustion in your body was catching up to your mind and making even your tongue too languished to move. “I’m really tired…”

“Hey no- not yet-” Emily shakes her head with a conviction. “There’s an ambulance on the way, you have to stay awake until then,”

“But…”

“Emily‘s right, stay awake you’ll be fine,” Spencer sounds like he’s more trying to convince himself than you as him and Emily support your weight back towards the cluster of SUVs, and the added weight of your head resting against his shoulder doesn’t help his anxiety whatsoever. “Hey, come on…”

He lifts his shoulder slightly to shift your head and you let out a soft noise of discontentment. “I’m awake I’m awake, just conserving my energy…”

“Just keep your eyes open okay?”

You give him a small hum as the two of them sit you down on the hood of one of the cars, and Emily leaves you in Spencer’s care to check with Morgan on the arrival of the ambulance.

“You know that you’re my best friend, right?” You turn your head a little further into Spencer’s shoulder as he becomes the sole pillar of your support, blinking slowly in an attempt to keep your eyes open.

“Don’t say that to me right now,” He shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, a dark line forming between his eyes as the skin pinches together in his worry.

“But you are though,”

“You can remind me of that after you’re in the hospital,”

“I hate hospitals,” You let out a small, fatigued huff, rolling your eyes at the prospect. “I’m gonna be in there for god knows how long and I just wanna find this guy before he hurts anyone else…”

“Well, he has hurt you, and that’s what’s important right now,” Spencer’s tone contradicts itself between concern and relief. You’re alive, but you’re not in good shape. “We need to make sure that you’re okay before anything else,”

And in an act of holy divination — or just coincidence if Spencer was concerned — right as he mentions making sure that you’re okay the blaring lights of the called ambulance come into view, joined by a shrill, sharp ring that seems to echo over the field.

You all but hobble over to it once it’s parked, successful only in the fact that Spencer is actually supporting more of your weight than you were.

At least he stays by your side the entire time.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #climacteric 🪶

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girls-and-honey · 2 years

Text

having a low-intensity day and pals... I think this is just what I needed

#don't know why i haven't started doing this sooner as needed #lowered the brightness on my work laptop and monitor #keeping my volume a bit lower during meetings #blinds mostly closed and overhead light turned off #phone is on silent instead of vibrate (yes im scared of losing it)#and like... this is the life #being way more productive than if all that stuff was turned up #who knew #personal

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dickmastersfruit · 2 months

Note

ok the art you sent me has me spiraling but imagine getting it on with alastor maybe hes a little pissy or whatever so he’s extremely in the mood to bite EVERYWHERE and i think we all know its not weak little bites its hard bites especially if hes in a bad mood and definitely hard enough to draw blood and then be starts swiping that blood up with his finger coating them with your blood and drawing little smiles (especially smiles its literally alastor) and hearts all over especially on the readers face

My Painting

Pairing: Alastor x F!reader

Warnings: Alastor being horny and lowkey a vampire, accidental housewife kink oops, if you hate blood dont read this

Word count: 765

There wasn't much light shining through the windows anymore as you sat on the counter waiting for Alastor. You took in the smell of the home baked muffins in the oven as you looked out the window as the sun set. The front door slammed shut making you jump off the counter and you waited patiently for him to notice you standing there. He finally walked into the spot where a little bit of light shined on him. You took in his disheveled clothes with rips and the light traces of blood across his whole body.

“Well how was your day?” You joked as you looked him up and down turning on the overhead light so you could get a better look at him.

He rolled his eyes, muttering to himself. Something about some evil tv man and how he wants to kill him so badly. You stared at him with a soft smile as he continued muttering to himself. He looked like a child who was told no for the first time as he began pacing around.

“Hon” You say, getting his attention as he finally took you in. An apron hugged your waist as you wore a white baby tee that stuck to every curve of your body and jean shorts. He smirked, taking long strides toward you.

He pushed you against the kitchen counter as he stared down at you like you were his prey. His hands slowly wrapped around yours as he pinned them behind your back leaning down to gently bite your earlobe.

“God look at my little housewife” His staticy voice said, breaking the silence that had previously been there. His hands let go of your wrists but instead he set a firm grip on your hips. “I didn't even know you had this,” He said, pulling at the strings that tied the apron behind your back. It slowly fell as your tight clothes were now on full display for him.

“Well usually i'm done cooking by the time you come home my love” You say as you move your hands to the belt loops on his pants moving him flush against your body. “But maybe I should wear it more often” You smirk, staring up at him.

His eyes darkened as he brought his mouth down to your neck. It started out slow and sensual. His lips moving slowly nipping softly as he moved down your neck to your chest. The more you whimpered and withered under his touch he not only sped up but he began to bite harder. Finally as he reached your neck again he bit down hard. You moaned loudly bucking your hips into his as he bit down like a starved man

“Alastor jesus” You whimper as he backs away smiling watching the blood run down your neck. Instead of cleaning it up he bit down again on the other side of your neck. Blood began to spill down as you winced at the pain. You could feel it dripping down, you couldn’t tell if you were grossed out or incredibly turned on. Maybe both.

The blood had finally reached your white shirt. “Oh no, my little housewife is a little dirty” He said sarcastically as he ripped it off your body leaving your top half naked as he stared intently as the blood spilled down your chest.

His hands reached up grabbing your boobs as the blood smeared across his hand and your chest. You could tell he had an idea as a sinister smile formed across his lips. He began to trace his name in your blood and many other vulgar words across your neck and chest as he continued biting to make more paint for his beautiful painting.

He soaked his fingers in the blood and made little smiley faces across your chest. You giggled as he drew little pictures in your blood. “I'm running out of blood” He pouted.

Before you could even react to his words he was biting deeply into your skin causing you to yelp in pain. That was definitely leaving a scar or some sort of mark. Instead of light dribbles of blood it gushed out as he grabbed more blood and began to paint small hearts on your face. He looked you in the eyes as he licked one long strip across his whole hand, your blood now dripping down his chin as he sucked the blood off his fingers.

“My beautiful little painting” He says before leaning in kissing you hard. The taste of his spit and your blood lingering in your mouth.

Masterlist Alastor Masterlist

#bbgwrites #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x you #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic

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d0youc0py · 2 months

Text

I’ve been seeing so much ex husband price stuff on here and it’s making me drool. So I’m contributing some ex husband/not divorced yet but taking a break for vague reasons but you both still deeply love each other TF 141….Also this is sappy, dramatic and not accurate character portrayal—just let me live in denial!

“Johnathan, it’s 1 am.” You groaned, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Go back to bed, Honey.” He muttered back quickly. You shot him a glare at the term of endearment. He was balancing a flashlight between his teeth, his back mostly turned to you.

“Are you fixing that window?” You questioned, turning on the overhead light. He must’ve not wanted to wake you. He took the flashlight out of his mouth, looking over his shoulder at you. His chest swelled at the sight of you in one of his shirts. It took every ounce of self restraint not to wrap you up in his arms. “I told you over the phone I hired someone to come and fix it.” You yawned.

“And have some stranger traipsing through the house.” He huffed. You watched as his arms flexed at even the slightest movements. You hated these moments of weakness. It was the same reason why you couldn’t fall asleep unless you were wearing one of his shirts. Or the same reason you would light a cigar like it was incense. The same reason why you always answered his daily calls. Then you’d remember why you wanted a divorce in the first place. It always felt like someone dumping cold water on you.

And thats exactly how you felt now.

“That’s not your problem anymore, John.” You reminded. His blood ran cold. Yet he kept up his unbothered appearance.

