#yes i've started making dividers now

[thekinslayed]

The First Taste

summary | Aemond teaches Michael a few tricks on impressing the girl he likes. (boyfriend!aemond x reader, michael gavey x reader, mentions of bimbo!gf x michael)

warning | 18+, minors dni

tags | oral sex (f), fingering, voyeur (?), reader and aemond are super freakyyy, making out, unprotected p in v, aemond's kind of a little shit in this, daddy kink, alt summary: the pussy eating champ teaches a willing apprentice 💦

wordcount | 4.4k

note | i've had this idea for a while and i could not wait to write this despite all the work i need to do!! if i get anything wrong about how oxford works i apologize i am ✨american✨

i loved writing this and i hope u guys enjoy. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!

(dividers by @saradika-graphics)

“God, Aemond!” You moaned loudly. Your boyfriend’s hips thrusted into yours from behind roughly, his grip on your throat holding you in place. His dorm room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other, the bed frame creaking, and the mix of your whines and Aemond’s grunts. His arm held you by your waist, your body at an angle that made his cock hit deeper into your walls. You reached down and played with your clit, rubbing circles that hurled you closer to your peak, walls clenching tight around Aemond’s cock. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.” He rasped from behind you. His fingers replaced yours on your clit, rubbing even faster in tandem with the rhythm of his hips. “I’m so close, daddy, please.” You whined. His hips continued to fuck you fast and hard, the pleasure making your toes clench and sweat beads on your hairline.

“Yeah? Y’gonna cum on my cock, baby?” He asked though all you could manage was a chorus of ‘yes’ that fell from your lips as a response. Your back pressed against his bare chest as you reached back to grip the hair on the back of his neck, making him groan in your ear at how tight you pulled. It was hearing every string of curses and grunts of your name that fell from his lips that pushed you over the edge, letting out a whine, your eyes rolling back as you spilled on his cock. Aemond continued to fuck you through your peak, spilling into your walls not long after. 

You fell forward onto the soft mattress, letting out a small hiss as he pulled out of you. Warm hands spread your cheeks, an appreciative hum at the sight of both of your juicy flowing out of your slit. Two of his fingers scooped up what spilled out of you and pushed them back into your oversensitive core, making you whine and blindly reach back to smack him. He chuckled as he dodged your feeble attempt at hitting him, planting a kiss on your lower back before pulling away to grab a towel to clean you up. You remained lying on your stomach, eyes closed, basking in utter bliss as your boyfriend wiped you clean. 

“What time is it?” You mumbled, though made no move to check the clock. A groan left your lips when Aemond told you the time. You had to leave soon for your tutorial, but getting up became a much harder challenge when you felt a warmth engulf you from the back, soft kisses peppered on the back of your shoulder as Aemond cuddled you. “Just a couple more minutes.” He whispered into your skin.

“Mm, no, I promised Michael I’d be early this time.” You said, moving to get up. Aemond sighed as he turned to lay on his back. “Of course, can’t have Michael waiting now can we?” He grumbled. You tutted his name in scolding, walking away from the bed to his dresser where he kept a drawer of spare clothes for you. His good eye watched you as you started getting dressed, a low chuckle falling from his lips at the slight limp as you walked around in his room.

“What?” You sassed, narrowing your eyes at his snickering form. He only shook his head, an amused glint in his eye, dimples showing as he smiled. 

You stood in front of the mirror, fixing your hair when Aemond, now clad in his boxers, approached from behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close to him. His head dipped to snuggle into the skin of your neck, silver locks falling around him like a curtain. You giggled as his hair tickled you, making him let out a breathy chuckle as he kissed your neck once more. One blue eye met yours in the mirror, a pleased sigh falling from your lips as you leaned your head against his. Your heart swelled with affection for him, your eyes shone as you stared back at him with a smile. 

The tender moment between the pair of you gets interrupted by the ping! that comes from your BlackBerry. Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye, knowing fully well who that could be from. 

You and Michael Gavey had your tutorials together. He was a year below you, but you often found yourself seeking him for help with some of your classwork. He was a pure genius, something he most certainly does not hide. However, you’ve noticed he doesn’t seem to get along well with a lot of his peers. Truthfully, you were still yet to see him with a friend, other than Oliver Quick, though you know that didn’t last long as you’ve now started seeing him around with Felix Catton, the pair now stuck at the hip. On the occasional nights when you and Aemond joined Felix and his little bunch, timid Oliver seemed to take on a new persona, acting so different than when he only had Michael as his friend. Though Michael’s personality can be quite off-putting to most, you’ve found that he can be quite sweet, to you at least. You felt the need to look out for him. When Aemond was in class, you often sat with Michael at the library or brought him to the pub when your tutorials finished a bit later. 

This bothered Aemond, of course. Your boyfriend was possessive as ever, and though he knew you were treating Michael this way out of your pure, genuine kindness for a friend, he wasn’t so sure if the math nerd saw it the same way. He’d seen the way Michael looked at you, like you were the first woman he had ever seen. It was quite pathetic, the way he would catch him often following your tail like a lost puppy as you exited the building together. You had tried to get Aemond to warm up to Michael on the occasions your friend joined you and your boyfriend at the pub. They had strong personalities and were ridiculously smart in their own interests, often acting so similar that it almost irked you. 

Aemond had started to tolerate Michael’s presence only after you asked him sweetly so many times. He could never deny his girl, and if it made you happy he would listen to Michael complain about the idiots in his classes all the time. Still, he couldn’t ignore the jealousy that sparked in his chest every time you had to leave him to spend time with Gavey. 

As another notification dinged from your phone, Aemond pulled away from you to let you finish getting ready, grumbling under his breath. He walked over to sit by the window ledge, lighting a cigarette after he opened the window. 

“You know Michael has been busy seeing a girl lately?” You mentioned, still focused on your face in the mirror as you dabbed some blush on your cheek. Aemond scoffed as he heard you, unbelieving of Michael’s ability to charm a woman. “Yeah? Does the girl know they’re seeing each other?” He snorted, catching the glare you threw his way.

“Of course she does, babe, don’t be ridiculous.” You said, running a hairbrush as a feeble attempt to fix the tangles in your hair. “Think he said her name’s Stacy or whatever.”

Aemond’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead at the mention of her name. He couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that fell from his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. You turned to him confused, starting to grow annoyed with the way he was acting. “What’s so funny?”

It took a couple of seconds before he could answer, his shoulder shaking as he chuckled. “Stacey? Stacey Owens? With the..” He explained, pointing to his chest, referring to the blonde’s tits. Realization dawned on your face as you remembered who he was referring to.

Stacey Owens used to be one of Felix’s flings, hanging around their group for a little while before things between them fizzled out. She was always clad in either the tiniest tops paired with skirts the size of a belt, or hot pink velour Juicy tracksuits. Blonde, gorgeous, and blessed with the most perfect voluptuous pair of tits you’ve ever seen. You even asked her which bra she wore once, just because they always looked pushed up to her chin. Stacey was sweet, but she was a little… slow. It always took the poor girl a couple of moments to catch when a joke was being played on her, but even then it was visible in her eyes that she didn’t fully get it. 

“Huh. Didn’t know that was Michael’s type.” You said, clearly stunned. What an interesting pair those two must make. You couldn’t even imagine what those two talk about, let alone have anything in common.  

“You think he’s blackmailing her or what?” Your boyfriend quipped, still heavily amused by the news.

“Aemond!”

You laid on your single bed in your dorm room, head half hanging on the edge of the bed while Michael sat on the floor, leaning on your bed beside you. You had invited him over to your room after your tutorials just to hang out, though his idea of hanging out included asking you math trivia. “Do you know how many moves it takes to solve a Rubik’s cube?” He asked, fiddling with what he called a Mirror Block, which looked pretty much like a standard cube except its proportions weren’t uniform. 

“20.” Aemond piped up, answering before you could. He arrived just shortly after his lecture finished, settling on your computer chair, and read his book quietly while you and Michael chatted. You frowned as you thought about the times you’ve attempted to solve a cube, it most definitely did not take you 20 moves to accomplish. “No way, really?” You turned to Michael, who simply hummed an ‘mhm’. 

“Here’s a question for you, mate…” Aemond said, tossing his book on your desk to turn his attention to Gavey’s unassuming form. “Stacey Owens, huh?”

“I– Uh, we’re– I’m just tutoring her.” Poor Michael stuttered, his cheeks reddening almost immediately at the mention of the bombshell’s name. You turned around to lay on your stomach, slapping Michael’s shoulder, exclaiming, “What, Michael! You said you were taking her out tonight!” 

“No, it’s just… she just wanted to celebrate for doing well on her exam. We’re just going to the pub, it’s nothing special, really.” He explained, rubbing at his ears anxiously as his eyes fell to his lap. Your eyes met your boyfriend’s, who took on a mischievous glint in his eye. He was planning something, you were almost sure of it. “I can think of a way you two can celebrate,” Aemond said to Michael, though his eye stayed on you. Your eyebrows raised at him, starting to get what he was insinuating. The silver-haired man merely smirked at you, before training his eye on Gavey.

“Oh yeah?” Michael asked, genuinely curious. He really liked Stacey, though his lack of experience in the romance category and his overall awkward personality made him insecure and unsure of what to do about his feelings for her. “Easy, just take her back to yours.” Aemond suggested, shrugging nonchalantly. You watched as your friend only blinked at him in response. “To do what?” He queried, still clueless. Michael supposed he could show her how to play the latest video game he has been obsessed with, though he wasn’t sure Stacey would enjoy that.  

“Oh, come on, Gavey. Don’t act as if you’ve never brought back a girl to your room for some fun before.” Aemond teased, though he seemed to be proven correct when Michael didn’t answer, fiddling with his cube again. He never said it out loud, but he assumed just as much. 

“Stop it.” You scolded him, your boyfriend merely shrugging, throwing his hands up in mock surrender as you glared at him, making you sigh. You turned to Michael, who was still flushed up to the tip of his ears. “Ignore him, Michael.” 

You felt bad for him, truly, and wanted to help him impress Stacey as much as you could. Michael sat in thought for a moment, gathering the urge to open up to the two people he considered his friends… well, he’s not sure about Aemond, but you are definitely the closest friend he has in Oxford. 

“Well, I-I want to, I mean just look at her! Fuck’s sake, who wouldn’t?” He rambled, hands waving around as he spoke. There had been one too many occasions where Michael had to excuse himself when his dick would get hard at the slightest touch from Stacey, or from you, but he would never admit that, especially not in front of Aemond. He desperately wants to and is frustrated to no end because of his lack of experience. It’s not like this is something he can read in a textbook after all. “I just… I don’t know how.” Michael finally admitted, sighing. He looked at the both of you, anticipating you to break out in laughter in his face. None of it came, though Aemond was the one to speak up.

“We could teach you.” He suggested, catching both you and Michael in surprise. The latter stammered, clearly flustered at the proposal. He turned to you, expecting you to be outraged at your boyfriend for his indecent suggestion, but there were no signs of objection on your face. “Only if you want to, Michael.” You smiled.

“How?” Michael asked.

You turned to Aemond since this was clearly his idea. As your eyes met, Michael felt the change in the air between the two of you. He’d felt it before when he would be with the pair of you and the atmosphere would suddenly change into something charged. It would always feel like he was intruding on something, but this time he felt the energy being directed towards him. Aemond looked at you with a lustful glint in his eye and gives you a subtle nod. You turned back to your friend on the floor and said, “Aemond’ll tell you what to do, and then you try it on me.” 

Michael took another look at the both of you, making sure this wasn’t some sick game you were playing on him. When he was met with encouraging looks from the couple, he took a deep breath and then nodded. “Okay.” He agreed, making a mischievous smile break out on Aemond’s face. You sat up, feet dangling over where your head had been, excitement prickling underneath your skin at being the boys’ little test subject.

“Right, well first things first, you gotta know how to kiss a girl, yeah?” Aemond started, gesturing for Michael to try. “Go on.” He urged. Michael kneeled in front of you, a clammy hand cupping your jaw. “Is this okay?” He whispered to you, earning a nod and an encouraging smile from you. You both leaned forward and he pecked your lips, pulling away immediately to test your reaction.

“Come on, mate. You gotta do more than that.” Aemond interjected. Deciding to take the lead for a bit, you leaned forward to kiss Michael deeper, just to get him to loosen up and get familiar with the sensation. As your mouths parted, Aemond urged him to use his tongue. He followed the instruction, experimentally dipping his tongue into your mouth, grunting in surprise as your tongue met his. Michael’s hands clenched into fists beside your thighs, his cock already straining painfully hard in his cargo pants from kissing alone. 

“You can touch her, mate. She won’t bite, not unless you ask.” Aemond encouraged him. As you continued to make out, Michael placed his hands on your shoulders at first, before sliding down to your waist. You both pulled away, catching your breath. His thin frames had gone slightly askew, and you huffed a soft laugh as your fingers reach up to fix it for him. “Why don’t you try kissing my neck?” You suggested this time. He took no second to do so, peppering kisses down your neck. Michael gave an experimental suck on your skin, attempting to give you a hickey, which made you gasp.

“No marks.” Aemond warned which Michael immediately obeyed, switching back to giving your neck kisses and soft licks, tugging very lightly on the skin that wouldn’t leave any mark. Your hand caressed the back of his head, and your eyes flickered to your boyfriend, who stared at you with an intense look that made your face warm. Next, Aemond instructed Michael to take off your bottoms. You helped him tug them off, your panties going along with your shorts. You leaned back on your hands, spreading your legs to give Michael a view, who visibly gulped at the sight. His cock twitched at the sight, his eyes unable to tear away at your folds that started to drip. Of course, he’d seen a pussy before… but not in real life. No amount of porn could have prepared him for actually being face to face as one as delectable and pink as yours. 

“She’s got a pretty pussy, doesn’t she? Gets really nice and wet.” Aemond boasted. The lustful gazes coming from both men made your nipples hard, your arousal starting to drip from your slit in anticipation. “Now, before you start pleasuring a woman, you’ve got to tease her a bit. They like that.” He told Michael, instructing him to start with light touches. Gavey started to kiss and lightly suck on the inside of your thighs, just like he did with your neck, squeezing the meat of your flesh in his hands. Your breath started to grow heavy, and as his index finger lightly runs down your slit, he earned another gasp from you. Emboldened by your reaction, Michael repeated the action but presses a little more. His finger rubbed on your folds, marveling at how your essence coats his fingertip. A soft whimper fell from your lips, and your hips started to squirm in search of more. 

“Why don’t you show him your clit, baby?” Aemond prompted you. Two fingers spread your folds, revealing more of your pussy while your free hand takes Michael’s and places it on your pearl. He is instructed to rub it, not too hard, and was in awe at the instant effects it has on you. He could see your hardened nipples through the fabric of your tank top, the sight making his cock jump. A moan falling from your lips encouraged him, his thumb rubbing your nub a little faster. “Does this feel good?” He asked you, to which you respond with an enthusiastic nod. 

The next thing Aemond instructed Michael to do was to use his tongue. “Start slow, then you can go deeper.” He advised, to which Michael follows by giving your slit a few licks. You tasted utterly divine, even better than his beloved crunchies. Michael couldn’t believe the position he found himself in. If someone told him 6 months ago, he would be nose deep into the pussy of the girl who gave him a sweet smile on their first tutorial, all the while her boyfriend watched– encouraged him, the math geek would’ve rolled his eyes and thought a prank was being played on him. He was starting to get lost in your taste, following his urges as he started eating your pussy out in earnest as Aemond guides him. 

As he became much more confident in his actions, Michael combined the things Aemond has taught him so far as his thumb rubbed circles on your clit while his mouth continued to pleasure you. The room is filled with the sound of your moans, the wet sounds coming from between your thighs, and Aemond’s voice as he guided Michael. A hand gripped his hair while your hips started to gyrate on his face, moving on its own accord. Your eyes met Aemond’s, who now had his legs spread wider, the imprint of his hard cock straining against his sweats as he watched you. His gaze stayed on your face, watching as your brows furrowed and your jaw fell slack, moans openly falling from your lips.

If there’s anything Aemond loved to do, it was to watch you take your pleasure. He loved watching you throw back your head, tits bouncing in his face every time you rode his cock. He's even made you play with yourself while he jerked off at the sight of you spilling around your own fingers. His favorite memory, however, one that instantly stirs his cock when he remembers, was when you made a little show of fucking yourself on a dildo suctioned to the floor, squirting all over the surface as you finished. As possessive as your boyfriend can be, you knew he was enjoying this almost as much as Michael is. 

To help finish you off, Michael is urged to use his fingers. Two fingers entered you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. He curves them, just like he’s seen in the pornos (for research, of course). “Curve your finge— There you go.” Aemond commended him, apparently needing no instruction for that one. You threw your head back in delight when Michael found that rough patch within you. “Fuck, right there!” You moaned out, eyes rolling back as his fingertips massaged that spot. The coil in your belly grew tighter, threatening to break, while your walls clenched around Michael’s fingers tight, much to his amazement.

