#or it fits but just barely and only certain days of the month

[hyper-pregnancy-lover]

Something I was dreaming about the other day:

I'm a struggling art student and my art teacher offers me a job to model for an art class he does outside of the university. He mentions this class does better with their art when they have a live model, and I would be perfect, just need a "small" change, but I would be paid very well, offering me a number that had more zeros than I had seen my entire life.

Without hesitation, I agreed and then asked what the change was. Thinking it was something small like a haircut. I was told to meet him at an address in a week and he would explain there. I try googling the address but just see what looks like some old warehouse, but whatever the pay makes up for it.

So a week goes by and I drive to this place. Still not concerned because the check has me blind. Much to my surprise when I walk in it's like a whole medical lab is there! The outside is truly just a facade. My art teacher casually explains the people here are developing ways to make various kinks on demand for porn, and porn is art, as well as allowing models to fit certain criteria for more traditional art.

He continues to tell me I will be testing a pregnancy on-demand option, that fills my womb with eggs that house "dolls", that rapidly expand until they are the size of a proper baby. While in this state I would model for painting and make a few spicy artistic films. I was perfect for this because I was already blessed with a curvy body, my boobs already bigger than basketballs, and my ass only a little smaller. My hips were thick and fat, so I just needed that baby bump.

I hesitated only a moment before agreeing, also curious how this would work. I strip down and lay naked on this table while my teacher and this doctor speak, I can't hear but my teacher looks so pleased.

When the doctor is ready, I feel something huge push into my pussy. Stretching me wide until it pushes against my cervix. I was managing to control my moaning, but as soon as I feel the growing pressure of the doctor pushing against my cervix I can't help my cry out in pleasure then I feel something thick and heavy pouring into my womb, filling it so fast I started to bloat looking months pregnant in minutes.

I hear the doctor quietly tell my professor that seems to be enough, but my professor tells him to keep going. That I can handle more. I don't speak up, feeling this full had me seeing stars. Moaning uncontrollably as my womb got fuller and my belly grew. I kept rubbing my swollen middle, cummining on what was ever filling me. I easily looked full term with healthy twins when I heard my professor say good.

I'm panting and heaving from cumming so much. The doctor walks away with my professor to talk while a nurse cleans me up and offers some clothes to wear home as what I wore here won't fit. I feel my breasts feeling full and heavy like my bra was getting too small too.

The nurse hums as and starts removing my top and bra, as if she knew. A hand of hers stroking my seed bloated belly. Almost like she was marveling it. Her hand slipping down to my wet bare pussy. Stroking it gently, teasing me while the pressure in my breasts grew. I don't notice it at first, still in bliss of my womb being full, that my boobs were swelling.

The nurse slides two fingers into my pussy, cooing she is doing a post procedure checkup. I whimper softly as she wiggles her fingers around inside me. I notice how big my boobs are getting when my feel my nipples swell and ache from the growing pressure. The nurse locks her lips and says I'm primed for the coming months, and she's going to happily get my breasts going.

In a dizzying haze of arousal I moan an okay rubbing my swelling boobs. Her lips lock onto a nipple and I cry out deliriously feeling milk leak from my engorged nipple and my pussy walls clenching on her fingers, as I cum again. She suckles on that nipple as she slips another finger in as her thumb works my clit. I can't stop cumming as she finger fucks me and gets both my boobs leaking milk.

When she's satisfied and I'm a mewling mess I am actually cleaned up and given a skin thigh body condition dress to wear home, saying they want me to show off their handy work.

I forget in my daze to ask what my professor and the doctor left to talk about, just blissed out of my head stroking my belly and fondling my massive boobs. Already a size larger.

As the weeks go by my belly swells and my boobs keep filling with milk. My hips getting wider and my ass fatter. I have nine months to go and I am waddling slowly only three months in! I can't stand on my own. After art class my professor loves me to stay so he can rub my growing belly and milk my massive tits before railing me against his desk as beg for it, because this feeling of being this pregnant has my brain in a constant hungry fog of lust.

When it gets close to me not being able to walk, he has me come stay with him. Only five months in, I can't walk anymore, but he says I need a little more time before the art can be made. He wants the best for this class. He takes care of me, spoiling me as he has his way with my helpless form. I love it so much. Feeling the dolls get bigger and bigger.

Time passes but I don't know how long it's been, only that I'm so gigantic my belly and boobs block my vision. The dolls are resting so low my pussy constantly aches to be spread. All I can think about if getting fucked, bigger and birthing these dolls. In a moment of clarity I over hear my professor say I'm almost ready after being pregnant for just over a year!

My brain fogs as my huge swollen nipples start getting milked from the machine I'm hooked up too. When I come too I am somehow in a large room, on display for a group of 10 or so men. My professor smiles at me walking over, rubbing my titanic belly and boobs before cooing it's time and I feel my water break. I moan and whimper feeling those men take turns fucking me and milking me as the massive dolls try to move through my tight birth canal. None of them drawing me like you said.

Hours and hours of pushing and getting my pussy stretched non-stop by these men before one doll crowns. My pussy burns but I love it. I push and push, as it slowly moves out of me. And I swear I hear crying. Then I'm fucked for hours more before the next and again. Each time I swearing I hear a baby, like a real one. More keep coming and I keep pushing and getting fucked and milked. I lose count on how many or how long this went on. I'm panting and mewling when it's over.

My professor telling them if they get more backers he will let me carry more next time. And make sure the babies are fatter too. Just get him more random fertilized eggs, and if someone pays more he will let them have one of my eggs fertilized with their seed.

When he's done negotiating, he walks over to me, dazed and still moaning. He takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks on it, drinking my milk for a bit before pulling away, "Oh the porn and streams of you I'm going to do, while selling your womb's space. I wonder how far we can go until you're in danger of popping?"

#hyper belly #hyper pregnancy #pregnancy kink #hyperbreeding #hyperpregnancy #pregnancykink #bunny's desires #hyper pregnant #belly expansion #hyper breeding

[ozzgin]

The wonderful wizard Ozz. I have had this concept stuck in my head like a worm!

Could you imagine a Darling escaping from their Yan, not to run but just to feel the rain on their skin? I've been consuming this prompt like a heroin addict and I can't seem to get enough!

If I were to expand your prompt, I quite like the idea of a Yandere that can't really go full yandere because Reader is just too willing. He loves yandere content and can very much relate, but none of the escalations can happen if, well, the object of his obsessive affection doesn't protest in the first place. Is it too far fetched from what you'd imagined? Let me elaborate:

Yandere! Male x Willing! Reader

AKA: When you want to be a Yandere, but your Darling unfortunately cooperates.

The Yandere has been stalking Darling for months. Journal entries, walls plastered with photos (and the occasional creepshots), recordings. He just can't get enough of his Darling. He loves everything about you and can barely function throughout the day, fantasizing about your life together.

Enough is enough and he finally decides to make you his. He's been consuming media of similar tropes, with obsessed men pleading for a chance and having to force their way in because of rejection and fear. He's prepared for everything. Your tears, your trembling voice, your hands pushing him away. He finds you, approaches you and confesses his feelings, knuckles white as he grips his fists in anticipation. Your eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing in a smile. "I had no idea! Sure, I'll go out with you." Huh? Wait. This wasn't...this wasn't in the plan. Somehow he'd been certain you'd refuse. He must've mumbled the last part out loud, because you respond with "Why would I say no?"

A very good point indeed. You will change your mind, however, once you learn the extent of his love. You're holding his hand and following along as he takes you to his place, completely and utterly unaware of what you're about to witness. He can't truly be your boyfriend if he has to hide his very nature, after all. You might be disgusted, frightened, offended. He can already hear your screams, demanding explanations. It's all out of love. "It's okay if you don't understand", he mumbles to himself, watching your frozen body as you gaze into his room. You take a couple of steps towards the nearest wall, tracing the hundreds of images with your fingers. "Wow. You never mentioned being into photography", you remark, impressed. "It's like an exhibition! But...you might have to work on your angles", you blurt out, a little embarrassed, pointing to one of the creepshots. "This isn't very flattering. Did you take it in a hurry? It makes my legs look disproportionate." He can only stare, taken aback. "S-sorry" is all he manages.

Okay, but don't imagine your life will continue as usual. You've only seen a glimpse of his adoration. Now that you're officially dating, he cannot allow anyone else to have access to you. You have to understand, he cannot protect you properly if you're not under his watch all the time. As much as he cherishes you, he will have to be rough if needed. That's what he tells himself as he shoves the required tools in the trunk of his car, speeding towards your apartment. Once there, he fidgets on the sofa, considering his speech. You seem to be just as uneasy - perhaps you're predicting what's to come? - casting your eyes down and giving short answers. "I think you should move in with me." He states solemnly. You gasp and throw a hand over your mouth, and tears quickly well in the corner of your eyes. "How did you...how did you know?" You say between sobs. Huh? "I didn't want to burden you with my problems, seeing as we just started dating...but my landlord won't renew the lease. I was so scared I'd be homeless."

He clicks his tongue. This isn't very yandere, more like the average couple experience. You bring the final moving box to his car, fitting it in the trunk. "By the way, what's with all the rope?" you ask. "Just move it aside", he sighs. How can he explain it? He's been training, sweating and bleeding for a marathon and right before the whistle, they handed him the first prize. His muscles are aching for the sprint that never happened. Of course he's grateful to have you at last, but somehow he feels like he hasn't proven his dedication properly. You just don't get it, do you? How sickening his love is for you.

As the days pass, he eases into his role of...how does one even call it? Pseudo-captor? When you found his journal, you blushed and confessed how no one before him put this amount of effort into knowing you. All the male contacts from your phone vanishing? It was about time you cleaned up your acquaintances and it was nice of him to help. The AirTags he's hidden in your bags and pockets? You appreciate his safety concerns. Nowadays, with all these perverts freely walking the streets, you can never be too sure.

One morning he wakes up to an empty bed. He jolts up, dazed. Could it be his wish was finally granted? You must've gotten tired of him and tried to escape. Oh, silly little Darling love. You should've known there's no more walking out once you said yes. He checks his phone and pounces out, ready for the hunt. As he sprints along the street, he finds you suspiciously close to his home. Not very smart of you to...what are you even doing? Your hands are raised up, fingers fanned out under the pouring rain. You notice his presence and turn to face him with a wide, childish grin. "I haven't done this since I was a child. When was the last time you felt the rain on your skin?" Only now it occurs to him he's been running in this downpour and his clothes are soaked. He was too focused on finding you.

"I thought you escaped", he almost whispers. "Escape? From what?" You tilt your head in confusion. He places his cold, large hands over your cheeks. "Do you comprehend I'm very much obsessed with you? I'm not joking around. You're never, ever leaving me. You're stuck here forever. I mean it. I really do. I'd rather kill you with my own hands than let you go. Because I love you." You take a moment to admire the intricate patterns of his irises, pupils dilated in a spiraling madness. By the end of his erratic oration, he's panting and digging his nails into your skin.

"I know."

#yet another parody I'm so sorry #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere obsession #obsessive love #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Secretly Mine

Summary: Spencer and Reader have been seeing each other for a while without the team's knowledge

Category: Fluff

Couple: Spencer/BAU Fem!Reader

Content warnings: None

Word count: 1.5k

Eight months have passed since your arrival at the BAU. You’re an integral part of the team. Hotch has been sure to let you know. You’ve stood out with your eye for detail at certain crime scenes, outshining even some of the team’s more seasoned members. Luckily, the academy’s rumors about the Quantico team’s bond have rang true time and time again, so competition and jealousy never became an issue. It only made them respect you and even open up to you.

One person who has particularly opened up to you is the genius of the group, Spencer Reid. The secret you learned: he’s a gentle kisser. Almost childishly chaste, but nothing seemed more fitting for his personality. What was surprising was the setting of your first kiss.

New York City police invited the team to investigate the terrorist cell killing random people across the city. Their attacks grew more volatile by the time you all arrived, placing bombs on government vehicles. One of these bombs hurt Hotch, and SSA Joyner did not survive the same blast. The results could have been worse, considering.

Your team faced the problem of uncertainty regarding who (if anyone) had been injured at that moment. Spencer was with Rossi at the police station while the rest of you were on the ground. That damn terrorist organization interfered with signals and transmissions all the time, and this was no different. You, by your luck, were the most difficult to get in contact with, despite being safe at Federal Plaza. You met with the team when it was safe to do so and all targeted areas were cleared. Most of you sighed in relief. Garcia even held your face, as if to make sure you were real, alive and, breathing.

Spencer held your face too, but not in the same way. You both took refuge by the water cooler, surprisingly where no one was present in a once-crowded New York City police station. You talked about what happened, Hotch’s current condition, and how long to expect these nerves to last. Your nerves didn’t settle, though, when Spencer’s knuckles brushed your cheek as he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You didn’t blame these nerves, though, when you leaned into the touch, looking up at him with a smile. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Spencer was cute, obviously, but workplace relationships are highly unprofessional and even a liability, if the case they just survived wasn’t enough proof of that. You’d think (well, you knew actually) Spencer of all people would know this. He knows everything. When you had a case in Baltimore involving the Ravens, he told you their name came from Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous poem. Then he explained the detailed theories surrounding his untimely death. Spencer believes it has something to do with cooping, whatever that means, you dared not to ask. There’s nothing he doesn’t consider.

So, Spencer must have considered all the odds of professional behavior in that moment by the water cooler since his lips delicately brushed yours. It was barely a kiss at first, until he leaned in for another, to where you could feel the warmth of his mouth and felt that he could do with some lip exfoliant. The last part you didn’t care about because it was practically over before it began. Neither of you said anything about it. Instead, you stayed there for a while, not touching or talking. Then Morgan told the team to pack up and get ready to go home.

Throughout the past month, you and Spencer have shared many kissing sessions. Not at work, though, because you both still have some sense. Kissing Spencer, though, tends to not leave you with much sense. His gentleness is not a front. His touches are tender and he’s never pushed you beyond your limits. It’s a good thing then that he’s a gentleman, so he earned kisses through dinners, movies, and day trips. It was something to look forward to in between grueling cases.

And it wasn’t even off work when Spencer would bring joy to you. There was a case recently in North Carolina that shook you more than you cared to admit. You didn’t want to mention what specifically, as it’s something you haven’t spoken about in a long time, but the team picked up on it quickly. They checked on you and even asked if you needed to sit out. You powered through and came to a satisfactory (for lack of a better word) conclusion. Afterward, Spencer invited you to ice cream. It was a welcoming change of scenery, despite the ice cream place being called Jack the Dipper. It was hilariously fitting, so it really wasn’t an issue. Spencer didn’t ask about what happened or what made you feel so disturbed. Throughout the night, he just made sure to ask if you were okay.

You haven’t been okay for a while. Not because of that case, but because it’s been three months now and you are still running around with Spencer without the team’s knowledge. The team might feel cheated (and Hotch might be pissed) because they are not aware of this information, but the uneasiness of all this was starting to settle in. The fear, the worry that this might just be all for nothing. Outside of the office, he shows that he cares. He knows things about you that you haven't revealed in some time. And apparently he has done the same. Bruises from harsh kisses around your bodies linger under work clothes from a weekend in, and the team has been none the wiser. And you’re not sure if you’re as okay with it as you thought you were.

The team went out to the bar on a Thursday, celebrating a government holiday the night before (i.e. a three-day weekend). The team took shots, bet money, threw darts, and Emily ended up with the most by closing. You would’ve coughed up more cash throughout the night if you were confident in your bets.

Spencer barely looked at you. Didn’t brush your hand or even stand near you for too long, like you had the plague or whatever Poe died from. It didn’t help the feeling in your core, and neither did the walk home. Morgan drove Garcia home, Hotch with Rossi, and J.J. with Emily. And of course, Spencer with you. When J.J. drove away after boasting about avoiding a ticket on an expired meter, Spencer didn’t hesitate to reach for your hand. It was nice, and as the weather grew colder, it was a welcomed warmth. But how could it not feel at least a little sour?

His apartment wasn’t far from here, so you walked. Your hands were laced the entire time, but he didn’t breathe a word and you couldn’t tell if that should make you feel better or worse.

It wasn’t until you climbed the steps to his door that he asked, “Are you staying the night?”

You swallowed. Unlike Emily, Garcia, and Rossi, you were on the side of tipsy rather than in dire need of a toilet to bury your head into. “Sure.” You said. “If you want me to.”

“Yeah,” He said, fiddling with his key and lock. “Of course I want you to.”

He finally opens the door and turns on the living room light. You barely had time to put your purse down before his lips were on yours. They were still chapped like the first time, except you could forgive that because of the growing cold outside. His hands hold your waist, they creep to your back. You couldn’t help but lean in, away from the door he pressed you into. It was when Spencer moaned in your mouth that you broke away. Catching your breath, you try putting together a sentence. But breathing is difficult right now for both of you. Spencer’s eyes are lazy and his breath still lingers with a scent of the mint gum he spit out when he showed up to the bar.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you think it’s the start to an actual apology. “I was trying to stay patient.” He kisses you again, softly. And you kiss him back still. He moans again. “I want you.”

You swallow again. Your throat is so dry. “Spencer, I—”

“I want to tell them.” He interrupts.

You blink, it quickens as you take in the words. “What?”

His hands cup your face. He brushes the messy bangs from your forehead. “I want to tell them. About this. About us. I just…” He trails off. That is not something you’re used to seeing. “I want more time with you.”

As Spencer’s words sank in, you felt a mix of apprehension and longing, wondering just what could go wrong. A lot, in fact. But you have to believe he’s being honest. Why wouldn’t he be?

And with a soft smile, you reached for his hand and met his gaze. “I want that too,” you said, feeling the weight of it finally being lifted off your chest. “I’ve wanted that for a while.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you about it earlier. I was being selfish.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But I would. Because it’s true. But that changes now.” The look on his face, the fully sober look on his face. He’s all in. “I will tell them you’re my girlfriend.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminalminds #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds drabble

[alastorss]

a/n: hihi @bri22222 !! tumblr for some reason ate your ask in my inbox but here is the cat demon!reader taking care of sick alastor request you sent <3 i hope you like it!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You had taken it upon yourself to become Alastor's own personal nurse when he got sick, despite his outspoken displeasure in being babied.

He was an Overlord, for god's sake, and one of the most feared at that. There was a certain irritation in him when you would show up to his room (which didn't even have a bed in it until he fell ill and you decided to push one in yourself, much to his dismay).

You'd sport all kinds of goods; warm jambalaya, his own mother's recipe, that he would deny even though he was itching to eat it. Some cough drops that tasted horribly of sickly sweet honey and lemon. Fresh boxes of tissues since he was going through them faster than you could imagine.

The worst of them all was when you would show up at the foot of his bed with little rodents, eyes wide and expectant for praise that would never come. Then you'd settle in his bed, curled up in his lap like you owned the place, and fall asleep.