“Never a problem, Honey.” He assured, still keeping his back to you. You sighed running a hand over your face.

“I just- I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to just show up whenever you want. It’s my house right? That’s what you agreed to. It’s not just some motel you can show up at whenever you want to feel needed.” You spat. His body was still and ridged. His teeth ached from the tight clenching of his jaw and the pain in his chest was wince worthy.

“I know.” He said slowly. “I just want you to know I’ll always take care of you, Honey.” He began to turn towards you but stopped himself. He couldn’t stand to see the look on your face.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, John.” You continued. “I was able to survive before you and when you left me every other month.” You don’t know why you were being so forceful with him. Maybe it was because you hadn’t physically seen him in a few weeks.

“Well maybe I’m not doing it for you, hmm?” He shot back, finally facing you. His eyes were just as red the day you walked out of the lawyers office. “You made your decision, but that doesn’t mean you just stopped being the most important thing in my life. So yeah, I’m going to drop by if I feel I need to because I vowed to always take care of you and no fucking paper you make me sign is going to take that away from me. If you don’t like that you can get a restraining order.”

He didn’t even have a moment to catch his breath before your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Hey, Cap.” You smiled into your phone. Calls from Price were kinda common- he just liked to check up on you here and there, but you could tell by the sigh on the other end this wasn’t going to be about you.

“Hey, Kiddo.” He started. “I catch you at a good time?” He questioned.

“Yeah, just watching TV. Everything alright?” You questioned back. There was another sigh on his end, and it sounded like he was taking a drag of his cigar.

“No one’s hurt.” He was trying to pick his words carefully. “It’s ’bout Simon, though.”

“Okay.” You responded slowly. Just the mention of Simon’s name had a small tremor rise in your body. It’s not like you had gone no-contact with him. He called you a few times a week just to ask if you needed anything, if anything in the flat needed to be fixed, or just to make sure you locked all the windows before going to sleep. “You’re building up a lot of suspense here, Cap.” You offered a fake chuckle.

“Sorry.” He paused again and you wanted to rip your hair out. “He’s just- I know it’s really none of my business what happened between the two of you but he’s not doing good, Love.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s doing fine work-wise. But I’m worried about him personally. He’s droppin’ weight, smoking a couple packs a day, drinkin’ when he knows he’s not suppose to be. When he’s not doing that he just sits and stares. Johnny has to check his pulse sometimes.” It was his turn to offer you a chuckle. Another pause and drag. A few fat tears rolled down your cheeks and Price ran a hand over his face when he heard you sniffle. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I also know you would get after me if I didn’t. Now you don’t owe him anything, but I think just a call from you would help him out a lot.”

“You think he’s doing this because of me?” You whispered.

“Course.” Price responded immediately. He cringed at himself. “What I mean to say is, you’re that man’s ‘reason.’ You get what I’m saying? Men like me and him need a reason. A reason to come home. A reason to be better. A reason to just get our asses out of bed at the crack of dawn. Like I said you don’t owe him anything, Kiddo, but I think just hearing your voice would do him some good.”

“Thank you, Price. For looking out for him and me.” You said sincerely.

“It’s what I get paid for.” He shot back with a laugh. You rolled your eyes, pressing the big red button after a ‘goodbye’. Your swollen eyes raked over the wedding photos you still had hanging in the living room. You couldn’t not call him. You wondered how long he’d been acting like this. Had he been doing it the whole time you had been separated? You rubbed at your eyes working up the courage to press his contact in your phone.

It only rang once before he answered.

“You alright?” He asked quickly.

“Yeah.” You replied, taking a deep breath. “Just calling to check in.” You said slowly. You heard him breathe a sigh of relief.

“Checkin’ in on me?” He repeated. Your heart ached at the thought that he seemed to think you didn’t care about him.

“That okay?” You urged. He hummed in agreement. “If you’re busy I can call bac”-

“Not busy.” He cut off. “What’ve you been up to?” You heard some shuffling and it sounded like he was getting into bed. You wondered what time it was wherever he was in the world.

“Nothing too interesting. I got a new cat! She’s an older tabby who’s seen some things, but she’s a Sweetheart.” You rambled on smiling.

“She probably thinks she’s in heaven with you.” He snickered. You giggled at his words and his eyes shut tightly trying to soak up every second of it.

“Simon, is there anyway when you get back you could help me move in a new cat tower? They’re all fighting over the one we have.” Using the word ‘we’ had just become habit when talking to Simon. You didn’t even realize you had said it. But you using that word was all the ‘reason’ he needed.

“Of course. I’ll be home Wednesday. That work for you?” His heart was beating out of his chest like it did the very first time he asked you out on a date.

“That’s perfect. I’ll see you then, Si.”

*inaccurate medical rules*

Your leg bounced up and down nervously, your eyes about to burn a hole in the pale blue curtain. You were in an accident- not a major one, but you did receive a concussion.

Johnny was still your emergency contact and according to the nurses he was more than willing to pick you up.

“He’s not entirely my husband.” You began. The nurse raised his eyes from the clipboard for a split second before shrugging.

“Says it in your file and he’s still your emergency contact. He’s already on his way, but do you have anyone else we could call?” His tone was bored and you wondered how many times he had to have this conversation a day. You slowly shook your head. “Well we can’t just let you leave by yourself.” He sighed.

“I know, but I filed for divorce. He just refuses to sign it. Doesn’t that count for anything?” You pleaded. The nurse gave you a sour look.

“I can change your emergency contact so in future accidents he won’t be contacted.” You furrowed your brows at his choice of words.

“Hopefully there won’t be anymore accidents.” Your body stiffened at the all too familiar voice. The curtain was drawn back revealing your husband. He gave you a soft smile and you hated the way it settled your stomach.

“Yeah right, so change your emergency contact or no?” The nurse piqued up. You shut your eyes tightly, shaking your head side to side. You wished the floor would swallow you. The nurse looked between you and Johnny before giving you two some privacy.

“I’m sorry about all this, John.” You sighed standing up. “They wouldn’t let me leave without someone signing for me. If you could just walk me out, I can call an Uber.”

“John?” He repeated, in a whisper. It was probably just intended for himself. His chest tightened. No nicknames. He partly hoped that this experience would’ve softened you. Made you happy to be alive. Make you want to wrap your arms around him and call off the whole ‘divorce’ thing. He can picture all the times you sprawled out on his chest, whispering into his skin how safe you felt with him. Now here you were inching yourself away from him like he would ever hurt you. “I’d rather take you home.” He pressed.

“It’s seriously okay John”-

“Enough with the formalities.” He snipped. Your eyes widened and he groaned at his mistake. “You’re discounting everything we’ve been through together. Treating me like some stranger.” He growled out.

“Well what am I suppose to do? Hmm? You want me to call you ‘Mac’ again. Or any of the other ridiculous nicknames I made up for you? Well I’m not going to do that! You were good to me for so many years, Johnny- please don’t think I have forgotten that. But this last year it’s like I haven’t even existed to you. You’re taking every single job that is thrown your way like you don’t even want to be with me anyone, so I’m just doing what you do obviously want but aren’t going to say.” Your voice shook and tears dropped from your eyes, but you held your ground. His jaw clenched tightly, his eyes red from holding back what you had already given up hiding.

“You think I want this? I”-

“Hey, as much as this has been the highlight of my week, we actually need your bed back.” The nurse interrupted, peaking his head through the curtains. Your flushed but nodded your head in understanding. Johnny was hot on your trail following you out. The cold air felt nice against your heated body and you turned to Johnny waiting for him to make the first step.