“Aem– Oh!” You barely caught yourself, biting your lips hard as Michael hurled you towards your precipice. He didn’t seem to mind your little slip, barely even noticing as he stares in awe at how your pussy swallowed his fingers whole, your juices making it squelch. The last thing Aemond told him to do was to suck on your clit, to which he happily obliged. Your thighs shook around his head, your fingers gripped his dirty blonde tresses tightly as you ground your hips on his face. The sensation of his nose against you added to the overwhelming sensation that threatened to wash you over. You turned to Aemond, eyes pleading to let you cum. When he nodded, you let yourself go, letting out a long whine as you spilled on Michael’s fingers. You plopped back on your bed as you finished, mind hazy, not even noticing the way Michael moaned as he tasted your release on his fingers. 

Aemond approached you with a damp towel he somehow procured, wiping you clean, before handing it to Michael to clean off his hand. Your boyfriend rubbed your calf, squeezing it softly. “What do you think, baby? D’you think Michael’s ready?” He asked you, making you lift your head to look at the two men who stared down at you. “I think Stacey’s a very lucky girl.” You said, still breathless from your orgasm. 

After cleaning up, Michael received a text from Stacey as the hour of their date approached. With a wave and wish of good luck from you, your friend took his leave with Aemond walking him to the door.

“You were okay with this, right?” Michael asked the silver-haired man, who nodded.

“Yeah, mate, don’t worry about it, alright? I’m happy to help.” Aemond reassured him. Michael let out a sigh, before muttering a ‘thank you’. He stepped out of the door, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Listen, Michael,” Aemond said, making him turn back around to face him. The Targaryen looked back to check on you, before turning back to Michael, speaking lowly, “This was just a one-time thing, alright? She really looks out for you, and I know how much she cares for you. We both want this to work out with you and Stacey.” 

Michael nodded, completely understanding. He can’t even begin how thankful he is for the two of you, no doubt making a big fool of himself if you hadn't taught him this stuff. “Thanks, mate, really.” He thanked him. Aemond nodded, before patting the younger man on the shoulder. “Don’t be too nervous. Just be yourself, yeah? She’ll be obsessed with you after tonight if you remember what I taught you.” He advised him. Michael scratched the back of his head with a chuckle and nodded.

When Michael left for his date, Aemond walked back to you after closing the door behind him. You were still lying on your bed, knees bent, now sans your top. Your hands fondled your breasts as you watched him approach you, teasing your nipples as desire coursed through you from the hungry look in his eye. As much as you enjoyed the way Michael brought you to your release, your core still pulsed in need for Aemond.

“You had your fun tonight, didn’t you baby?” He asked, hands coming to your knees to spread them wide. His eye fell on your pussy that was still glistening with the combination of your arousal and Michael’s spit. You nodded your head at him, biting your lip.

“Mhm. Told you he'd agree to it. I know you liked it too, Daddy.” You teased, foot coming up to rub at his cock that still strained at his sweats, no doubt aching with release. Aemond smirked down at you, and slipped off his shirt, before pulling down his pants, cock slapping against his abs as it's released.

He fucked you well through the night, manhandling you into positions that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and leaving you in utter bliss when you both finally tapped out from exhaustion. 

Walking out of your tutorial, you and Michael spotted Aemond leaning outside the stone wall of the building. You greet your boyfriend with a kiss, and he turns to Michael with a nod. The three of you chatted for a bit, but a voice from behind you interrupted your conversation, making all three of you turn towards the source.

“Mikey!” Stacey called out, before practically jumping into a surprised Michael’s arms. She cupped his face into her hands, before smashing their lips together. You were taken aback as they practically started eating each other’s faces in front of you, while Aemond sported an amused smirk on his face, even looking quite impressed at Michael’s growth in confidence. 

When they finally pulled away, Michael introduced Stacey to you and Aemond as his friends, to which she enthusiastically greeted both of you, even pulling you into a tight hug, much to your surprise. As the blonde squeezed you tight, Aemond clapped Michael on the back in approval.

“Seems like you’re quite the fast learner, Gavey.”

#bella writes ✍️ #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond fic recs #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #saltburn #house of the dragon #hotd #ewan mitchell

[the-offside-rule]

Ollie Bearman (Prema) - Early Bird

Requested: yes

Prompt: 14) "It's too early."

Warnings: none

Y/n slowly opened her eyes, the soft morning light seeping through the curtains. She turned to her side, finding Ollie still deep in slumber beside her. The digital clock on the nightstand blinked a reminder that it was time to start the day. Gently untangling herself from Ollie's embrace, Y/n tiptoed to the bathroom to begin her morning routine. The faint sound of water running and drawers opening filled the room as she got ready for university.

As she emerged, freshly dressed, she glanced at the still-sleeping Ollie. Realizing the urgency of the situation, Y/n leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. He turned sleepily, his eyes still closed. "Ollie, you need to wake up. You've got that flight to Bahrain, remember?" She whispered, gently moving his curly locks out of his eyes. Ollie stirred, mumbling incoherently. Y/n chuckled softly."Come on, sleepyhead. It's time to face the day."

With a groan, Ollie squinted at the clock, protesting. "It's too early, love. Can't I have 5 more minutes?" Y/n laughed. "You wish, but you've got a plane to catch, and I've got classes to get to. Get up." As Ollie reluctantly opened his eyes, he pouted, "Why do flights always have to be so early?" Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, "Blame the airlines, not me. Now, up you go."

Ollie checked his watch, realizing he was running late for his flight. Meanwhile, Y/n was frantically searching for her university essentials. "Are you ready, love? We have to head soon." Ollie said, finishing up his breakfast. "Where on earth did I put my laptop charger?" Y/n exclaimed, turning her bag upside down. "Again? You've lost it again?" He asked in disbelief, chuckling. "This isn't funny. I need it!" Ollie, determined to help, joined the hunt. "Let's divide and conquer. I'll check your study area; you focus on the bedroom." As Ollie rummaged through papers, Y/n discovered her charger hidden behind a stack of books. "Found it! Thanks, Ollie." He grinned. "No problem. Now, let's grab your other things so we can both make it to the airport on time."

In a hurry, they made their way to the car, Ollie still half-asleep. As they drove, Y/n couldn't help but admire the way Ollie's eyes tried to stay open, fighting against the morning fatigue. On the way to university, they enjoyed the quiet moments, knowing they wouldn't have this time together for a few weeks. Y/n loved the shared laughter, the sleepy conversations, and the warmth of Ollie's presence beside her, but now for the first time in a few months, he'd be away from her.

Upon reaching the university, Ollie pulled up to the entrance, and they shared a lingering goodbye. "Bye, love." Ollie smiled as he kissed Y/n lovingly. "Please text me." She said, opening the door. "I will. Only if you message me too." Y/n smiled. "Of course I'm going to message you. I'm not mental." She chuckled, hopping out and waving as her boyfriend left. As Ollie drove away towards the airport, Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions – the bittersweetness of parting, but also the anticipation of the reunion. And so, they bid each other farewell, knowing that distance couldn't diminish the love that bound them together.

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 fic #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x y/n #ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman #f2 x y/n #f2 x you #f2 x reader

[wontontrap]

✿ 18+

✿ part I of Eddie with religious virgin!reader

✿ part II will be based on this post

✿ cannon Eddie speak in this, he's very sassy

✿ reader is innocent but not naive

✿ summary: reader looks to Eddie's inventory to help her pass exams and a seemingly innocuous action by Eddie drives her into his arms

✿ content warnings: fem reader, drug use, swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, sheltered religious!reader, virgin!reader, experienced Eddie, slightly mean!Eddie in the beginning, poking fun at reader

✿ dividers by the 🐐 @firefly-graphics

You pace the woods nervously. He had replied "3:30" to the note you passed him in study hall. Each passing minute made you more nervous and all you needed was the help of a tiny white pill to pass your exams. You'd taken it before as a child. Your father always said you were "rambunctious and unlearned" the first years of your life, but he made you stop taking it when you hit puberty. "Drugs like that make people your age want to sin with the opposite sex," he had told you.

You never needed medication as a child, you were just too much for your mother. She hated the way you used to ruin your white dresses with mud. You hated dolls. You hated ballet. She let the doctors drug you saying, "She just won't behave!" But, now you did need the meds. You were teetering on the edge of passing chemistry, and you refused to repeat another grade. Suddenly, you heard a rustle in the bushes.

Eddie walked through the brush, swatting at something in the air near his head, metal lunch pail rattling in his hand.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," you squeaked.

He sat down at the old picnic table in the clearing and popped open the box. You lingered nearby, standing stick straight and holding a heavy textbook close your chest.

"You sure you want the uppers?" he asked, squinting at a handful of orange pill containers with badly handwritten labels.

"Yes," you said. "I need to pass exams."

"Yeah," he says, looking up at you now. "I thought I was a loser, but a 19 year old junior? That's some feat of failure."

"My father doesn't believe in secular education," you blurt out, and he looks at you confused. "He says our true education comes from God, but the truant officers disagree."

"That's stupid," he blatantly says. "Why didn't they just make you do school at home like a Mormon or something?"

You can't help but giggle and you see a smirk threaten to appear on Eddie's face. "Every night I have Bible study with my parents until it's time to go to bed," you divulge. "I've never even opened this, so I have a lot of catching up to do."

"You're planning on reading a 2,000 page textbook in the three hours before 4th period chemistry?"

"Only the important parts," you say, hugging the book close to your chest. You smile at him so the corners of your eyes crease a bit.

He smiles back at you. "You're cute," he says. He tosses the bottle of pills at you and you fumble the heavy textbook while trying to catch it. It thuds to the ground as you scramble for the pill bottle. He's staring at you intently, the threat of the smirk finally carried out on his face. You recover from your cartoonish antics and notice him looking at you.

"What?" you ask, patting yourself down. "Is there something on me?"

You wore a peasant dress and heavy cardigan, sleeves well past your small hands. Your white sneakers were scuffed and the scalloped lace of your old socks was torn.

"It's nothing," he says, afterwards clearing his throat. "That'll be $40."

"$40?" you ask, bewildered. "I only brought $25, everyone I asked said it'd be $25!"

"That's for weed, honey, these are real prescription pills. Worth more because they're harder to acquire. I can't grow Ritalin in my tool shed, now can I?" he explains.

"I'd have to go home and get more," you say, scratching the back of your head.

"You've been quite the character, to say the least, but I don't have that kinda time." He starts to get up from the table and you rush over to stop him with hands on his chest.

"Can I pay you in the morning? Please? I'm only taking just the one and I'll pay you $40 at first bell. I promise!" you plead. The bottle of pills sits on the table where you'd just set it, mocking you.

He looks down at your hands splayed across his chest and then back to you. You remove them, backing away from his personal space with flushed cheeks. You're standing there in your oversized sweater, your long sleeves almost kissing the ground at your sides, pouting like a petulant child. He steps slowly over the picnic bench and takes three large strides towards you. He reaches for your chest and your breath hitches as he delicately picks up your small golden cross necklace. The action puts him only inches from your face as he inspects it. It fell just at your cleavage and you caught him looking at you in that way. You felt warm behind your ears and may have made a run for it had he not spoken.

"Is this real?" he asks.

"I-I think so," you stammer.

"You can have your pills, and I'll take $40 first thing tomorrow morning," he agrees. Not long after he finished speaking did he yank the golden cross from around your neck. You jumped slightly, feeling excitement. He held it up to your face, his own still inches from yours, "But, I'm taking this as collateral."

"W-what's that?" you asked.

"Collateral? It means you give me something valuable to hold onto until I get paid. Something you want back so I know you'll bring my money," he explains.

"Okay," you say, touching the spot where it once laid on your chest as you watched him pack up. As he walked by, he slipped the pill bottle into the pocket of your sweater.

"You have nice tits, by the way." he says.

You walk through your front door, the bottle now safely squirreled away inside your school bag. You kick off your shoes onto the designated rug and quietly walk upstairs to your room. You set your bag in your closet before pulling out an old shoe box from the top shelf. Inside you find about $30, a tube of "Ravishing Red" lipstick stolen from the drugstore down the street, and tampons. You take the money and place it inside your bag, wrapping it around the pill bottle. Just as you're closing the closet doors, you hear your bedroom door creak open.

"Sweetheart?" you hear your father's voice. "Are you decent?"

"Yes, daddy!" you say.

He opens the door with a smile. "Your mother has dinner ready and we're expecting you for your studies afterwards."

"Of course, daddy." you say, wringing your hands under your sleeves.

"Babydoll, what happened to your necklace?" he asks.

"What?" you feign surprise, touching that spot once again. "No! It must've fallen off at school!"

"That's okay, honey. Wherever it winds up is where it's supposed to be. God works in mysterious ways," he says. "Someone must've needed it more than you."

You tuck yourself into bed that night replaying in your mind the moment he'd ripped your necklace from you. It had made you feel primal, the only word that came to mind when you searched for ways to describe the feeling. Eddie was handsome and charming. You heard the way some of the other girls talked about him, the things he'd done to them. You wondered what it would feel like if it were you instead of them, a certain feeling spreading inside you. You'd felt this feeling once before. You'd awoken from an unseen face doing obscene things to you in a dream. The only way to alleviate the feeling was to touch yourself. You'd rubbed yourself raw, fervently trying to soothe the ache in you. You'd touched a part of you that night you hadn't known existed, and every time you grazed it, it sent a shiver through you. You reached for yourself again tonight, thinking of Eddie Munson and all the sins you would allow him to commit upon you. Through your ministrations, you fell asleep with your hand between your legs, never reaching true release.

The entire morning was a blur. Eddie was right to have made fun of you. You only read about 200 pages, a slim number of which were actually on the test. You felt you did well but you'd been in such a hurry to accomplish your task that you'd forgotten to meet Eddie in the parking lot when you'd first gotten to school. He passed you in the hall around 6th period, a stern look on his face. "Four o'clock," he'd muttered.

You lie on the picnic table, legs dangling off either side as you stared at the grey and cloudy sky. Your hands were clasped at your chest, feeling your heart still somewhat fluttering like a humming bird. You heard the leaves rustle and you sat up, smoothing your dress. Today you wore a knee length, sleeveless chiffon with ruffles and the same sweater as always. Slouched socks and dirty white high tops. Your hair fell in messy waves, unkempt. Usually your hair would be up in a tight bun, but today it only gave you a headache. He emerged from the brush and looked at you, almost stunned.

"I'm sorry," you meekly say.

"Was it worth it?" he asks, still staring.

"200," you say, "I only made it to 200, but I think I passed."

He chuckles, reaching under his collar to reveal he'd been wearing your small cross necklace. He started to unclasp it as you stayed sat on the table, legs crossed. He held it up to you and it glinted despite the clouds.

"I fixed it," he said, "I, uh, kinda broke it when I took it from you yesterday."

"I had this weird feeling when you did that," you boldly confess.

"And what was that?" he questions. He's behind you now, ready to return your necklace to its original place.

"I don't know," you answer. "It was like warm excitement."

He clasps the necklace then, dragging the cross along the chain so it laid perfectly between your breasts. As he pulls his hands away, one brushes your shoulder.

"Like that," you say. "It happened again."

"It's probably the drugs," he says, almost shyly. "Sometimes those things can give you hot flashes and shit."

"It's not the drugs," you confidently tell him. "I wasn't on anything yesterday. And I'm not hot on the outside. It's like I'm hot on the inside, you know?"

"Oh," he says, hungrily looking at your open pout, "I know."

"Well," you say, reaching into your bra for the money you brought him, "Here's the rest of it." He takes it, giggling like a child.

"What?" you ask him, laughing now yourself.

"That was pretty wild," he answers.

"What do you mean?" you question.

"A good little Christian girl reaches into the best rack I've ever seen and comes back up with drug money for me?" he says. "That's what's pretty wild."

"I'm wild? You're wild, Eddie Munson!" you tell him, playfully hitting him in the chest. He laughs, grabbing both your wrists as you continue to hit him in jest.

"I am a good girl," you tell him. He pauses for a moment, staring at your eyes, then lips.

"Then why do you look at me like that?" he asks.

"Like what?" you question.

"God," he's says. "The viridity. Such effortless innocence. Your yearning is contagious."

His mouth is inches away from yours. He smells faintly of cigarettes, a smell you never enjoyed until this very moment. Your lip trembles as you're in his tight grasp. That warm excitement fills you again as your heart threatens to escape your chest as you think of last night.

"I don't know what any of those words meant, but I think I want to kiss you." you confess.

"Fuck," he whispers against your open mouth. Dropping your hands, he cradles your cheek in his palm. His other arm is wrapped around your waist as you sit on the edge of the picnic table, your chest heaving with shaky breath. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around him, pulling yourself closer to him.

"Can I actually kiss you?" he asks.

"Would you, please?" you beg.

He leans into you slowly and his lips meld with yours in your first kiss; soft and warm. You're surprised when his tongue slips into your mouth but your body takes over for you again and soon you're exploring his mouth in the same way he did yours. He was gentle with you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His hand eventually creeped up your waist to your chest and he gently squeezed your breast between a large hand, a ringed finger caressing your peaked nipple. Soon, you began to feel a sticky wetness forming between your legs.

"Eddie," you whimpered. "I'm- I'm wet."

He pulled away from you, lips pink and puffy with pupils blown. "Shit, sweetheart." he whispered. "We should stop."