While the warmth was nice, which he would never admit, and he liked the feeling of his hand smoothing down the hair between your set of drooping feline ears, he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

"You know," he starts one day when you sit at the edge of his bed, straightening out the duvet as you do. "I do wish you would stop fretting over me."

"You're sick," you deadpan. "And you took care of me when I was sick. At least let me return the favour."

He grimaces, remembering how miserable you looked when you caught a nasty flu a few months ago. Who knew cats were so pitiful when sick?

"Really, dear, it's fine! I was just helping a friend."

You frown, unconvinced. "And I'm just helping you back! Come on, you can barely go downstairs to get food by yourself."

"I'm perfectly fine!" He mutters between his grit teeth, smiling bordering on baring his fangs at you. Unfortunately, he doesn't do a very good job at intimidating you. Not after you've already seen his soft side of clinging to you like you're his personal heater.

Of course, his cursed demon body decides to betray him at that exact moment and he falls into a coughing fit, sputtering as he rakes in sharp breaths of air.

You're quick to climb over the bed to him, straddling his lap and forcing him to drink from his glass of water. He glares at you but drinks without refusal.

Alastor is the Radio Demon. Owner of souls. Entertainer extraordinaire. Yet here he is, taken down by a pathetic fever and being coddled by his favourite feline.

He carefully pinches your tail to get you to pull away from him, yelping in the process. "I'm fine," he hisses. "I don't need your help. I don't need to be taken care of!"

Your ears flatten against your head at his tone and you scramble off of his lap, cowering like a wounded animal.

For a moment he feels a flash of remorse, or whatever feeling has replaced what would be guilt in that black heart of his. He even considers opening his mouth to say something more reassuring. But then you scurry out of the room and slam the door behind you. His ears ring from the echo of it, then deathly silence follows.

Alastor reaches over to drink from his water glass on his own, only to realize it was knocked over in the commotion.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

He counts the days that pass, subconsciously or not, and feels his smile shrinking by each daylight.

Sure, he was quick to temper, but he had never lashed out at you before. It's an awful feeling that sinks into his stomach, making him dread what's to come when he fully recovers.

Worst of all, he was wrong. He does need your help.

It was peaceful at first and he enjoyed the silence that came without your company. However, he hadn't realized how accustomed he had grown to your ambient presence.

How had he never realized you were so loud when you made your entrances, or that you purred ever so slightly when he scratched just behind your ears? And was he really so weak that he was thinking of apologizing? He can't stand the idea that he may have frightened or hurt you.

It used to be so easy for him to sit with his own thoughts. Nowadays it's hard without getting to hear about your day or getting to fluster you with his incessant teasing.

He's cold, too. He would gladly let you fetch him a hundred rodents if it meant getting to hold onto you in his sick state.

On the fifth day, he decides he's had enough. The demon doesn't even bother knocking, instead opting to materialize from the shadows and jumpscare you from behind.

"I'm..." he seethes through his teeth, eyes thin and twitching.

You tilt your head at him curiously, prickled hairs flattening back down as confusion replaces your adrenaline. "You... what?"

"I'm sorry," he finally manages to get out, though it comes strained and awkward. Still, he swallows his pride and avoids your eyes while he continues. "I was wrong."

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, intrigued by the sight of such a powerful Overlord trying to do something as uncharacteristic as apologize. In the end, you can't contain your laughter.

He glowers at you as you topple over in your bed in a fit of giggles, wiping away the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, you sap. Come here!" You sit up and open your arms wide, a big, cheeky (and smug) grin spreading across your face.

Grumbling, Alastor shuffles into your bed and collapses into you, effectively crushing you under him. You don't seem to care, arms tugging him closer and tail brushing over his body.

"You missed me that much?"

"One more word out of you and I am leaving."

"Aww, so that's a yes?"

The Radio Demon only sighs, heavy eyes drifting shut in your warmth.

"Don't get it twisted, dearest. I will not be thanking you for putting rats in my sheets every morning."

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria (send an ask to be added!)

#🍓 faye's thoughts <3 #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fluff #alastor headcanons #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin fic #alastor fic #radio demon #radio demon x reader

[keresnotceres]

Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #fem reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x female reader #cod fic #mw2 fic #mw2 x you #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut

[sluttywoozi]

Something In The Midnight Hours

Rating: T | WC: ~ 4.0k | Pairing: Lee Chan x F!Reader | Genre: besties to lovers, fake relationship, rom com, fluff

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend at my New Year’s Eve work party.”

“There better be an open bar. And I’m not kissing you at midnight.”

“Deal.”

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, kissing

Lee Chan is fucked. 

That’s the only way to describe his current situation. He’s fucked.

Royally, epically, astronomically. 

All because of one offhand comment he made six months ago about you being his girlfriend, back when he was still trying to fit into the company. 

Now here he is on his couch, staring at the email invite to the New Year’s Eve party and trying not to freak out, his eyes glued to the subject line. 

BRING HER OR YOU’RE FIRED (JK (OR ARE WE))

He sets his phone down on the coffee table and covers his face with his hands, his palms pressing into his eyes to stave off the growing headache as he goes over options in his head. 

1. He says you broke up.

This is obviously the worst option, both because the thought of you not being around makes him tear up and because then he’d have to stop talking about you, which is virtually impossible for him.

2. He goes and doesn’t bring you. 

This is the second worst option as it would open him up to relentless teasing and might also result in his expulsion from the company, neither of which he would like to happen. 

3. He begs you to pretend to be his girlfriend and you go together.

This is the craziest option, but it’s also the most viable. Sure, you’ve been best friends since you were kids, and sure, he’s almost certain you’re not into him like that, and sure, you’re a terrible liar, but all of that can be overcome! Right? 

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend at my New Year’s Eve work party.”

You stare at him blankly, your face unreadable for once, as he explains the situation. You haven’t stopped him at all and it’s like he can’t stop talking, the words just flowing out of him like water through a strainer. 

“Everyone had a partner, literally everyone, and I was as single as could be, so when Wonwoo asked who my lockscreen was, I might have said you were my girlfriend. And I might have updated my desktop to be a picture of us together at that carnival last year. And I might have continued to lie about it every day since.”

You nod slowly, your eyes narrowed at him in skepticism, before tilting your head and saying, “And telling the truth is out of the question because…?”

“Because they would roast me alive,” he scream-whispers dramatically, imploring you with his eyes to understand his plight. 

“They would, wouldn’t they?” You murmur pensively, fully knowledgeable of how often he’s under fire just for being the youngest in the office. 

He nods emphatically, latching onto your kind, protective side and hoping it’ll carry him through this. 

“They would be so mean to me, Y/n. Please don’t let that happen,” he hates being manipulative but at least he knows you can see right through it, your years of friendship making you familiar with all his tricks. 

“Ugh! Fine!” You throw your hands up and roll your eyes, stifling your smile when he hollers in grateful joy and tugs you into his arms. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“There better be an open bar. And I’m not kissing you at midnight.”

“Deal.”

It hits him when the uber is on the way to the hotel, what he’s gotten himself (and you) into. Not only is this the first merging of his work life and social life, but you and him will have to pretend to be a couple until the party is over. 

You’ll probably have to hold hands and smile at each other lovingly and, fuck, you’ll have to disappear before midnight because you already said he can’t kiss you and it’ll be suspicious as all hell if he doesn’t lay one on you when the ball drops. Even worse, you’re barely even affectionate as best friends - you don’t cuddle, you don’t hug, you even sit at opposite ends of the couch for movie night. 

He doesn’t know why, all he knows is that it’s been this way since you first met. The most you ever touch him is to ruffle then fix his hair, or pat him on the back when he’s sad, or pinch his cheek and call him a baby even though you’re only seven months older than him. It’ll be awkward to have so much physical contact with you, to interact with you like a boyfriend does. 

He’s a little… excited, though. It’s exciting to think about all of the guys finally meeting you after six months of him telling story after story. It’s exciting to go to his first ever corporate party, and to have you experience it with him. It’s exciting to think about how the two of you will take full advantage of the open bar and likely giggle yourselves to death in some closet as the clock strikes midnight. 

He can’t tell how you’re feeling beyond knowing you’re nervous. You keep playing with the hem of your dress, and you’ve been looking out the window this whole time, and you haven’t talked much since you got in the car, though he’s made multiple attempts to draw you into a conversation. He decides to make one more, hoping that he can distract you and help you relax before the car pulls up to the hotel. 

“I really like this dress on you. I don’t think I’ve seen it before, is it new?”

You turn to him, your lips quirking in a smile as you smooth your hands over the champagne silk. 

“It is! it’s been a while since I got something nice so I decided to splurge for the party.”

“You bought it for this?” He asks almost incredulously, endeared and grateful you wanted to put so much effort in. You don’t often buy new things as you’re saving up to put a down payment on a house, and before the night is over, he swears he’ll find out how much it costs and send you the full amount. 

“Yeah? I wanted to look nice to meet all your colleagues,” you respond quietly, shrinking under your seatbelt as if you’re self conscious. 

“And you do! You look beautiful,” he scrambles to dispel your anxiety, kicking himself for accidentally bringing attention to something you’re seemingly shy about. You smile brightly and straighten up, replying, “You look good too, I don’t remember this suit.”

“It’s a rental,” he confesses. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“So I can’t go up to one of your coworkers and say, ‘Hi, I’m Chan’s girlfriend, his suit is rented’? Darn.”

He’s too focused on you saying you’re his girlfriend to hear anything else, an unfamiliar fluttering starting up in his belly as he replays the words in his head. He hates to admit it, but he kind of likes the sound of them coming out of your mouth. 

He gathers himself enough to respond, “You can say the first part but not the second.”

“Ahhh, so just, ‘Hi, I’m Chan’s girlfriend,’ then?” You quip back, grinning at him teasingly and reaching up to pinch his cheek. His hand catches yours before you get that far, and while he’d normally let go, he decides to keep holding on, tangling your fingers together and bringing your hand up to press a kiss to the back. 

“What’s that for?” You ask shakily, your eyes darting between his face and your entwined hands. 

“Practice,” he says innocently, fully aware that he’s freaking you out and loving it. 

The uber pulls up to the hotel before you can answer, and Chan thanks them before rushing to get out of the car and running around it to open your door and offer you his arm. You climb out as gracefully as you can, a bit unsteady in your heels and clinging to him for stability as you cross through the sliding glass doors into the lobby. 

It’s decorated for the holidays, warm string lights and fresh evergreen covering nearly every surface, and the sight of you spinning in a slow circle to take it all in makes his heart feel too big for his chest. The party is being held in one of the ballrooms, the fanciest one, he was told, and he can’t wait to see your face when you set eyes on the opulence of it all. 

He needs to find it first, and he exhales a sigh of relief when he spots his company’s name printed on signs leading into a grand hallway. He points so you see them too, leading you over and consciously slowing his steps so you don’t have to work to keep up with him. 

You’re letting out oohs and ahhs as you walk, your eyes catching on every shiny statue and gilded candelabra occupying the hall. Chan can’t hold back the grin, he’s always loved to see how you appreciate your surroundings, and he’s so happy he gets to watch you experience this beautiful place. 

The signs lead to a palatial set of doors, the party in full swing and audible behind them, and he stops you before you can reach for one, pulling you to the side and setting his hands on your shoulders. 

“Listen, I know you’re not good at lying, but I don’t want you to be stressed tonight, so just follow my lead and don’t worry too much, okay?” He says in his most reassuring tone of voice, gazing into your eyes and waiting for you to square your shoulders and say, “Okay. And I’m great at lying.”

Literally everything betrays you, the expression on your face, your tense body, the way you’re suddenly avoiding his eyes. 

“Sure, baby. Sure,” he agrees amicably, nodding and taking hold of your hand again. 

He’s never called you that before, only ever refers to you by your name or stinky (you are the greatest smelling person he knows and you’re both aware of that fact), but for a first test, he thinks it goes well. 

Your hand squeezes his, your eyes get brighter, and the corner of your mouth scrunches up in a small, pleased smile. All signs point to you being not only alright with the pet name, but maybe even happy with it, and if he's being honest, for him it felt… easy. Right. 

On that note, he tugs open the door with his free hand and follows you inside. You both stop short, stunned by the magnificence of the ballroom and the amount of faces that greet you. Chan knew he worked at a big company but there’s at least two hundred people here, and only a few that he recognizes. 

They find you quickly, apparently watching the doors for your entrance and agreeing to immediately converge upon you before you can even grab a glass of Dom Perignon. It’s scary, almost, the sight of the twelve friends he’s made so far weaving through the crowd to reach you. 

There’s nowhere to go, to run, to hide. He has no choice but to stand his ground and allow this to happen to him. 

He glances over at you and feels some tension leave his body, knowing that no matter what, you’re here for him and you always will be. That’s what gets him through the next half hour, plus the champagne Jeonghan so considerately brought over. He makes introductions, laughs off the comments about how long it took him to finally bring you to a function, and bites the inside of his lip every time you have to answer a question. 

You manage to tell the truth most of the time. Many of the questions are about you, who you are and what you do and, from Seungkwan, why you’re with Chan. You don’t have to lie until that last one, but he’s impressed by how quickly and smoothly you manage to answer. 

It still makes him grin, thinking about what you said. 

“Because he’s made me happy and taken care of me all my life. It just makes sense.” 

They all softened at your response, and the conversation naturally deviated to their own partners, a few of which are in attendance tonight. He’s not sure why they’re not with his coworkers but he can’t complain about having less people to keep up with. It’s hard enough tracking a conversation between fourteen. 

Eventually, everyone splits off into groups. You and Chan make your way to the bar with Soonyoung, Jun, and Minghao, the rest of his friends disappearing back into the well dressed masses. You’ve both finished your champagne and are ready for a real drink, and it’s shockingly easy to order them even with how crowded the bar is. Even Minghao is drinking tonight, likely because he doesn’t love crowds or parties, but regardless of the reason, he’s more happy and giggly and kind than normal and Chan is entirely delighted he gets to see him like this. 

Jun and Soonyoung are already deep in their cups, and knowing them, they likely pregamed at the apartment they share, forgetting that drinks would be free all night. He just hopes they don’t embarrass themselves, and vows to himself that he’ll make sure they get cut off if they get too crazy. They did the same for him the first night he ever went out with his officemates, when he had a few too many and found himself troublesomely drunk, and he’ll return the favor if need be. 

You seem to fit right in, your humor similar enough to theirs that you have them cracking up at every turn, and it’s not long before they’re begging you to spill all of Chan’s most embarrassing secrets. They seem nearly giddy with the prospect and you seem primed to share, and all he can do is tug you away, shouting, “See you later, we have to go!” over his shoulder as he makes his escape. 

You and Chan finally get to take a breather on the balcony. The chilly night air stings but the view is gorgeous, the city lit up in reds and greens and bright, warm whites, the countdown displayed on a skyscraper across the way. There’s an hour and a half left till midnight, and Chan is starting to wonder if there even is an accessible closet in this hotel for you to hide in when the time comes. 

Maybe you could sneak away to the bathroom, but you wouldn’t be together then and Chan wants to enter the new year with you by his side. There’s always the option of leaving before the ball drops, but everyone would wonder why and they might even be disappointed in him, which he’d like to prevent if possible. 

The consternation must be clear on his face because you reach up to smooth away the wrinkle between his eyebrows and ask gently, “What’s wrong?”

He sighs and takes your hand, swinging it softly and playing with your fingers as he says, “I’m trying to figure out what we should do at midnight.”

“What do you mean?” You sound confused, as if you think there’s nothing to figure out. 

“Well, you said I can't kiss you but it would be suspicious if we didn’t, so I’m trying to think of where we could go to get out of it.”

“Oh, about that, I’ve been thinking-”

“So this is where you snuck off to,” Seungkwan calls from the doorway, with a mischievous smile on his face and Vernon in tow. 

“Just needed some fresh air,” Chan pastes on a smile but internally he’s screaming, raging at them for interrupting you when he thinks you might have been about to say something important. 

Of course, everything you say is important to him, but if he’s following the vein of logic, it’s possible you were going to say he can, in fact, kiss you at midnight, which would honestly rock his world. Both in the life-altering sense and in the wow this is so amazing sense, because, he has to admit, he can’t stop thinking about it. 

When you take a sip of champagne, he’s watching your lips pucker around the edge of the flute. When you’re speaking, he’s thinking about tasting your words. Even when you’re not doing anything, his thoughts are occupied with what it might be like to feel your lips pressed against his and your body in his arms (and don’t get him started about your body, especially in this dress).

He knows that’s not something normal best friends think about, but you’ve always been more than a best friend to him. You’re everything to him, and he’s beginning to think you might even be it for him. You fill so many roles in his life: friend, confidante, protector. Why couldn’t you pick up one more?

It could all be so simple, so neat, and all of those well-meaning but embarrassing inquiries about when you two would finally get together could finally be answered. He thinks the transition would be easy, you seem to have no qualms touching him and being affectionate now, and he’s definitely finding it easy to reciprocate. 

Fuck, but he has no clue how you feel. You’re chatting with Seungkwan while Vernon nods and laughs at the appropriate moments, and he’s thankful you noticed he was elsewhere mentally and took over the conversation. He doesn’t want to seem too deep in thought, but it’s difficult not to be when he’s having the startling realization that he doesn’t want this relationship to be fake, that he actually wants to date his best friend. 

Shit, it’s an hour and fifteen minutes now, and Chan’s no closer to knowing what to do. He might even be further away, might be even more confused with the added layer of knowing he absolutely wants to kiss you. 

Vernon and Seungkwan excuse themselves to grab more champagne and he takes the opportunity to pull you to one of the darker corners of the balcony lest his other coworkers discover your location. He needs to talk about this with you, now. 

It’s just not normal or right for him to hide things from you, the biggest thing he’s actually ever kept being that he told his office you were his girlfriend. He’s not positive he’s ready to lay it all out though, especially when he’s not sure where you’re at. 

“What were you going to say before?” He asks urgently, taking hold of your other hand and holding both of them tight. 

“Ummm, I don’t remember,” you lie, so very obviously, and this time he’s not going to let you get away with it. 

“Yes, you do. Please tell me, I need to know.”

You squint at him in scrutiny, your mouth bunching to the side, and let out a big breath before speaking. 

“I was going to say that I’ve been thinking about it a lot and… I think you should kiss me at midnight,” you say, looking away from him and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in your dress. 

“A lot, you say?” He jokes, only because he knows it’ll make you feel annoyed instead of nervous. 

Predictably, you roll your eyes and scoff, “Of course that’s what you focus on.”

He lets out an easy laugh, tugging you closer with his grip on your hands and leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“What was that for?” 

“Practice.”

His lips touch your other cheek softly. He can feel it heat up and breaks into a fond smile, his hands squeezing yours as you breathe, “And that?”

“More practice. And maybe I couldn’t wait until midnight to kiss you at least a little.”