“I’m sorry for gettin’ on you in there.” He sighed. He shifted on his feet. “I just miss you.” His eyes refused to meet yours knowing it would cause him to break. He opened and closed his mouth trying to find the words to how desperately he wanted you in his life.

“For a man who loves to talk you sure are having a hard time.” You sniffled, wiping at your still streaming eyes.

That was all he needed to let it out. It was sloppy and unfiltered, but yet it shattered your world and everything you thought you knew about the man and how he felt about you.

You saw him at the store. It wasn’t the first time you had run into him- actually you two seemed to be bumping into each other all over the place. And without hesitation every single time he would flee the scene like you were some bully from high school he ran into. The same thing happened tonight. You both turned into the same aisle, stared at each other for a moment, then he dropped his basket and charged out the door.

You had already made up your mind weren’t going to let him go this easy.

You rushed after him, at a speed walk pace.

“Kyle!” You shouted after him in the parking lot. He was just opening the door to his sleek black car, one of his feet inside already. He paused for a moment, before sliding into the drivers seat. You were able to grab the door handle before he shut it on you.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He growled, beginning to tug the door back. Your hand gripped the car door and he quickly faltered not wanting to slam it shut on your fingers.

“Just let me talk, please?” You begged. Those same brown eyes that you had spent the best part of your life staring into bore coldly into yours. “I just- We keep running into each other. I just think it’s silly that we keep avoiding each other.”

“Not silly.” He shot back without missing a beat. “You don’t want me anymore, remember?” Your heart dropped.

“Ky, that’s not true”-

“Fucking save it, Y/N. You’re the one who wanted to take a break. Why don’t you just divorce me and get it over with already.” He spat. His face curled in a way that made you want to die.

“Is that what you want?” You asked quietly. He ran his hands up and down his face.

“I’m tired of your games, Lovie.” His voice held no warmth. “I want my partner back. The same person who I vowed to spend the rest of my life with. The same person I vowed to love and protect- but that person doesn’t even seem to be you anymore. I couldn’t imagine just cutting you out of my life the way you did to me. And the fact that you were able to do it fucking terrifies me. Just call me when you figure your shit out.”

He shut the door and you let him.

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pastelhooman · 11 months

Text

[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]

"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."

----- ID under break -----

A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.

"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"

"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.

Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"

the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.

"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world. After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.

Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?" "Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.

----- End of ID -----

#sorry if the ID is weird it happens everytime i tried to ID my comics it turned into psuedo-fics-#the cap is the prompt btw #the exchange is basically secret santa except it was in may lol #it was incredibly fun to work on this!!#and originally i drafted this to be like 4 pages and it got longer and l o n g e r and i was like oh no #all is good i made the deadline dont worry #yeah only some ten minutes left before it was overdue lol #oh and the event was last month i just procrastinated and didnt post it on anywhere except fb mb #half the reason was because i do NOT know how to ID and half way through it was feeling like writing a fic and that took. time #didn't help that i started writing when i was very sleepy and basically forgot about it for weeks #wElL aNyWAys #hope you enjoy this <3 #i really really love the prompts that i was given there were 3 in total but i only did one #they were all superb #vashwood #woodvash #wvw #vwv #wv #vw #trimax #trigun #trigun maximum #trigun manga #vash the stampede #vash trimax #wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood trimax #wvw exchange event 2023

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lovebugism · 4 months

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blurbcember!!!

omg how about the prompt 14. the power goes out in our apartment building, but i’m not prepared for this, and you come to check on me with steve because neighbor!au has a special place in my heart 🤭😔

i'm definitely late for this request but i couldn't stop thinking about it! hope you like it angel! — your pretty next door neighbor keeps you company when the power in your building goes out, along with a couple of his friends (neighbors to lovers, fluff, 1.6k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“I think I have cabin fever.”

“Eddie, shut up— it’s been five minutes,” Steve scolds from the darkened kitchen, where he’s trying to save the newly purchased beer from the warming fridge. He stacks the bottles neatly in a small, square cooler. It won’t keep them cold for long, but hopefully until the power comes back on.

“Soon we’ll have to decide which one of us to eat,” the wild-haired boy continues, still lazing on the couch with a beer in his hand. It stains a damp circle on the thigh of his jeans. He’s not at all fazed by the sudden outage.

“Remind me not to get stranded on an island with you.”

Aglow with orange candlelight, Robin shrugs from the adjacent sofa. She tilts her head on the arm of it to see Eddie more clearly. “The right answer is obviously Steve.”

“Obviously,” Eddie concurs.

“It’s ‘cause he’s so muscly.”

“And he eats, like, super healthy—”

Steve huffs and lugs the chunky cooler back into the living room, cradling the weighty thing with both arms. “Can both of you shut up about pretend cannibalism and help me with the door?”

The conversation stops. They turn to blink at him across the dim room, their faces swirled in a similar look of confusion. “Wait— Where are you going?”

“Next door,” Steve answers, fumbling with the cooler until he can shift it in his hold. The entrance squeaks — a louder sound in the uncanny quiet — when Robin swings it open. “I wanna check on my neighbor.”

You were the first thing that crossed his mind when the lights flickered. Swallowed in darkness, Steve lit a few candles and knew immediately that he’d go to you. He knows you’re alone over there — that you’re alone, and you hate the dark, and that the combination of the two makes you uneasy.

So he’s gonna stay with you until the lights come back on, and hope his friends don’t make him look like a total idiot while he’s doing it.

The emergency lights glow faintly and eerily yellow. Robin and Eddie follow him like lost puppies the short distance down the hall. The latter, blissfully unaware of personal space, leans against Steve’s shoulder like he’s about to tell him a secret. “The pretty neighbor?” the boy croons.

Steve sighs and stops in front of your door. The slightly chipped paint and the crooked numbers on the entryway match his own. He knocks as gently as he can with the toe of his sneaker. “Yes, Eddie. The pretty one,” he answers in a monotone.

“The pretty neighbor you couldn’t shut up about when you were drunk on my couch the other night?” Eddie continues to tease, directly into Steve’s ear, until he’s elbowed half-heartedly away.

The door swings open then. And, truth be told, you were somewhat expecting to see Steve standing there. Lying alone in your bed, trying not to make monsters out of the clothes in the corner, you were girlishly hoping he’d swoop in and save you.

Your heart starts to swell at the sight of him, glowing faintly amber beneath overhead auxiliary lights. Then it gets caught in your throat when you see the two strangers standing just behind him. A pretty girl with a freckled face and a boy with long hair and leftover eyeliner under his eyes.

“There she is,” the one with the wild hair lilts, dropping his head to his shoulder to smile at you.

“Hi,” you greet softly, because it’s muscle memory. Then, when the stranger’s greeting dawns on you— “…What?”

“Nothing. Ignore him,” Steve answers. “Can we come in? I brought booze.”

“Well, how can I say no to that?” you joke with a shy smile. To you, you would’ve said if you were braver. How can I say no to you?

“This is Robin and Eddie, by the way,” he says as he walks into your dimly lit apartment. It’s exactly like his but decorated much more intently — with plants and posters and mood lighting that’d be on under different circumstances. It glows with so many little candles instead, smelling faintly of sage and vanilla.

His two friends follow in behind him — Robin first, with an awkward smile and accompanying wave, and then Eddie, who’s visibly more confident.

Steve laughs. “Sorry. I was kinda in the middle of babysitting before I came over.”