"No, Eddie." you whine. "Please," you beg. "Please, touch me." You grab his hand, moving it between your legs. "It aches."

Eddie stilled his hand under your dress, grabbing your thigh. "I don't think this is a good idea. I think you still have the jitters."

"Please," you whispered, as you let your sweater fall from your shoulders. You brought your hands up to the straps of your dress, pulling them aside with those of your thin cotton bra, and yanking the bodice down to reveal your bare chest to him.

"I'm fine," you reassure him, taking his free hand and bringing it up to grasp your exposed breast.

"Oh my fucking god," he says, allowing his other hand to slowly trail along your soft thigh and to your soaked center.

"When you swear, it makes me throb inside." you confess.

"Does it?" he asks, finally touching you through the wet fabric of your panties. Your hips lift of their own accord. You start shivering, huffing breaths as he gently touches you. "Virgins always get so fucking soaked. Am I the only man who's ever touched this sweet pussy?" He dips his hand under the fabric of your panties, running his fingers over your wet slit. You would have fallen over had he not let go of your breast to catch you by the waist. He bowed his head, covering your nipple with his hot mouth.

"Oh my god," you said. A silent scream escaping you as you fisted his curls. Your legs spread themselves further, heels on the edge of the picnic table, as he continued to play with your most private parts. He swirled his tongue around your nipple and you felt a dizzying feeling come on. While he had you distracted he slowly inserted a ringed finger into you, the cool metal stopping to rest on that one sensitive nerve. You gasped abruptly, letting out a whine that bled into a deep moan as he moved his finger slowly in and out of you. He released your nipple and made eye contact with you. His dark eyes were endearing, and he looked at you with unabashed hunger.

"Such a sweet girl with an even sweeter pussy," he whispered.

You moaned again at his words. He felt free to say any of the filthy praises that came to his mind, and you enjoyed it. When he added a second finger to you, you spread your legs as far as you could manage, your dress bunching at your waist. You finally saw him plunged inside of you, wetness coating your thighs and his hand. He began to move his fingers in and out of you faster and with his second hand began playing with the small nub of a nerve. Your face began to get hot and your ears rang as you screwed your eyes shut. You felt a strange sensation and reached for his hand.

"Eddie, stop!" you say, and he does.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, but I think I have to pee." you say, shamefully. Your cheeks would flush if they weren't already.

Eddie laughs. "Sweetheart, you were about to cum."

"What?" you ask, still embarrassed

"You were probably about to have an orgasm. Some girls say it makes them feel like they have to take a piss," he explains.

"Oh," you say, hiding your face behind your hands.

"Hey, hey, hey," he coos. "Look at me," he says. You remove your hands and look at him, his gentle dominance overtaking any embarrassment you still had. "I know a gentler way to make you cum," he says. "I need to make you cum."

"Lie back," he told you, as he pressed you down on the table with a flat palm to your chest. Your necklace fell to the side, draping itself over your shoulder as you lie there still exposed to him.

He hooked his thumb into your panties, dragging them to the side between his hand and your thigh before clasping his other hand in yours and resting it firmly on your hips. You wondered why he would put you in this position, and your silent question was answered when he dragged his hot tongue along your slit. You tried to lift your hips but couldn't, your free hand reaching down to tangle into his thick hair again. He circled your weeping hole, darting his tongue in and out as it tried to close around it. He drank your nectar, feasting on you like some beast. His soft lips kissed your sensitive nerve, wrapping around it to suck and swirl his tongue. Your breathing changed in that way again and you felt that peculiar feeling.

"Let it happen," he said, hot breath fanning over you.

Relaxing fully for only an instant, something inside you burst and you felt a warmth spread inside you. You felt a small gush of more wetness as your legs began to tingle. You saw spots in your vision as you rolled your hips against Eddie's open mouth. He drank his fill of you, until your breathing slowed and you properly came down from your first orgasm. His hand was moving below his waist, and he stood up revealing his hard cock in his hand. You gasped softly, eyeing it and him.

"It's so big," you innocently say.

"I'd like to think so," he jokes.

"Can I touch it?" you ask.

"You don't have to," he says. "You can just watch me if you want."

"Let me touch you," you say. "I want to."

He inches towards you, guiding your hand to him. You wrap your fingers around him in the way his own were, and he sighs.

"Move your hand up and down," he instructs you. "You can squeeze just a little. Twist your wrist sometimes and focus on the tip."

You do as he tells you, listening to the pornographic sounds he makes. Deep moans and animalistic growls each time you reach the tip of him. He unzips his jeans further, taking out his heavy sack and letting it hang free. "Faster," he says, and you pick up your pace.

"Fuck!" he exclaims. "Keep going, sweetheart. Such a good girl. Gonna make me cum for you."

"Please cum," you say. "I want you to feel good like I did. Should I put it in my mouth?" you ask.

"No time for that today, angel. Pull your panties to the side," he orders, and you pull the damp fabric away from your still sensitive sex.

With both hands around your waist he pulls you across the table towards him, rutting his sack and the base of him against your puffy lips.

"Spread yourself open," he says. You spread your lower lips apart, trying hard not to change the pace of your other hand on his cock. He nestles himself against your hole. Still sensitive, you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch in your grasp.

"Faster," he says. "Harder."

You squeeze him harder, jerking your small hand along his hard shaft as fast as you can. He keeps a tight grip on the plush of your hips, staring at your bare chest.

"Oh, fuck!" he cries out, cumming on your chest. Warm, white ropes cover your breasts. He stands before you convulsing as you continue to pump him in your hand.

"Don't stop" he whispers through breathy moans. You continue palming him until he backs away from you. You reach down, gathering his release with a finger and bringing it to your mouth. You let it linger on your tongue, bland but salty, like sweat.

"What are you doing?" he asks, tucking himself back into his jeans.

"I wanted to know what you taste like," you admitted. "What did I taste like?" you ask.

He charges at you, capturing your mouth in a deep and wandering kiss. Your own musk overtakes him in your mouth as he pulls away.

"Fix yourself," he says. "Unless you want more."

"What if I do?" you ask as you begin to cover up. "Want more."

He looks at you with a gentle lust in his eyes, running a calloused thumb across your lips. "I would love to give you more," he says.

"More is all I have to give," you reply.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut #joseph quinn smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader

[jobean12-blog]

Bake Nights

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1,709

Summary: Bucky starts to show some interest in one of your favorite shows and you couldn't be more excited!

Author's Note: So I'm a huge fan of the GBBO and since the finale was this last week I've wanted to write something fun with Bucky. The show really just brings me joy and I've needed it lately and pairing it with Bucky just makes it that much better! No real spoilers here for the latest season- just lots of fun! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of sweet fluff and flirty fun

“Buuuuuckkkyyyy.”

“Yeah doll?”

“Have you seen my tea? Are we out?”

As you continue to search the cabinet you feel his hard chest press against your back. His arm reaches above you and he pushes the box of crackers aside, revealing your tea.

“Oh good!” you cheer. “I’m about to watch this week’s episode of Great British Bake Off and I wanted some tea and snacks.”

“Is that the UK baking show you’re always going on about?”

“Yes,” you say with narrowed eyes as you turn in his arms.

He gives you a lopsided smile before a kiss.

“Want to watch with me?” you ask with a hopeful tone.

“I’m finishing up the paperwork from this last mission and you know all the cooking shows do is make me hangry.”

“You’re always hangry,” you state with a pout.

“So are you,” he fires back.

With one more kiss he says, “when I’m done I’ll come in a sit.”

“Ok,” you huff. “Hurry!”

You make your tea and get situated on the couch with the blanket, snacks and Alpine curled up in your lap.

“You’ll always watch with me right buddy,” you coo as you pet the cat’s soft white fur. “Not like daddy…too busy and too hungry.”

“Heard that doll face,” Bucky chimes from the other room.

“Damn super solider hearing,” you mutter.

You’re fully engrossed in the show, waiting with bated breath as Prue and Paul judge the show stoppers, and when Bucky asks, “did she just say, ‘tell us about your Beaver?,’” you startle with a squeal and nearly drop a now very irritated Alpine.

“OH MY GOD BUCK!” you shout.

“She did, didn’t she?” Bucky deadpans. “What kind of baking show is this?”

You press pause and turn around to stare at him as he leans against the back of the ouch and peers down at you and Alpine.

“The best baking show ever! Now shush…it’s judgement time.”

He lifts his eyebrows and smirks. “Didn’t know it was so serious. I’m gonna grab some food and I’ll be right back.”

You hit play and continue watching, barely noticing when the couch dips and Bucky sits down next to you.

“Did the beaver win?” he asks through a mouthful of food.

“It doesn’t work like that,” you start to explain but clamp your mouth shut as you wait for Noel to announce the name of the baker that’s leaving.

“How does it…?”

“Buck, wait…this is the worst part,” you whisper as you nibble on a finger.

He shuts up and takes another bite of his sandwich.

“Oh noooooooo,” you cry when you hear who’s going home. “I hate when anyone has to leave.”

Once it’s over and you’ve shut the TV you sigh. “Have to wait a whole week for the next one!”

Bucky slides his arm across your shoulders and tucks you against him, silently offering you a bite of his sandwich.

You take it and then ask, “can we get some cake at the diner later? I’m in the mood for a big slice of something.”

He chuckles and takes another bite of the sandwich before offering you the last one.

“Sure doll face. I can always go for cake.”

“Time for baking again?” Bucky asks when he gets out of the bathroom and finds you on the couch snuggled up with Alpine.

“Yes! Want to come watch?” you ask excitedly.

His expression falls. “Aw doll. I’m about to go workout with Sam.”

You pout. Again.

He leans over the side of the couch and kisses it right off your lips. “I’ll try to be quick. Maybe I can catch the end…or you could wait for me?”

You stare at him and blink several times, warring with the need to watch the episode immediately and the desire to watch with him.

The corners of his eyes scrunch up as he smiles. “It’s ok baby doll. You go ahead and watch, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

You nod and pucker up for another kiss which he happily obliges in.

By the time he gets back from his workout you’re watching Paul and Prue judge the showstoppers.

“Are we about to see who wins,” he says as he plops down next to you.

Alpine meows in frustration as the couch bounces and he goes with it.

“They’re still judging the showstoppers and it’s bread week…”

You say the last words ominously and Bucky shifts closer, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear.

“Why do you sound so scared doll?”

“Paul is the King of bread.”

“Paul…? Is that the guy with the bad fake tan?”

“HEY!” you admonish with a giggle. “Yeah…but he knows bread.”

“I know bread!” Bucky says more to himself than you. “I eat bread all the time. I love it.”

“Not like that you buttface,” you retort. “Like he knows how to bake the best bread.”

“Buttface…? Did you just…?” Bucky starts before he returns his focus to the bread.

“I’ll be the judge of that! Where can we get some Paul bread?”

“Paul bread?” you repeat. “Just…shush. Let’s watch.”

“You sure tell me to shush a lot when this show is on,” he grumbles.

“That’s ‘cause you talk too much while it’s on!” you reply.

“That’s it,” Bucky says and grabs you, hauling you into his lap as his fingers find purchase on your waist and dig in.

“BUCKKKKKKKKKKKY! That tickles, stop, OH MY GOD!”

You screech and squeal and kick and fight but it’s no use. He easily holds you in place while he tortures you with tickles.  

Alpine hops off the couch with his tail turned up and gives Bucky a murderous glare.

“Please,” you whine. “Just let me finish my show!”

He finally relents and slides his hands along your curves, snuggling you against his chest while you catch your breath.

“You’re such a pain in my ass,” you sigh as you let out one last deep breath and snuggle closer.

After they announce star baker Bucky adds, “I like the guy with the eye liner. He’s really funny.”

“That’s Noel. He’s the best!”

You stiffen when they get ready to announce who’s going home and Bucky hugs you more tightly.

“I really hate that part,” you say when it’s over.

“Alright, it’s official. Next week we are watching together.”

Your frown instantly turns into a bright smile and you throw your arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses.

“I’m so excited Buck! And I have to explain everything…so Paul and Prue are the judges…”

Bucky stops you with a press of his finger to your lips. “Can we discuss his over food? Sam kicked my ass today and then the baking and now I’m starving.”

You smile before taking his finger and giving it a nibble. “Of course. Come on, we can get pizza.”

“YESSSS my favorite,” he sings.

“Everything is your favorite,” you deadpan.

He scoffs and then his smile turns devious. “I take it back.”

Your hands land on your hips and pin him with a challenging glare.

He steps closer and takes you in his arms. “Pizza isn’t my favorite thing to eat…”

His lips trail along your neck, stopping just below your ear. “You’re my favorite thing to eat.”

With a hum of satisfaction you crane your neck back and sigh as he places soft kiss to your skin, tracing your jaw before he finds your lips again.

His stomach growls just as he kisses you and you both laugh.

“Pizza first,” you say.

“Then you for dessert,” he promises.

“Man those technical challenges are rough,” Bucky says as he runs his hand through his hair. “Shit.”

“I KNOW!” you agree. “I don’t know how they do it.”

“Show stopper now?” Bucky asks with a boyish smirk.

“Yep!” you say popping the p before giving him a sweet kiss. “And it’s pastry week! YUM!”

Bucky’s fingers sneak under your shirt and trace mindless patterns along your shoulder. You’re snuggled against his chest with your palms flattened on his chest and tummy.

He digs his fingers into your skin and asks, “why does Paul walk around and watch them like that!?! It’s so intimidating!”

“Because he’s a total pain in the butt and knows how scary he is!”

As you continue to watch each baker explains their flavors and design and Bucky’s stomach growls.

“I’m so hungry,” he whines.

“You’re so cute,” you answer. “We just have to get through judging then we can eat!”

“Ok,” he says quietly as he pulls you closer.

“That’s amazing!” he says excitedly as one of the bakers brings up their showstopper. “I hope it tastes good!”

When the bakers are lined up in their chairs waiting to hear who star baker is and who’s leaving the tent, Bucky sucks in a breath, clearly on edge.

“Yes!” he cheers when they announce star baker. “I called that one!”

“You did,” you say as you pat his chest with a smile.

When Noel is about to say who’s leaving the tent Bucky drops his head and mutters, “ugh, you were right, this part really is the worst. I like them all! I don’t want anyone to leave.”

“Just wait until it gets down to the end and there are only a few bakers left…” you warn him.

The show ends and you both give each other a sad look.

“Do we know what the theme for next week is?” he asks.

“Botanicals!”

“Like flowers?” he asks with a confused look.

“Yes,” you smile.

“Wow, can’t wait for that!...heyyyyy why don’t we bake something doll?”

You do a double take. “You want to bake?”

“Yeah! I mean why not? I’m sure we can make somethin’ good.”

“OK! I’m sure we have the ingredients to put something together.”

You hop off the couch and head into the kitchen, opening a drawer to pull out two aprons.

“No way!” Bucky says when he sees what you’re holding up.

“You have to Buck! PLEAAASSSSSSSEEE…all the bakers wear one!”

“Fine,” he relents and takes it from your hand. “But I’m getting second dessert after this.”

He waggles his eyebrows as he looks you up and down.

“What are you a Hobbit?” you tease.

“A horny Hobbit!” he exclaims.

@hiddles-rose @lizette50 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #great british bake off #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #gbbo

[sanguineterrain]

it's a feeling that's fine - s.h.

Summary: You accidentally climb the wrong fence on the hottest day of May. It turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, etc. reader is in a toxic friendship; she's slightly bullied in that indirect mean girl way, but the toxic friendship ends. reader cuts her finger by accident. drinking and drug mentions. fluff, humor, strangers to friends to lovers, summer vibes, so many princess bride references. steve is super duper sweet!!! post s4 volume 2.

A/N: so if you wondered where i've been for the last two months.... it was in a cave writing this fic. i'm really proud of this one; the reader is a little different than how i usually write, but i hope you'll like her all the same :) if you enjoy this fic, please please let me know through comments/reblogs!

divider by firefly-graphics

Today is hot. 

Weatherman Dale had said this morning that today is a record high for May. It’s so hot, in fact, that Debbie Wellerman had called you this morning asking if you wanted to come swim in her pool. 

You’d asked if you could dig for worms in her yard. She’d sighed and hung up. You hope that means yes. Joan has been in need of some company. Worms would be good for her.

You go around Debbie’s house and stop at the back gate. The Wellermans are kind of mean and they don’t like it when you take too many cucumber sandwiches. To avoid them, you’ve taken to going through the back gate whenever Debbie invites you over. It works pretty well.

Except today, the gate is locked. Which is weird, because Debbie usually leaves it open. It’s how her boyfriend, Brett, sneaks in during the day, and how Brett’s brother, Chet, sneaks in at night. 

You’d asked once why the brothers come over separately. Debbie had gotten mad and kicked you out without giving you any ice cream. You don’t ask about Brett and Chet anymore.

The problem is that you’re wearing flip flops, which are not ideal for climbing fences. Or anything, really. You once climbed a jungle gym in flip flops and skinned both knees. 

You slip off your flip flops and fling them over the fence. They land a second later, clapping against the ground. The fence is covered in climbing ivy and tiny red flowers you’ve never seen before. You wonder how Debbie made them grow so fast.