Your eyes dart to his and he catches a flash of vulnerability before you grin it away and glance over your shoulder to check the time. 

“Just forty five more minutes. Do you think you can make it?” You tease, and he feels his own cheeks flush as he realizes that you’re flirting with him. He likes it. Very much. 

He grimaces, sucking in a breath through his teeth and shaking his head, “I don’t know, baby. I really don’t know.”

You just smile and push at his chest with your joint hands before asking, “Should we get some champagne?”

He’s barely tipsy, and he can tell you’re only a little buzzed, so he nods and lets you go, only to offer you his arm. He escorts you to the table of glasses, taking one and offering it to you before grabbing one for himself. You hold your glass up and he clinks it with his, taking a sip and looking around the room. 

He spots some of his friends but they’re all engaged in conversations, which is fine with Chan, honestly. He’s enjoying this time with you, and he’s not ready to share again. 

You pass the next half hour warming up and people watching, waving to his friends when they spot you and narrowly escaping before they start to make their way over. He feels a little bad about avoiding them, but he doubts you want to kiss him for the first time in front of everyone. He needs to find somewhere with a little privacy, looking around for a corner or… 

Or the giant ass column behind you. It’s perfect, still in the ballroom but secluded enough it’ll almost be like it’s just the two of you. He takes your hand again and gently pulls you over, situating you so your back is to the stone just as the ballroom starts to spark with energy. It’s only a few minutes to midnight now, and Chan can already feel his heart racing just at the thought of what that means. 

You seem similarly affected, your lip bitten in nervousness but your eyes full of anticipation. He takes a step into your space and lifts his hand to cup your cheek, murmuring, “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you nod, tilting your face into his hand and covering it with yours. A hush comes over the ballroom before the counting begins, and you join in unison as he starts leaning in, “Five, four, three, two, one.”

One is whispered against your lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he presses his mouth to yours. You taste like champagne and lip gloss and possibilities, and even though other kisses end and cheers erupt, Chan can’t make himself stop kissing you. 

Eventually, it starts to veer into indecent territory, with wandering hands and seeking tongues and sounds not fit for public consumption. He forces himself to pull away, smirking slightly at the way you try to follow him before your eyes blink open. There’s a bright glint to them, and before he knows it, you’re both falling into each other and struggling to contain your giggles.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you whisper through your smile.

“Me neither,” he laughs. “Our moms will be so happy.”

“I bet our dads placed bets,” you murmur, winding your arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug. “Happy New Year, Chan.”

He lets go of your cheek to hug you back, his hand still wrapped up tightly in his. 

“Happy New Year, Y/n.” 

You’re dozing against Chan in the uber when his phone buzzes in his suit pocket. He opens it to find a message from Wonwoo, one containing three pictures that make Chan’s heart beat so hard he’s scared it’ll wake you up. 

The first is just before he kissed you; you’re staring at him with brand new eyes, and he’s gazing at you with obvious infatuation. 

The second must be just after midnight, he’s still kissing you but he’s got a hand dangerously low on your back and you’ve got one in his hair. 

The third is when you both collapsed into laughter, and he smiles at the joyful tears in your eyes and matching beaming grins before making it his lockscreen.

He’s not sure why Wonwoo was taking pictures of him instead of kissing his wife, but he’s forever grateful, and he tells Wonwoo just that. These are photographs he’ll treasure for the rest of his life, because they document the start of something great, something real, something he hopes will last forever. 

He can’t wait to print them out, they’ll look perfect on your wall (your apartment is nicer than his and he’ll be moving in as soon as you say the word). 

AN: Happy almost new year!! ily all 💖 i wish you light and blessings 💫

My Masterlist

#lee chan fanfic #lee chan x reader #lee chan fluff #lee chan imagines #lee chan x you #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #kpop imagine #kpop oneshots #✨emily writes✨

[pixiesholloworld]

You know you’re in serious trouble now. You promised your boyfriend you’d let him go down on you tonight. Though no one is obligated to have sex, you’ve chickened out so many times that it's become a pain that you personally want to get over. You’ve been dating for the first few months of college, meeting him at orientation and falling for him harder every time you saw him. He promised you two could start things slow being that you were a complete virgin (him being your first boyfriend), he told you there was no pressure and no matter how many times your nerves took over, he’d be understanding of it…but that didn’t stop you from wanting to jump headfirst into sex with him. 

You immediately ran to the first and only friend you made all year, Suguru. He was a 3rd year and had just the right amount of patience to put up with you and your silly antics. You figured that since he was older, he must’ve had his fair share of women. I mean, come on, it’s not like he was ugly?? When you asked him to go to the mall with you to pick some things out, his slender face painted an amused smirk. You threatened to not have him go with you if he was going to take you as a joke, but he assured you he wasn't he just thought it was: 

“Cute”

You turn a blind eye to his clear mocking of you and sat shotgun in his car. Upon arriving, you two went store to store (Suguru holding all the bags, of course). You went from Victoria’s Secret to Bath & Body Works, trying to pick out the right lingerie, the right perfume, and the right body scrub. You wanted everything to go over smoothly tonight, it helped that Suguru was right there picking out which scent would smell best on you, if it fit your face, etc. You’d like to think he enjoyed helping you in this way after all, who knows you better than your best friend? 

After spending more money than you probably should’ve, he drove you home to your apartment. You made him sit and wait for you on your bed while you showered, decorating your shower walls with the different products you had bought earlier in the day. Using each one in the order it was supposed to be used, feeling how the wet metal stick glides across your legs and in between the creases your body makes. 

After getting out of the shower, you find beads of water effortlessly dripping down your now hairless skin. The sight of it excites you a bit. You decided to hurry and dry off, quickly applying lotion and little blots of baby oil to keep your skin soft, throwing on a skimpy tank top, that showed your underboob and pajama shorts. You hurried to your room, plopping down on the bed next to Suguru, who is now lying on his back, toying with his phone. 

“Sooo, how do I smell?" leaning in so he can sniff, he leans in, and his eyes flicker a bit, almost as if he were a vampire smelling fresh blood, but he simply gave you an:

“I’ve smelt better” and carried on with whatever he was doing on his phone.

“I’m serious, Sugie,” you whined, pushing his arm a little. “Do I smell good or not?” He turns to look at you, so you know he is sincere, his over observant eyes switching focus between your lips and eyes.

“You smell good,” he smiled, turning back to his now shut off phone, his eyes hiding something deep inside of him. He puts his phone down and lifts himself up so hes sitting. He places a hand on you, starting down your mid-thigh area, slowly creeping his way to your mid-calf, and back up again. His big, warm hands occasionally gripped at the fat closest to your bare mound. You could feel your body heating up from his sudden touch, and you prayed that he couldn’t tell.

“Soft too.” His head turns so his gaze can meet yours. You smirk and readjust yourself on the bed closer to the headboard, your legs practically inviting him in. He uses this opportunity to adjust himself right on top of your pelvis, his eyes staring at you with a certain ostensible innocence. He grabs onto your unsure hands and has you rub his face, brushing across his plump lips and keeping your hand there for a moment. You can feel him taking in deeper whiffs of your newfound scent. Blood rushes to your face, taking advantage of the moment to part his lips, curious to feel the warmth and wetness that it holds. 

“So do I get a taste or what?” With his hands holding yours closely, you chuckle a little, trying to alleviate the tension. You won't deny that you’re already aroused and curious about how you taste. You find it hard to resist his request, being that he has already smelled and felt you. PLUS, this would be all for your boyfriend’s sake… right? No no, you won’t use any lousy excuses like that, you wanted this.

He slides your shorts and panties off of you to reveal your cunt, the translucent wetness forming webs between your puffs and the clothing. He looks back up at you with a hunger in his eyes. After sliding them all the way off, his head is stuck between your ankles. He begins kissing downward, leaving wet marks and gentle nibbles along the way down to your thighs. Feeling his warm breath tickle your thighs made your tummy swirl, your second heart beating faster than the first. He kisses and squeezes them, making sure you know he's watching your reactions. Your body shutters in response, never having felt this many sensations at once. Not only that, but this is your first time seeing your closest friend as something more. You never had any doubts about Suguru’s capabilities before, but especially now..

He slides his mouth over to your puffy gates, slowly kissing them. You can feel yourself oozing to the brim, watching his eyes dart up to you. His fingers graze over your soft skin, spreading your folds open, as he moves his stiff, wet tongue against your clit. He starts slowly, at first moving in long slow strokes, your body jolts a bit, slowly adjusting to the new feeling. He carefully slips a digit into you, feeling how you squeeze and twitch under his touch. He applies more pressure, moving his tongue rhythmically, and pushing his finger further and further into you. You start to pant and grab the sheets under you. With each stroke he makes, you fall deeper into euphoria, your face burning from the pleasure

“Sugie~” you whined. He moves both of his hands to either side of your hips and holds them down, making sure you feel everything that comes with ‘just a taste’. Your breaths become ragged and out of control, and your back practically levitates off the bed. He swirls himself in deep circles, drool escaping his mouth and drowning your cunt. He tounges you like you’re the sweetest treat he’s ever tasted, his brows furrowed as small groans escape his mouth, the vibrations and hot air adding to your arousal. You leave your mouth agape as the feeling drowns out any sense of the world around you, though it’s short lived as whines and silent moans leave your lips, moving quickly, you cover your mouth.

Suguru makes a disapproving groan against your clit making it beat with anticipation. He reaches up to your arms, sliding his hands down to your wrists. “Pretty girl,” he coos, vibrations still threatening to bring you over the edge. “Keep these down for me, or I’m going to tie you up, ok?” he warned, his voice deepening with lust. You nod and he slowly lets go of your hands, letting your fists bury themselves into the sheets. As he starts up again, this time suckling against your sweet bulb, your eyes shut tightly as you mindlessly attempt to move your hips towards him, your back practically levitates off the bed, begging for the pressure down below to finally release. Forlorn cries bounce off the walls as the familiar sound of sucking and huffing fills your ears, not nearly giving you enough time to breathe. But then he suddenly stops.

"Eyes on me.” You open your eyes and look at him, tears of joy form as he eases in two digits, beckoning a sharp gasp from you. His gaze grows softer shoots shoots you that same knowing smile. Knowing that he’s watching you, he’s touching you, he’s making you feel this way, it brings you over the edge, your tight walls seizing and leaking all over Suguru’s fingers, clutching faster and harder with every thrust. He traces his lips over your stomach back to your beating clit, eyes piercing through your skull, until the pressure building in your stomach finally boils over, appearing in the form of a gushing fountain. Your body tenses up until every last drop seeps out.

You look down at Suguru, who’s licking translucent slick off his fingers, his other hand still squeezing your thigh. “What? Want a taste?” He teases, crawling over your now limp body to position his lips above yours. They fall, lightly dancing against them, his hand finding its way under you and holding you close. His kisses become wider as he inches his tongue against yours, the slight metallic taste fulfilling your senses. 

“You should only taste this way for me, you know?”

#jjk #jjk suguru #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk geto #geto suguru #jjk smut #smut #jujutsu kaisen #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #jujutsu suguru #y/n #cheating???? idfk mdni

[candy69gurl]

Can you do a Megumi noncon pleaseeeeeeeeeee

Warnings- 18+, non/con, jealousy, bathroom sex, mirror sex, nipple play, fingering, clit licking, use of vulgar words (slut,whore,bitch), orgasm denial, raw sex (cumming inside)

About the character - Megumi is of legal age and he is depicted as introvert, mysterious, dominant, possessive and slight exhibitionist.

wc - 4.5k

ART NOT MINE !

Claim you as mine ~

megumi x f!reader

When Megumi attains legal adulthood, Y/N, a new student, gets enrolled in Jujutsu High. When you first see Megumi, you can't help but stare at him. He resembles a piece of art. He has the most stunning eyes you have ever seen; he's tall and thin. His unkempt and dark hair appears so soft.

Gojo introduces you to the class, and immediately there is a flurry of activity. As soon as you enter, you start to feel anxious. You feel everyone staring at you, but with one particular person's attention, you can't seem to shake.

Megumi was seated. in the back of the class, observing everything, just as he does for everything. When suddenly his eyes meet with the gaze of the new girl, Y/N,. He watches you intently, the corners of his lips curving up slightly, but not enough to call it a smile.

After about 6 months, you manage to get along with everyone in the class. You become friends with everyone. You are known for your friendly and energetic personality. You are a joy to be around. However, when you are around Megumi, your friendly personality seems to have a different feeling towards him. He is the only one you have trouble approaching, maybe because you feel nervous to speak to him. But whenever you both lock eyes, there's a certain feeling that neither of them can ignore.

It has been a full year, and everyone has noticed how you always get flustered around Megumi. Megumi, of course, noticed this too. Everyone has started to believe in the ship between the two. However, you keep denying it, but everyone still insists that there is something between you two. Whenever both of you hear this, you both blush, causing everyone’s suspicion to grow even more.

Nobara says, "I mean, he definitely likes you... I've seen how he looks at you."

You reply," I don't think so. He is so mysterious and introverted. Whenever I talk to him, he does not even make eye contact with me."

Nobara snickers and tells you, “You are too oblivious, girl. He’s an introvert; it’s really hard for him to open up. Trust me, he likes you.”

You roll your eyes and say, “Stop with your delusions. What makes you think he even likes me? He is always cold and nonchalant around me. He barely even talks to me. Do you really think he likes me?”

Nobara finally says, "Fine, let's test him."

Nobara smiles evilly and says, "HiHiHi," as she rubs her hands together. "So here's the plan.". As Nobara tells you of her plan, your eyes widen.

After Nobara finishes explaining her plan, Y/N is a bit taken aback by the boldness of her plan.

You then sigh, “Do you really expect this to work?”

Nobara, "Trust me, this is the only way."

Finally, one day, it's time for one of Gojo's famous treats. Everyone is excited to go to this 5-star hotel that Gojo has gotten for the students when they aren't training. Megumi's sitting on a couch in one of the rooms, watching everyone talk and laugh to themselves. Everything's fine until he sees you walking in his direction. The closer you get, the more he feels his heartbeat growing faster than usual.

He tries his best to control his emotions and act nonchalant, but his heart is beating way too fast. He tries to hide this by fiddling with his hair, but his hands are trembling. He also finds himself trying to avoid your gaze. But the closer you get, the harder it is to avoid your gorgeous eyes. He also notices how your clothes seem to fit you perfectly. His insides begin to heat up a bit as he struggles to stay calm.

Megumi notices the extra-revealing clothes you're wearing. His eyes can’t help wandering down for a quick moment before he clears his throat and looks away. This is the first time he's seen you in something that shows so much skin. It catches him off guard. He feels his cheeks heat up a bit as he thinks about the way your body fits in the outfit. He struggles to shift his attention away from your body, but his eyes keep wanting to wander right back.

But you suddenly walk in the direction of Yuji and kiss his cheek.

Megumi notices this, watching as your lips make contact with Yuji's cheek. He finds his eyes narrowing slightly, feeling an intense wave of jealousy hit him out of the blue. He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from cursing under his breath. The thought of your man putting his lips on your skin just made his mind explode. He tries to look away, but the jealousy he’s feeling right now is not letting him.

Gojo is in the other lounge, together with the other Jujutsu High seniors. Nobara, Yuji, Megumi, Maki, Inumaki, and Panda are with you.

Megumi watches you, still struggling with controlling his emotions. He can see how you're now talking to Yuji, holding a friendly conversation. He watches as you lean in close to him as you both have your conversation, causing his jealousy to increase tenfold. He watches as you and Yuji laugh and joke around, his insides flaring with anger. He clenches his fists to stop himself from exploding.

Timeskips...

Everyone’s attention is currently on a game of truth or dare, as Yuji has proposed. But Megumi's eyes keep watching Y/N's every movement.

Nobara gets to ask the truth from Y/N: "So, Y/N, we are so happy that you are a part of us now. But for a few months, it seems... something's going on with you."

You blush.

"So, dear, do you have eyes on someone among us?"

As Nobara asks this, your eyes drift towards Yuji, biting your lower lip. While Yuji rubs the back of his neck.

Megumi notices Y/N’s eyes drifting towards Yuji, feeling a sharp pain in his chest upon seeing your stare at him. It causes him to clench his fist, trying to contain himself. His jealousy is now at an all-time high. He finds his fingers gripping the couch he was sitting on. He watches as Yuji rubs the back of his neck, looking nervous at the sudden attention that was thrust upon him. Megumi can also see the slight red tint that has risen on Yuji's cheeks. He watches on angrily, wishing it was him who was getting your attention and not Yuji.

"Ooooh, I see, I see," everyone cooes.

Megumi watches on with growing anger as everyone continues to cooe about the two. He watches as you and Yuji smile nervously at each other. The jealousy's almost palpable at this point for him.

Everyone was so sure that you liked Yuji, but he knew it wasn’t so. Why didn’t anyone pick up on your behaviour around him? Megumi keeps looking at you, waiting for you to take your eyes off Yuji and look in his direction.

Megumi coughs as Nobara smirks at him.

Megumi notices your gaze quickly shifts his direction. A small part of him believes that this was enough for everyone to realise that you liked him and not Yuji. He holds his breath as he watches your gaze linger on him for a quick second before your gaze quickly goes back to Yuji. This makes him feel a wave of anger, but he manages to contain his emotions.

Suddenly you speak up, "Oh guys, I have to use the restroom. I will be back soon," you say, leaving the restroom.

Megumi slowly gets up after everyone starts to pay attention to Yuji again. He quietly slips out of the room to follow you. He watches as you walk towards the bathroom. He follows you, making sure to stay a bit far behind to avoid being noticed. He then quickly enters the same bathroom you went into.

Y/N enters the restroom, running the tap, and wetting a tissue paper.

"What do you think you're doing?" Megumi speaks, placing his hands on one side of the wash basin and trapping you.

You freeze in your tracks, immediately startled by the sound of his voice. You look up at the mirror, and you find his eyes staring daggers at you. Your breath caught in your throat. The atmosphere in the room is tense, with his body trapping you inside the small space. You can see the fire in his eyes, his gaze piercing into yours as he looks down at you. You can feel yourself starting to heat up due to the tension that has built up in the restroom. Your lips curve up to an unintentional smirk.

"This is the girl's washroom, Gumi."

He seems unfazed by the fact that they are in the girls washroom. In fact, he seems almost irritated by your reply. He watches as your eyes meet with his in the mirror once again.

"I know." He says this, his voice taking on a harsh tone.

You turn around to directly meet his gaze.

Megumi watches as you turn around to face him directly. Your faces are so close to each other that he can feel your breath brush against his own. The tension between both of you is so thick that it is impossible for both of them to look away from each other's gaze. 

"Tell me this whole thing between you and Yuji is a joke," Megumi says, his voice harsh but low.

"No, it's not," you reply.

Megumi feels himself growing angry at your response. His jaw tightens slightly as you confirm that you, in fact, did like Yuji. He keeps his hands on the basin, preventing you from moving an inch.