“That’s okay,” you shrug.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Eddie says with a wide grin, holding out his hand to shake yours. He wears chunky, silver rings on all his fingers. “And I mean, a lot.”

You stick a hesitant hand in his warmer one. “Oh,” is all you can think to say.

“All good things. Don’t worry… Great things, actually.”

“That’s… good,” you waver with a forced laugh. Eddie hasn’t yet let go of your hand.

“I’ll be honest— when Steve said you were pretty, I was not expecting you to be this pretty.”

Your mouth falls open and then closes again. Sorta like a fish. You try to come up with something to say but can’t think of exactly what. You thought you were the only one telling all of your friends about the pretty neighbor next door.

“Eddie!” Steve scolds from across the room. He idles in the spot where the living room ends and the kitchen begins. He tries to duck away into the latter, but he wants you to come with him — so he can even be halfway alone with you. “Stop flirting and leave her alone.”

Eddie’s face swirls into an insincere pout. He drops your hand to walk further into the room.

“Oh, please, I was just being nice— don’t get your panties in a wad, Harrington.” He bends down at your coffee table, rifling through the bowl of Starbursts there until he finds a yellow one. It isn’t until he pops it into his mouth that he thinks to ask, “These are for everyone, right?”

You giggle again, much more sincere this time. “Sure.”

“Ooh,” Robin squeals under her breath from where she sits on your couch. She’s grabbing a handful of the pink kind before you can blink.

“Wanna help me with these while those idiots act like vultures?” Steve offers with a soft smile.

You know he doesn’t need help. Or, at the very least, that he could ask Robin and Eddie for it. But he’s asking you now, and you think you know a little bit as to why. At least, you hope you do. You nod at him, anyway. “Sure.”

“Sorry about them,” Steve apologizes when you’re both hidden inside the dark kitchen. He drops the cooler onto the counter, then stretches his aching arms while you light a candle.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile and shake out the match. “They seem really nice.”

“They’re idiots, but they mean well.”

“A little like someone I know.”

Steve meets your quiet smile with a squint. “Stop flirting with me.”

He reaches into the container to grab you a beer from inside it. The entire time, you’re finding the courage to say the words bubbling up in your throat. The five seconds it takes feels like eons and milliseconds at the same time.

“Can I ask you something?” you wonder as he passes you a bottle, the amber glass of it already breaking a sweat.

“Uh-huh.”

Steve uses the hem of his shirt to unscrew the top of his. You idle with yours, letting the cold bottle sting your delicate palm. “Why did you come over?” you ask, and then, when you realize how unkind that sounds, “Not that I’m not thrilled you’re here! I’m always happy to see you! I was hoping you’d come over, actually. I’m just— I’m just curious.”

Steve doesn’t seem to take offense to your words. Instead, the rambling of them makes him smile. “‘Cause I know you don’t like the dark,” he answers with a shrug. “And I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

Again, he only shrugs.

The beer hisses faintly when you unscrew the cap of it. “So you would’ve done it for anyone, then?” you ask him, feigning nonchalance as you take a quick sip from the bottle.

“Hell no,” Steve scoffs.

You swallow and lick your alcohol-slicked lips with wide eyes. “No?”

“If those schmucks in there asked me to bring them free booze ‘cause their power went out, I would laugh in their faces,” Steve confesses, already chuckling at the thought — a golden sound that rivals the orange candlelight.

“I feel special now,” you giggle, hiding it behind the neck of your beer.

“That’s because you are.”

Your face burns hot, like so many orange embers blotching the apples of your cheek. You take a heftier swig of beer. Both to cool your blazing skin and to slow your racing heart.

“And I don’t think I’d be here if it were anybody else,” Steve tells you, raising the lip of his bottle to his mouth. “I like doing nice things for you ‘cause it’s you, you know?”

Your nose scrunches until the edges of your eyes crinkle. “Stop flirting with me,” you tease, parroting his words from earlier.

Steve squints. “Is it that obvious?”

“Drinking booze? In the candlelight? While you tell me pretty things? It couldn’t be more obvious, Steve Harrington.”

“You caught me,” he shrugs and props his elbow on the countertop. He tilts his cheek to his shoulder and flashes you a rosy, lopsided smile. Bathed by candlelight, his eyes glow a more honied shade. “I cut the power to half the city just so I could get you all to myself.”

His tongue swipes along his plush bottom lip. His eyelids get distinctly heavier.

“To yourself and your two best friends?”

You bring him back to reality with seven words. His face twists in offense to them. “Eddie is not my best friend, okay?” he chuckles. “He’s not even in my top ten list of best friends.”

“Don’t be mean,” you giggle, a pretty sound that makes him smile wider.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie calls from the living room. “I have ears, you know? And feelings.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: bug turns one

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divorceconnoisseur · 1 year

Text

There's a beat of silence where they just stare at each other. Eddie's face wavers for a second before he snorts, running his hand down his face. "What are we even doing here, man?"

Steve falters, the inanity of the situation hitting him. "I, uh, I think we're about to actually fistfight over-- over who a bunch of 14-year-olds think is cooler."

Eddie considers that briefly, tapping his fingers against his mouth before nodding. "Yeah, okay, I've heard of worst causes. Dukes up, Harrington, let's go!" Eddie pushes up his sleeves and waves his fists in the air cartoonishly as he starts to circle Steve.

Steve laughs, following Eddie as he goes like a compass drawn north. "Oh yeah, man? To the death, right?"

"Of course. Is there any other kind of fight?" Eddie says, overly serious, and abruptly tackles Steve.

They wrestle for a moment, and it's playful and stupid, but it still takes Steve an embarrassingly short amount of time to get Eddie in a headlock.

"This is just sad, man," Steve teases as Eddie struggles. "Those guns just for show, then?"

"Oh shit oh shit not the hair please, please have mercy O King Steve," Eddie laughs breathlessly.

Steve considers it-- Eddie seems to take as much care in his hair as Steve does, and real respects real-- and in that moment of hesitation, Eddie hooks his leg around Steve's and pulls.

Steve yelps as Eddie cackles, dragging them both down into the grass.

He hits the ground with a choked gasp, breath knocked out of him, and he squints up at the sky, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a grin.

He turns his head to say something to Eddie but loses his breath a second time for a very different reason.

Eddie's still giggling to himself in little fits, winding down, and there's a lightness to him at this moment that Steve's never seen, only heard described by the kids pre-Vecna. Laughter suits Eddie Munson, much better than terror or guilt or seriousness, and Steve's suddenly aware that he would do anything in this moment to keep that surprised look of happiness on his face a second longer.

Eddie catches his eyes and turns his head toward him. He's got grass stuck in his hair, and Steve doesn't think before he reaches over.

It's soft. Softer than he was expecting. He's careful not to catch any of Eddie's hair as he pulls out the grass and ends up lingering longer than he means to, setting a curl back to rights before realizing that this is, like, maybe a little weird.

He jerks back, and the back of his hand brushes Eddie's cheek, which is-- which is--

Warm. Soft, too, but with the rough start to stubble, and the feeling of it lingers against his hand like a brand.

Eddie's eyes, dark and impossibly wide, watch him, quiet for once. He wets his lips before speaking, and Steve's eyes catch on that, too, before darting back up to Eddie's. Which, god, what even was that? Why-- why is he--?

"A draw, then," Eddie says, turning over onto his stomach and kicking up his feet, and the weird atmosphere vanishes like it never was. "You are a worthier opponent than I realized, Steve Harrington."

"Oh yeah?" Steve says, relieved and disappointed. "Well, you're not so bad yourself."

Eddie clicks his tongue and fans himself. "You're too kind."