The street is empty, which is nice. Sometimes people in Loch Nora like to yell at people who don’t also live in Loch Nora. 

The fence wood is hot but not so hot that you can’t touch it. You stick your feet in the little grooves and start to climb. It’s not too high of a fence, but it’s high enough to warn people who don’t belong here.

That’s never stopped you, though.

Getting over is trickier. You expect Debbie to see you by now, but there’s no sound. She must be inside, or maybe she’s out and forgot she’s invited you. She does that sometimes.

Wood dust clings to your fingers and the soles of your feet. When you’re a foot from the ground, you hop down. Then you turn.

There’s no sign of Debbie. There is, however, a boy.

He’s reclined on an inflatable blue ring floaty in the middle of the pool. He wears sunglasses and red board shorts with little white anchors on them. 

He has very pretty hair, both on his head and chest. He also has pretty lips. And arms. All of him is pretty, really. You wish you could see his face properly. He probably has a nice face too. Symmetrical and kind.

The area around the pool is paved just like at Debbie’s—only it’s a lot larger than you remember. There's a patch of dirt next to the gate. You go and crouch at the edge. You don't see any worms. Probably because it's so hot. You'd stay underground too if you were a worm.

You stand and turn to look at the boy again. He looks like he might be asleep. 

“Did Debbie invite you?” you ask.

The boy shoots up from the floaty. The shift in weight makes him lose his balance and he topples into the water a moment later. The floaty flips with him. 

He resurfaces almost immediately, spitting water and rubbing chlorine from his eyes. You squint.

Yes, you were right. He does have a very nice face.

The water comes up to his waist. He pushes his hair back in handfuls, blinking. Then he fishes his sunglasses out with his foot and sets them on his head. 

“Can you swim?” you ask.

He stares at you, blinking.

“What?” he says after a beat. 

“Can you swim?” you repeat.

“Uh, yeah? Yes, of course I can swim.”

"It would be bad luck if you couldn’t.”

His brows furrow.

“Because I can't swim,” you clarify.

“I wouldn’t be in the pool if I couldn’t swim,” he says.

“That’s good thinking.”

You sit at the edge of the pool and dip your calves in. He wades closer until he’s about three feet away.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

“I walked.”

“I mean, how did you get in my backyard?”

“Oh. I climbed the fence.” 

You peer closer. He looks familiar, but you can’t quite place him. 

“Are you Brett and Chet’s triplet?” you ask. “You’re a lot prettier than them. Did their mother feed you extra vitamins?"

His eyes go wide. “Uh… Brett and Chet Kingsley?”

“Uh-huh. Debbie invites both of them over, but never at the same time.”

“Who's—they don’t have a triplet.”

“That’s good. Three’s bad luck.”

“My house number has a three in it,” he says.

“Don’t step on any sidewalk cracks,” you warn.

He tilts his head, tongue poking out like he’s sizing you up. You let him, focusing on his face instead. He has dark, warm eyes the color of black tea. His shoulders are toned with lots of freckles on them. He looks like a boy who’d like Debbie, not you. 

“Is Debbie going to be back soon?” you ask. You don’t want to get attached to a boy who’ll just end up wanting Debbie instead. You've made that mistake before.

“Um… if you’re talking about Debbie Wellerman, she lives on the next block over. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Oh. You’re the guy who fought the monsters.”

He eyes you warily. “Wh—how do you know about the monsters?”

"Who doesn't?" 

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it. 

“You can’t tell anyone," he finally says. 

You shrug and kick at the water gently.

“I have no one to tell. Debbie doesn’t believe in monsters.”

“She doesn’t believe in giving you a key either, huh?”

“She doesn’t usually lock her gate,” you say. 

“Well, this isn’t her gate.”

“Yeah. I like your shorts.”

Steve’s cheeks flush pink. 

“Are you getting sunstroke?” you ask. 

That turns his cheeks pinker. 

“No, no." He coughs. "I’m fine.”

“It’s a record high temperature for May,” you say. “That’s what Weatherman Dale said. The highest it's ever been since 1923." 

“Yeah, I heard." He nods. "I didn’t wanna run the AC the whole day so, here I am. My friend Robin was supposed to come over, but I guess she bailed.”

“Robin is a nice name. Is she a bird?”

Steve smiles. “No, she’s a girl.”

“Oh. I thought maybe she was a bird you’d made friends with while fighting monsters.”

“Well.” Steve shrugs. “I did sort of make friends with her while fighting monsters.”

“Robins are good omens. They bring luck."

“Huh.”

You swallow. You’re probably talking too much. That’s what Debbie would say. That’s why boys sneak into her yard and not yours. 

"So." Steve puts a hand over his forehead to block the sun. "Debbie Wellerman, huh? You don't seem like the type to be her friend."

"Friends can come from the most unusual places," you say. "Like under a tree or at the bottom of the ocean."

"Have you made many friends at the bottom of the ocean?" Steve asks with a smile. 

You hesitate. Is he making fun of you? Sometimes, you can't tell. The people in Loch Nora are good at making fun of you without you knowing. 

Steve’s hair has already begun to dry, a little crunchy from the chlorine. He doesn’t look like he’s making fun of you.

"Not many. But that's where I found Joan," you say.

"Joan was at the bottom of the ocean?"

"Kind of. I found her in a pond. Then I found her sister, but I lost her at sea and I couldn't swim out to rescue her. It was a sad day. Joan didn't handle it well."

Steve's brows rise. "Wow. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Joan has been on the incline. I think she's finally ready to get back out there. I wanted to find her company, but I didn't want to disturb your dirt." 

“My dirt?”

“Mmhm. I'm trying to make a social club for her."

"Out of dirt?"

"Out of worms."

"Huh."

Steve rests his chin on his arm that's perched on the ledge. 

"Your hair is wavy," you observe. 

"What? Oh, yeah. I didn't put anything in it."

"Like what? Secrets?"

"No, like, gel. Product."

You nod in realization. "Your hair was so big in school.”

Steve winces. "Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't the best guy back then."

"You were in your chrysalis. You needed time to grow. But then you turned into a butterfly. Or a moth, if you prefer."

"Moths are spooky," says Steve. "They look like they have eyes on their wings."

"Yes. But they're actually friendly. Unless you eat them. Some are poisonous." You lean in, deadly serious. "Don't eat moths."

"Will do."

"No, don't. And warn your Robin too. She might think one looks delicious and meet her doom."

A smile creeps onto Steve's face. 

"You're kind of strange," he says. "In the best way possible."

"Thank you."

"Do you want some lemonade?" 

"Is it poisoned?" 

"What?" Steve startles. "No, of course not."

"No, I suppose not," you say thoughtfully. "You hadn't expected me to climb over your gate, so you wouldn't have had time to poison the lemonade."

Steve stacks one arm atop his other, looking up at you. The ends of his hair have begun to curl. You like it so much. 

"What if I pour from the pitcher right in front of you? Will that make you feel better?" he asks. 

"You can still put something in my glass," you say. "Or you might have built a tolerance to the poison for this exact moment. Like in The Princess Bride."

"I'm only twenty-one. I would've had to start very young to build a tolerance. Besides, what would be my motivation to poison you?"

You shake your head. "There's no need for motivation. Violent delights. But you've fought monsters, and Lucas Sinclair says you're a good guy. So, yes, I will have some lemonade."

Steve pushes himself out of the pool with ease, dripping water all over the concrete. You stare at the rivulets that hurry down his legs and chest. He has a lot of hair everywhere. You like that too.

He offers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your shoulder bumps his. Steve's skin is warm. He smells like chlorine and something sweeter. Pineapple, maybe. 

"You would do very well as a knight," you say. "If I were a princess, I'd want you to commit yourself to me."

Steve makes a weird noise in his throat. 

"Uh, th-thanks," he says. 

"You're welcome."

"So you, uh, know Lucas?"

"Yes. He lives on my block. His mom gives me rides sometimes."

You step in through the sliding glass door, which puts you directly in the kitchen. The house is at least twenty degrees cooler. You shiver at the sudden temperature change. 

"You don't have a car?" Steve asks. 

"No."

"You walked from your house to Loch Nora?"

"I took the bus part of the way. Then I walked."

Steve takes two glasses down from the shelf. Then he opens the refrigerator. You sit at the large kitchen island while he pours. 

"Debbie Wellerman has a car," Steve says. 

"Uh-huh. A Porsche."

A money car, she'd called it when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Boys love girls with money cars. Maybe that's why boys don't love you. 

Steve hands you a glass. You take a long sip. Your mouth puckers and you scrunch your eyes shut as the acid coats your tongue.

"Shit. Not enough sugar?"

You swallow and open your eyes. 

"It's wonderful, Steve," you say earnestly. 

"You don't have to lie. I saw your mouth screw up."

"I'm not lying. It's the right amount of sour." 

Steve takes his own sip. His lips pucker, and he shakes his head.

"Nope. Definitely needs more sugar."

You cradle your glass in your hands. "Don't take mine. She's perfect."

Steve breathes a laugh, returning the pitcher to the fridge. He sits beside you on the island. He's already developing a slight tan. You wonder if more freckles appear the longer he's in the sun. 

"Why doesn't Debbie pick you up?" he asks. 

"Why would she pick me up?" 

"Because that's what nice friends do. And it's unfair to expect you to come all the way here when the buses don't go through Loch Nora."

"Debbie always expects me to come over," you say. "So I do. She doesn't like my house."

Steve frowns deeply. 

"I don't mind the walk," you offer, trying to make him smile again. 

It doesn't work. Steve takes another sip. His lips purse, red like cherry candy and shiny with lemonade. 

"She should meet you halfway more often," he says, dumping his lemonade into the sink. 

You trace shapes into the condensation of your glass. 

"I wanted to go rollerblading," you say. "But…"

"But what?" he prompts. 

"She didn't. Neither did Brett. They wanted to make out in the pool.”

Steve grimaces. “Sounds like a drag.”

“They make weird noises. Like goats at the zoo.”

Steve snorts. You smile and kick your legs, pleased.

“My friends go rollerblading,” he says. “The kids love to skate at the park. You could come with us one day.”

“You have kids?”

“No, I—” Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “Definitely not. No, they’re only a few years younger than me, but me and the other people our age call them kids. They’re part of our little monster-fighting group. Anyway, uh, y'know. Open invite. If you're ever tired of goat noises."

You stare at him for a minute. He seems nervous, and you can't make out why. Nobody's ever nervous around you.

"Okay," you say. "I'd like to meet your kids."

"Cool. Well, um, I can give you my number. We usually meet up on weekends, but once school ends, any day is game."

Your heart rate picks up. You know this part. Only from a distance, of course. But you know what it means when a boy gives a girl his number. 

“You want me to call you?” you ask.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I feel like it’s a little forward for me to ask the girl who climbed my fence for her number. So, um, you can call me. Is that cool?”

Steve looks at you and waits. You chew your lip and nod.

“That’s okay.”

He smiles. “Great! I think I have a pen around here somewhere…”

Steve walks around the table to a stationary caddy on the counter and takes out a blue Sharpie. You stick out your arm, palm up. 

"Uh…" He looks at you. "I can find a notepad."

"This helps me memorize things better," you say and wiggle your fingers. 

"I don't wanna give you ink poisoning."

"You didn't poison me before. You're not very good at it."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

You shrug. "Depends on your aspirations."

Steve hesitates for another second. Then he takes the top of your forearm and begins to write on the soft underside. He writes slowly, which tickles, but you remain still. 

He's so close. You're reminded all over again of his hands and warmth and pineapple scent. 

Steve caps the marker. You inspect the writing. 

"Good penmanship," you say. 

"Think so? Robin says it's chicken scratch. But she can't talk—hers is ten times worse."

"It's neat," you say. "But not serial-killer neat. If I were a graphologist, I would give you the all clear."

"Graphologist?"

"A handwriting expert. I would write in my report, 'not a murderer.'"

"Well, that's a relief," Steve says. "I try to keep the murdering to a minimum."

You hum and finish your lemonade in one gulp.

“Thank you for not poisoning me."

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Steve replies through a smile. 

His smile makes you nervous. A good nervous, though, like you're about to sled down a big hill. 

You push yourself off the stool. Steve gets up with you and opens the sliding glass door for you.

“A very stalwart knight,” you say, and walk over to where your flip flops are.

You throw them back over the gate. They land with a clack on the sidewalk.

You find your footholds on the gate and turn to look at Steve.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve Harrington. Don’t fight any monsters by yourself.”

“Whoa, hang on!” He jogs over and lightly touches your arm. It sears your skin like you've been kissed by the sun himself. “I’ll unlock the gate. You don’t need to… climb again.”

Steve pulls the latch next to you. The gate creaks open. You hop off and walk through. 

Steve leans against the gate, elbow bent. His bicep bulges. You've never been this close to a shirtless boy. Your stomach flips. 

“Are you sure you know where Debbie lives?” he asks.

Your eyes dart from his chest to his face. 

“Yes.”

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t exactly find it the first time.”

“Second time’s the charm,” you say.

“I thought it was the third time.”

“No. Three’s bad luck, remember?”

Steve runs his tongue under his molars, once again staring at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You slip into your sandals while he figures you out.

“Well, um. You can come back if you get lost. Or you need help. Or you wanna look for rocks."

You tilt your head. “You’d look for rocks with me?”

“I don’t know how helpful I’d be—all rocks look the same to me. My friends would probably be better at it than me. But, yeah, I would.”

“Okay. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He grins. “Sure thing.”

You take his hand and shake it. It’s warm and slightly calloused. You wonder if he holds girls’ hands often.

"I hope Robin finds your house," you say. "Goodbye, Steve Harrington."

Then you go.

You do find Debbie’s house on the second try. You hide your Sharpie'd arm behind your back when you enter. Debbie doesn’t ask why you’re late. Brett doesn’t acknowledge you, and you wonder how you mistook Steve for his brother. 

“There’s lemonade,” Debbie says as she heads in, Brett at her heels.

You don’t drink any. You know it won’t be the right amount of sour. 

Movies are better in the summer. This is a fact you've learned to accept. 

There's no dread of the cold after you finish a movie in the summer. The tape ends and you can go outside and still love the real world. 

Sorry, we're on a break! the sign on the store window reads in loopy script. You sit on the hot curb in front of Family Video, your yellow shorts bunched around your thighs. Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, and you drag a hand across, then wipe your fingers on your shirt. 

From here, you can just see the cement-filled cracks in the asphalt, where the earthquake split the main road two years ago. Because of the cracks, the bus stops three blocks from the plaza, so you'd walked three blocks in the heat. 

You hadn't been lying to Steve, though. You really don't mind the walk. 

Beads of sweat drip down your forehead. One slips into your eye and burns. You make a fist and press it into your eyelid.

Okay. Maybe you mind a little.

"Hey, neighbor!"

You look up, squinting through the sun. Lucas Sinclair waves at you. You wave back. A girl with two red braids is next to him. 

"Hi, Lucas," you say, standing as they approach you on the curb. 

"This is my girlfriend, Max," he introduces proudly. 

"My congratulations. Getting a girlfriend is no easy feat."

Max studies you for a moment. "I think I should get the credit, considering I said yes." 

"Undoubtedly," you say. 

"Are you his neighbor?" she asks. 

"Yes. Lucas is an outstanding neighbor. You should be very proud of him." 

"I believe it," says Max. 

"What are you doing?" Lucas asks. 

"Lots of things," you say. "Breathing, digesting. But presently, I'm waiting for the video store to reopen. I want to rent The Princess Bride.”

Max snorts. "Good luck with that. Those two take five hour lunch breaks now, ever since Keith moved away. It's barely a business anymore."

"There must be a lot of courses in their lunch," you muse. 

"Yeah… uh, we're going to get ice cream. Wanna join?" asks Lucas.

"Okay." You turn to Max. "Will my presence impede your special plans?"

Max squints. "Special plans? Like what?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you've written Lucas a series of sonnets to profess your love."

"A series of what?"

"Poems."

"Love poems are corny," she says. 

You wonder if Steve would agree. 

"Sometimes corny things are good. When they come from the right person," you say. 

Max acquiesces with a hum. 

"No love poems today," she says. "You should join us."

So you follow a couple steps behind them to the Baskin-Robbins down the block. 

The AC whooshes as you step inside, drying your sweat to your forehead. 

“Wow,” Max says with a scoff. “It’s like Starcourt all over again.”

You follow her gaze and spot Steve. 

Oh. Steve.

He's in a green Family Video vest. A girl sits across from him, wearing a matching vest. She has cropped hair and a bandaid on one knee. 

“Hey, losers!” Max calls. “This isn’t a lunch break.”

The girl flips her off. “The sign says we’re taking a break. It doesn’t specify how long of a break.”

Lucas orders a scoop of strawberry ice cream for himself and a scoop of cookies and cream for Max. 

“Yeah, plus, we’ve had a grand total of one customer today,” Steve adds.

“Well, you would’ve had two if you hadn’t been here on your seventeen hour break,” Max shoots back.

He scoffs. “Oh, really? Who?”

“Can I get one scoop of rocky road ice cream with oreo crumble and gummy worms in a cup?” you ask the cashier. 

She goes to scoop the ice cream. Max proudly points at you. 