"Are you seriously telling me that you like him?"

"Probably, and besides, why do you care?"

He narrows his eyes at you, starting to feel an overwhelming wave of jealousy. He clenches his fists as he speaks, his tone getting harsher with every word he says.

"Why do I care? Did you really just ask me that question? As if it isn’t obvious."

"What's obvious?" you tease him intentionally.

He is starting to lose his patience, his voice growing to a more harsh tone.

"What do you mean? What's obvious?! Am I not making it more than clear enough to you? Are you really that dense to not see it?"

'Huh? I don't understand."

He can feel himself grow angrier as you show signs of being oblivious to his feelings. He grits his teeth as he speaks, his voice growing even more angrier at your oblivious nature.

"Do I have to spell it out to you? Stop playing with me, Y/N. Or else..."

"Or else what?" you smirk, testing his limits.

He finds himself staring at your smirk, his insides flairing up again. He fights the urge to lose control, but his anger and jealousy get the better of him as he feels his fingers tighten their grip around the basin, his knuckles turning white.

"Or else I’m going to do something that I know you won’t like."

He says, his voice growing threatening. He watches as your smirk turns into an annoyed frown as you realise that you pressed his buttons.

"Are you sure that I am not going to like it?"

Your flirtatious behaviour is making it extremely difficult for him to contain his emotions. He stares you down, trying to resist the urge to grab you. He watches as your smile grows back, and there is a bit of amusement in it.

He leans forward, his face now even closer to yours. His eyes meet yours, and his expression is now serious.

“You're a slut, aren't you?”

"Mhm? Am I?"

He smirks, wrapping one of your arms around your waist and the other around your cheeks. "Let's find out then."

A wave of intense excitement fills you as you feel his lips make sudden contact with yours. Your cheeks heat up, and your eyes are forced to close as you sink into the feeling of his lips. You feel your whole body grow warm as his arm coils around your waist, pressing you closer to him.

"G-gumi wait," you plead.

Your words fall on a pair of deaf ears, as the feeling of his lips on yours is overwhelming. He holds you close, his fingers tightening their grip around your waist as his lips continue to explore your mouth. He puts you up, your hips making contact with the wash basin, placing you on it, and letting your dress get wet.

Your pupil dilates the moment you are put up, your back pressed against the basin. Your breath is becoming quick and shallow. You feel the cold, wet sink as your body is pressed against the surface, your dress sticking to your body. Your eyes meet his in close proximity, and you stare up at him with a mixture of fear and excitement. You feel your insides heat up even more as his fingers continue to tighten their grip around your waist. Your legs wrap around his hips as you let out a small whimper.

He can see you trembling as you look up at him. The sound of your whimpers sends a wave of heat through his body. He stares back at you, his mouth slightly curving into an amused smile. The tension in the atmosphere. It is almost unbearable, and he feels your body start to shiver as you hold on to him tightly. The feelings that you are sending through his body are getting the better of him as he whispers.

"This is just the beginning, baby. There's a lot to come; you made me suffer a lot today." With that, Megumi puts your dress up, exposing your thighs to his view.

This causes a surge of heat to flare through him, his eyes wandering down to your thighs. His hands continue to roam around your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your body. His breath picks up the pace as he stares at your exposed thighs. 

You bite your lower lip, thinking about how vulnerable you are to him now.

Megumi's facial expression remains stoic as he watches you bite your lower lip, but his heart races. He can feel your nervousness, but he knows you want this, and more importantly, he wants this too. Slowly, his hands move down your body, tracing the curve of your hips, before he moves further south, gently exploring the tender skin on your inner thighs. Each touch leaves you wanting more, and he knows it. His eyes meet yours, locking onto your gaze as he gently slides off your dress, leaving your breasts exposed to his gaze. He flicks his tongue across your nipple. Your breath hitches, and he pulls away slightly, just enough for you to regret the loss.

His fingers trace downward, making you gasp as he trails along the sensitive skin of your stomach. The anticipation is killing you, but you can't help but love every moment of it. Finally, his fingers reach the destination, and you exhale deeply. The warmth of his breath against your most intimate area makes you tremble. Megumi groans softly, his eyes never leaving yours. He pushes your panties aside to find your wet, slicky folds, and he smirks. And then he slowly parts you open, revealing the prize he searches for. He thrusts one of his slender fingers inside you.

"I've wanted this since my eyes met yours," he whispers, leaning in to kiss your exposed neck. Your body arches involuntarily, and your head falls back as you moan loudly. The room is filled with the sound of your pleasure, and yet, it seems like it's still not enough. As he touches you, the intensity of your emotions rises, and it becomes impossible to hold back any longer. The room echoes with your moans and cries of ecstasy. You can barely stand the intensity, and it seems like you're reaching your peak. But Megumi isn't finished.

His lips trail down the length of your torso, leaving a path of sensations that leave you begging for more. His tongue flickers along the way before he rests on his knees, sliding his tongue on your clit tasting your sweet nectar while continuing to tease your g-spot. You can feel yourself reaching the edge, and he knows it. Just at the right moment, he stops. Leaning back, he gazes at your flushed face, your eyes wide with desire.

With a devilish grin, he says, "Not yet, my dear. We aren't done here."

Megumi and you both hear some footsteps outside the restroom. He quickly picks you up with his hands wrapping around your thighs, taking you to one of the toilets before locking it.

The sudden movement takes you aback, but you don't resist as Megumi carries you to the bathroom. He gently sets you down on the closed lid and steps between your legs, pushing them open wider. He runs his finger along your entrance, teasing you mercilessly.

"I-I.. Gumi..." you beg, your voice shaking.

His eyes meet yours, burning with desire. "Not yet," he mutters, standing up and turning towards the door. As you watch, he locks the bathroom door, completely sealing you in together. He turns back to face you, unzipping his pants.

Seeing his actions, you close your eyes; you cannot stop the blush that spreads across your face. His muscles contract as he approaches, and your heart races as he positions himself. For a moment, you think he's going to enter you, but he surprises you by pushing two fingers inside, making you cry out. You want him so badly, but he's holding back.

"This is just the beginning, my love," he murmurs, adding another digit. "You haven't even begun to experience the true pleasure I can give you."

"A-Ah"

Your cries fill the small space of the bathroom, and his eyes lock onto yours. He thrusts his fingers harder, watching as you writhe beneath him. The intensity of your pleasure increases, and he can't resist any longer.

"I'm going to cum,"  you say desperately, clawing at his shoulders.

"Not yet, not until I say so," he grins, continuing his thrust. Your toes curl at the pleasure.

Suddenly familiar sounds come from outside the toilet. It's of Nobara's and Maki.

"I wonder where Megumi and Y/N are."  Maki's voice echoes in the washroom.

You freeze, your eyes widening as you both hear Nobara and Maki's voices outside the locked bathroom door. He quickly pulls his fingers out of you. Just when you think it all ended and you sigh deeply, he leans closer to your ear,licking your earlobe and saying,It's more fun now." With that, he frees his hardened shaft.

"Wait, they'll find out," you whisper back.

He chuckles softly, running his hand along your cheek, "Relax; it'll only increase the excitement," and with one swift motion, he brings his cockhead at your entrance. "Let's see, how can you contain your moans?" he whispers, positioning himself at your entrance. He pauses for a moment, looking deep into your eyes, and then thrusts into you slowly. You cry out, your eyes wide with surprise. The sudden movement catches you off guard, but it feels amazing.

Maki asks Nobara," Did you hear that?"

Nobara replies,Hear what?"

You cover your mouth to stop making any more sounds.

Megumi groans softly, his eyes never leaving yours. He thrusts deeper, enjoying the sight of your struggling breaths. His movements are slow, teasing you and keeping the sensation high. He can feel your walls tightening around him, and he can't help but speed up. Every thrust is careful and calculated, wanting to draw this out as long as possible.

Just as he's about to reach your peak, he pulls out suddenly. You look at him with teary eyes, exhaling deeply. He unlocks the door and peeks out to check if they are still out. Seeing nobody, he pulls you out, grabbing one of your arms and taking you back to the wash basin. He turns you around so that now you're facing the mirror while he is at your back. He pulls your dress up, making you lean on the basin with your hands on its side, maintaining your balance. Without any hesitation, he thrusts into you again, making you jolt in front.

Your mouth is wide open as your eyes roll in pleasure.

"Look at yourself, whore,"  he grabs your neck, making you face the mirror.

You gasp as he claims you once again, this time deeper, stretching you in ways you didn't know were possible. His words send shivers down your spine as you watch yourself in the mirror, being taken by Megumi. Your eyes roll back as he hits your G-spot, making you moan louder than before. Your hands grip the sides of the basin, your nails digging into the porcelain as you struggle to maintain balance.

"What a slut" he repeats, his voice rough and deep. "Do you like this? Being called names while I fuck you?"

You nod frantically, unable to form any words. The sensations are overwhelming, and it's unlike anything you've ever experienced before. He thrusts harder, each movement hitting you deep inside. Your breathing quickens, and your moans become louder. He reaches around, rubbing your clit firmly.

"Who do you belong to?" he asks, increasing the pressure on your sensitive bud.

"Yours," you whisper, your voice hoarse.

"That's right, you're mine," he growls, pounding into you faster. "Take it, myslut," he snarls, his pace picking up. You can feel his thrusts getting stronger, and your climax is approaching rapidly. Your mind is hazy, unable to focus beyond the pleasure coursing through your body.

"Cum for me, bitch," he orders, thrusting deeper. You can't help it; your orgasm finally crashes over you, making you scream into the mirror. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, making you tremble violently. He continues thrusting, matching your rhythm, until he joins you, filling you with his release.

You feel him pulsating inside you, releasing tonnes of his seed into your uterus.

Panting heavily, he rests his forehead against your back, catching his breath. "That's a good whore," he murmurs, kissing your neck.

Megumi can feel your body trembling, and he turns you around and holds you close, not wanting to let go. His breaths match yours, and he kisses your shoulder as he tries to regain control of his own body. When you're both able to catch your breath, he gently pulls out, helping you straighten up. He kisses your neck softly, wiping the sweat from your brow.

"I shouldn't have done that," he whispers, his voice husky. "But you tempted me so much..."

You look at him, your cheeks flushed. "I love you," you admit.

"Pardon?"

"I love you, Gumi."

"Mhm? I thought you liked... Yuji?" he teases.

"It was a prank; Nobara asked me to do it to find out if you liked me or not."

Megumi smiles gently, giving you a peck on the lips.

"I love you to death, but don't get on my nerves next time."

With that said, he helps you put your dress back on and leads you out of the bathroom.

"G-gumi.. C-cant walk."

As you lower yourself onto the bench, he sits beside you, rubbing your back gently. "Sorry, I should've been gentler," he apologises, stroking your hair.

"No, it was perfect, I promise," you reassure him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I'm just not used to that kind of pleasure."

He chuckles softly, kissing your temple. "We'll have plenty of time to explore, my love."

You close your eyes, basking in the afterglow of your encounter.

"Let me pick you up." He picks you up on his shoulder while you droop sleepily on his shoulder. You finally fall asleep on him.

Megumi carries your sleeping body on his shoulder as he walks out of the bathroom. He watches as you cling to him, your head resting on his shoulder and your body hanging loose and relaxed. Your dress is in a messy state, with the bottom half wet.

Megumi goes back to where everyone was and he sees everyone still in the same spot. He sets Y/N down on a couch and slowly walks to join everyone, still feeling the heat from earlier in his body. He tries to act nonchalant, as if nothing had happened between him and Y/N in the restroom. He joins in with the rest of the group with a friendly smile on his face, taking his seat. He hopes that nobody notices his heated state and how red his facial expression is.

Yuji sits up straight, seeing Megumi.

"Oi Gumi, where were you? and where is Y/N?" Megumi points to where you are sleeping on the couch.

"Gosh, she fell asleep already? I thought we were going to spend"

Megumi slams his drink on the table, not letting Yuji speak anymore.

Nobara snickers at his reaction.

After a while, Yuji gets up and walks to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. He gently nudges your "Oi Y/N."

Megumi follows Yuji's movement, slapping his hands away from Y/N. "Don't touch yours," he says, glaring at Yuji, not letting him get near you as you sleep. His glare is intense enough to freeze Yuji in his spot, making him take a step back when he sees Megumi’s angry expression.

Yuji puts his hands up in an attempt to surrender himself as he realises that Megumi is not going to back down anytime soon. Megumi glances at the remaining people in the room, seeing their concerned expressions except Nobara as they see the tense interaction. He doesn’t take his eyes off Yuji for a single second, despite everyone’s glances. He is determined not to let Yuji touch you at any cost.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO", everyone claps and celebrates.

Megumi watches as everyone cheers and claps for the sight they just witnessed. He can see their excited facial expressions as they celebrate and cheer. He feels a small part of him starting to relax as he watches everyone’s celebrations. But he stays alert and on his toes, making sure that nobody comes close to you as you sleep.

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujustu kaisen #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x y/n #fushiguro x you #fushiguro megumi

[harrysonlylover]

You Can Be The Boss*

Summary: Harry can’t stay away from you, and neither can his body.

Trope: CEO!H

WC:3.2k

Warnings: Detailed Breeding kink, slight exhibitionism, cockwarming.

A/n: This was a request. Hope you like it. Xx

CEO H Masterlist

Being a CEO is never easy.

Harry could certainly witness to that. He’s had meetings atop meetings for the past few months with security, insurance, construction and interior designe companies along with several other businessmen. The opening of the new branch in Italy turned out to be harder than Pleasing’s debut.

It is one thing to rise from nothing and gain fame, and another thing to maintain it while focusing on having a family. Harry is unbelievably proud of his achievements, he was featured in Forbes under 30 merely a few months after his first Pleasing launch, sold over 2 million products in the first year and heard stories of couples who met thanks to his company.

What he did is something that every young man dreams of, he knows that and have heard it in interviews about him. But how can he explain to the money greedy people that his empire is nothing when it comes to you?

He could only sleep when you’re near, wake up with your body around him, eat when you’re with him, or if you remind him to. Every time he visits a certain store he is adamant obout buying something, whether it be a chocolate bar or a Cartier necklace, Harry will spoil you.

He never really cared all about social events and didn’t make a habit of attending until you became his. Sometimes he would take you with him, your arm joined with his, as he shows you off to everyone there with a proud smile on his face that says: “This is my girl, look at how pretty she is”.

However, there were times where you’d barely put on your dress and heels before he had you against the wall as he fucked himself deep inside you whispering in your ear.

“No, you’re mine. For my eyes only.”

It’s safe to say that he discovered a whole new level of infatuation with you. But you certainly couldn’t believe it when the pressure of Pleasing made him drift away from home that he suggested selling it.

“Harry, are you mad? You worked so hard!” You shouted in anger at your frustrated fiancée.

“Don’t you get it ? It’s you. It’s always you.” He brought his lips to your temple pressing a long kiss as he inched your body closer to his.

You managed to knock some sense into his mind and lay out a work plan, as you organized his week while he pouted and demanded that you come into his office at least twice. You couldn’t deny him, not when you miss him so much all day considering you are jobless.

Before you met him, you worked in finance and dreaded your job. It took him a while to convince you to quit, not because he wanted to be one of those men who flaunt providing for their wives. In fact, he wrote half of the company’s assets in your name, all he ever wanted was for you to feel safe financially whether it be from a job or by just existing. He doesn’t like the terms ‘mine’ and ‘yours’, simply anything he owns is immediately in your name.

He is aware that some men hold it against their partners and bring out the finances card in arguments but Harry assured you many times that the day he does that, feel free to slap and sue him.

Eventually, you agreed to quit two months ago and since then you’ve busied yourself with new hobbies, workshops and fitness classes. You’re also certain that it made Harry feel happier than you.

Upon what you agreed on earlier this week, you headed to visit Harry in his office, you arrived early with two lunch bags in your hand as the whole building stared at the elegant woman dressed in luxurious clothing from head to toe, with the huge emerald stone on your ring finger.

They were accustomed to your frequent visits but that didn’t stop anyone from staring as you walked in knowing that their boss’s mood would shift 180°.

You can hear Harry’s voice fill the hall as you stepped out of the elevator, it wasn’t something common to witness. Harry was known for being a kind boss, but the faces of the employees around you suggested otherwise.

His secretary Mila jogged behind you trying to catch up as she stood in front of you with her face clouded with apprehension. “Mrs. Styles I don’t think you should go in there.”

You stared back at her for a few moments then glanced at all the other employees whose eyes were wide from Harry’s loud shouting. You patted her shoulder and gently moved her out of your way before heading towards his office.

You turned the doorknob to his office and walked in casually only to see him leaning against his desk with his palms supporting him as he scolded the employee in front of him, the veins along his neck were protruding while fury was radiating off him.

The moment he set his eyes on you, he straightened his posture and sighed as his whole body relaxed. He ordered the man in front of him to leave, which the latter did quite quickly. You placed the lunch bags on a small table and took off your jacket as Harry sat back in his chair and admired you.

“What happened? You never shout at your employees.” You spoke as you walked towards him and sat in his lap.

“He messed up something and now I have to stay for extra hours to fix it. It’s more time away from you.” He held on to your body as he hid his face in your chest.

“Absolutely not Harry. You always do this, you should let them learn from their mistakes, he’s the one who should do it.” Harry had a thing for being an overly nice boss but also a perfectionist. He liked doing things by himself so whenever someone messed up, he’d just tell them to email it to him.

“I guess you’re right.” He gave your lips a peck as you swiped your hand through his hair.

“You looked so hot while shouting though. You’re such a boss.” You turned the peck quickly into a heated kiss as you grinded against his suit.

“Yeah? You always love it when I’m in power don’t you?” Harry smiled into the kiss and tightened his grip on your waist.

The thought of having everyone do what he wants with one order made you unbelievably turned on. He is a man with authority and it shows all the time. But most importantly you loved it when he manhandled you in bed, lifting you up with one arm like you weighed nothing.

“Let me help the boss destress.” Harry moaned into your mouth at your words as you rubbed at his visible bulge with your hand.

“Such a good girl, pleasing me like it’s your job.” He unbuttoned his pants and slightly pulled them down as you stared back at his thick bulge. You’re not sure how he was able to get hard this fast but it looked painful.

Despite having sex this morning, he acted as if it’s been weeks and that he’s starved. His hand roamed your body while his tongue clashed with yours. He grinned when his fingers swiped through your folds under your skirt and realized that you had no panties on as instructed and were very wet.

“My baby is walking around my building with no panties on, so eager to fuck her fiancée. What would the employees say?” He tsked as if he’s disappointed and teased you by sucking on your neck with his hand gently massaging your labia.

“I want to warm you up.” You caught him off guard as he expected you to fuck him but he’d do anything you want.

“Cmon then, help me relax.” He laid back and crossed his arms behind his head, as he raked his eyes on your body and eager eyes that are set on his twitching cock.