Steve looks away, tracking the clouds passing overhead. "No, really. I know I haven't exactly been, y'know, the world's best welcoming committee-"

"Was pretty convinced you hated my guts, yup." Eddie agrees, nodding.

"I don't. I never did. You're just--" Steve wracks his brain, trying to fit a word to the squirming feeling in his chest that Eddie inspires. "You're really good, y'know?"

"I... don't know, actually." Eddie's voice goes flat, and when Steve turns back to look at him, he's looking at Steve like he's a live snake, or something else dangerous and close to his vulnerable bits.

"You're good with the kids. Good for the kids, too. God, Will's really opened up since he joined your dumb nerdfest. You're good with and to the girls, too, and Jonathan, and Argyle, and probably anyone else that crosses your path. You are, patently, a good dude."

Eddie's mouth opens and closes, but Steve barrels on, feeling electric and more than a little crazy. "And, and it's just-- I don't know, I just--"

"Harrington, if you're about to tell me you think I'm a better man than you, I will lose it," Eddie interrupts regardless, voice high and reedy. "I know you're being, like, genuine and honest right now, but I will laugh in your goddamn face-"

"No, it's not that."

"Okay, I know this directly contradicts what I just said, but the speed with which you said that... Ouch."

"No," Steve shakes his head, frustrated. "I didn't mean it like that. It's-- it's not a competition."

Eddie's eyebrows leap up. "It's not? I invite you to remember what we've spent the last few weeks on."

"That was just an excuse," He snaps his mouth closed the second the words leave his mouth.

"Excuse?" Eddie repeats slowly.

"I just. I don't know, man. Maybe," he swallows. "Maybe I just couldn't handle the thought of you being good to me."

"... Why not?" Eddie asks, eyes focused on him, open, not judging, and god, this is exactly what Steve was worried about.

Eddie looks at him, and Steve--

Kisses him. Can't really do anything else but kiss him.

And when Eddie, after the longest moment of Steve's life, starts kissing him back? It's like the answer to a question he hadn't realized he'd been asking.

Turns out it's not the kids' attention he'd wanted-- or not just the kids' attention, anyway.

When Eddie pulls back, lips red and wet, eyes dark and focused just on him, Steve knows he's finally won it.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #been sitting on this one for a bit and have finally come to terms with the fact im probably not going to write the rest of it so... here!#i really like this little scene #in my heart it's at the end of a 5+1 fic where steve and eddie do a bunch of very dumb competitions to prove who's cooler to the kids #... enjoy lmao!#writing outputs

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niallsgoldhoop · 3 months

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CHANNING

a harry styles one shot seven thousand words cw - sexual content, alcohol, harsh language, spitting, spanking, choking,

“I can’t believe you almost missed this.” Looking over at me, the dark eyes of my closest friend shine under the overhead lights. “I mean, come on— It’s Harryween.”

Using my pinky to perfect the edge of the color as I look in the mirror, I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Okay well I couldn’t let this costume go to waste.”

“Honestly.” Adjusting the straps of her angel wings, she laughs. “It’s perfect.”

Tucking a lock of wavy copper hair behind my ear, the green foliage sewed to the leather top last minute contrasts against my porcelain skin in the best way.

As soon as the decision was made— the costume just happens to fall into place.

It took me less than a day to buy the ivy from a local craft store along with the needle and thread. Deep in the back of my closet there was a black leather corset, the kind that fastened in a line of delicate hooks up the front, one that pushed my breasts up even higher than normal. Pairing that with the black leather skirt that hit the middle of my thighs seemed like the only option that made sense.

Less than two hours sitting on my couch and watching Succession later and all of the ivy had been sewn into place. After a little maneuvering I even managed to turn the broad, verdant colored leaves to a makeshift garter for each of my thighs.

Standing here in this bathroom and looking at my reflection, the extra ivy twisting from the top of the high topped canvas sneakers on my feet, I can’t help but smile at how good it looks snaking over my toned calves and thick thighs.

Poison Ivy.

“We better get down to the pit before it gets too crazy.” With a wide smile on her face, I laugh along with her as her fingers tangle with mine, pulling me along. “If we’re lucky we can get close to the barricade.”

Staying close behind her, the two of us manage to squeeze through the sea of people, finding a spot in the pit good enough that we would be able to get a decent view.

I’d been to plenty of shows before but it felt like nothing compared to the pit at a Harry Styles show.

Even as the show eventually starts, it’s clear that everyone got the memo to dress up and seeing the man of the hour— I’m so glad this is where I ended up.

The way he looks tonight should be illegal.

The way he’s looking at me?

Criminal.

Up on the stage, I make eye contact with him again as he passes by, my body heating under his gaze for what feels like the millionth time.

“God, he keeps looking at you!” The girl with two boas and a pink cowboy hat next to me says, her eyes wide. ��What the fuck?!”

I feel my lips as they turn into a smirk, raising my eyes back to the stage to see him in front of me again.

Being so close to the barricade was an accident. Somehow, someway we managed to make out way closer and closer as the night went on. Dancing with everyone around us all night has been the best part of the show.

Well… That and seeing Harry dressed in the most delicate and detailed costume.

A clown with the prettiest cream fabrics and lace along with the most perfect moon and stars offsetting the lighter colors with their darkness. Even his cheeks have the rosiest hue— complete with little pearl drops along his cheeks and above his brows.

Nothing too scary, but something just sexy enough.

As he plays the song everyone longs to hear, this time when lyrics roll off of his heart shaped lips in front of me, there’s no mistaking it.

‘And when I sleep, I'm gonna dream of how you —‘

Eyes set on mine, he brings the tip of each finger to his flattened tongue, a tease of how he would certainly be able to please between the sheets.

Rolling my eyes as my best friend grabs my arm, her fingers pressing into the bare skin of my bicep, I find his gaze lingering before he moves on — deciding to entertain the other side of his stage before making his exit.

It feels like the scene of a documentary as the end of the show finally unfolds and people make their way from the stadium, a mass of people all looking for something to get them as high as the feeling Harry Styles gives them.

Laughing on the way out, I give the longest hugs that I can manage before slipping out into the night to find the small bar that has always welcomed me on a night like tonight.

A night when I’m not ready to dream quite yet.

Between the way the city never sleeps and the people out for their own version of tricks and treats, it feels like hours before I find what I’m looking for even if it’s not terribly far away from where I started.

Still dressed in the costume I threw together at the last minute, I don’t even find myself caring much about that. People from all across the city are dressed in various Halloween get ups— making it that much easier to blend in.

Even if the majority of my skin feels like it’s on display.

Smiling as I grip the door handle, it’s the large hand that covers mine that makes my heart race.

The anchor tattoo.

The mermaid.

The cross.

Turning on my heel, the same eyes that looked into mine in front of thirty thousand people trace over my face — over my freckles, over my cheekbones… Over my lips.

“It’s you.” Low and raspy, the accent drips off his lips as they turn into a sinister grin.

Rolling my tongue along the inside of my cheek, I watch his eyes follow the movement as I press through the door and let him follow.

“It’s me.”

The bar is small and dimly lit, the best place to come if you don’t want to be found.

I’ve come here for years, a product of begging to be lost.

Turning my back on him, I make my way to the bar and sit on one of the stools, smiling as the bartender makes his way down to me. I can feel Harry’s presence as he slides onto the stool next to me, his thigh brushing against the skin of my thigh that my skirt doesn’t cover.