“Her,” she says with a smirk. “She wanted to rent The Princess Bride, and now she’s not gonna be a paying customer ‘cause you two are lazy.”

“I would still be a paying customer,” you say.

Max shakes her head at you.

“I’m trying to make a point,” she whispers.

“Oh. You’re doing great."

“Your total is three twenty-four,” the cashier says, sticking a spoon into your cup. 

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor draws your attention. Steve is up, trying to free his leg from under the table. He finally wiggles free and jogs to the counter, wallet in hand.

"Hi,” he says. "I can pay." 

“But I have money,” you say, brows knitting.

“No, I know. I—now you can save your money. Do you–do you mind if I pay for you?”

“Will I have to pay you back?” you ask.

“Oh my God,” the cashier mutters under her breath.

You shrink at her tone. You've missed something, evidently. You have no clue what. 

Steve glances at her, mouth pinching. 

“No,” he says gently, turning back to you. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gesture. As a friend.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Steve gives her the money. You take your ice cream. 

“Smooth,” you hear Max say to Steve. He bumps her arm with his elbow.

Steve pulls a chair from another table for you. You all sit down.

"This is, uh…" Steve trails off, turning to you. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"You kept calling her Buttercup," the girl says. 

Steve whips his head around to hiss at her. 

"Robin." 

"She's my neighbor," Lucas says. 

"We know," Max tells him. 

"I don't." Robin raises her hand briefly, shooing Steve away. "I'm Robin Buckley."

"Hi, Robin. Watch out for moths," you say. 

She tilts her head and smiles. You look at Steve, who's already looking at you. 

"Princess Buttercup?" you ask. 

"Well." He rubs the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah, kinda. You mentioned The Princess Bride and, uh, I don’t know your name, so…”

You mull that over. 

"If I'm Buttercup, you must be Westley." 

Steve's eyes widen. "Uh…" 

Robin snickers. Max smirks. 

"Interesting shade of red you're turning, Westley," Robin says. 

"Shut—"

He kicks her chair leg. She yelps and shoves him in retaliation. Max rolls her eyes. 

"Have some class, will you?" she says. 

"I'm classy!" Steve insists. 

"Not anymore," Lucas says gravely. "Now you're a glorified babysitter." 

"Childcare is dutiful work," you say. 

Steve grins at you. Your stomach flutters.

“Is that a mud pie?” he asks. 

You nod. 

“Gummy worms?” 

You tilt your head. “How did you know?”

Steve chuckles. “Lucky guess.”

Across the table, the others argue about the classiest ice cream flavors.

“It’s obviously mango sorbet.”

“Sorbet isn’t ice cream!”

“Are they your kids?” you ask.

Steve leans in so you can talk in his ear. His arm is on the back of your chair. If you shift the slightest inch, you’d feel him.

“Minus Robin. Though, sometimes…” He rolls his eyes playfully. “But, um, yeah. Two of them.”

“How many kids do you have?” you ask.

“Let’s see…” Steve counts on his fingers. “Six?”

“Wow. You must be some babysitter.”

“I’m alright.”

You lean in. Steve blinks.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“You have an eyelash.” 

You swipe the hair off his cheek and hold your finger in front of his mouth.

“You have to make a wish.”

Steve’s eyes slide to you. He gently holds your hand in place. Your heart beats faster.

“‘Kay.” He blows the eyelash away, but doesn't release your hand. “Let’s see if it comes true.”

The numbers stare at you. Taunt you, really.

You practically have them memorized. You’d written them thirty times on a piece of notebook paper. Then you’d shoved that under your bed. 

Now you have it taped to your dresser mirror. 

You wish you could talk to Joan about it, but she’s bathing in the sink after an unfortunate encounter with a paint can. 

The Sharpie is gone from your arm, has been gone for several days now. But if you concentrate, you can see its silhouette on your skin. 

You get up and peel the paper off the mirror. Then you go down the hall to your phone. 

Carefully, you dial, making sure not to press any wrong buttons. 

The phone rings. You rock on your toes.

“Hello?” Steve says.

You freeze. 

“Hellooo…?”

“Hi,” you finally say. “It’s Buttercup.”

“Oh!” He sounds so happy. “Hey! Hey, how are you?”

“Good.” You chew on a cuticle. “It’s Saturday.”

“Oh, right! Did you wanna go rollerblading?”

Relief floods you. He remembers.

“Yes. If you’re planning it.”

“I haven’t talked to the kids, but I’m sure they’d be down.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I can pick you up in twenty?"

“I can walk.”

“C’mon, in the sun? You live on the same street as Lucas anyway, don’t worry about it.”

“Well.” You twirl the telephone cord around your finger so tightly, it threatens to cut off your circulation. “Okay… if it’s no trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Steve promises. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

You hang up and run to your room to dig for your skates. They’re stuffed under your bed next to a mini gumball machine. You shove two green gumballs in your mouth and race to the bathroom to check on Joan, nearly slipping on the wood.

“I’m going out, Joan. I think he might… he might like me.” You crunch on the gumball shells and shudder. “What a terrifying thought.”

You pull out the drain stopper and set Joan on a washcloth to dry. Then you go down the hall to put on your sneakers. 

Steve arrives five minutes early. You only know that because you spend the whole time watching the road from your curtained window. You shake your hands out, overwhelmed with nerves. 

It’s just a boy. He’s only a boy. 

The two of you meet halfway. Steve jogs backwards, unusually skillful, and opens the passenger door for you.

“Hey. Does Joan want to come?” Steve asks. 

You shake your head. “She’s having a spa day. It’s just me.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you,” he says, sweet and earnest. 

You duck inside the car and shake your hands a little, trying to fend off the returning nerves. Just a boy.

“So, that’s El,” Steve says as he gets into the driver’s seat, pointing to a girl with short curls. “And you know Max and Lucas.”

Max nods at you with a smile. Lucas waves.

“Hi, El,” you say. “Cool hair.”

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. “I like your skates.”

“I found them at a yard sale. You can find anything in a yard.”

"Okay," Steve says. "Everybody buckled?" 

“Yes, Mom,” Max mumbles. 

Steve catches your gaze and rolls his eyes. You smile.

Briefly, you worry you’ll have to fill the silence and talk about yourself, like people expect you to. But Steve and the kids hold conversation easily. They talk about anything and everything. 

They're more energetic than you're used to; Debbie always prefers it to be quiet. 

But you don't mind it. You don’t feel lonely like you do when you’re with Debbie.

“Alright, please stay within this area,” Steve says when he parks and everyone gets out. “Within—”

“Shouting distance!” Max yells. “Yeah, we know!”

The park isn't crowded. Most of the paths are clear, so skating will be no problem. 

Max gets out two skateboards from the trunk. 

“Max is going to teach me how to do an ollie,” El informs you. “Would you like to join us?”

“Maybe later,” you say. “I want to master my yard skates.”

She nods and follows the others to the small skate park on the other side of the trees. 

You bring your skates to a bench and sit, lacing them up your feet. Steve is a few feet away, swinging his arms slightly.

“Aren’t you going to join them?” you ask.

“Oh, uh, no. I brought my own skates… I thought maybe we could skate together, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, I would like that,” you say. 

Steve beams. “Alright, cool. I’ll go get mine.”

You stand, about to take a step forward—and immediately slip.

Steve reacts instantly, lunging to catch you. One hand grabs your elbow, the other on your stomach. You squeal and cling to his shirt. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, helping you stand upright.

“I’m okay,” you say, breath caught in your throat.

You take a step but your foot wobbles. Steve grabs you again. You don’t try to take another step.

“I thought skating would be intuitive,” you say, rolling one skate to test.

“What?” 

You look up. Steve’s face is inches from yours. His hair is golden in the sunshine. His eyes lock on your own; his focus sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

“You know, like how babies are able to swim for the first six months of their lives?”

“Uh…” Steve tilts his head. “No?”

“Oh. Because they were in the womb, they have that ability. ‘Cause they float around in there for nine months, you know? But then they lose it. That’s why we have to learn how to swim.”

“Wow. That’s a cool fact.”

Nobody ever thinks your facts are cool. But Steve does.

“Well, I thought skating would be similar,” you say. “I’ve watched other people skate, so I thought I’d just… do it. I guess I lost that at six months too.”

Steve’s smiling. It’s a gentle smile, though. Not a teasing smile. 

“I see,” he says. “I’m sorry for your disappointment.”

“It’s alright. Life is far more than disappointment. No use getting hung up on it.”

“Do you want me to teach you how to skate?” he asks. “I promise I’m good at it. Coach Collins said I could’ve seriously pursued it.”

“So skating for you is like avoiding death for Westley,” you say.

“Actually, I’m pretty good at avoiding death too,” Steve says. “And making grilled cheeses.”

“Triple threat.”

He ducks his head with a laugh, and you feel the warmth of it flow through your own body.

“Sure. Can’t make lemonade for shit, though.”

“I think your lemonade is perfect, Steve Harrington.”

His cheeks are scarlet again. It’s quickly becoming your favorite color.

“I would like it if you taught me,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll get my skates after you get the hang of it. Put your hand on my arm, right here.”

Steve pats his forearm. Carefully, you do as he says. 

“I’m nervous,” you confess. 

“I got you,” Steve says, cheek brushing your head. “I won’t let you fall, Buttercup.”

Saint Aloysius’ parking lot has the best rocks. 

You've never told anybody as much because you imagine the lot would get busy, and you like it empty.

Today, you're searching for a brother for Joan. Ever since that tragic day at Macinaw Island, Joan's been very lonely. It‘s hard being a sisterless sister. 

Joan is smooth and round, so you look for an equally smooth and round brother. Commonality is important. 

Your knees hurt from squatting, so you sit. The rocks poke your butt. 

You hear a car rolling up the hill, engine a soft purr. You stop and turn. 

The car is maroon and shiny, with only a couple slight scratches you can't notice unless you look really hard. You don't recognize the license plate, although you have yet to start your record of Hawkins plates. 

It putters to a stop in front of Giovanni's Bakery across the street. The car doors open. 

"I'm losing my edge, Robs! I made a damn fool of myself. I can't even—"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like we're glossing over the fact that you don't even know this girl. And what she did was technically trespassing."

"Do you know her name?" another voice pipes up. 

"No, Dustin, I don't know her name. I don't even know if she lives in Hawkins!"

Their voices disappear as they go inside the bakery. You find Joan a brother, Jack, and Jack finds a wife named Gwen. Gwen isn't smooth and round; she's sharp-edged and will be harder to clean, but she's a muted salmon color and you think she's pretty. You hope Jack will find her pretty too.

As you dig through the pile of rocks, your finger catches on the edge of a broken bottle. It slices your finger. Blood swells immediately. 

You put your new rocks in your plastic red pail with your other hand. Then you stand, joints popping as you do so. You stick your ribs out and bend your spine in a stretch. 

You cross the street to the bakery, pail in hand. The bell jingles as you enter. You hum the ding-dong under your breath. 

"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asks.

"Hello. Can I have five baci di dama and five of the raspberry sandwich cookies?"

He goes to the display case with a paper bag. You rest your elbows on the counter, pail handles over your arm. 

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you have a bandaid? I'm bleeding."

The man purses his lips. "No bandaid, sorry."

"That's okay. Just the cookies, then." 

"Buttercup?"

You turn. Steve stands before you, wearing his Family Video vest. Robin is beside him, her hair piled into a windblown bun on her head. Another boy, shorter than both, younger, is with them. He waves at you, curls bouncing. 

You wave back. Robin squeals.

"Oh my God, what happened to your finger?" she asks, horrified. 

"There was a broken bottle in the parking lot."

"Jesus," Steve says. He takes your hand and inspects it. He's so close and warm. All you can do is stare at the freckles on his neck. 

“Why were you in the parking lot?” he asks.

“I was looking for rocks. This is the best rock spot in all of Hawkins. Well, after Lover’s Lake. But the pH has been abnormally high there. Probably because of the monsters. So I came here.”

"Hi, I'm Dustin," the boy introduces. “Is your finger okay?”

"Hi, Dustin. I think I’ll survive,” you say. “Dustin means brave warrior in Norse.”

Dustin beams. “Yup. I was named after my grandfather. He served in World War Two.”

"Names are important,” you say. “Joan agonized for days deciding what I should call her. Eventually, I decided for her. A name says a lot about a person. Steve has a warrior and good luck at his side."

"Yep, Steve-o here is pretty blessed to have us. And," he gestures to you, "You are?"

"Hungry," you say, taking your bag of cookies with your free hand. 

The bag crinkles as you open it. You hold it out to Steve. 

"Do you want one? I promise they’re blood-free.”

"Uh…” He glances at your hand. “Are you sure your finger is okay?”

“She’s a trooper. Survived ink poisoning and everything.” You wave the bag again. “Cookie?” 

Steve takes a baci di dama out and pops it into his mouth. He hums as he chews, nodding. 

"'S good," he says after he swallows.

"Baci di dama means lady's kisses in Italian," you say. 

His cheeks turn pink again. 

"You should drink more water," you add. "You turn pink easily."

Robin snorts. Steve holds a hand to his cheek. 

"Uh, thanks."

“You’re welcome. Robin, would you like a cookie?" 

"No, thanks,” she says. “I'm picking up a tiramisu for my mom's birthday."

"I want a cookie!" Dustin says. 

"Dude," Steve hisses. 

You hold the bag open to Dustin. He takes a raspberry sandwich cookie. 

"So," Dustin says, mouth full. "Are you Steve’s girlfriend or something?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you say.

“Du-ude!” Steve says too loudly, voice climbing in pitch.

“What? You talk about her all the freakin’ time. I needed to know.”

You look at Steve. He rubs the back of his neck and half-smiles.  

“Anyway,” continues Dustin. “How do you know Steve?”

"I climbed over his gate by accident on the hottest day of May,” you say.

"By accident?" 

"Yes. All the gates in Loch Nora look the same. Except Steve's gate has climbing ivy and little red flowers. It's much nicer than the other houses. It looks like a person lives there. I mistook it for Debbie's gate." 

Robin tilts her head at you. You don't care what Steve says; she's a one hundred percent bonafide bird. 

Dustin points to your pail, crumbs all over his chin. "Why do you have rocks?"

"They're for Joan," you say.

"Joan? Is she your friend?"

"She's more like my confidante. She doesn't talk much, so I think it'd be presumptuous of me to call her a friend when I have no idea where we stand." 

"Navigating friendships can be hard," Steve offers. 

"Yes," you say. "They can be."

"Being straightforward can help a lot," he continues. "It, uh, at least helped me. That way the other person knows what you mean. No room for miscommunication."

You nod. "That's good advice. I'll have to try that with Joan. Sometimes she can be kind of hard-headed."

You roll up your bag of cookies and reposition your pail on your arm so the metal doesn't dig into your skin. 

"It was nice to meet you, Dustin," you say. "Goodbye, Steve and Robin."

"Wait!"

Steve holds the door for you and follows you out. He still smells sweet, like pineapple, and also a little woody. He touches the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity down your spine.

"I have a first aid kit in my car. Let me wrap your cut."

"Oh." You'd forgotten about it. "Okay."

You follow Steve to his car. He pops the trunk and rummages. You spot a bat with nails. 

"Very inventive," you say, pointing at the bat. 

Steve laughs shyly. "Yeah, uh, the monsters."

"I definitely wouldn't want to fight you if I were a multi-dimensional monster."

He smiles and takes out a small spray bottle of disinfectant. 

"This is gonna sting, okay? But we need to make sure nothing gets infected."

"An infection would be unfortunate," you say. "I'm quite attached to this finger." 

He sprays and cleans your finger. You wince and Steve squeezes your wrist in apology. Then he pulls out bandaids. 

"Any preference? I have rainbow, Star Wars, 'cause they're all a bunch of nerds, cats… oh, I have flowers! ‘Cause you’re, uh, Buttercup, you know?" 

"Flowers," you say, because Steve's so excited about it. 

He nods and opens the bandaid. You hold out your finger and Steve carefully wraps it. He rubs your knuckle. 

"Thank you," you say. 

"You're welcome. Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

He closes the trunk, swinging his keys on his finger. 

"Sorry if that was awkward, by the way," he says. "Dustin, I mean. He can be… blunt." 

"It wasn't awkward."

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” you say. “I’m happy you tell people about me. I tell Joan about you all the time.”

"Oh." He nods. "That—that’s good. So… we’re both… uh—”  

"Do you want another lady's kiss?"

"What? Oh—" Steve clears his throat. "N-no, that's okay. Thanks."

You take out a raspberry cookie and bite into it. 

"Your hair has product," you observe. 

"Yeah. No secrets, though."

"Everybody's hair has secrets."

"Even yours?" he asks. 

"Especially mine." 

Steve rubs the back of his neck. You open your bag and take out another cookie. He looks like he's trying to find the right words to say. You don't mind waiting. 

"Hey, do you like barbecue?" he asks. 

"I like it as well as anybody else."  

"Well, um, I'm having a barbecue this Saturday. Lucas won a big championship game and so we're celebrating his win."

"That's nice," you say. "Congratulations to Lucas."

"Yeah! So, um, did you maybe want to come too? It'll be at my house. You could bring a friend if you wanted. Like Joan."