He watched your next movements intently knowing that the sight in front of him is any man’s wet dream. You happily stroked his cock, swiping your thumb against the tip and collecting his precum on your finger before pushing it inside your pussy and smiling because ‘his cum shouldn’t go to waste.’

Harry bit his bottom lip feeling his cock about to burst while you looked down and spat at it before stroking it again and using his arousal to finger yourself.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you put my cock where it belongs?” He caressed your jaw with his knuckles as you nodded eagerly and positioned his cock at your entrance before sinking down on him with one swift motion.

Harry rolled his eyes backwards the moment your pussy wrapped around his cock. So warm, tight and velvety. You sucked him inside so perfectly and made his body heat up quickly.

“Best fucking pussy. Can’t wait to continue breeding it.” You were reminded with the fact that you’re only cockwarming him now but now that he mentioned getting his cum, you regretted not fucking him.

Sinking down on him quickly made you feel like you were being split into two halves, he was thick and even more swollen when hard as if he knows that he has to give you his load. The stretch only made you wetter as you squirmed and tried to adjust on his lap while he guided your head to his neck.

Your continuous clenching around him almost made Harry cum to which he wasn’t pleased of. The tightness of your cunt was unbearable , and his thighs were drenched with your wetness because you can’t seem to control yourself.

“Behave brat.” He slapped your ass harshly with his ring clad hand making you spasm around him even harder.

Holding you to his body, he gently moved his chair closer to his desk and grabbed a granola bar from the drawer unwrapping it and feeding you while your head stayed laid against his chest. After two bites, you guided his own hand to his mouth to which he smiled for and happily accepted a bite.

“My darling always taking care of me. But you’re the one who should eat more for our baby. Need to feed you the best food ever.” His hand sneakily made its way to your tummy and rubbed on it.

You were pretty sure you got knocked out by now. The signs were all there but both of you ignored them as the whole breeding fantasy thing was pleasing and Harry continued to cum deep inside of you every time.

No matter what, nothing compared to your fiancée filling you up, or taking you out while his cum runs down your thighs. He couldn’t help marking you, it was a necessity.

After a few more bites, you almost fell asleep and forgot that you’re sitting on his cock. All you felt was the heat between your legs and a warm snug feeling that felt good. Harry stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head every now and then.

He shifted his position slightly making his cock push deeper inside of you , you could’ve sworn that some precum leaked into your pussy but it doesn’t matter because there is no way you’d be able to ignore the ache between your legs anymore.

You lifted your head off his chest and found him reading an email on his phone while he gently rubbed at your back. You began leaving wet kisses along his skin where his chemise was unbuttoned.

“Harry..” You almost moaned his name but it was obvious that you need him and changed your mind.

He immediately set his phone down and adjusted his position (on purpose) as he gave you all his attention. He looked into your eyes and knew that you needed a good fuck, you always do. He could not possibly deny that for the both of you not when his cock is about to burst.

“What does my love wa—“ Harry’s question was cut off by an employee coming inside.

“Mr. Styles I—“ He stopped in his tracks and awkwardly looked around as he stuttered. The sight in front of him wasn’t completely graphic, you still had your skirt on after all, but it was obvious to anyone that you and Harry weren’t all love dovey.

“Can’t you see that I’m busy?” Harry gritted his teeth while his breathing picked up. Despite loving exhibitionism, he isn’t always in the right mindset to show you off. He wants you all for himself and although his employee probably can’t see anything, Harry was reminded of how vulnerable you feel during intimate moments and saw red.

“Sorry sir I ju—“

“Get out!” Harry pointed to the door with warning eyes as the man immediately scrambled away from his office dropping a paper behind him in the process but not daring to come back for it.

Harry checked on you by raising your chin to his level and smiled when he saw your face looking alright and as pretty as ever. “You’re mine only okay?”

You would never replace him in a million years but seeing his possessive side come out was always so hot to witness. Anything he did made you drop on your knees and that didn’t help your current situation.

You slowly began rolling your hips, as your swollen cunt is now unbearably achy and puffy. Harry’s cock seems to only harden inside of you and if he doesn’t fuck your brains out you could cry.

“Dirty girl. Can barely last on my cock for ten minutes and you’re jumping on me again. What a needy slut.” His degrading words made you even hornier as you clutched on to his shirt with a tight grip letting out whines.

“Please fuck me. I want you deep inside.” You barely let out a few coherent words before feeling the pleasure and need for Harry take over you.

He loved watching you beg for him when you could not handle it anymore. The way you whither and feel like crying only fuels his ego further. The fact that you would only be relieved if his cock fucks you repeatedly makes him twitch inside your pussy.

“Say that you want me to knock you up. You filthy girl, you want me to be your baby daddy hmm?” He began rolling his hips slowly to edge you further.

“Wanna be pregnant with your child.” You whimpered against his lips as tears began to well in your eyes from the amount of wetness.

That was all you had to say before Harry lifted you up with one arm and threw everything off the desk as they landed on the ground with a thud. He laid you gently and got rid of your blouse so he could have access to your hardened nipples.

His cock was still tucked inside your cunt so when he inched his face closer to yours, he pushed deeper making you moan loudly as he hit your g-spot unexpectedly. He laced his fingers with yours leaving love bites all over your chest, while admiring your tits proudly.

“The greediest pussy ever. So insatiable even when I fuck you day and night. You just love your fiancée’s cock so much.” He rolled his hips into yours as he closed the gap between your two bodies.

“Nghh..” It wasn’t in your ability to form coherent words. The veins on Harry’s cock massaged your walls perfectly, scratching an itch you never knew you had. The sound of skin slapping filled the room as he fucked you raw without holding back.

His muscles flexed with every thrust, as he looked down to your relaxed figure watching his cock go in and out from your drenched pussy that is dripping right on his desk. Your cunt was so sensitive and swollen, and your clitoris was bulging asking for attention which Harry generously gave by pinching it.

“Gonna have to show off your swollen belly to everyone. Let them know I gave you my seed day and night to get you pregnant.” He whispered lowly in your ear as you rolled your eyes backwards imagining how he would proudly rub at your bump in public.

You locked your legs around him, as your heels dug in at his back prompting him to go deeper. Your bodies were sweaty and filled with want for one another. The feeling of your pussy so snug around his cock, sucking him inside made him see stars.

“I’m sure you’re knocked out by now, but your greedy pussy just keeps sucking my cum inside.” God knows how much precum has leaked inside of you when you cockwarmed him and Harry would like to think that your pussy reacts to the presence of his cum in your cunt.

“I feel so sensitive and I want you all the time.” You wrapped your arms around his neck thinking about how much he’s filled you up by now.

“And you have me baby, my mind, body and soul are yours.” He slowed down but deepened his cock, allowing himself to rest for a few moments before plunging harder as he rubbed at your swollen clitoris.

Harry rested his forehead against yours, catching your lips in a wet sloppy kiss as heat radiated off your bodies. The sex was dirty and passionate, exactly what fits for you and him.

“Fuck, look at these gorgeous tits. They’re gonna be swollen and full of milk. You won’t need any bras, gonna make you walk naked.” He cupped each of your breasts, greedily sucking at your nipples as he squeezed them.

“I’m cumming..” His compliments on your tits tipped you over the edge as your own orgasm washed over you. All you could see was white spots and stars as your moaning echoed through the room. Your cunt was pulsating rapidly around Harry’s cock whose orgasm got triggered by yours.

Harry rutted his hips against yours, as if he wishes to converge your bodies and make you one person as he spilled his seed deep inside of your cunt.

“Draining me from my seed all day, aren’t you?” Take all of it my love and give me a baby.” He stilled his hips as he released a big load with his lips hovering over yours and chests flush against each other.

The euphoric feeling you get everytime he came inside of you was irreplaceable. Your skin was sweaty and naked as he hugged you to his chest and mumbled words of praise and love in your ear.

“My best girl. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m gonna take care of you till we’re old and gray.”

“I love every bit of you that it physically pains me.”

You held on to Harry for a while as he kept his body wrapped around yours in a tight grip. There was no denying of the happiness Harry offered you or all the new feelings you got to explore thanks to him, so you closed your eyes and let out a sigh of content.

In this world, it’s just you, Harry and the baby growing in your belly.

Divider from @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @prettythingsworld @slut4marvelmenn @fullofstyles @cherrycokeslay @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @grapejuicebluesrry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @swiftmendeshoran @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @strwbrrydaydreams @greivingfortheliving @babyyangel111 @soblavk @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie

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[writing-for-marvel]

Day 28: Filming

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: With your honeymoon almost over, Bucky wants to capture some precious memories on film.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, masturbation, oral (male receiving), slight daddy kink, spanking, slight mention of reader feeling insecure in front of the camera when it’s up close, but she fully consents to being filmed

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: the penultimate part!! I’m gonna miss these two at the end of Kinktober. Dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library | Ko-fi

Bucky has you in his lap, hands splayed on your ass and his tongue in your mouth.

You had tentative plans for today that included leaving your beach front resort to go snorkelling, but when Bucky reminded you this morning that you only had a couple days left of your honeymoon, you decided staying in bed naked with your god-like husband was a much better use of your time.

“You wanna try something new?” Bucky mumbles against your lips, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as his fingers trail tantalising swirls up and down your spine. His bare thighs are sturdy underneath your own, and his tattooed chest firm below your fingertips, but the softness in his eyes makes you melt into him.

“With you, always.” You reach between your bodies and begin stroking him, preparing for what you're certain is about to take place in the expanse of your bed. Bucky groans in response, the noise the most enticing sound you’ve ever heard. “What did you have in mind?”

Bucky Barnes, the King of New York, rarely ever looks bashful, but there’s a shyness to the way he gazes at you in this moment that makes your stomach flutter with butterflies.

“I was thinking… we have our wedding video, how about we make a honeymoon video too?” There’s something so very electrifying and alluring about the thought of immortalising your love for each other in the form of a sex tape. Capturing your most intimate moments and every angle of how perfect the two of you fit together. Something only your sets of eyes will ever view, but that will commemorate the month in your life where Bucky has made you feel the sexiest and most alluring you ever have.

The moment trembles between you, quivering with tension like a raindrop clinging to a leaf as you bite your lip before nodding in excited endorsement. Bucky surges forward, cupping your face and crashing his pillow soft lips to yours as you relax into his familiar, musky scented embrace that will forever be your definition of home.

With his insanely strong arms, Bucky lifts you from his lap, and places you with your back against masses of pillows. A jolt of exhilaration zaps through you as you’re reminded Bucky can quite literally manhandle you any time he pleases.

He grabs his phone, which had been charging on the nightstand, and holds it up as if he started recording instantly. Just the look of pure wonder and excitement on his features is enough for a desperate ache to grow between your legs.

“Touch yourself, baby. Rub that pussy for daddy.” You spread your legs wide to give Bucky and the camera the best view of your glistening folds, gathering your arousal on your fingers before focussing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Show me how gorgeous you look when you touch yourself thinking of your husband.”

Every time he refers to himself by that moniker, it makes you even wetter. Your husband. The man who stood in front of everyone you knew and promised to love you forever. Your souls now entwined for eternity.

And if Bucky had his way, so would your bodies.

The way Bucky seductively licks his lips as he watches you pleasure yourself makes you more turned on than you thought possible. Imagining it is instead his fingers playing with your nub, you draw tight circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, your breathing quickening with every flick which Bucky seems to enjoy as he watches you intently through his camera with a delighted smile.

His large frame looms over you, inching the camera closer every second, completely enthralled by the little whimpers cascading from your lips and how your two fingers stimulate yourself and not wanting to chance missing capturing any of it on film.

Bucky groans when you slip your fingers inside you, you’ve never been able to reach the spots he can with his massive hands, but with him watching over you, filming you, you do your very best to give him a show that will be worth watching over and over again.

Drowning in your own pleasure you almost miss how Bucky starts stroking himself with his hand not in possession of his phone, already as hard as a rock observing the pornographic scene in front of him, but your mouth begins drooling at the realisation when you look over to him.

James Barnes, one of the most influential men in the whole world, your husband, is getting off to the picture of you masturbating, precum beading at his tip, all because he enjoys the sight of you spread out of a bed just for him. He has that look in his eye as if he wants to lick every inch of your body, devour you, but behind that is indecision, as if he’s enjoying your show far too much to interrupt for his own selfish reasons.

But as he pumps his thick length watching you intently, your chest also fills with a yearning desire to consume him, and you give in a lot quicker than Bucky does. You crawl over the bed, swaying your hips and putting on a show for the camera which is still recording your every move, before dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Is my dirty little slut desperate for daddy’s cock?” Having the camera this close to your face as you swirl your tongue around the head of his dick makes you slightly insecure, but Bucky has forever praised both how beautiful you are to him and your skills taking him in your mouth, so when he gazes down at you with the most smitten look you’ve ever seen and an anticipation where he can barely keep the phone steady, you forget all about the camera recording you and instead focus on pleasing your husband.

You choke on his cock as he hits the back of your throat, tears welling along your lash line as you push yourself down him as far as you can physically take, while maintaining the stimulating, circular pressure on your own clit.

“That’s my good girl, fuck your throat feels amazing” Bucky proclaims, affectionately rubbing your cheek with his thumb as he lets you set the pace, bobbing up and down his thick length, moaning around what you can fit in your mouth. “You look so hot gagging on this fat dick.”

You continue to suck him off with as much vigour as you can muster, until you get light headed, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, tears spilling from your eyes. Pulling off him, you look up at the camera with swollen lips, probably looking like the picture of pure debauchery. Given the look of utter devotion Bucky shoots you from behind his phone, you suspect he rather enjoys the sight.

He slaps his dick on your extended tongue a couple times, before you swallow him again, having caught your breath enough to continue.

Your thighs start to feel weak as your fingers focus on the bundle of nerves between your legs, and all of a sudden your orgasm comes out of nowhere, hitting you like a bus. You’re looking up innocently at the camera, taking all of Bucky in your mouth as pleasure sparks and rages like a wildfire in your belly, consuming your entire body. Moaning around his cock, you continue to furiously rub your clit as per Bucky’s growled instructions, dirty praises in the sound of his voice filling your ears even though he sounds far away.

Bucky gazes at you with a combination of awe and a craving need, moving the camera closer to your contorting face to capture every moment of pure pleasure as it floods through your body like a tsunami. He gives you his signature alluring smirk as you come down from your high, that one which always suggests he has much more in store for you yet.

He motions for you to get back up on the bed, all the while keeping you in the centre of the cameras shot.

“Show me that ass baby - yeah that’s it, the camera’s got the best view of this fucking perfect ass.” Bucky punctuates his sentence with a delicious slap to the fat of your butt, the short sting only making you drip with even more wetness to show the camera and your core ache to feel utterly full of him. “Gonna see how you take every inch, like the good little whore I married.”

As he thrusts inside you, starting at a brutal pace which has you gripping onto the bed sheets for dear life, you recognise Bucky is fulfilling his promise of keeping you satisfied and stuffed full of his cum throughout your honeymoon.

And now you’ll have the video evidence to prove it.

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @Inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot @littleravengirl @whyamireadingthis @vase-of-lilies @Mrsrogers77 @saltyshluts @Wwhitewolff @buckysdogtagss @mylastnamesyuh @alexandria-fandom @andth3ywereroommates @avalongreene-09 @sargentbarnxes @keira324 @cherryschaos @missusbarnes-rogers @cherriesnwinee @Ellieangelbee @Shirayukiuzukaze @goldylions @elacinnamoon @buckysdollx @mrsmischief209 @capsbestgirl77 @its-just-smut-haha @ironmansson29 @Slutforderekhale @otome-loves-what @jacesswifey @winterslove1917 @black-mistress-of-evil @buckyscumwhore @purple-vegan

#Bucky Barnes #Kinktober #Kinktober 2023 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes Kinktober #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes au #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel kinktober #em writes

[petrichorium]

“you broke up with nagi?”

you yelp at the sound of a voice behind you as you leave your apartment, dropping your key as you spin around and clutch your purse instinctively.

it’s reo. he’s leaning against the half-wall across from your door, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with some kind of contemplative frown marring his features.

“mikage, fuck, you scared me.” the familiar face has you relaxing. he only continues to stare you down, and you realize that he’s actually looking for a response; you clear your throat and shift a little awkwardly. “uh, yeah. it just wasn’t working out.”

his frown deepens. it’s distinctly ugly, you think—the furrow of his brow, the way his nose crinkles.

it’s now that you take note of his clothes—the jumper he wears is a pretty blue, certainly costing more than six month’s rent, and the jeans are expertly fitted. this is a singular visit, he hasn’t stopped by on the way to his work. you figure he’s taken the day off; perhaps for this specifically, or perhaps to support nagi. it isn’t your business anymore.

nor are you reo’s business anymore.

“what are you doing here?”

you watch his brow furrow further, that contemplative frown returning in full force. his eyes dart to the side, lips pursed, and he crosses his arms again.

for half a moment, you watch him. when he neither moves nor begins to speak again you decide to finish locking up while he ponders whatever it is that’s nagging at him.

you turn, glancing down to scan the concrete floor for your dropped key. the glint catches your eye a few inches away from where it had fallen—you crouch to pick it up, acutely aware of the pencil skirt and heels you’re wearing for the office.

when you rise to your feet you feel reo at your back before it fully registers.

how he spanned the distance so quickly and silently is beyond you, though you’re inclined to blame those professional athlete abilities. it doesn’t much matter either way when you spin around and find that he’s now right before you.

you lurch backward, shoulders slamming into your closed door, staring at him and his proximity with wide eyes.

“mikage…“ you trail off as he tilts his head.

“do you think i hate you?” the words are off—quiet and absent-minded, like he’s talking to himself, not you. it’s only magnified by the way he stares not at your eyes but at your lips.

you swallow thickly. “i don’t really care. nagi liked me, that’s all that mattered.”

“you don’t care…” reo gives a little huff. he pulls away just slightly, eyes flitting sideways as his hand flies up to ruffle his hair.

“reo—“ you start, and then catch yourself, but the damage is done. his eyes widen and his arm drops and he draws closer, closing the distance in a single step. at the same time he reaches out with his hand to brace against the door behind you, trapping you between his arm and the barricade next to you. you forget how big he is until times like this—until he crowds you up with your back to the wall, and every bit of your vision is filled with him, and he’s so close you’re surrounded by the heat of his body and the smell of his nice luxury cologne.

“to be honest i always did hate when you were around.” you feel his laugh fan over your skin, warm and husky. “but when he told me you’d broken it off with him, i was furious.”

“reo,” you say again, and you’re not even certain what it is you’re pleading for anymore.

“all i could think to do was come here to see you, couldn’t tell you why, but now… well.” he’s careful not to touch you, only to hover, and that’s worse somehow—it has your heartbeat quickening, your stomach flipping. it has you turning your head away and inadvertently baring your neck to him, a motion he takes full advantage of as he dips his head to almost-but-not-quite brush lips against your pulsepoint, and your breath hitches, eyes closing. “now i understand it.”