“Hey, babe.” Leaning over the bar and kissing my cheek, the familiar face behind the bar places a shot glass on the counter before filling it with tequila and placing a lime along the rim, sliding it to me. “How was your night?”

My face turns towards the man next to me, his features sharper in the low light as he studies me carefully before I look away from him with a shrug. “It was okay.”

A laugh falls from his lips as he leans into me, his lips brushing against my ear. “Okay? Is that all you have to say about me?”

“Maybe it is.” My shoulders lift in a shrug as I turn to face him, reaching for the shot and taking it, watching Harry as his eyes focus on my lips where I taste the lime. “Why? Are your feelings hurt?”

Catching the attention of the person behind the bar, those mossy eyes hold mine as he orders. “Can I please have four shots of tequila?”

“You alright with this guy, Chan?” Looking between the two of us, his eyes narrow in Harry’s direction.

I laugh. “We’re good. You can pull your best friend shit somewhere else.”

Rolling his eyes, he pours the shots out for the two of us. Leaving a small bowl of salt and limes before making his back to the other end of the bar.

“Chan?” Harry’s voice is rich and smooth, just like you always hear about. “Is that short for Chandler?”

I shake my head as I bring my hand up and flatten my tongue before running it across the back of my hand, eyes locked on his. “No, it’s not.”

“Are you going to tell me?” Watching my every move, his green eyes watch as I pinch salt between my fingers and let it fall to my skin.

“Should I?” Once again, I flatten my tongue across the same spot and taste the salt before picking up the small glass of liquor, tipping it back and letting it burn down my throat. “What’s in it for me if I do?”

Tension unlike I’ve ever known settled between us.

Somewhere my brain tells me to be careful, but the reckless part of me says that sometimes things are just meant to happen.

The odds of running into a man like him are practically zero. Yet here I am with flushed skin from the warmth of his proximity.

I reach for the lime but Harry beats me to it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger and pressing the acidic fruit to my bottom lip, eyes begging for me to open for him.

“Suck.”

Wrapping my fingers around his wrist, I flick my tongue across the broad side of the lime before wrapping my lips around it and following the simple instructions.

“So you do know how to listen.” Harry pulls his hand away from me before dropping the fruit back into the empty shot glass.

Tilting my head back, I laugh.

Pressing my hand on his thigh and leaning forward, this time my lips brush against his ear. “I only listen when I feel like it.”

“Hmm.” He hums as he leans back, eyes looking over my body. “Do you feel like listening tonight?”

I shake my head as he reaches for my hand and pulls me in close, his eyes burning through me as his tongue darts out and presses to my skin along my forearm. Holding me in place and using his other hand, he easily sprinkles the salt along my heated skin before flattening his tongue and tasting it.

My breath hitches in my throat as his fingers tip the glass back, taking the lime and holding it out for me. Taking the hint, I bite onto it and lean towards him letting him take it from me with a smug grin on his face. His lips brush against mine for only a moment before he leans away from me, sucking the juice out of the fruit to chase the bitter taste of the liquor. “Come on, tell me your name.”

“I’ll tell you on one condition.” Squeezing his thigh, I brush my lips against the base of his throat, smiling when I feel him swallow thickly.

“And what’s that?” Gripping my chin, Harry tilts my head backwards and grins at me, his notorious bunny teeth biting into his bottom lip.

I roll my tongue along my bottom lip, watching as his eyes drop to my mouth. “You keep staring at my lips like you want them to do something.”

“Yeah?” His grip on my chin tightens. “What if I want to put them to work?”

I lick my bottom lip as my breathing shallows, giving Harry the opportunity to press his thumb into the small bowl of salt and brush it along my bottom lip. “I’d say you talk a lot for someone who hasn’t made a move yet.”

Harry’s eyes darken as he leans in, flicking his tongue along my bottom lip and tasting the salt. Reaching for one of the last two shots that he ordered, I watch as he pours the liquid into his mouth before using his thumb to pull on my bottom lip in a silent request.

Running my tongue along my lower lip and opening my mouth for him, I can’t even be bothered to be surrounded by other people or the sound that comes from the back of my mouth when he spits the liquor onto my waiting tongue.

Grabbing the lime and holding it against the skin of my throat, I’m almost embarrassed by the whimper that falls from my lips when he squeezes the wedge and his warm tongue catches the juice as it rolls down the column of my throat as I swallow.

“That’s right… Swallow for me, pretty girl.”

I can barely register his words before his lips are on mine and I can taste the flavor on his tongue as it finds mine, one of his hands sliding back into the waves at the nape of my neck and the other slipping just under the hem of my skirt and past the dark leaves of my costume.

He kisses me hard and with no abandon, as if he wants nothing more than to devour me. Leaning closer to him and hooking my finger into the waistband of his pants, I moan lightly when his teeth drag across my bottom lip.

“I need to get you alone.” He mumbles, his hand sliding along the inside of my thigh as his fingertips dance across my skin. “Need you on your knees while I watch those lips wrap around me.

I gasp when he drops his lips to my neck, nipping and sucking my skin. “There’s a private bathroom in the office— fuck, down the hall.”

Leaving the last shot, Harry takes my hand and pulls me towards the hallway that leads us in the right direction. With his arms wrapping around my body from behind, once we stop just long enough for me to punch in the code for the keypad I can feel him hard and ready behind me.

“If you don’t hurry, I’m going to take you right fucking here.” Nipping my earlobe, Harry plays with the hem of my skirt as his hand grips my throat and turns my head to the side, giving him more access. “How many ways are you going to let me fuck you, pretty girl?”

“Fuck.” Punching the last number into the keypad, when it beeps twice and I turn the handle, it opens easily.

We barely make it into the room and slam the door before Harry turns on me, pressing my body into the door and pressing his thigh between my legs, pinning me in place.

His mouth is on mine in a messy and hungry kiss all while his hands take their time exploring my body. From my breasts to my ass, not one place goes unnoticed by his skilled hands.

“This fucking costume.” Bringing the skin at the base of my throat between his teeth only to soothe it with his tongue, I shiver when he drags his finger along the top of the ivy, digging behind it enough to trace my skin. “People think that it’s so bright on stage and that I can’t see, but I do — I fucking see everything.”

Kissing under my jaw, his hands work the hooks that line the front of the top, one by one. “Tell me what you saw, Harry.

“You want to know?” Dragging his tongue across the swell of my breasts, I reach up and run my nails across his scalp, making him moan. “I saw you, dressed in this—“ Releasing the last button and letting the top of the corset fall to the floor, Harry cups both of my breasts and squeezes them, pinching each nipple at the same time. “I watched you dance, seeing your perfect ass sway from side to side like you didn’t give a single fuck that I was on that stage.”

Dropping down, Harry runs his tongue across the sensitive peak a moment before taking it between his teeth, pulling back enough to make me gasp. “I didn’t— I was more of a Niall girl—”

“Beautiful and bratty, huh?” His fingers find my throat as I smile, pressing into my skin just enough that my lips part on an exhale from the rush. “The only name that's going to come off your lips tonight is mine.”

“You seem so—.” My thoughts all but disappear when I feel Harry reach down and slip his hand under the tight material of my skirt after tracing the edge of the garter along my thighs.

Taking my nipple back into his mouth and teasing, he pulls back to look at me as his knuckle presses into my clit over the fabric of my underwear. “I seem so what, Chan? You won’t even tell me your name yet here you are — dripping down the inside of your thighs for me.”

“So full of yourself.” I finally get out. “Maybe you really are an arrogant son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

Pushing the fabric aside, Harry doesn’t even pace himself, sliding two fingers deep inside of me and making me cry out as his thumb circles my clit with so much pressure it borders pain. “You have no fucking idea.”