"Joan is a vegetarian," you say. "But I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."

Steve smiles. He has such a pretty smile. 

"We're ordering pizza too, so Joan can have some of that."

"You're a very thoughtful host.”

Then you have a terrible thought. But you have to ask it because if you don't, you might be breaking some kind of invisible expectation. You do that a lot. 

"Does Debbie have to come?" you ask. 

Steve blinks. "Uh, no? It's not a requirement."

"Some people ask me to parties because they want Debbie to come." 

Steve frowns. "That's rude. I wouldn't do that."

"Okay. What time does the barbecue begin?"

"You can stop by anytime. But we'll probably start eating around six."

You nod. "Joan and I will be there at five thirty."

Steve's answering grin is blinding. He must be really excited to meet Joan. You get it; Joan's the life of any party she attends. 

"Great, that's great. I'll see you then."

"Bye, Steve," you say. 

"Bye," he answers like he's out of breath. 

Even the way he breathes is pretty.

Every month, Miles Stanwick throws a party. 

Miles is a celebrity in Hawkins, his father being a state senator, and Miles is, according to a drunk Debbie, “the Gatsby to her Daisy.”

You're pretty sure Debbie hasn't read the book. Or maybe she's a living tragedy. Either is possible. 

It had been just you two in her room, without the Other Debbie she pretends to be to impress the people of Loch Nora, when she'd told you what it meant to be in love. 

"You just know," she'd said, her breath reeking of tequila.

You'd turned your head. Tequila made your nose itch. 

"But you love Brett," you'd said. 

"Brett is who I'll marry," she'd corrected. She’d sounded so sad. "Miles is all I've got."

Then she'd thrown up all over her carpet. You'd helped her into bed and made a mental note to find her a friend like Joan to keep her company, for when you weren't around. 

You don't like parties. They're loud and smelly and usually filled with people you don't like or don't know. And at a party, people you don't like and people you don't know are one and the same. 

You would leave, but Debbie is your ride tonight. So you're stuck here until midnight, maybe even later. 

Someone plugs in a karaoke machine and that gets most of the party's attention. The music is horribly loud and is the kind that’s just a lot of synthesizer. 

A guy jumps onto the Stanwicks' coffee table and knocks over the potpourri dish. Dried petals and orange peels scatter across the carpet. 

Debbie appears in front of you, a red Solo cup in her hand. 

"What did I bring you here for?" she asks, mouth curled. "To slump on the couch?"

"No one here wants to talk," you say. 

Debbie rolls her eyes. "Parties aren't for talking. They're for drinking and making out. Someone's rolling a blunt in the den. Go suck on that, will you?"

The people in Loch Nora are so good at making you feel two inches tall. You wish you'd brought Joan. She'd know what to do. 

You've tried alcohol before. Champagne at a wedding. A sip of rum from the Wellermans' liquor cabinet, back when Debbie wasn't so caught up in being just like everyone else. 

Maybe it's your fault, too. Maybe you're too good at standing out. 

You go to the kitchen. It's already trashed. You step over a spill on the floor. Then you turn around and lay down some paper towels so no one will slip. 

There are various bottles of strong liquor strewn across the counters. You decide to try the punch and fill your cup to the top. You sniff it and your nose wrinkles at the whiff of alcohol. 

You so badly want to have fun. You want to know what makes all of this worth it. You want your friendship with Debbie to be worth it. 

You down the punch in one go. It makes you cough and you scramble for water at the sink. You wonder if the punch is poisoned. 

You wobble out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, head already woozy. A girl stands with a drink, one arm folded. 

"Where's Debbie?" you ask. The girl winces and steps away from you. 

"She went with Miles and some other people to the lake."

Your eyes widen. "No, they can't. There's monsters."

She looks at you like you might be an insect splattered on her dashboard. 

"You're Debbie's weird friend, aren't you?"

Weird doesn't make you feel good, like Steve calling you strange did. Weird makes you feel like when a boy in sixth grade stepped on your heels while going up the stairs because he thought it was funny. 

"Debbie would've told me," you say. 

The girl shrugs. "Guess she ditched you. She can't score with Miles if you're killing the vibe." 

Weird tastes like poison in your mouth. 

"Debbie was my ride," you say, but she’s already gone.

Your head aches. You try to think on what to do next. It's nearly midnight. No one is awake, and you have no idea how to call a cab. 

You find the Stanwicks' phone in the hall and dial the only number you know, besides your own, and the local pizzeria. 

"Hello?" 

You lean against the wall, phone in both hands. 

"Uh, hello? Who is this?" 

"H-hi, Westley." Your voice cracks. 

"Hey," Steve says, unbearably gentle. "My favorite rock girl. Jesus, it's… midnight."  

"I'm sorry," you say. 

"No, no, it's alright. I'm just—is everything okay? Are you okay?" 

"Debbie ditched me."

Silence. For a moment, you panic that the line's dropped.

"Steve?"

"Where are you?" 

"I'm, um, at Miles Stanwick's. The address is… well, I don't remember, but I'll go outside and look for the house number—"

"I know it," Steve says. "Stay right there. I'm coming to get you. Don't drink any more."

Your lip wobbles. "'Kay."

"It's okay," he soothes. "Drink some water. Don't take anything from anybody." 

"I just wanted to be fun," you blurt. 

"You are fun, Buttercup. Way more fun than anybody at that house, I guarantee it. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Steve," you say, no longer feeling so small. 

You hang up and go to the kitchen to get more water from the sink. Then you return to the hallway and sit, back against the wall, knees tucked into your chest. 

You doze, lids heavy from the alcohol. The next thing you know are two hands on your arms. 

You jolt awake. One hand cradles the back of your head so you don't thump it against the wall. 

"Hey, hey." Steve kneels in front of you. He brushes your cheek with a cool knuckle. "It's me, it's Steve. Are you okay?"

His hands are cool against your overheated skin. He smells like lemon shampoo. 

"My knight," you say. 

"I thought Westley was a pirate."

“He was only pretending." 

You let Steve ease you up. His car keys dig into your hip.

"Ow," you say dazedly. 

"What? What hurts?"

"Keys."

"Oh." Steve shifts you to his opposite side, hand on your back. "Sorry, honey." 

"Honey never spoils," you say. "Did you know that? You could dig up honey from a tomb that's thousands of years old and as long as it was stored in an airtight container, it's good to eat."

"I love that you know that." 

"Do you really?" 

"I really do," Steve says. "C’mon, let's get you home." 

Outside, the moon is a dot of cream in the purple sky. The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are also dark. 

"I'm sorry for calling you so late," you say. 

"Don't be. I'm glad you called me. These parties can get out of hand."

"Debbie left. She went to Lover's Lake with Miles—"

The panic returns, flooding your body. You squirm and Steve tries to keep you steady. 

"Whoa, what's—"

"The monsters! There's monsters down there, Steve. I don't like Miles, but I don't want him to be eaten!"

"No, no, no more monsters," Steve assures you. "They can't come through there anymore."

You still. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Steve leans in and pulls the seat belt over you.

"Comfy?" he asks. 

"I like you so much, Steve Harrington."

It's too dark to tell, but you suspect he's got another case of sunstroke. 

"I, um, like you too, Buttercup. You're really cool."

"Me?" You wave your hand. "No."

"Really," he insists. "You are. The coolest."

If you were Debbie, if you weren't weird in the wrong way, if you didn't go to parties to talk, and if you fit a million other criteria you never will, Steve would kiss you right now. Or maybe you'd kiss him. 

But you don't know how to go about that. You don't think it's your right to do such a thing. 

So Steve shuts the door and walks around to the driver's seat. You stare at your flower bandaid.

"Four three's," Steve says as he turns the ignition. 

You turn your head. "Hmm?"

"The house number. Four three's. That's gotta be, like, astronomically bad luck, right?"

"Without a doubt."

Except you're here with Steve Harrington, and he calls you honey and thinks you're cool. And that doesn't seem like bad luck at all. 

"I'm going to a barbecue," you call out. 

There's no reply. You close the door behind you.

Joan sits in your pocket. You've tied a purple ribbon around her head, right above her googly eyes. You don't know what the dress code is for a barbecue, but you hope she's not underdressed.

You haven’t spoken to Steve since Miles’ party. You’re not sure what you should say, and you can’t bear the thought of calling him to hear silence. 

Even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, you hope he’ll still be friends with you. Steve and his kids have grown on you. You don’t know if you can go back to who you were before the hottest day of May. 

“Material Girl” plays from inside Steve's backyard. You mouth the words as you fling your flip flops over the gate. 

"What the fuck?" someone says from the other side. 

You climb the gate and shimmy down. It's a good thing you're wearing shorts under your dress.

A boy, lanky and tall but probably Lucas's age, holds one of your flip flops. He stares at you and shakes the shoe. 

"Is this yours?"

"Both of them are," you say. "Does Steve like Madonna?"

He grimaces. "Unfortunately."

"Cool."

You spot Steve sitting on one of the deck chairs with Robin and a boy your age with big, curly hair and a Led Zeppelin shirt with cropped sleeves. 

"Venus" plays next and you wobble in time with the music as you walk over to Steve. 

"Her weapons were her crystal eyes," you whisper. The pavement is warm under your toes. 

"Making every man mad." 

Steve turns just as you reach him. He stands so fast he shakes the chair. 

"Hey!" he says. He sounds out of breath again. "Hey, you came."

"You invited me," you say. 

"Yeah, yes." Steve nods. "I did. I'm glad you're here."

"You play good music."

"Ha!" Steve whips his head to look at the curly haired boy. "Suck it, Munson."

"She's obviously biased." 

"Munson," you say. "Eddie Munson?"

Eddie freezes under your gaze. Robin and Steve glance at you. 

"Yeah, uh, that's me." Eddie smiles weakly. "Look, you might've heard some stuff abou—"

"You helped fight the monsters," you interrupt. "You're very brave." 

Eddie's eyes widen. "I—"

"Most people just like to ignore monsters. It takes a really good person to fight them." You turn to Steve. "Do you have orange Fanta?" 

"Yeah, sure. I'll get you a can. Feel free to sit… where are your shoes?"

You point behind you. "Your bodyguard had to screen them after I climbed your gate. You have very tight security."

"After you climbed my… wait, Mike? God, I’m sorry about him. I'll get your shoes back."

"It's okay. Flip flops are dangerous weapons. It's only a matter of time before the airport bans them." 

Steve tilts his head, eyes warm. "Right. I'll be back. That's Eddie and Robin… you know them."

"I know their names, and that's about all you can know about anybody."

Eddie giggles. You look at him. He doesn't seem to be laughing at you, so you sit where Steve was sitting, across from Eddie's chair. You point at his shirt. 

"I like Kashmir."

"Thank God! Somebody with decent tastes."

"I'll listen to anything," you say. "It's important to be a good listener."

Eddie grins. "Words of the wise."

"Where's Joan?" Robin asks. 

"Right here." You take Joan out of your pocket and set her down on the edge of the pool chair. 

"Sick," Eddie says.

You nod. "The ribbon was my pick."

"I like it," Robin says. 

"Thank you."

Steve returns with an orange Fanta for you and a root beer for Robin. 

Robin points to Joan. "Steve, this is the famous Joan we've heard so much about."

"That's a rock," says Steve. 

"Yep."

"Oh." He nods in understanding. "Joan is your pet rock?"

"Confidante," you correct. "’Pet’ is demeaning."

"Got it. And was Joan's sister also your confidante?"

"No. Joan's sister didn't like me much. She thought I was a bad influence on Joan. But we shouldn't talk about it now. Joan gets very sad when I bring it up."

You open your can. The carbonation hisses. It's itchy and sweet on your tongue. 

"I like your hair," you say. "It's fluffy. Like it was on the hottest day of May."

Steve pushes a couple strands behind his ear.

"Thanks. The gel is too much on hot days like these. Weighs me down."

"At least you won't float away." You look at Eddie. "Is your hair full of secrets too?"

Eddie ruffles his hair. "Not as many as Steve's, but I've got a couple in here. 'S what gives my curls volume." 

"Hm. Just as I suspected," you say. 

"Ste-eve!" Dustin whines from across the yard. "You promised burgers!"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You'd think he's never been fed in his life."

Eddie pats his shoulder. "You've got this, Harrington."

"Oh, no. You wanna eat, you've gotta earn your keep. Come on."

Eddie groans, flinging himself off the chair. "Save me, Buckley!"

"Already did that," she says, pulling her sunglasses onto her eyes. "Never again." 

"You should tie up your hair so it doesn't catch fire," you suggest. 

"Well, at least somebody cares about me," Eddie declares, pulling his hair into a ponytail. 

Steve turns to you and smiles softly. 

"Are you hungry? You can have the first pick of the burgers."

"Won't Dustin be annoyed?"

Steve shrugs. "Kid could use some manners. Besides, pretty girls always get the first pick. It's the law." 

You follow Steve and Eddie to the grill, pretty girl echoing in your brain the whole time. 

Eddie's hair doesn't catch on fire and Steve makes you a perfect burger. The sun sparkles on the pool surface. The kids come out to eat and, predictably, Dustin complains about not getting the first burger.

"Not fair. Just 'cause she's your girlfriend," he mumbles as he goes off to search for the mustard. 

You check to see if Steve had heard the comment. He doesn't seem to have; you can't decide if you're relieved or not. 

The chairs are all taken by the time you finish fixing up your burger. Steve stands immediately as you approach.

“Here, take my seat,” he says.

“We can share,” you offer.

Steve lets you take the back of the chair, settling at the foot. “You Make My Dreams Come True” plays on the speakers. 

“Whoever made this mixtape is a genius,” you announce.

“You like it?” says Steve. “I actually made this one. Robin and Eddie think my taste sucks, but—”

“It’s spectacular.”

He hums, ducking his head shyly. “Well, speaking of spectacular: I made more lemonade, if you want to test it before I unleash it upon the masses.”

“I’ll happily drink your lemonade,” you say. “It’ll build my iocane tolerance.”

Steve grins. “I rented The Princess Bride, by the way. I know you meant to get it a few weeks ago. We can watch it tonight, if you want.”

“You remembered I wanted to watch it,” you say.

He nods. “Well, uh, yeah. Do you still want to? If you don’t, I can—”

“I do,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve stands, hand outstretched so you’ll give him your empty plate. “I’m going inside. Anybody want anything?”

“Doritos!” Robin shouts.

“Napkins, please,” El says.

“Cherry Coke!” Mike calls.

“Beer!” Eddie whoops.

“Doritos, napkins, got it. The cooler is right there, Wheeler, and are you kidding, Eddie? No drinking by the pool. Have we not learned our lesson from the last four years?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve learned anything, Steven.”

“Can you bring us popsicles?” Max asks. “Lemon and grape.”

“Ooh, popsicles sound good,” says Robin. “Bring me one too. Fruit punch.”

Steve sighs, lifting his arms.

“Two hands, guys. Only got two.”

“I can help,” you offer.

“Now that’s a great idea,” Robin says. “The two of you in the kitchen, alone. Really brilliant, don’t you think, Steve?”

Steve glares at her. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen. It looks exactly like the last time you were here, except for the food. Steve opens the freezer and digs through the box of popsicles. Then he takes the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and sets it on the counter.

“Can you get the Doritos?” he asks. “They’re up there.”

You open a shelf over the stove. The chips are at the very top. You try jumping; all that does is bang your ribs into the counter.

"Whoa, whoa.”

Steve’s hand rests on your back. Your stomach swoops. 

"Easy, Buttercup. I’ll get it, sorry ‘bout that."

You frown. "The Doritos have eluded me."

"They’re a tricky bunch," he says, reaching and successfully grabbing the chips.

"I knew you’d best me and succeed."

"Best you?" 

"Yes," you say. "Like in a duel."

Steve tilts his head, a tiny crinkle forming in the center of his brows. 

"Are we going to duel? Like Inigo and Westley?"

"Not if I can help it," you say. "I'm terrible with a sword."

"I would never try to sword fight you." 

"I appreciate that."

His hand slips from your back. You watch it fall to his side.

“Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want,” Steve says as he takes a glass out of the cupboard. “You can also take food home.”

You exhale through your nose and wiggle your fingers a little, trying to stave off the nerves. You wish Joan was in your pocket right now, but you left her on the deck chair. 

“Buttercup?” 

You look up. Steve has a glass of lemonade in one hand. The top button of his polo shirt is undone. Was it always undone? You can’t remember. 

Anyway, he’s beautiful. And you’re so damn strange.

“Yes, Westley?”

Steve smiles. You don’t think anyone has ever smiled at you as much as Steve does. 

“Everything okay?” he asks.

He puts the glass in front of you. You glance at it, then back at him.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I won’t force you to drink my crappy lemonade if you don’t want to, y’know.”

“You called me strange,” you blurt. “When we first met.”

Steve’s eyes widen. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says softly. “But I won’t call you that anymore if you don’t like it.”

“No, I–I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. But…”

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I’m not like Debbie,” you say. 

“I know.”

“I’ll probably never be like Debbie.”

“I much prefer you as yourself,” he says.

“Oh.”

You sip your lemonade. Your lips pucker but you smile all the same.

“Damn,” Steve says with a chuckle. “I really can’t nail that lemonade, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” you whisper. 