“stop,” your voice is hoarse, almost breaking, “nagi—”

“push me away, then.” it’s low, whispered like a secret, and he still doesn’t touch you but he keeps you pinned here, a butterfly under glass. as if to prove this point he presses closer, one polished leather shoe sliding forward between your legs, his free hand sliding behind your back. “push me off. i’ll leave. or…”

he drags that featherlight touch up your neck, along your jaw; stops just over your lips, eyes heavy-lidded and halfway to closed. you feel the words against you more than you hear them, spoken so quietly—like if he doesn’t say it aloud it isn’t a betrayal of his best friend.

you could kiss me.

and, really, it’s on reo—nagi, you remind yourself, isn’t your responsibility anymore. reo is the one betraying him. when you press forward, no more than a centimeter, it’s that thought which propels you. when you reach out to tug him in with a fist bunching that handsome sweater, you disregard how much you still care about your still-fresh ex.

and when you come to your senses a fraction of a second later it doesn’t matter. reo surges after you, encouraged by the minuscule taste of a kiss that you’d given him. if you’d thought him overwhelming before it’s nothing like now, as his arms close in and he presses you flush between him and your own front door.

his hand slides in behind you and sprawls, hot and heavy, wide at the small of your back; the other finds your cheek, cradles it gently but insistently as he gives you no choice but to tilt your head up towards his for easier access. in the back of your mind you feel like a horrible person for comparing, but it’s difficult not to—reo’s kiss is desperate, fervent, stark contrast to the lazy way nagi always kissed you. it’s messy, with clacking teeth and a questing tongue and the obscenely loud sound of spit-slick lips. your head would have slammed into the solid wood behind you if not for his hand cushioning you, and you can’t help but melt into him, falling limp in his hold.

before long you’re forced to turn your head and break away for air, chest heaving as you catch the breath he’s stolen from your lungs. he has no such need. his mouth doesn’t leave your skin, but in the absence of yours he turns his attention to sucking what will inevitably be a deep, lewd mark just beneath your jaw at the pulsepoint he’d been so interested in before. and it hits you then, exactly why he’s fixated: months ago, it’d been a mark right there that had revealed your relationship with nagi to him.

the revelation snaps you out of whatever spell you’d been under and you yank your hand back from his chest like it’s been burned. it slams into the door handle, still yet to be locked by the key you clutch in your other—which gives you the only thought you can manage with your mind so fogged by the feeling of his lips on your neck. you still fumble a bit, but you turn it, let the door swing back from behind you and feel the swoop in the pit of your stomach that accompanies your body dropping.

now you thank everything for those pro athlete instincts, because just as quickly as your support falls away reo is there to wrap his arm securely around your waist and, before you can even react, turn the pair of you around so that you land on his chest and he takes the brunt of the fall.

“ow— fuck, are you okay?” he’s sprawled out on the floor of your foyer, one arm around your waist as he blinks away the shock. that jumper is ruffled, bunched up the side to give you a little peek at the taut expanse of skin beneath, as he rubs at the back of his head with his free hand. ironically, you think this suits him better than the stiff, polished mannerisms he typically employs. there’s a boyish charm to the wide, dazed look and the little purse of his lips, the way his hair is now mussed. you’re almost inclined to giggle before you remind yourself, quite sternly, that reo’s charisma has always been a little overwhelming even when he isn’t trying. still, you soften, even easing into his hand at your waist.

but then he pauses in his motions, and lifts his head, and his eyes jump to the now-still door before meeting yours—and you fling yourself back, breath hitching as you settle on your haunches as far away from him as you can manage in a single motion.

“was that on purpose?” he asks, leaning forward to sit up and reach out towards you, all wild-eyed and hazy. you scramble back even further.

there’s a glint to those eyes now that they’ve fallen on you, something you don’t dare to name. something that makes you want to slam the door in his face and never return to your own apartment for fear of what you’ve trapped within; something you’ve only ever seen when he’s looked at nagi but only now realize can be turned on someone else, something you hope desperately is a fluke.

(the following day, when you arrive at work to find your desk flooded with hundreds of deep purple roses, you know it was a futile hope.)

prequel

#reo x reader #reo x y/n #reo x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #mine.🌧 #char.🌧 reo #OKAY SDFHV OKAY THERE WE GO #if there r mistakes...... shaddup #JHSBDFJHB #i hope this isnt too tonally confusing #reader is Very Ambivalent okay we'll just blame it on that #and pretend it wasnt that i was very ambivalent abt how i wanted this to go LMFAOOOOOO #n e way #enjoy ig

[daddyricsdoll]

“Oh that dress looks great on you, but it would look even better on the floor.” with Fernando Alonso

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Being with Fernando throughout the whole season was usually always interesting. Except for the days where he was busy with team meetings and testing, leaving me alone. But the difference between Fernando and any other man was that he planned the perfect day for me. Trying his best to research the city and pinpoint any place that would peak my interest.

And like always I’d fall in love with him a million more times, in advance of feeling guilty for all the money he intended to spend on me. Making me sometimes refuse his gifts, but always letting him know I do it because I love him.

But this time he didn’t let me refuse it. Handing me his card and telling me to spend it on myself. Showing me photos and screenshots of dresses he was certain I’d like, and if I bought them, I wouldn’t be the only one with a smile on my face.

“How was it?” Fernando asks as I walk through the door, a grin on his already glowing face.

“It was actually really good. Thank you, and… I got you something. WIth my own money of course.” I say, searching through one of the bags that I just placed on the floor.

“No, show me what you got yourself. Put it on for me.” Fernando says so smoothly, a proud smirk dawning his lips.

“For you… always.” I smile at Fernando, grabbing a couple of bags and walking toward him to plant a devoting kiss on his lips before eventually making my way to the bathroom.

Pulling my favourite dress out of the bag, I hold it against my body. Looking at myself in the mirror and smiling before actually putting it on. Taking off nearly all my clothes and debating whether I keep my panties on because of underwear lines. Making my decision of being bare beneath the dress, not only for looks, but I needed some fun. Even though I knew it would come, I just begged for it to be closer.

Ultimately sliding the dress on and gliding my hands down my body. Being in content with my curves and the way the fabric holds them perfectly. How the dress itself is gorgeous but doesn’t distract you from the person wearing it.

“Princesa? You ok?” Fernando calls out, his voice not far from the door, helping me remember what I’m supposed to be doing. And instead of answering, I grab the door handle. Pulling it open and watching the way awe fills his eyes. Somehow still astonished at the same thing he’s been seeing for many months.

“Oh princesa,” He steps closer to me, holding his arms out and letting me walk into them. “You look great, so beautiful in that dress… but right now, it would look even better on the floor.” You would assume this has happened millions of times by the way I can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks into my ear. Fernando's hands that were recently on my hips now skim up my back to drag the zipper down. Doing it so delicately, sure to not ruin the dress, but instead, me.

Managing to slip it down my body and reveal how fully exposed I am to him. “Fuck. You really couldn’t wait huh?” Not giving me time to answer as he pulls my face into his. Lips wrapping around the others like a default. The only difference being the hunger and desire that ran through us both. Nearly eating at each other.

“I need a taste.” Fernando breathes out against my skin. Grabbing the backs of my thighs and lifting me up to take me to the bed. Not holding me for long as he lowered me onto the soft duvet. Making sure my legs hang off the end of the bed and his head can fit between my legs.

I try to keep my hands on Fernando, my fingers threading through his hair while he kneels in front of me. Pulling my body to the very end of the bed and becoming eye level with my dripping pussy.

Gradually being less stable as his breath hits my uncovered folds. Attempting to tease me but even the smallest touch from him is enough to make me explode. Still, I can never get enough.

“I thought you wanted a taste?”

“No princesa, I need it.”

A/N: (Sorry, just had to tease you again)

#f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fluff #fernando alonso x female reader #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso smut #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #fa14 imagine #fa14 x reader #fa14 #formula 1 x oc #formula 1 x y/n #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 one shot

[luna-writes-stuff]

A super quick five-minute guide to writing a Stranger Things fic with no experience of DnD:

Edited for some clarity since people asked for it. See reblogs for more time-accurate DnD, and more specific rules!

Alternatively; If you never played or barely know DnD, but wish to write about it nonetheless, here are some quick FYI’s

These points are made based on things I have read on this site and other platforms. In no way is this a personal attack if you recognise your own writing! I have seen many posts where people complain about the inaccuracy of DnD represented in fics, but none offer any ideas, so that’s why I wrote this. Hope this helps!

1. DND IS NOT A TWO PLAYER GAME

You need one Dungeon master, and at least three players to create a good campaign. I’d say a normal party consists out of five players (DM not included), but it can quite easily be bigger.

(There are starter campaigns with one DM and one player, but for a good game, you’d need a bigger party. Introductions to DnD are way more fun with a good group)

2. DND IS NOT A QUICK GAME

There is no such thing as playing a quick round of DnD. Even starter campaigns can be hours long. A short/mini campaign is usually around 4, if not more, hours.

3. THERE ARE MORE DICES THAN JUST THE D20

Though the D20 is the dice you will use more often, there are other ones as well; the D4, D6, D8, D10, and - occasionally - the D100

4. THERE ISN’T ONE DND BOOK

DnD might appear as a fun role playing game, but there is a lot of effort that goes into it. With that counting the books. Players usually only need the Player’s Handbook, which contains information about how to play and how to make a character. Vice versa does the DM have a Dungeon Master’s guide, which introduces them to the game and how to direct it. Aside from that, there are a lot of other books containing different worlds, campaigns, creatures, characters, monsters etc. etc.

5. YOU CANNOT MAKE YOUR OWN DND HANDBOOK

Bouncing back on point 4, as there are many books, there are also many pages. A book isn’t easily studied, and is usually only used as a reference, and not something you have to know by heart. It is incredibly difficult to memorise every little detail of only one book. Aside from that, there are many many rules and restrictions bound to certain worlds and characters, so creating your own book, 9 out of 10 times would not make sense. It doesn’t make it impossible, but it is highly unlikely. Also, the DM will often times pitch in on which races and classes to use for certain campaigns, so creating your own species often won’t get you very far.

6. NOT ALL DND CAMPAIGNS HAVE A MAP AND MINIATURES

In season 4, we see Eddie’s campaign, with it a map and miniatures of creatures (under which Vecna), but this doesn’t occur as often as you think. Starter campaigns or other well known campaigns do contain maps, and miniatures of both the characters and creatures, but this is only because most of those campaigns don’t actually allow you to make your own character. A campaign self-written, or a campaign taken from a book about a certain world often times do not have anything, save from some drawings of your surroundings. There will be a lot of times you’ll have to imagine your character standing in a certain spot.

7. WRITING A CAMPAIGN IS DIFFICULT AND ISN’T WRITTEN IN A DAY

Extending some information; writing campaigns are a pain in the ass. As a first time DM, you will not write your own campaign. Unless you are really committed and already have some experience as a player…. If you have played often, writing a campaign is possible, but it takes weeks, if not months. A lot of info and rules and restrictions and creatures etc. etc. are involved in the process. Besides that, you’ll have to help your players out with their characters to fit to your world, while not revealing too much. You cannot write a campaign in a night.

8. CREATING A CHARACTER TAKES A LONG TIME

Like writing a campaign, a character also takes time. If you are really dedicated, you might have one in an hour, but if you want to properly study every race, class and background, you’ll be stuck in the books for a while. And that’s not even with counting characteristics, alliances, backstory, mannerisms, bonds, relations…. And then you’ll have to actually get in character. It takes time.

(As said, some people can create characters quickly, but this is with experience. More often than not, if you want to write a good character, you’ll be busy for quite a while)

9. EVERYTHING RELIES ON THE DUNGEON MASTER

As a player, you can’t change the story. You can’t make things up. Everything, and I mean everything, goes by the Dungeon Master first. You can’t propose things, you can’t ignore things. Dungeon Masters spent a lot of time working on campaigns, even the ones that have already been written. They know what happens, they decide. There is no second voice.

(Yes, players are able to interact with the story. It wouldn’t be DnD if you couldn’t, but the DM knows what happens, and the players - or the characters - do not. You could ignore creatures or buildings. Smart? Meh.)

Hope this helped! If not, feel free to ask or leave a suggestion!

#stranger things #dnd #d&d #dungeons and dragons #Netflix #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x reader #lucas sinclair x reader #dustin henderson x reader #mike wheeler x reader #will byers x reader #jonathan byers x reader #max mayfield x reader

[roosterbruiser]

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫!

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐟𝐟

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The sound of rain is what wakes you up--which is rare for California. Distantly, thunder is rumbling and the breeze is pushing through the leaves of the eucalyptus trees in Jake’s backyard. Just the repetitive sounds catapulting the window panes makes your chest feel warm in the gray-blue light of the bedroom, the one that is still mostly dark. 

Jake is still sleeping soundly. You always wake up first--and Jake truly thought he was a morning person before he met you, who thinks that sleeping past seven is wasting the day away--but you don’t mind waking up first. You are privileged enough to get to kiss him awake every morning, gently nudging him into his day under the sweetness of your mouth. 

Wrapped around him, breasts flush with the naked skin of his back, you let your hands drift from the sheets to the plane of his belly; his skin is taut and hard beneath your palms, warm with sleep. You sink further into his body, nuzzling your nose against his neck and tangling your feet together.    

Drenched in the peace of this damp San Diego morning and lulled to a certain peace by the rareness of the weather, you press a few sporadic kisses to the warm skin of Jake’s back. Sleep is thick on your eyelashes and your cheeks feel swollen from lying on your pillow all night, but there is a syrupy happiness infecting you. 

You’ve been waking up like this--giddy--almost every morning for a couple months now, sleeping in these nice sheets that are not often used as a dining room table for greasy pizza anymore. Now these sheets are meant for sleeping and not sleeping.

"Mornin'," you whisper to Jake. Your voice is hoarse. 

There is a tiny movement, one that is hardly identifiable to the naked eye. Just a little twitching of his jaw, a tiny little symbol that he has heard you. Jake’s always been a good sleeper--his mother used to brag about his sleeping through the night as an infant--but he wakes up to every single small sound you make. It is not even begrudgingly that he does so; often times, if you release a lone snore in the night or mumble and rouse Jake, he’ll just peek at you with his tired eyes and pull you closer to him. 

“Jake,” you whisper again, kissing his shoulders now. “Good morning.”

He grumbles back, nestling himself deeper into the bends of your body. It’s silly, really, how the two of you just fit together like you’re sculpted from the same clay. He treasures that closeness, that feeling of your arms around him, that feeling of your chest against his back. 

But not this early in the morning. 

“No, it isn’t,” Jake mumbles, shaking his head. 

He’s so tired that he feels like it’s impossible to open his eyes. Like he has lead eyelids. But he can feel your sleep-swollen lips peppering sweet kisses across his back and the way your breasts feel pushed up against him, can feel your bare thighs against his. And although tired, he does relish in that feeling. Sometimes he gets choked up thinking about getting to relish this feeling every morning. 

"Unfortunately, little spoon," you breathe back, humming against his skin, “it is.”

He grumbles again at your little nickname for him. You can’t help it--it delights you that he likes to be the little spoon. And what delights you even more is the fact that he only reluctantly admitted it after a few glasses of wine some months back. 

“Will you hold me?” He had asked you, reclining at an impossibly casual angle on the sofa as you folded up your Chinese takeout boxes. 

Of course, you’d been giggly and tipsy, too. So you looked up at him, chewing on your lip, with your eyebrow raised. And there he was, glassy-eyed and rosy-cheeked, hands lost in his hair, head tilted as he watched you. 

“Now?” You asked him. 

He shook his head. 

“No, like…in bed.” he started, taking a deep breath. “In the bed. Where we sleep? Together. Like sometimes, you know how I hold you in bed? What if you hold me while we’re in bed? Together. Like if I have my back to you and you, like, hold onto me.”

“Jake,” you’d softly said, smiling. “Do you want me to spoon you?” 

“Some people would call it that,” he answered, nodding uncertainly.  

Jake’s falling asleep again just listening to the measured sounds of your breaths. But it’s suddenly that he hears the other noise--thunder, he thinks. And maybe rain, too. 

“Is it raining?” He asks, not lifting his head off the pillow. His voice is gravelly and thick.

“Yes,” you tell him, softly combing your fingers through the sandy bedhead he dons each morning. “Isn’t it nice?”  

The bedroom is still mostly dark, the covers pulled up to your shoulders. And you can't see his face, but you know that his velvety stubble must have grown out just a tad from the weekend and that there must be a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. His eyes must be half-shut and his face must be totally slacked.

You feel when he falls asleep again; his breathing gets very deep and his abdominal muscles go entirely limp. 

“Baby,” you whisper, rousing him from his slumber. 

“Can’t go to work if s’raining,” he tries to reason, slurring slightly. He snuggles himself in the blankets further, treasuring the waves of body heat emanating from beneath them and onto his face. The sheets are clean, too--but somehow, you have already perfumed them. He loves it. He loves that smell. “S’illegal.” 

“Baby, we’re government property,” you remind him gently. “Rain or shine.”

You are kissing him again, humming against his skin, being very gentle with him. Even when he’s very tired, like he is right now, it’s always nice to feel your lips coming down over him like this. In the months the two of you have been together you have kissed him in places no one else has before: in between his shoulder blades, his kneecaps, the tip of his left ear, right above his belly button, the top of his hop bone, his palms. 

“But we can’t fly when it rains,” he tries to reason, slowly beginning to blink himself awake.

“That’s not all we’re good for, you know,” you laugh softly. 

“Speak for yourself,” Jake mumbles back.  

You allow him another moment of rest, pressing your cheek against him.

The rain picks up a bit outside, which does not help your case.  

As a little girl, you loved rainy days. Odds were that your dad would get to come home early, especially when he was still flying, and he’d be in front of the school in his Corvette to pick you up, chewing a piece of gum and standing proudly in his flight suit. It was something you used to be able to bet on--so you never minded the lack of recess or felt the rainy-day blues your peers did. 

Rain meant dad was coming to pick you up.

“What’re you so quiet about over there?” 

Usually in the mornings, you’re a chatterbox. Jake has grown so accustomed to you telling him all about your dreams and your plans for the day that your silence is strangely making his throat ache. 

You clear your throat. 

“My dad used to pick me up from school on rainy days. It was like a tradition or something,” you whisper to him. “Maybe we’ll get off early today, too.” 

You aren’t choked up--you are getting better and better about not crying each time you think about your dad, which is what you know he would want. It is with a fondness that you say it--the memories are good ones.

Jake is growing used to you speaking about Ice without crying, too--but he is still on his toes, ready to catch you if you are to fumble. Acceptance of your tears is just a part of his job duties after becoming your boyfriend at this particular moment in your life. Jake really, honestly, wouldn’t want it any other way. Rain or shine, he loves you very, very much. Even when you won’t let him stay in bed all day.  