“Harry—“ I moan.

Curling his fingers, I feel like my body is on overdrive as he works an orgasm out of my body quicker than even I’ve been able to do it. . “Come on my fingers for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

Reaching out and gripping his shoulders, I can see the dark evergreen of his eyes just on the rim of his blown out pupils under the lights as his breath comes out shallow, the muscles under his skin flexing as he works me even harder through my orgasm.

Once my body loses all of the tension I tip forward into Harry’s arms with a laugh. “Jesus.”

“Yeah? That good?” He smirks as he wraps my hair around his fist. Once, twice. “Chan, I need to ask you something.”

I nod, my eyes the only things he’s focused on. “Now you want to ask questions?”

“I’m serious.” His nose brushes mine before he places a soft kiss to my lips, a complete contrast to the way he just coaxed a release from my body. “I need to know that if you don’t like something or you want me to stop that you’ll tell me, okay?”

I nod, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, taking my time to enjoy the way his tongue feels moving with mine. “I promise.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes burn into my features looking for any sign of hesitance.

“I’m sure.” Getting impatient, I nip his bottom lip. “Now, are you going to fuck me or stand here and be a gentleman all night? Which one is it?”

“Such a fucking mouth on you.” Flexing his hand in my hair and pulling tighter, there’s no option but for me to sink to my knees as Harry guides me. “I hope you know how to use it for more than just your attitude.”

Sitting back on my heels, I lick my lips. “Only one way to find out.”

“Go on then.” Nodding towards his straining cock beneath the fabric of his pants, he waits for me to undo the button. “Let me watch you choke on my cock so that you can’t talk back to me.”

When my hands finally free him, I whimper at the same time Harry’s groan fills the small office. Leaking with precome, I flick the tip of my tongue to collect the pearly drops.

“Pinch my thigh if it gets to be too much, yeah?” Using his hand that doesn’t still have my hair wrapped around his fist, he cups my jaw and runs his thumb across my cheek as I nod. “Be a good girl and open your mouth for me.”

Taking Harry into my mouth, I wish I could take a picture of how he looks from this angle. His head tilts back as a moan curves around his lips, I swear to god I’ve never seen anything sexier in my entire life. Pushing his hips forward slowly, I hollow my cheeks as I use my tongue to feel every single ridge and vein he has to offer me. My hands rest on his thighs as he drops his head down and meets my gaze.

“I’m going to go harder, is that okay?” With his cock still in my mouth, I nod. “Good fucking girl, good girl.”

Harry pushes his thighs even deeper, groaning at the feeling of his cock sliding down the back of my throat and making the muscles constrict around him from the intrusion. It feels like so much pressure and not enough at the same time as he repeats the action. Tears form in my waterline as I choke over and over, the tears spilling out onto my cheeks.

“See how good you're taking my cock down your pretty little throat?” Sliding his hand from my cheek, I moan around him as his hand rests across my throat. “Fuck, are you going to swallow for me?”

I choke once more, nodding.

“Good.”

It’s one word that precedes his release, one that I make good on my promise and swallow every drop of.

Once Harry pulls back, I take a deep breath and look up to him for only a moment before he pulls me to my feet and spins us around. Lifting me up and sitting me onto the desk, stepping between my legs and tracing his fingers over the edges of the ivy still wrapped around me.

Instantly his lips are on mine, groaning at his own tastes as he reaches between my legs and pushes the material of the leather skirt up, his fingers finding the sensitive nerve at the apex of my thighs as my hips roll forward to meet the friction.

“Are you this wet for me?” Lips ghosting over mine, his fingers find my nipple, pinching. “Do you want a taste?”

“Yes, please.” I say, looking into his eyes as he brings his fingers up, smearing the arousal across my bottom lip before kissing me again.

It’s impossible not to feel crazed as his hands fall to my thighs and push up my skirt, watching as it bunches up around my hips. “Lay back for me.”

Placing his hand in the center of my chest, I fall back onto the desk and whimper when I feel his warm lips leaving lingering kisses along the inside of my thighs.

“Look at you, so willing to let me do whatever I want with you tonight. I don’t even want to unwrap this pretty package you’ve put on for me.” His breath ghost across my center, the anticipation making me feel like I could explode at any minute. “I guess I got lucky— finding you on a night where you want to listen. A night where you want to be told what to do. Am I right?”

Harry doesn’t give the time to formulate an answer, his tongue immediately pressing into my clit before sucking it into his mouth. The action takes me by surprise as my back arches off the desk and my hands search for anything to hold onto.

Dragging patterns across the nerve, I cry out his name as he devours me like he’s never done before. As he releases my clit, his tongue finds my entrance and makes a languid path through my arousal before reaching the place I want him the most.

Up and down.

Side to side.

The stimulation makes my thighs shake as he tugs my hips toward him until my ass hangs off the desk and he pulls my dripping cunt even further into his face.

“Harry, fuck.” My hands flip, nails digging into the wood of the desk no doubt leaving marks. “Right there, fuck. I’ve never— never been so close so fast—“

Pushing myself up to my elbows, I let my head roll back as Harry rolls my clit between his teeth before pulling back, delivering a harsh slap to my outer thigh.

“Do you want to come for me?” Pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee, he raises a brow in my direction and smirks when I nod. “If you want to come for me— if you’re going to scream my name— you’re going to watch me as you do it. You’re going to watch me devour you like my last meal, do you understand?”

I bite my bottom lip and nod, resisting the urge to roll my head back when he immediately finds my clit and brings two fingers to my entrance, pushing them in and finding my g-spot.

“Harry.” His name falls off my lips like a prayer as he keeps his eyes on mine. “Please, please let me come. I need it, I—

I feel it as my body gives into the pleasure Harry so willingly gives.

My back arches, my breast pushing up into the air and not even a sound is able to pour from my mouth. Reaching out to grasp something and knocking a cup of pens onto the floor behind me, I cry out.

“Let everyone know who makes you feel this good.” Standing up, Harry looks down at me as he fists his cock in his hand. “I need to be inside of you right fucking now.”

“Condom?” I ask, still trying to catch my breath.

Harry reaches behind him and grabs his wallet, pulling one out and ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on his length. “Tell me what you want? Hard? Soft?”

“Give me what nobody else can, don’t fucking hold back.” I grit out, feeling him run his cock along my clit. “Prove to me that you can fuck as good as everyone thinks you can.”

Harry smiles down at me only a moment before thrusting his hips forward, burying himself as deep as possible, making me scream out for him. “How’s that for a start? You’re so fucking wet for me.”

“Harry!” I cry. “I need it just like that, so deep.”

Pulling his hips back, Harry leans over to kiss me as he thrusts again, the power behind it pushing the desk forward an inch. “Yeah? You like feeling like this? Feeling so fucking full that you can’t stand it. Fuck, you take my cock so fucking well, so fucking well.”

“You’re so big, shit.” I moan, my head lolling to the side as his hands spread across my waist and grip me before slamming into me. “God. It feels so— so fucking good.”

“You can take it.” Harry moans above me, his eyes going back and forth between my face to where he disappears inside of me, watching as I take every inch of him. “It feels like this was made for me. So tight, so warm.”

“Please, I need more—“

At my words alone, Harry pulls out and pulls me off the desk and turns me around. Pressing his hand between my shoulder blades, he bends me over the desk before pushing my skirt back up around my waist and grips the waistband to hold me in place.