He takes a step forward. You set the glass on the counter.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I would very much like that.”

Steve’s lips are slightly chapped. You taste like lemonade and he tastes like Coke and God, you like it so much.

You loop your arms around his neck like you’ve wanted to do for weeks. He returns in kind, both hands slipping to your waist. 

It’s not just a boy kissing you. It’s Steve.

The sliding glass door whooshes open and you jerk your head back in surprise. Max and Dustin trod in. 

Dustin shrieks. 

“Seriously? This is what was taking you so long?”

“If you were gonna do that, we would’ve gotten the popsicles ourselves,” Max says with a huff, grabbing the popsicles and chips from the counter. 

“Told ya they were making out!” comes Eddie’s voice from outside. “I warned you, kiddies!”

They clear out, with one last stink eye from Dustin. Steve shakes his head, nose pressed to your cheek.

“Again, very sorry about them.”

“They wanted to check in on their favorite babysitter,” you say.

Steve lifts his head and rolls his eyes. “I need a padlock or something.”

You hum and lean over to unwrap a popsicle. 

“Oh,” you say. “Three left.”

“Three popsicles?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well, that explains it. Astronomical bad luck, right?”

“Actually,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. “I think my theory was wrong.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things

[slvtforfiction]

I love your blog. There’s like no Jake content out there. Could I request a Jake smut where the reader is inexperienced and shy🖤🖤🖤

☆ Ahhh thank you anon!!

☆ Ofcourse I can

☆ Jake Webber X Reader

☆ Smut

☆ Period sex!

☆ Masterlist

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

I laid in bed gripping my stomach whilst Jake was out.

My period cramps had been going crazy and I felt like someone was shooting me with an arrow every time one shot through my body.

I stayed with my stomach clutched tightly whilst I heard the door click open and Jake greet me as he walked in.

"Hey baby." He put down the bag before noticing what I was doing,clutching my stomach with a sorrowful face.

"What's wrong love?" He asked, "Fucking period cramps." I groaned out,he nodded and grabbed some chocolate out of his bag.

"Thank you" I muttered towards him he nodded with a smile filled with empathy.

He sat on the bed next to me rubbing my leg up and down trying to comfort me with futile attempts.

"Is there anything else I can do?" He asked me with a small smile as he continued to rub my leg up and down.

"Not really!" I said with a soft smile up at him,I knew there was period sex but I was a virgin and was sure it would hurt.

"You know I Uh-I read something online," he started to talk and I nodded my head hoping he was thinking the same as me.

"And apparently like sex is good for cramps? Like fingering?" He told me more of a question to ask if I was okay with where this was going.I nodded and smiled as he thought the same as I did.

"I'll be back then hang on." He told me before leaving the room.Whilst he was gone I propped myself up onto the pillows and sat up in the twin bed.

He came back with a red towel and I smiled at how much he knew,clearly having researched this before to help me.

He put the towel underneath me and asked if he could take off my shorts to which I nodded again,not wanting to speak much right now,I had always been shy and Jake knew that.

He began taking down my shorts as I continued to grip my stomach,though this time with less force as before.

"Let me take care of you, love, it's okay." He told me softly.That sparked something in me,realising how lucky I am to have this man.

"Are you still okay with this?" He asked me gently making sure I was comfortable,I nodded happily as he kissed my thighs.

“Are you sure sweetheart? I know it’s your first time,I know how nervous you’ve been.” He asked me again and I nodded my head.

This was my first time and I was scared,I had only dated Jake for about 4 months but I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my time on earth with him.

“I want my first time with you and only you.” I told him and with that he kissed me.

He kissed down my neck,worshiping my body and I completely forgot about my cramps that were killing me a moment before.

He then pressed one finger into my cunt and kept kissing my thighs as he pushed himself in.

"Are you okay, but I need words honey." He told me with one finger inside of me, "Yes,please." I whimpered out wanting the pain of my stupid cramps to go.

"Okay baby,tell me if you want me to stop." He told me knowing how nervous I had been to have sex at all.

I was a virgin but I knew he wasn’t and he was oh so gentle and made sure I was okay with everything he did.

I moaned out as he kept pushing his finger in and out making me melt and my cramps long gone.

I thought to myself about how his finger must be red with blood now but I was too immersed in pleasure to give a second thought about it.

I had always thought my first time would be as scary and painful as everyone else says but it wasn’t,it was nirvana.

I moaned out again as he slowly slipped a second finger in,by now my cramps had passed away for a while.

I lived in bliss as I felt my thighs shaking already."Needy baby?" Jake teased as I came around his fingers.

A series of moans came from me as I road out my high before panting to get my breathe back and leaned backwards.

He kept going,leaving me overstimulated but beyond happy that my period cramps were now nothing to even think of.

I babbled out incoherent moans and blissful tears from the overstimulation, crying out.

"I know baby,I know." He said quietly as if no one else was supposed to hear it,but I did and oh god did that almost send me into a spiral.

He was still going gently,helping me through each step and whispering sweet nothings to me before I threw myself into a spiral of an orgasm again.

I came down from my high as he removed his fingers leaving me whining for his touch again.

He left to go to the bathroom and grab some tissue paper to clean me up,he gently wiped my folds and went back to the bathroom to wash his hands and throw the tissue paper away.

He then went into the wardrobe and grabbed a panty liner and some panties along with some shorts for me.

I smiled at I watched him put the panty liner on perfectly before walking over to me. "Can I put these on you?" He asked so sweetly.

I nodded and he pulled the panties and the shorts up my legs securing them around my waist trying not to get blood on anything.

“Are you okay love?” He asked again for reassurance. “I promise.” I whispered back,already tired.

“How are you feeling?” He asked and I looked up at him. “I’m good,thank you,I’m sorry this was our first time.” I laughed and he looked down at me again.

“Baby don’t be sorry,you’re everything I’ve always wanted,I don’t care about the sex,I care about you.” He told me and I smiled to myself.

He pulled the towel away and threw it in the laundry basket saying something about worrying about it later,he pulled the covers over us and I cuddled up next to him with a smile as I fell into sleep.

#spotify #smut #song #romance #cute #fluff #colby brock smut #sam and colby #sam and colby fluff #colby brock #jake webber fluff #jake webber smut #jake webber #jake webber x reader #period cramps #period smut

[absolutebl]

Pit Babe - it's time for a Trash Watch!

I had to. Well, no I didn't, but COME ON. It's like Thailand is negging me. Let's burn rubber, shall we? Burn rubbers...?

The things I had been told going in about this show:

it's about car racing (this bores me)

it stars Pavel (my BL ult bias, he is my icon for a reason)

it started as an omegaverse y-novel but the A/B/O aspects would be stripped from the BL series

it's high heat

(There some chatter about whether point 3 was a mistranslation of something the author said, but don't bother me with trifles.)

Here's a definition of omegaverse:

Omegaverse, also known as A/B/O (alpha/beta/omega), is a subgenre of speculative erotic fiction, and originally a subgenre of erotic slash fan fiction. Its premise is that a dominance hierarchy exists in humans, which are divided into dominant "alphas", neutral "betas", and submissive "omegas".[1] This hierarchy determines how people interact with one another in romantic, erotic and sexual contexts.[2] (Wikipedia)

In my experience and opinion, omegaverse archetypes and tropes are often used to strip out female characters (and The Feminine) and as a tool to excuse extreme hyper-masculine behaviors without a critical feminist lens (leading to lazy characterization). Just as heat is an excuse to get nkd quickly, A/O/B is often an excuse for taboo and dubious consent actions and behaviors. Do I get why writers/readers enjoy it? Yes I do. Do I personally like it? Not particularly. (Although there are always exceptions.)

Putting all that aside, the above represents my foundational knowledge before Pit Babe started.

Oh and that the familiar BL faces appearing in this show were follows:

Pavel Naret (aka Pavel Phoom) from 2 Moons 2 & Coffee Melody - Pavel is a fluent English speaker, a bit of a drama monger, and a motorcycle rider/car-dude, this role suits him

Nut Supanut from Oxygen & Something in My Room - has an amazing voice, his somewhat wooden acting has improved steadily since Oxygen

Pon Thanapon - one of Star Hunter's stable first seen in the Gen Y series (where he stole the appeal of an intended pair), also v good in Make a Wish, I wish he'd get a lead role as he has a likable screen presence

Pop Pataraphol from La Cuisine - he's playing the Alpha rival and I'm not convinced he's suited to this role

Michael Kiettisak from Love Sick, Oxygen, Call it What You Want, Till the World Ends - playing the comic relief this time rather than his usual tortured stoic... huh

All the rest are either fresh faces or older experienced actors. Interesting mix. They must have some money behind this.

And now, get out your marshmallows! The dumpster is on fire! Let's start the roast.

Episode 1 - Platypus, Pickles, Pavel, & other Smoking Hot Problems

This first segment told with a 4 day retrospect, because I decided to do a trash watch only after @aliceisathome said I should.

My initial reaction:

the sheer audacity of Thailand being like "PitBabe is not omegaverse" and then serving "Alpha" to us on a platter in the first sex scene is

how dare

but also

what the actual fuck is going on? what world are we living in where a/b/o is LIVE ACTION ON OUR SCREENS?

we getting heat, knotting & mpreg next?

apparently this is my reality now

I'm not sure what weird quantum time stream I've jumped into but someone was all,

yes the whole world is hella screwed, but also...

Thailand has decided live action mm fanfic is gonna win it the culture wars

and I'm beginning to think they may be right

BL is now the platypus of the film industry

4 days later:

Considering how much chatter this caused there's a part of me that wondered if it was all intentional and a marketing ploy (to say it wasn't omegaverse when obviously it is). In which case... brilliant Machiavellian tactics, production.

But Thai studios are rarely this calculated in their promo. So I think it's all accidental. But it certainly caused a raucous few days on Tumblr.

On a completely different note, Babe's house looks like it started life as a particularly inventive Olive Garden. Or is that just me?

More random thoughts:

Pavel has had work done, why honey? You were the definition of perfect.

The smell thing is great, I love stuff to do with scent and necks. If omegaverse brings this to the table, fine. But...

Being all Alpha perfect butch manly man = I do not like Babe at all, I kinda want him to be brought down a peg. (Woo... pegging!) I never like narratives that glorify the captain of the football team (side eyes Cdrama CEO romances and Love O2O), Babe better have depth and damage (forget the pegging) of some kind or his behavior will get old FAST, faster than he drives (also, forget the pegging idea)

Nut is ideal in the Beta role. I mean, that's Way's character right? We all can see that. If it's not intentional, it's a miscast. I love how soft he is as as screen presence. He's great in this part.

None of the other characters are sticking out to me yet, but I'm prepared to love the side dishes in this, please make them swoon worthy!

I'm glad they didn't hold the Charlie = trickster reveal off, I like knowing he is a double agent up front.

Finally, with respect to an adequate trash watch, I'm in a pickle.

How am I going to drink for this show when there is so much else airing on Frigay? I can't keep track, if I'm drunk.

I need a strategy for this trash fire if the puns and snark are to spout forth! (HA Fourth!)

Controlled burn?

Anygay, see you all next week.

Episode 2 - Side Dish Addiction + Second Lead Syndrome are both infecting me at once

[FYI I gotta have my backup computer to watch this so that's why Imma sometimes be delayed getting the trash out to the curb.]

3 minutes! 3 minutes in and I needed to pause and wax snarkful. (Ouch, bet that hurts. Is waxing snark similar to a Brazilian but for BL? Is that why they all so hairless in The Sign?... I digress, where was I?)

Okay so the subber said Daddy but I don't think that word means what they think it means. Because Way said simply nong paa.

Usually they'll use the English word Daddy (pronounced Dah-deee) for, ya know, Actual Daddies (tm).

Wait wait:

Calling Daddy Actual

(My dumb sci-fi loving arse will see myself out the back before I start drawing Battlestar Galactica = Pit Babe connections. TOO FAR ABL. Too far.)

Look, I like the tension in this show. It's good to set up an unlikeable Alpha dog and then immediately turn him into an underdog, makes him a bit more likable. I still don't like Babe, but now at least I'm on his side.

Charlie = cute but v sus. Fortunately for him, Babe = cute but v thick.

Everyone calls Charlie Babe's dek. Yes sounds a bit like what you think but also means kid/child and SHOULD be translated as boy in this show. Why doesn't the subber get that? They a sub...ber after all. (I'll see myself out.)

Honestly, the script writers might know what they are doing with abo but our eng sub translator sadly does NOT. I'm so glad this is coming now in my BL watching life. When my ear and knowledge of Thai is so much better than it once was. Others much be SO CONFUSED.

Snicker. They just fucking with us, but it's fun to watch the mpeg speculation abound.

File this one under: Thailand's trouble with ESL plurals and also "you should have Pavel helping with these subs" sweethearts.

Production knows entirely what it's doing with this show and its omegaverse shizz (even if the subber doesn't) and I am very much enjoying the online carnage that results.

This dumpster fire continues off screen into the blogosphere and I continue to roast things over it.

Meanwhile, hi Pon! You so adorable! When you gonna lead out a BL for us?

Is Idol Factory stealing all of Star Hunter's talent? Are they the Red Racers of the BL world? These are the questions I ask myself as I watch this.

Is that AGE GAP I smell before me?

Is the 20 yr old college kid meant for the pit boss? Cause you all know I am a slut for age gaps.

Moment of a/b/o: Jeff's fear of touch/heightened personal space would be a plot marker for "baby doesn't want Alphas close cause he smells like an omega" but of course this show it not omegaverse. Not omegaverse at all.

nuh-uh

Linguistic corner!

Lung (sounds a bit like loo) is uncle(ish) it means basically a male relation older than phi. So Alan is the oldest in the crew.

Alan calls Jeff nu (which the subber translated as boy I would have gone with cutie or little one). Nu is a diminutive affectionate term that's technically gender neutral but is most often used by/on cute girls/women. Jeff did NOT like it. Then Alan sort of dodges through pronouns/particles settling on phi for I, ger for you, and ja for a particle. This is interesting because ger & ja kinda lower his age and status into a casual sphere. Not more intimate more equal to jeff... fascinating.

I love the new "Korean" red racer, he drinks my brand of soy milk. He is now my baby snake in the grass.

Get it? Snake.

He and Babe should end up together.

The fight wasn't bad, do both actors have kickbox training in their backgrounds?

Who am I kidding, I care only about Uncle Alan and Nu Jeff now. All others are irrelevant to me.

Also...

WHERE IS A BOY FOR WAY?!!! Or a Daddy. I do not care. (Methinks nether does he.)

I am now captain of the Way Appreciation Society. Let's all find a way... to get him some dick.

Also the BTS stingers are tons of fun. Looks like the set was a blast.

Finally, and I mean this kindly. Why isn't Noh Phouluang in this? He should have been cast as Winner. Bah. I'm biased.

But one should be with Noh.

Episode 3 - Side Dishes Delux

Gayest bridge n Thailand has made its obligatory appearance.

How much do I love uncle & nu? They are SO damn cute. Also nu flustered is the best kind of nu.

I could not care less about Babe and Charlie. Except I do love the smell thing.

Way will break my heart by getting his broken. He is right tho.

Tra la la. I feel like this is a bit like KP 2.0.

Charlie is a such a princess (and ace manipulator). Good thing Babe clearly likes being buttered up.

Babe's backstory was more interesting than I expected, I didn't think we would go so far into the paranormal side of a/b/o. I like it and I hope they lean into it quite a bit more. Make it part of the plot.

Unlike the kissing thing which seems to have been gotten over rather quickly.

I gotta say I'm enjoying the corporate sponsorship jockeying and tension more than I thought I would. I'm curious as to who Jef and Charlie are working for and what their motivation is. The plot itself is keeping me intrigued and that is rare for me with BL.

So no trash talk this ep, I was largely absorbed and entertained. I didn't event need booze. Shocking behavior on my part.

#giveWayaboy2023

Episode 4 - I (who never ship) am shipping the impossible

Here’s the thing. I just want this to be a better story than it is. Right now it’s kind of like a soap opera. I don’t hate lakorn, I really don't. To Sir With Love is a glorious chewing of the diamanté scenery (completed with death glitter). But...

If this is gonna be a soap opera it needs to lean into the messy side more than the tailored high concept side. Support characters and evil needs more screen time.

Instead, right now, I don’t know where I am with this show because it doesn't know where it wants to be. I’m kind of dangling in the middle of a dirty situation. It’s uncomfortable for me, and the show feels uncomfortable for the performers. 

Also... I have questions.

Yes, of course I want to know what Charlie & Jeff are up to. Why can Jeff see the future?

But more importantly I NEED to know why Babe has a flying saucer bed?

That kind of lighting makes nobody look good, especially not at that angle. It’s very traumatic and I’m not wild about the shag rug either. I have concerns about Babe's taste. I guess is what I am saying. 

On a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT note:

There’s absolutely no chemistry to justify this, but I have decided that I am going to personally advocate for, and ship, Way and the interloping not-really-Korean. They are both sort of own-moral-code types. I have tiny crush on Kim, and Nut is the prettiest, and Way is Best Boy so there it is, I would like them to hook up, please & thank you.