Jake turns slowly, adjusting himself until his nose is pressed into yours and your legs are entirely tangled together. He pulls you close to him, so close that all he can smell is the shampoo in your hair and the sleep in your eyes and the dreams between your lips.

“Let’s start a new tradition,” Jake says softly, stroking your hair. 

You are rolled so tightly in his arms that it feels like someone has laid a blanket made of heavy leather over your body. His heaviness is always a good one, though--one that you welcome. 

“We’re not staying in bed every time it rains,” you laugh softly. But you press kisses along his collarbones anyway. “We’d waste the day away!” 

He knows how much you hate to waste your days. He’s still getting used to your nature of early-rising, which has thrown him for a loop despite his Navyman status. 

He buries his nose in your hair, sighing, holding you tighter. 

“Says the one pinned to the bed right now,” he whispers, kissing your temple.  

And because you’re you and you don’t want Jake to forget just why your call-sign is Wisteria, within a moment, you are straddling him and he’s lying flat on his back. Lips parted in shock, his eyes widened for the first time. 

“Hey!” He whines, laughing. 

“Says the one pinned to the bed right now,” you mock, pressing your palms against his wrists mockingly. 

You don’t know if you will ever get used to having him below you, on this continent of nice sheets that he has so graciously let you inside of. All that skin and muscle and all his ridges and planes--you love them, simply put. You don’t consider yourself a particularly religious woman, but you would bow down and pray to each of his abdominal muscles if given the opportunity.   

He whines for just a moment, his features pulled into a grimace, but the whining ceases as soon as he takes you in for the first time this morning. There you are, all of your soft skin and bare thigh and messy hair and tired eyes. Whenever he looks at you in the mornings, whenever he takes you in for the first time, he always has to push your hair behind your ears to get a better look at you. 

You lean into his palm, smiling. 

“I really love you,” Jake sighs, shaking his head. 

You narrow your eyes, squeezing him with your thighs. 

“You still have to go to work today,” you tell him.

He groans--his hips vibrated against your core. 

His eyes are still heavy-lidded as he gazes up at you, frowning.  

“And you didn’t even say you loved me to soften the blow?” Jake mutters, tutting. He pinches your cheek softly. “You wound me, Wisty.”

“I do love you,” you assure him. “But I would love you so much more if you’d just get out of bed--!”

That is the precise moment Jake wraps his arms around you and springs up, effectively throwing both of you onto the bed lopsided in a fit of giggles and half-hearted pleas.  

So reluctantly, after much rubbing of his eyes and whining and coaxing kisses, the two of you are on base now. 

The sky is a solid slate of gray--which is so rare in San Diego that you were almost tempted to indulge Jake in his want to stay home and keep yourself tangled in the sheets with him all day--and the water droplets falling from the swollen clouds are fat little things that are pattering steadily on the tall windows in the training room.

Maverick did his best to draw training out, did his best to make his lectures engaging. But even he was feeling something between antsy and deflated as the rain continued to fall in sheets just outside.

It's only a little past lunch and everyone is piled into the lounge now, listlessly sitting on the couch, half-heartedly watching I Love Lucy reruns and pretending to do paperwork that's already been done.

Fanboy and Payback are playing a game of cards in the corner, quietly perched in tall chairs. Coyote is making another sandwich in the kitchenette, umming James Brown. Phoenix is the only one really watching I Love Lucy, trying not to act too interested even though she is. Bob finally grabbed his cross-stitching out and started up on it after enough prodding from Phoenix. Rooster is dozing, and has been for two and a half episodes. You're tucked in beside Jake, twiddling your thumbs as you fix your gaze on the rain-soaked California just outside the glass pane. And he’s just watching you. 

"If you stare long enough, you think it'll stop?" Jake asks quietly, fingers drawing a lazy line up your spine. You’re wearing your service khakis and the material is thick and scratching beneath his fingers.

You hum, not tearing your gaze from the glass.

"That's what I'm trying to do," you sigh back, holding your chin in your hand.

"How's it going?" Jake asks.

He comes closer to you, resting his cheek on your shoulder. He's so warm--always so, so warm which is precisely what’s prompted you to stop sleeping with pants entirely--and his stubble is tickling the tender skin of your neck just right. He definitely missed a spot shaving.

"Still raining, isn't it?"

He laughs softly.

He wants to kiss you. He always, always wants to kiss you. It's almost an issue, honestly. He looks at your wandering eyes or that sweet blueberry color on your toenails (he's learned that you paint your nails every second Sunday and own four bottles of Blueberry Boogie) or that sweet pink color of your cheeks and all he can think about is your skin under his lips. It almost makes him feel drunk, really, just thinking about how good you would feel beneath him. 

You can feel him looking at you. You always can. 

Sometimes you think about the day in the training room when you picked his feet up and dropped them on the floor, when his pond-scum-colored eyes felt like flames licking your turned cheek. That seems like a different lifetime entirely. Now you've succumbed to the notion that Jake's eyes are the perfect shade of aspen and even if you feel heat emanating from them, it is only the heat of lust. More often than not, when he's looking at you, his eyes are swimming with affection. His pupils are practically heart-shaped. It’s something other have pointed out--something be rolls his eyes about, but knows it’s true. 

Methodically, you’re drawing little figure-8’s on the couch.  

"You antsy?" He asks softly. 

He covers your busy fingers and gives them a careful squeeze.

You nod, humming. No wonder they usually let your dad leave early on rainy days--it’s difficult to sit here and do precisely nothing. It’s making your palms itch. 

"Wanna take a walk?" Jake whispers.

He really does just mean take a walk at first. Even when Bob shares a glance with Phoenix and Coyote whistles when the two of you walk out of the room, he doesn't have an ulterior motive. Not yet, at least. 

"So quiet today," you hum as the two of you meander down the wide, tiled hallways. You are profoundly alone, alone enough for you to feel comfortable slinking beneath his arm so it's slung over your shoulder. "Maybe we should've just stayed home."

You're teasing him, of course.

He pinches your bicep softly, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“Well, well, well,” he chuckles, “oh how the tables have turned.” 

You’re biting your lip, shaking your head gently. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say well, well, well and oh, how the tables have turned. Supposed to be one or the other, baby,” you tease him.

“And here all this time, I thought you weren’t a cartoon villain,” he sighs. “Well, well, well. The tables have turned.”

“You’re an idiot,” you whisper, but your voice is thick with affection. 

“Big time,” he tells you with a grin. 

And really, you don’t know how it happens. 

One minute, you’re rolling your eyes and falling into his side. Then the next, the two of you are laughing with each other about it all. And then he says something to you about how empty the hallways are, just before he steals a kiss. His lips feel s0 good against yours, very soft and welcoming, very protective. God, you love kissing him. So much so that you cup his cheek and curve your back and let him tug you closer to him. And then the kissing feels really good, good enough for you to open your mouth and let his tongue slip inside, good enough for you to moan softly against his lips the way you know he likes. Just your breasts pressed against Jake, even through the thick khaki you’re donning, is enough to make all the blood in Jake’s body shift down, down, down. Then you’re making that little noise, the one that makes him want to hold your throat, the one that makes him absolutely crazy for you.  

Maybe it’s the weather--that could definitely be it. You’re antsy. You have too much energy since you’re not out flying jets now. Or maybe it’s how thoroughly alone you and Jake are in the halls right now, so alone that the motion-sensor lights a bit further down the corridor have blinked off. Or maybe it’s just because you can’t help yourselves when you get started.

But after a few moments of kissing, with your body pressing into his and his body molding around yours, you both know that it’s going to happen. You know each other almost too well now; each of you knows what makes the other’s engine run. It’s almost accidental that you both turn each other on right here, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip as he rests his forehead against yours and your palm flat against that delicious spot at the lowest point on his belly.

Then you meet each other’s eyes and fuck, there’s heat pouring out of his and into yours and fuck, you have that wise-eyed look that he likes so much. So, in complete tandem, you push yourselves into one of the empty dorms on base--they’re not being used right now, thank fucking God, so there’s a thin cloud of dust that comes up when Jake presses you down onto the terrible twin mattress. 

“We really doing this?” You ask as he hungrily kisses your neck, fingers already fumbling with the buttons of your uniform as you grip the ends of his hair fiercely. 

“Uh huh,” he mumbles against your skin, inhaling that sweet perfume that drives him even more wild. “New tradition.” 

You laugh breathlessly, heat already pooling low in your belly as Jake pulls back from you and beholds the sight below him. Your khaki shirt is entirely unbuttoned, leaving you in an old sports bra with all that skin he adores on display in the gray light. And you’re laying back on the little mattress, hair fanned all around you, cheeks pink and lips parted and smiling softly. 

And from your spot on the bed, you look up at him too, pretending like you aren't already pulsing with want. Already, you’ve mussed his gelled hair and made his eyes blow wide with lust. And he’s panting already, too, his cock straining against his pants most uncomfortably. 

“This isn’t the craziest place we’ve done it,” he says softly, splaying his hand out over your belly, relishing the soft skin under his palm there. “Think you can keep quiet?”

You nod, swallowing hard. You’re beginning to grow uncomfortable with anticipation. Fuck, if you were less turned on or if it wasn’t raining or if you didn’t feel like you were on borrowed time already, you would tell him to get on with it. But you’re totally mesmerized by the way his fingers are drifting lower and lower, tugging at the waistband of your pants as his eyes pour into yours. 

Raising your hips in anticipation, Jake shakes his head minutely. He presses down just soft enough to make you moan, but hard enough that your hips firmly fall back against the springs. 

“Jake,” you manage to whine breathlessly. 

He’s smirking now. 

“Wisty,” he mocks, unbuttoning your pants. 

Fuck. You want him bad--you want him now. 

And you know just how to push him past all this teasing--which you would usually love if you were doing this in the comfort and privacy of your own home; but the dorms famously don’t lock and someone is bound to come looking for the two of you at some point. In one swift movement, you’ve shrugged the top of your uniform off and tugged your sports bra over your head. 

Just at the sight of your bare chest, everything in Jake’s body tightens. Fuck. He’s never gonna get used to seeing you like this--never gonna get used to that pretty sound you make when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, when his hair tickles your throat as he sucks on them harshly.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, muffled by your cleavage as he palms your breasts. You’re keening at his words, at his touch, trying to muffle your moans by biting down hard on your bottom lip. “Fuck, baby, you make me so fuckin’ hard.” 

If you were at home right now, Jake would love to take his proper time with you. He would love to undress you one article of clothing at a time and take special care of those pert nipples and that flesh on your neck and collarbones. He would love to kiss a slow and methodical line down your belly and nip at the inside of your thighs. He would love to hook your knees over his shoulders and fully immerse himself in your cunt, sucking mercilessly at your clit and lapping up every precious drop of you until you’re just a writhing mess above him. 

But he’s growing too antsy now, too hard. He knows you should be quick, anyway--you’re on the clock. So when his hand dips between your legs and he pulls your panties aside, gathering the abundant wetness that’s grown there, he groans into your neck as you throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Fuck,” you whimper as he circles your clit. 

“So wet for me, baby,” he whispers. “Fuck, you want it bad, don’t you?” 

Instead of answering, you reach down too and wriggle your hand in his pants. Already there’s pre-cum dripping from the head of his cock, already he’s solid in your palm as you pump him at the same pace he circles your clit. 

It feels overwhelmingly good--like the kind of good that makes your vision start to blacken around the edges--but you bite your lip hard to conceal your moaning. And Jake has his lips loosely wrapped around your left nipple, stifling his moans against the soft tissue of your breast and driving you fucking crazy.

“Take my pants off,” you mutter to him breathlessly, sitting up on your elbows. 

He wastes no time in sitting up and tearing off your pants and underwear alike. You’re fumbling with his, too, until he pushes your hands away and lets them fall down to his ankles.

God, if you were home right now, you would love to take your time with him, too. You would sit him on the edge of the bed and fall to your knees, scratching softly at his thighs and puffing hot breaths over the bulge in his briefs. And then you would palm him over his pants, palm him until he’s whining for more, baby, please. Then you would delicately pull him out, let your mouth warm the head of his weeping cock, let your nails dig into the meat of his thighs. And because you trust him and because he would never hurt you, you would let him fuck your mouth. You would soften your throat and hollow your cheeks, let him hold your jaw softly and buck his hips up as broken moans drifted from between his parted lips. 

Breathlessly, the two of you fall into your places, working in hasty tandem. You lay flat on your back, bracing yourself against the wall as he tugs your hips to the edge of the bed, rutting himself against you sloppily. And you’re doing everything in your power not to moan out for him, not to cry out in ecstasy, especially when you look up and see his half-lidded eyes. 

 And he can’t help himself when you bite your lip, when you reach out and squeeze his knuckles that are covering your hip bone. He presses into you all at once, not breaking his eyes away from yours as he seats himself deeply inside you. Fuck, you feel like you were made for him. It makes him want to weep with joy and pleasure every time he fills you to the hilt, every time he feels you squeeze around him. 

“Oh,” you moan softly, resisting the urge to let your eyes fall back into your head so you can keep Jake’s gaze. 

He waits a moment until you’ve grown used to the stretch of him, until he knows you’re reading when your thighs begin to quiver in their place around his hips. And then he starts to move, thrusting up and into you in short little spurts until you’re biting your lip and your cheeks are flushed and your face is being devoured by unadulterated pleasure. 

“You feel so good wrapped around my cock, baby,” he mutters to you. You keen in response, chewing your lip. “Fuckin’ made for me.”

And honestly this is all going quick, like it probably should since the whole on base thing Especially when he starts to rub hastily against your clit, when you feel an orgasm approaching with a hot rapidity, when he feels your wet walls tighten around him so deliciously. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you whisper to him, voice choked. “Don’t stop.” 

“Not gonna stop, baby,” he assures you, panting as he ruts up into you. “I’ll keep goin’ until I get you there. Gonna make you cum around my cock, baby, promise.” 

You’re almost over the edge, you’re so close to cumming that your chest has flooded with hot blood, when the door suddenly opens. 

It is an unmistakable heavy sound, one that is accompanied by a very familiar voice that is tiredly crooning Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper. 

You’re not sure what happens first: your orgasm being entirely demolished, Jake screeching to a halt and moving to cover your body with his own, or Rooster absolutely choking on his song and coughing when his spit slides down the wrong pipe. 

“Rooster!” Jake all but shouts, cheeks red at the thought of Rooster’s view of you and him right now. 

You’re completely pinned beneath Jake, none of your bare skin visible to Rooster, but you’re cheeks are inflamed just the same. You’re hiding your face against Jake’s shoulder, shaking your head, unable to open your eyes. Fuck. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Rooster keeps hacking, bent at the waist as he avoids the scene before him. “What the fuck--are you--is that? Oh, my God--oh my fucking God, I didn’t think Coyote was right! But shit, you two are--oh, fuck.” 

Rooster turns towards the wall opposite of you, eyes screwed shut and cheeks red and throat raw from his incessant and surprising hacking. All Bradley Bradshaw was trying to do was sneak away from the lounge and sneak in a nap in one of the dorms he knows are empty right now.

“God, I literally make so much noise,” Rooster said, suddenly thrown into all five stages of grief unceremoniously. His heart is racing and his cheeks are bright red. “How did you not hear me coming? You can hear me from the other fucking side of base!”   

“Fuck, Rooster!” You screech. “Get the fuck out!”

“And, Goddammit!” Rooster sighs, still clearing his throat and staring at the wall. “Jake--I expect this from. But you, Wisty? You? My own little sister? My own flesh and blood?” 

“Rooster, we are not flesh and blood,” you yell out, wishing that you were literally anywhere else in the world. “You have to stop telling people that!”

“And you didn’t tell me about starting any new birth control,” Rooster is feeling panicked now at the thought of a little Jake Seresin demolishing his self-esteem at the ripe age of two-years-old. “So unless loverboy here carries condoms in his uniform, then the two of you better be using some form of protection--!” 

“Rooster!” You yell out, shaking your head. “Oh, my God! Shut the fuck up!”

You’re gonna fucking throw up. Humiliation is flooding your entire being. 

“Oh, so I’m the immature one here? For wanting to discuss safe sex?” 

“Rooster, man,” Jake echoes, exhaling bitterly into your neck. “Now is the part where you leave!” 

“You just stay out of this!” Rooster demands, his back still turned to you and Jake. “This is between me and my sister!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech. 

“I’m not the bad guy here!” Rooster yells back. 

“No one is!” You return with exasperation. “We’re adults! This is consensual!”  

You push Jake off you, the fire of embarrassment engulfing you. The two of you dress hastily, zipping and buttoning, tugging up and over. And Rooster stays there, staring at the wall with his arms crossed, shaking his head in disapproval. 

“You guys,” Rooster says, dabbing the sweat gathering on his forehead. He’s thinking about the sight of Jake fucking Seresin’s ass greeting him as soon as he walked into the dormitory, thinking about the moans he heard that will surely echo around in his nightmares. He swallows thickly. “I’m feeling faint.” 

“If you fucking faint, I’ll kick your ass,” you tell him very seriously, lacing your boots as Jake stands behind you with his face turned towards the tiles. 

“Why haven’t you left?” Jake asks incredulously, crossing the room to smack Rooster on the back of the head. 

Rooster finally turns around, a grimace etched across his pale face. 

“I--I don’t know,” Rooster says honestly, looking at the side of your red face as you absolutely avoid eye contact with him. “Good idea.” 

And with that, Rooster stumbles out of the room and lets the heavy door thud behind him. You sit on the edge of the bed and hold your head between your knees as Jake stills by the door, eyes downcast. 

“How appropriate would it be for me to say that I was right and we should’ve just stayed home today?” Jake asks softly. 

You groan into your palms, squeezing your eyes shut hard. 

“Not very,” you tell him. 

He nods. 

“Okay,” he answers. 

A beat passes. Thunder rumbles across the sky. You’re thinking about all your life choices as Jake presses the toe of his boot against a scuff in the tile, biting his lip. 

“To be fair, though,” Jake starts and you groan, “I did tell you so.”

“I’m gonna kill you. So hard.” You mutter, rubbing your eyes.

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Rooster in his therapists office explaining the face full of Jake Seresin's ass he got while serving his country:

here is my tag list!!

this was fun to write. I love Rooster so much in this universe. he's just a little idiot. just a little stupid head.

also if you got notified about this story like a million times I am SOOSOOOO sorry, I'm trying to figure out tagging and I don't have a very big brain!! hopefully, you understand!