“Is this what you wanted?” Peering at him over my shoulder, I open my mouth on a breathless moan when his hand cracks across the left side of my ass — quickly followed by the right. “Did you need me to fuck you from behind so I could spank you like this? Huh?”

I feel Harry as he slowly pushes his hips forward, filling me. Listening to his moans as they bounce off the walls, my own whimpers mix with the sound. Gripping my hips, he takes his time as he works so slow — each inch more agonizing than the last before his hips press against my ass.

“Are you going soft on me back there?” Looking at him over my shoulder, I smirk when fire flashes behind his eyes. “Is the guy from the bar all of a sudden gone?”

Harry rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek, shaking his head before raising his hand and delivering a harsh slap, one that’s sure to leave his handprint behind.

“I know you fucking like that, don’t you? You’re squeezing my cock like it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.” Fingers digging into my hips, I moan when he pulls me back onto his cock and buries himself even deeper. “Tell me — tell me I'm the best you’ve ever had.”

Gripping the edge of the desk, I try to ground myself as Harry brushes against my g-spot with every single thrust, the pull in the base of my spine getting so strong that I don’t know how much longer I'll be able to hold out.

“I’ve neve been fucked like this.” I cry. “Nobody has ever, ever made me feel so fucking good.”

My eyes roll back as Harry presses his fingers against my clit and works them in time with his trusts, making me push up onto the tips of my toes in search of the release that isn’t far off.

“Like that, oh my god.” Panting, I meet him thrust for thrust as he fucks me harder and harder. “I'm so close.”

“Come on pretty poison girl, soak my cock for me.” Gripping the back of my neck, Harry presses me into the desk and gives me everything he has until my body gives up, releasing around him. “Fuck. you feel so good when you come around me like that. So damn good.”

Slowing his rhythm, Harry sweeps my hair off of my back and leans over me, pressing kisses up the curve of my spine. “Harry.”

“Yes?” His voice is soft as he presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You are incredible.”

“One more.” The words fall from my lips even though I know that I'm so fucked, that I know I won’t last much longer. “I want one more.”

Stopping his movements, I feel Harry chuckle. “You think you can handle me again?”

“I want to see you.” I say, my eyes darting toward the door of the bathroom. “Let me watch you come undone over me.”

Harry grins as he pulls out, the loss of him more than I expected. “I never would have guessed the woman in the crowd would be able to fuck me so well.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate people, Harry.” I walk in front of him, listening to the way he moans when he sees my own release dripping down the inside of my thighs. “Do you like what you see?”

“Fuck.” Running his hand through his curls. He looks freshly fucked and I can’t wait to finish him. “Let me see you.”

Stepping into the bathroom and turning on the light, the sleek and modern design is perfect. Turning, Harry steps close and finds my lips with his, taking his time to kiss me as his hands once again wander my body.

When he takes my nipple into his mouth, I let my head tilt back. “Come on. Give me what I want.”

“So fucking needy.” Harry responds, turning me around and pinning me against the counter. “Bend over, you pretty slut.” Pressing my ass out and shaking it from side to side, I cry out when Harry strikes his palm across each cheek. “How many?”

The tone in his voice makes me moan. “Fuck.”

“I said—“ Cracking down his palm again, he steps up behind me, pushing just his tip inside of my throbbing center. “How many.”

“Until you think I’ve had enough.”

I arch my back when he thrusts forward, his hand connecting with my ass even harder. “What if I never get enough. huh?”

“Harry—“

“What if I'm starting to think one night isn’t enough for me?” He thrusts so deep and I’m so sensitive that it feels so good, I clench around him. “Fuck, when you grip my cock like that I never want to leave — I could fuck you all damn night.”

I moan as I meet his gaze in the mirror, looking at the tattoos on his arms as he slides his hands up my back, gripping my shoulders and pulling me back onto his cock. “Don’t say that.”

“What? Don’t say that I want you?” Bringing his palm against my skin, his gaze locks on mine. “This— fuck, this isn’t normal.”

“What?” I ask, biting my bottom lip and letting my head fall forward. “What isn’t—”

“Feeling like this after one night.” Thrusting into me so hard that I scream, I feel tears in my eyes over the way my body feels ready to give into him again. “I’ve never had sex like this, never fucked anyone this good.”

I let my head fall to the side as my cheek presses against the cool counter, the sound of our bodies meeting echoing through the small room. “That’s because you've never been with someone like me before.”

“Fuck—“ Harry is relentless as he searches for his release. “I need you to come for me again, please.”

Begging me, his eyes are hazy as he looks at me, gaze looking with mine until with one thrust, my body shatters around his. “Harry!”

“Oh, shit—“

I watch as his head rolls back and his body stills for just a moment before his hips slowly guide in and out of me, riding us through the orgasms we’ve given each other.

“There you go, pretty girl.” Running his hands up and down my back. I take a deep breath. “You’re so fucking good. So good, Chan.”

I take a deep breath as I try to center myself. “Harry, that was—“

Resting his forehead between my shoulder blades, his warm breath skates across my skin. “I didn’t know it would be like that when I saw you tonight, the woman dressed with ivy across her body— that the vines would wrap around me and pull me in.”

“I don’t know why you’re the surprised one.” I say, wetting my lips. “You’re the one that showed up here. How?”

Harry pulls out, a whimper falling from my lips at the loss of him. “I don’t know… I wanted to get a drink somewhere where I wouldn’t feel like Harry Styles — I wanted to go somewhere small and local.”

“And you ended up here?” I ask, looking up at him from under my lashes.

Grabbing a hand towel, Harry presses a kiss to my temple before running it under warm water and hoisting me onto the counter, laughing as I wince.

“I ended up here.” He smiles as he reaches his hand between my legs, kissing me when I gasp as he runs the warm cloth over my sensitive clit.

We both look at each other and it’s almost like Harry can’t help it when he leans down to kiss me, taking his time as his hands come up to cup my cheeks.

“Let’s get you dressed, okay?” He speaks the words against my lips but makes no move to let me off the counter to grab my top. “Maybe in a few minutes.”

I laugh. “Come on, we have to get out of here before someone comes in.”

“I hope they do.” kissing down the side of my neck, Harry rests his forehead against my collarbone. “I need everyone to know I was with you — that you’ve been fucked you harder than you ever have in your life.”

Resting my hand in the middle of his chest, I push him backwards and hop off the counter on shaky legs, Harry laughing as he rests his hands on my hips to guide me back into the office.

“Here, let me help you.” It’s a sweet gesture to see a man like him help me back into my top, watching as he uses all of his concentration to make sure every hook gets fastened properly while he doesn’t disturb the leaves.

“Thank you… For tonight.” I say, looking over his features. “I really had a good time.”

Harry smiles and brushes a lock of hair from off my face. “I did too.”

I give him one last smile, reaching for the door handle.

Before I turn it, Harry reaches for my hand, turning me and pressing me into the door one last time, finding my lips with his own.

Unlike most of the kisses tonight, this one is so slow, so gentle.

“I know I'm asking a lot, but I need to be able to see you again — I don't know what my brain is doing to me, but I just know that I need it.” The look in his eyes is so full of hope, so soft. “I’ll understand if you say no.”

“Here.” I hold my hand out, hoping he gets the hint.

When he does, he takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over. I easily put my name and number in before giving it back to him, watching his lips curl up with a grin.

“Channing?” Looking from his phone to me, I smile as my hand grips the doorknob and finally push it open.

I wink at him as I step out into the hall. “It’s me.”

He steps forward and grips my hip one last time. bringing his lips down to mine.

“It’s you.”

💖

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