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin smut #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x reader #hangman angst #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman fluff #top gun hangman #top gun maverick hangman #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin blurb #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fic #jake seresin drabble #jake seresin au #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin angst

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

you'd know - j. drysdale

summary: jamie moves to philly! and doesn't sleep on cam's couch!

warnings: swearing? unedited (i'll do it later maybe), fluff, insinuation of sexual relations, the tr*de

word count: 3.1k

“What about this one?” Jamie asked, not for the first time in the last hour, sliding his tablet across the duvet to sit on your lap, you once more placing your book next to you on the covers, barely holding in the mildly amused tilt of your lips when you felt his eyes fixate intently on the side of your face as you swiped through the photos of houses in Philly.

It wasn’t the best one he’d shown you, by all means, but it had a certain charm about it that had you clicking the ‘favourite’ icon in the corner and passing the device back over to him without a word. 

Even as you picked up your book again, eyes drifting to the clock in the corner of his screen, you couldn’t quite concentrate on the words printed on the page. Your mind hadn’t really been into reading these last couple of days; everything seemed to have happened pretty quickly with Jamie’s trade to Philly (of all places!), and then although he’d left his stuff in Cam’s apartment and taken up residence on the ginger’s couch, he’d mostly taken to staying over at yours – a vast change in dynamic since the start of your relationship in the summer. You’d gone from scheduled FaceTime calls and texts, and maybe only seeing each other in person once monthly since the season had started, to Jamie living within a five mile radius and sleeping over at yours almost every night.

Cam wasn’t complaining, by any means: an empty apartment was always going to be a positive thing for him, but it didn’t stop Jamie from sneaking back over each morning, unaware of the fact that Cam was very much alert to his sneaking out. He just didn’t want to be disrespectful or seem like he wasn’t appreciative of the offer of a couch, but…a bed with his girlfriend was always going to be the more appealing option, that much was certain.

You weren’t exactly complaining either, it was just a lot to adjust to. But the most shocking thing, not including Jamie’s trade to Philly, was probably the fact that you weren’t bothered by him being in your apartment or seeing him everyday.

It was just a little weird.

And now he was shopping for houses in your double bed (your room didn’t fit anything bigger), your roommate asleep in their room on the other side of the apartment, and asking for your opinion on each listing he showed, both of you fully aware of the fact that your lease was set to end in a matter of weeks.

“What about this one?” He asked once more, and instead of placing your book on the bed, you reached over to place it on top of the bedside table, surrendering to the fact that you weren’t about to get any reading done if he kept up this schtick.

You flicked through the photos, chewing the inside of your mouth as you scrolled down to read the information. 

Like all the others, this one also had three bathrooms and four bedrooms, and you weren’t entirely sure if you were overthinking too much, but those factors seemed a little much for a guy to have in a house by himself. You had no doubt that Jamie intended to have some friends over every now and again, but all these houses he was showing were, for lack of better descriptions, family houses. Or, at least, houses for more than one person.

“I…” you started, hesitating slightly at actually bringing the topic up; the most serious conversation you guys had ever had was the one pertaining to the actual state of your relationship, and even then, you’d stopped calling it ‘fun’ only five months ago – and if your theory was correct…

You weren’t even sure.

“What’s up?” Jamie asked, leaning in ever-so-closely. His arm and shoulder was leant comfortably against yours, his head just shy of resting against your cheek so he could still see the screen clearly.

“Nothing,” you started, backing out of it slightly, before inhaling sharply and purposefully avoiding looking at him when you spoke the next few words out loud. How the fuck could you say this without sounding– “It’s just, these houses all have big back yards and loads of bathrooms and bedrooms.”

Jamie blinked, lips pressing together as his eyes flickered back down to the screen, “Do they?” He asked, unsurely taking the tablet out of your hands, and you had to catch your bottom lip with your teeth to stop yourself from smiling a little at his anxious antics.

So, you’d been right, then.

That was nice to know.

He pretended to frown, a crease between his brows and a look of concentration printed so…fakely onto his face that you were forced to sneak your way under his arm, head settling rather comfortably on his shoulder as he brought his arm around to tuck you into his side, both hands still attached to the tablet. He pressed a delicate kiss to your hair before resting his cheek on top of your head, his hum vibrating your bones.

“So,” you started, “you planning on having loads of people over with these houses?” You asked innocently, watching him with interest as he scrolled further down the listings. He’d made no move to edit his filters, which did nothing but confirm your suspicions.

He nodded, exhaling through his nose and clicking back onto the favourites page to scroll down and then back up again, a lot of thought going into clicking his clear favourite. It was a rather adorable house, if empty, barely-furnished photos were anything to go by; it just felt easy to picture him decorating the entire place with his stuff – and a bed. For him to sleep in, not a couch, with his own sheets on.

“I was thinking for special occasions, like Christmas and stuff, and I can’t go home because of work, that people might be open to the idea of staying here and celebrating in Philly.” He mumbled, flicking through the photos.

“People?” You echoed, head turning to your door after a bang echoed through your apartment.

The across-the-hall neighbours were almost nocturnal, you were sure of that.

“Y’know,” Jamie continued, pretending the bang wasn’t at all a disturbance, “family, friends. ‘N you.”

You blinked, focusing all the willpower you had into not grinning like an absolute fool and giving yourself away to him – not only because you knew he was keeping an eye on you, but because you wanted to tease him a little bit, not in a mean way, but gently – enough to get him to blush and admit to something.

“Is that why you’re asking for my opinion?” You asked, your fingers lazily and absent-mindedly trailing up and down his forearm.

He hummed again, and his lack of words had you pulling away from him a little. It wasn’t enough to break out of his hold, but enough to get him to lift his head from yours so you could see his face properly. His eyes were on you, but as soon as he seemed to register you weren’t moving anywhere, he turned his attention back to the tablet, ignoring his complete lack of answer and instead choosing to press his lips together to prevent himself from smiling, and avoiding your eyes completely.

“Jamie?” 

“Yeah?” He mumbled, still not reacting.

You poked a finger to his cheek, his stubble providing a scratch that almost tickled, and he caught your hand, this time with a rather amused smile now freely on his face, and his eyes accusingly narrowed in your direction, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Didn’t I?” He furrowed his brows, tilting his head. His hand squeezed around yours three times, before he laced your fingers together.

You rolled your eyes fondly, “You know you didn’t.”

He sighed, switching his tablet off and placing it on the floor with a dull thud, shooting you a ‘just a moment’ look as he got himself comfy against the pillows, taking an exceptionally long amount of time to adjust the height at which he preferred the duvet to be pulled up.

“Come on.” He patted your pillow, and you followed, lying face-to-face, “Okay. So, I’ve been thinking that we should start factoring each other in a bit more. It’s been, like, nine months—”

You frowned, “Five.”

“Nine.” He argued, blue eyes confused at your own answer.

“Five – we weren’t even dating–”

“We might as well have been. We were doing everything we do now–”

“Except tell each other the truth.”

He blinked after a brief pause, “Fine. Five months, then. I guess I’m asking your opinion on the houses because you’re my girlfriend, and I want us both to like the house I’m going to buy because I’m hoping you’ll stay over every now and then. I want you to like it so you stay over.”

“Even if I didn’t like it I’d want to stay over.” 

He breathed a laugh sorely lacking mirth, and you felt yourself frown at his shaking head and disbelieving eyes.

“That’s not the point.” He whispered.

You didn’t say anything or do anything to allude to what you were thinking; Jamie’s eyes were roving over your face searching for some kind of hint as to what was going through your head – trying to figure out if you’d caught on or if you were genuinely oblivious to what he was struggling to say.

“I’m not a mind-reader.” You replied, arching a brow and unable to hide the small tells of a smile on your face when he seemed to soften at your words.

He knew you were teasing him, but he also knew he wasn’t going to get what he wanted if he didn’t say it outright.

“I was hoping you’d help me decorate, like, help me pick out some furniture or what paint to get for the walls kind of thing. I know you’re not gonna be living with me, but I want you to stay over and feel comfortable enough to maybe, I don’t know, like…stay there when your roommate or neighbours are pissing you off, or to have a key, or to move in with me at some point in the future.” You could feel his hand tracing absentminded shapes into the sheets under the covers, and his eyes seemed intent on avoiding looking anywhere near your direction, instead choosing to dart from his pillow, to the vintage poster of Sidney Crosby on the back of your door, to your bedside light. Everywhere but you.

There was a brief moment when he was talking that you were almost a little worried he was going to ask you to move in then and there – and while that certainly wasn’t an unappealing option at all, you were still getting used to each other. Your relationship was pretty new, and Jamie was still adjusting, and the last thing either of you needed was to amp up the intensity at this moment in time when it could just as equally prove to be as disastrous as good.

But when he’d said ‘some point in the future’, all of that dissipated into thin air. 

“The first house.” You mumbled, trying to catch his attention. It seemed to do the trick pretty effectively, because even though his eyes were wide, he was hanging on to everything you said with a look so intense that it rivalled the one you’d only seen him use on the ice. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was holding his breath, “That’s my favourite.”

He swallowed, pushing his head a little off the pillow, cheeks a little red at the insinuation behind your words, “It’s my favourite too.”

“I know.” You grinned, “But–”

He tensed.

“But I do think you should make some decisions only on your own, because it’s gonna be your house. If you need help or advice, that’s fine, but I think you also need to do this for yourself – get comfy in Philly.”

He twisted his mouth in consideration, “You’d tell me if you hated something that I picked though, right? Or if I–”

“If you pick it, I’ll probably like it.”

He blinked, before rolling his eyes, “That’s very reassuring–”

“I just mean, I liked your house in Anaheim and you did that up–” you cringed, “Well, partly–”

“Thanks for that reminder, yeah.” He quipped, nodding sarcastically.

He’d partly redecorated his house back in LA, but he’d never gotten round to finishing it because, well, he got traded, and it was still a bit of a stinger.

“Sorry.” You said, genuinely feeling guilty for having brought it up in such a profoundly important conversation.

He shrugged, smiling rather defeatedly, “It’s fine. I mean, I really like it here. I actually…” he hesitated, looking at you unsurely and rather guiltily, and you grinned, knowing he was about to say something very honest, “I prefer playing for the Flyers.”

Your jaw dropped, before you dissolved into laughter, “I can tell.”

“You can? Is it obvious?” He looked so concerned that your chest physically warmed at the sight, and you shook your head in response, but it was clear he could see through your little white lie.

There was a lull in the conversation after that, and he laid his head back down opposite you, blinking sleepily. There was something in the back of your mind, something related to what he’d said, that you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep properly without mentioning it to him at least, and just as you were about to open your mouth, he stopped you with a furrowed brow.

“What’s up?” He asked, and you halted.

You didn’t know why it was such a shock that he could read you so easily, but it was – in an entirely good way. 

“Just, for a second earlier, I was worried you were gonna ask me to move in with you.” You admitted, watching him closely.

He paused for a second, taking in your words, before comically gasping, “Is the thought of moving in with me that horrific?”

“You’re just a really loud sleeper.” You played along, rolling your eyes and enjoying the gentle nudge to your shin.

You both knew that statement was wholly untrue; sure, he snored occasionally, but it wasn’t at a disruptable, pillow over your ears, no sleep, forcefully rolling him over level. And it was only when he had a cold.

“I can imagine it’s a pain, yeah. I shuffle, too, and I, oh, how could I forget? I steal the duvet and refuse to cuddle. That must be awful.” He groaned, the sound melting into one of soft laughter as he failed to keep up the act.

Of course, none of those things were true.

“Seriously, though?” He asked next, his amusement replaced by seriousness.

“I just think it’d have been too soon.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, “But also, for future reference, if I was asking you to move in with me, you’d know.”

A WHILE LATER (A YEAR AND A BIT)

You pulled a face, toothbrush frozen midway to your mouth, the splodge of toothpaste wobbling at the sudden halt. You were staring at the reflection of the man standing next to you, washing his face as though what he’d just said wasn’t both confusing or an entirely big deal if it meant what you thought. 

He grabbed a towel from the radiator rack next to him, wiping his face, and it was when he looked back into the mirror, his eyes sliding from his reflection to your utterly stunned look of complete disbelief, that he faltered, a grave look appearing on his face.

You’d both just crawled out of bed, motivated by the knowledge that his parents were arriving in Philly later today and neither of you had completely finished tidying his house, because, lo and behold, the consequence of having multiple rooms and bathrooms meant that it’d take three times the amount of time to clean them all before guests arrived. Currently you were still in your PJs, and the only change Jamie had made to his appearance since getting out of bed was to pull a pair of joggers over his boxers.

It was an awfully domestic scene, and something that had been happening increasingly more often as of the last few months – again, you weren’t complaining – but that hypocrite—

“Say that again.” You said, lowering your toothbrush.

Jamie blinked, stuttering, “Say what again?”

“What you just said.”

“Why don’t I tidy out some of the cabinet so you can move your stuff in?” He said unsurely, his brows knitted in confusion, towel patting his face dry in a manner that meant he could still see you properly.

“Why would you need—Why?”

He froze like a deer caught in headlights – so, so, so adorably confused.

“So you can have space to put your stuff…” he trailed off, his mouth parting in realisation, “You’ve been here at least five out of seven days a week for the past four months, and even then you only went back to your apartment to bring back almost out of date food and some clean clothes.”

You turned to him for real this time, face-to-face, mildly unimpressed and mostly entertained because of his unawareness as to what it sounded like he was implying. Only, this time, you had a feeling you were right, and this time you weren’t the slightest bit worried about him asking.

Only, when you turned to face him, instead of the confusion written on his face – somewhere between the time it had taken you to blink and turn, he was on one knee on the tiles, a cheeky grin on his face that immediately let you know you’d been had and that had entirely been his intention all along.

It still didn’t stop your heart hammering madly in your chest at the sight of him in such a position, and even though you knew what he was and wasn’t about to ask, your mind was now skipping ahead to marriage.

“I know I promised you’d know when I asked you to move in with me, but I couldn’t resist messing with you a little bit–” he laughed and tried to dodge you when you lightly kicked his knee to throw him slightly off balance, but his neither his smile or his resilience faded, “and I figured this would be as obvious as it gets, so…” he inhaled, attempting to appear suddenly serious, “Will you please do me the honour of moving in with me?”

You were grinning, “No.”

There was a beat, and all in one moment his entire face seemed to drop as he looked even more befuddled towards the floor, mind presumably racing with just where he’d gone wrong this time, and if you didn’t know your own intentions, you’d say the silence was awkward, but you could never leave him looking that dejected for too long.

Your heart couldn't bear it.

“I’m kidding, ‘course I’ll move in with you.”

He sighed, pushing himself up to stand and taking your hand as an offer for help in the process, before rolling his eyes fondly and kissing your temple, “Yeah, I love you too.”

#jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale fic #jamie drysdale oneshot #jamie drysdale imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine

[lilisettean]

Unspoken Rivalry | Zayne/Reader + Implied!Caleb/Reader

About: Ever since that incident, you rarely mentioned Caleb to anyone. So when you suddenly brought him up while in the fitting room with Zayne, his curiosity was piqued, albeit unwillingly.

Pairings: Zayne/Reader, Implied!Caleb/Reader

Notes: Sorry for repost and not smut haha. Decided to put all my L&DS writings here on this sideblog instead of my main blog because I didn't want to muddle things up. Anyway got this idea when Zayne was surprised at MC knowing how to tie a tie and I was like, HMMM maybe because she had practice with Caleb??? But nope the game went the other way.

AO3: Read here!

Warning: Implied love triangle.

“I’m shocked. I didn’t expect you to be good at tying a tie.”

You inspected the black tie you had selected for Zayne for a moment, nodding in approval at your own tastes. 

“Why, of course.” You said with a smile, glancing at him before directing him to face the full length mirror before you two. “I had a lot of practice.”

“Practice?”

“Caleb.” Zayne raised his eyebrows at the sudden mention of that name; your mutual childhood friend who had sadly passed away months prior. You rarely mentioned him nowadays, so to hear his name slip past your lips without anything prompting was a surprise.

“I… I used to do his tie for him before we went to school.” You whispered, fond memories of you tying his school tie while you complained about him not doing it himself surfaced. It felt like it was just yesterday when you complained about his odd request of making you do this every school day morning, but now… 

“I’m sure he’s capable of doing it himself.” Zayne remarked, careful with his choice of words. He eyed you through the mirror, pointedly ignoring the sting of jealousy that made itself known when he saw you smiled wistfully.

You shook your head and looked ahead, eyes unseeing and absorbed in those innocent, carefree days where everything was still normal. “He said it’s for good luck.” You explained, missing the light bemused snort beside you. “He would whine about not having the goddess of luck’s blessing if I didn’t.” 

‘That could’ve been you in his place.’ A traitorous part of him mumbled, and Zayne promptly shoved that thought back to the corners of his mind. But it ceased to be silenced. ‘That should’ve been you. But you chose to distance yourself.’ 

‘It was for her sake.’ 

‘But was it worth it? Missing precious time with her? Being replaced by someone else?’ That voice hissed, reminding him of the reluctant distance he had placed between him and you. He told himself that it was necessary for him to focus on his studies if he wanted to take care of you in the future, and that indulging in your presence then would only hinder his carefully laid plans. ‘You were the perfect match for her and yet you–’ 

Opting not to let his darker, less desirable thoughts taunt him, Zayne focused on you instead, placing a hand behind the small of your back and brought you before the mirror. 

“Do you think we still match?” He asked, his hushed question barely over the calming instrumentals that the shop you were in chose to play. If it weren’t for him being right next to you, you would’ve missed his question entirely.

You scrutinized his outfit through the mirror, and smiled. “I think we do.” 

“Good.” Zayne let out a breath he unconsciously held back. He stared at his reflection once more, wondering. Would he have had the same treatment if he had stayed?

If Caleb was still the same boy he had met all those years ago, he would’ve hated you extending the same care towards Zayne himself. He remembered being at the receiving end of Caleb’s piercing gaze multiple times when they were still together, especially when you had looked to Zayne instead of him for certain matters.

‘The past matters naught. What’s important is now and the future.’ He thought as he turned his focus towards you, silencing the doubts of you favoring Caleb over him.

“Will you tie my tie for me on that day then?” He asked, the corners of his lip threatening to twitch upward when you stared at him, perplexed.

“Do you need the goddess of luck’s blessing as well?” You joked in response, only to sigh when you realized he was serious. “Don’t tease me, Zayne. Why would you need me to do it anyway?”

“For luck.”

“Why would you need luck of all things? It’s just a banquet!”

“You never know.” Zayne parroted the words you said this morning. You sighed, wondering if he lied about only studying and joined a debate club when he was still in school.

“Fine! I don’t understand why you and Caleb want me to tie it when you two could do it better than me.” A small smile appeared on his face as you grumbled, preparing to change out of the outfit he had picked out for you.

‘You will understand eventually.’ He thought as a staff member approached him with his card and receipt in hand, thanking him for his patronage. 

‘For what man wouldn’t want their goddess' attention?’

#love and deep space #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne x reader #love and deepspace caleb x reader #i am so down for a love triangle or ot3 between them tbh #just give me caleb already dammit...