#giveWay2Kim2023

Arrow guy is cute, too. Will we get to see him bone?

Is he going to be another one of the adopted alpha super-kid pets?

What the hell, throw Arrow Boy a bone! All hot boys in BLs deserve bones.

Plot thickens.

Hah.

Thickens.

(I am an immature idiot.)

Episode 5 - wait wait way-t, can arrow boy have Way?

Look, BLabies, I didn’t get any screen caps this episode because frankly there wasn’t anything worth capturing.

I guess Charlie really does love Babe? Very dramatic if idiotic saving from the burning car. But Babe has gone to the broken Alpha place of extremely unlikeablability (frankly he was almost there at the start). If I were Charles B Spectacled I would be OUT by now. 

Is that?

NO.

Don't get the plastic bowl.

No white towel sponge bath. Please kill this trope.  

I mean, it's not as bad as singing, but that's because NOTHING is as bad as singing in a Thai BL.

AND the main boys are back together.

I don’t find their relationship or Babe’s lack of senses a particularly interesting aspect of the plot.

Unless, of course, Babe is pregnant and that's why he lost his Alpha sniffer.

BUT I do love the sides.

Jeff = the introvert precog who can’t/wont do people and Alan = the extrovert people person who WANTS but doesn’t understand him. 

Were Jeff and Charlie ALSO raised by Evil Daddy MacEvilPants? 

I liked the way Arrow CEO & Way looked at each other. Way, hon, give up on Babe (he sucks) and get thyself a billionaire bf with great aim and BDE.

On a completely different note, the best thing about this show is the blooper reel. That thing with the green smoothie going down his pants was hilarious!

In conclusion, this was a green smoothie down the pants episode. I was entertained, and it’s probably gonna be good for the plot in retrospect, but it was kind of squishy and unpleasant at the time.

Episode 6 - Are they actually listening to us now? Is Tumblr bugged?

This was a fun ep full of like actual racing and shizz.

Whatever.

Charlie is on the team now. All the teams, apparently.

Can we talk about Jeff and Alan?

The apology scene! Did you hear that Alan dropped to chan/ger? Eeeee!!! So cute. (He equalized their relationship in a soft way.)

Get it with that language play hottie. Next up: lengua play.

Please & thank you. 

Meanwhile, as all of the Internet knows, they went fully in for omegaverse - no bars.

I have to say, one of the greatest typos (or whatever) in existence is enigma instead of omega.

That's where I personally would rank in the omegaverse.

Hello, my gender is... enigma.

 Apparently it's a/b/o and sometimes e!  Also sometimes switch-ee 

Oh I'm very proud of myself with that one.

Funfunfun

Charlie. Babes. When a man asks to be thrown up against the wall. You throw him against that wall.

OMG is that arrow boy looking at Way in the bar?

3 seconds later.

Noooo.

Wait come back.

Noooooo.

That’s what I actually want to watch! 

OMG. Who said nu was the first step to teelak?

I flipping love Alan. 

Ah the boyfriend ep. Thank you, but I still don't trust Charlie.

Poor Way.

But nice crying jag, and I don’t say that often in Thai BL.

Now let him go, Way.

A boy with his arrows is waiting. 

(source)

Note for the future: tumblr has a bug that stops allowing edits after a certain time/number, thus my full trash often occur in 2 segments as a result. Click on the "abl trash watches bl" tag for the full thing if you're reading this and later episodes are missing.

#pit babe the series #pit babe #thai bl #abl trash watches bl #Pavel Naret Promphaopun #pavel phoom #trash watch #2023 bl #currently airing bl #watch along #Nut Supanut #Pon Thanapon #พิษเบ๊บ

[okiedokrie]

High Infidelity

Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)

Rating: 18+

A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.

A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!

The rain soaked into your skin—cold and icy—piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.

Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you’ve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.” He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

“Of course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.” He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely he’s making eye contact with you. The way he’s looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like he’s directly using them as windows into your head. You’re half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, he’s a master at hiding it.

You haven’t learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way he’s leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.

His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, “Of course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.” This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you don’t think too hard about it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.” He says picking up his cup of tea, “So much that a collection was born from the thought of you.” He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.

“Ah, speaking of the collection,” He started again, after setting the cup down, “Would you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? I’ll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if you’re interested.” Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.

Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe you’re in right now. “Lovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?” You ask,

“Of course,” He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, “I’d love nothing more than to see you more often.”

The first time you entered Minghao’s studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasn’t small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. “Make yourself at home, I’ll brew some tea for us,” Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.

He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.

The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. “I want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,” He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, “This is a 15-year-old aged pu’er, I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, so I’d like to try this with you.”

“What an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?” You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it,

“Of course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isn’t it? I’d consider that a good day.” He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, “You know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,” he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.

“You carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.” You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. “Each steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.”

A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, “If my assessment is correct, you’re trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?” He nods, confirming your hypothesis, “Then, I’ll ask you a question, which steep are we on?” you say with a cheeky smile.

Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, “Literally? The second steep.” He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, “Figuratively? The fifth.”

You tilt your head a bit, “The fifth? I didn’t realize we were already at that stage.” you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.” he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.

You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.

After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, “Could I show you something?” he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.

Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.

“What’s this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.” You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.

“It is new,” Minghao starts, “I’m trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.” He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.

“It’s not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.” He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.

“Yes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. “So, that’s why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone who’s written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?”

You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?

“It makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.” You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since you’ve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.

“Really? Interesting. That’s the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.” He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.

Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hour—your Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghao’s face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.

You pick up the phone, “Hi honey-” You were cut off by your husband speaking,

“Get home, it’s getting late and you haven’t started dinner yet.” He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.

You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,” you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.

You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.

'How long before you break?' he wonders.

The next time you and Minghao meet, you’re sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghao’s long coat swaying in the wind.

He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.

You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. “Beautiful morning, the view is exquisite.” He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, he’s always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, “I’m no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.” you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.

“Oh? This feels like a threat to my career.” He says with a chuckle, “But, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you aren’t an artist?” You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.

“No, I’m not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.” You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.

“The weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?” He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.

You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. “Your book,” Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, “The one that inspired the collection, I’ve been following your publisher’s updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?”

“Ah, about that.” You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husband’s lack of sympathy for your predicament. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time, it’s not something I can talk about at the moment.”

Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, “Of course, could I take three of these?” He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.

He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, “I get it, ever the tortured poet you are.” he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.

Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, “You both are a lovely pair,” The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, “Could I interest you in some flowers? I’m sure your lady would appreciate them.” He smiles.

“Of course, you’re in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.” the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.

“I'm really lucky indeed.” He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.

Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. “Thank you Minghao, they're beautiful.”

He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.

“Shall we continue to walk?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.

Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.

But the day has to end at some point.

You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.

Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.

“They're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.”

He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.

Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.

You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.

You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.

“Could you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.”

This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.

Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.

Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.

You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.

He turns his head to face the door, “You came.” He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.

“You called.” You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.

His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.

You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.

“Drink, and stay with me. Please.” He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.

You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.

“I think I'm in love with-” he pauses, “someone I shouldn't be in love with.” He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.

Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.

“Why can't you be in love with them?” You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

“They refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.” He says with some fondness, “Also, they're married to someone else.”

“You probably should've led with that.” You mumble lowly, “I see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.”

You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.

“Anyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?” You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,

“Well, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.”

You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheus’ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.

You wanted to be loved by him.

You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.

You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husband’s side tidy as it was for the past month.

You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.

Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.

“I feel like this already happened before.” You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.

“Maybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.” He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.

“What's in the bag, Hao?” You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.

“It's something you might like, maybe.” He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.

You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.

“You got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.” You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.

“You mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.” He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.

“It's perfect, thank you.” You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.

“Do you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.” he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.

You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.

Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.

Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.

“Oof, poor bastards.” You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.

“It’s almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.” He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.

“Well, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.” squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.

You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.

Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.

“Y/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?” Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.

“I'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.” You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.

“You’re my wife, of course it's my concern.” He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, “We haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.”

Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.

You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.

And obviously, he didn't make you cum.

Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.

You take out your trusty friend, egg.

The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.

Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.

He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.

This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.

Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.

You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.

Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, “Good evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.” You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.

He offers you the flowers and you take them, “I'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.” You said as you turned back to find another vase.

After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.

“I didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.” He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.” You say solemnly.

“Well, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take, “Dance with me?”

You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.

You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.

You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.

His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.

You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.

You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husband’s tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.

It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.

You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.

You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.

Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.

“This would look amazing on you.” He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.

“Oh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.” You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.

“Nonsense, I'm offering to pay.” He said, turning his nose up. “I'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.” He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.

The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.

“How does it look?” You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.

Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, “We're getting the dress.” As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.

You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.

“Please try these on.” He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.

It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.

You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.

It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.

You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.

The car ride back home was filled with way too many ‘are you sure's and ‘you really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.

“I'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.” he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, “You need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.” He smiles.

Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.

Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.

“I'll see you next time, Y/n.” He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.

This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.

You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.

Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.” He says cheekily.

You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.

He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.

He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.

He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. ”Oh? This is new.” You said when you noticed it.

“Oh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.” He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.

His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.

He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.

But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.

Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.

You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you’re holding onto Minghao’s shoulders for support,

and you lean up to kiss him.

Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.

Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.

He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.

He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.

“I, I think you should leave.” He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.

You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.

But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?

You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.

You haven’t spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.

You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Hephestus, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.

It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.

Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.

As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.

“Hi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.” He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.

Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. “Y/n I-”

“This isn't the place to talk about this.” You said coldly.

Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.

“Let's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.” He said, remorseful.

You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.

The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.

It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.

He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, inspire you.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu hao bear~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. You’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Hao bear? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Minghao’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Hao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He passionately talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Minghao interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-”

Minghao interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.

He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.

Half-naked on Minghao’s bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Minghao.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghao’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. He’s become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.

Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever,” taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.

He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Minghao hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans, he’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go. I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately. You’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Minghao isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. He’s so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Minghao I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.

Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.

Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.

The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.

And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.

FIN.

#kvanity #k labels #kwritersworldnet #hiraya m #okiedokrie #high infidelity #seventeen #svt #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt smut #the8 x y/n #the8 x reader #seventeen the8 #the8 x you #the8 #minghao x reader #xu minghao smut #minghao smut #xu minghao #minghao

[hindahoney]

It has been one month since this war started. One month since I have slept peacefully, managed to take care of myself, or avoid looking at the news for more than five minutes. It has been one month of people telling me they're happy my people are dead, that they wished more would have died, that they and diaspora Jews deserve it. It has been one month since every moment hasn't felt like the world was upside down. One month since people I thought were my friends have came out in support of my murderers.

Words cannot describe my grief. I watch jews being attacked all over the world as thousands more cheer and call for even more Jewish death. Each attack, each murder, feels as if I've lost a sibling. I am not even allowed to express my mourning without someone shouting "what about the palestinians" as if me being sad about 1400 of my people being brutally slaughtered and another 240 taken hostage is somehow a political stance. I am keenly aware that any expression of my sadness or fear makes them happy.

Despite all of this, we continue. Jews have been more united than I have ever seen them. Hillel and Chabad are coming together for unified events, I have seen Jews decide to wear kippot and tzitzit wherever they go. I have seen Jews who are celebrating the first shabbat of their life and learning the blessings. I have seen Jews who decided to put up mezuzot and menorah in their window. Never before have I seen synagogue attendance so high except on high holidays. Yes, I am sad, I am scared. But my pride for how Jews have come together outweighs every negative feeling I have. They wanted to hurt us, to divide us, to make us weak. But I have never seen Jews stronger than we are right now.

#jumblr #judaism #jewish #frumblr #jewblr #j tag #oct 7th

[heybank]

DENY PART 3

oh my god ok here is part three to my little deny series. i also have a moodboard i've been making for this series so lmk if you wanna see it.

divider by @saradika and i've reblogged their post of it if you want to seem more of their dividers as they're so cute!!!

this part contains smut and is 18+ so MDNI please and thank you.

cw: p in v, unprotected sex (always imagine a contraceptive is used bc this will never be a pregnancy fic), dirty talk, clit slapping (just once)

click to read part one and part two. :)

dreams (nsfw 18+)

"look at you baby, creamin' around popes cock." jj moans at the sight in front of him.

"mmh feels good" you whine. hardly able to form words other than little uh uhs from how good pope is fucking you. his dick so deep you can feel it in your throat.

pope is a panting sweaty mess as he shoves his thick cock back into your sopping wet pussy. jj sitting behind you while pope takes you in missionary.

the feeling of jjs hands all over your sensitive body has your nerve endings on fire. you can feel his hard dick poking your back but he doesn't care about his pleasure right now, he only wants to see you and pope go over the edge of orgasmic pleasure.

"i'm close, pope please" you whine pathetically, jj pinching your nipples harder, sucking spots onto your neck.

"yeah? you gonna cum on my dick pretty girl?" pope asks with a grin. you like this side of him, his cockiness. he's been spending too much time with jj.

"please pope. wanna cum."

"should we let her cum handsome?" jj inquires and you let out another pathetic whine because you want it now! you don't wanna wait.

"yeah she's been such a good girl, haven't you?" pope responds

"yes! yes i'm a good girl i swear. i'm good right j?" you feel yourself squeezing popes dick harder in your tight little pussy. jj moans into the nape of your neck.

"yeah baby you can cum" the boys agree.

pope picks up his pace, dick hitting that squishy spongey spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"cum with me, pretty." pope demands

you don't need to be asked twice because next thing you know jj is squeezing you tighter, his fingers playing with your puffy abused clit, popes cock hitting your cervix with every thrust. you feel it building and building until jj smacks your clit with his fingers and you release.

you're screaming and shaking, clenching so tight that pope follows you seconds after. shooting his cum deep inside you, filling you with his warmth. you feel warm wetness on your back and part of you recognizes that jj also came, untouched, but you're too fucked out to really comprehend.

"grace" you hear your name but blood is rushing in your ears from the best orgasm you've ever had.

"grace!" you hear again but louder. it sounds distorted.

"jeeze, grace wake up!" you feel something soft thump on your face and next thing you know you're waking up with an annoyed groan. a pillow someone had thrown at you laying on your face, blocking your view of whatever rat bastard woke you from the best wet dream you've ever had.

"were you having a good dream princess?" you hear jjs cocky voice ask before you remove the pillow that's blocking your view.

"ya'we're makin lil noises too, wanna tell us about 'em?" the blonde boy teases.

you roll your eyes, used to jjs horny teasing when you comprehend his words. us. he said tell us.

you quickly sit up, pulling the blanket higher up your body as you take in the surroundings of your room. you see jj smirking with red cheeks and behind him is pope, fidgeting with his hands and tapping his feet.

"for your information i was having a good dream. why the fuck did you wake me!" you ask, exasperated. you're desperately trying not to feel the wetness between your thighs that has very clearly soaked through your cotton sleep shorts.

"you uh-" pope starts "you were saying our names."

"more like moaning them," jj snickers. you feel your face grow warm. "it was hot princess."

jjs words make you take in the two boys, inspecting every inch of them. jj has a very prominent bulge that he's not even trying to hide whereas pope is a little more reserved with his obvious boner but it's there nonetheless.

"umm what's going on?" the look jj gives you makes your tummy flutter and your nipples pebble. you want to blame the cool air but your room is stifling hot and you know the reaction is because of the maybank boy.

"what's happening is we came here to talk to you and walked in on you moanin our names princess. what do you have to say for yourself?" your cunt clenches at his words.

"jj- we were going to be subtle about this!" pope hisses, not wanting to scare you with their potential proposal.

"many people have wet dreams, jj. doesn't mean anything!" you respond with false confidence. completely ignoring whatever pope had just said.

"wanna make it a reality?" jj says, tone sultry as he leans in closer to your face. he looks at your lips like he wants to devour you.

you gasp and pull away, looking at pope with guilt.

this causes pope to walk over to the other side of the bed and join the two of you on it. he softly grabs your hand and your mind is spinning. you don't know what's happening because just a few days ago you saw the two kissing like their life depended on it and now jj is making a pass at you and pope looks like he wants you too? what. the. fuck.

"this isn't how it was supposed to go. we wanted to make it romantic but... i really like you grace," pope utters "we both really like you. more than a friend and we're hoping maybe you like us too?" pope gushes all in one breath is a very pope-like fashion.

the confession makes your brain short circuit because this is all you have ever wanted. you peek a look over to jj and he's nodding with a surprisingly soft smile he's always typically reserved for you.

"you both like me?" you think you're still dreaming

"yeah princess. i've only like been in love with you for forever" jj smiles softly. your heart soars.

"and you both like each other too, right?" you ask wanting to hear it being admitted out loud so there's no room for miscommunication.

"yeah pretty girl," pope responds and the nickname makes you flush, thinking back to your dream. "it's called polyamory."

"and not like those cult religions where a dude has like 50 wives" jj cuts in. "pope gave me a thorough lecture in the difference between polyamory and polygamy"

"i know what polyamory is jj" you giggle with a roll of your eyes. you still don't think this is real.

"so we would all be dating? like together? you'll be my boyfriends and eachothers boyfriends and i'll be your girlfriend?"

"correct, if you want us" pope confirms.

"of course i fucking want you!" you shout a little louder than you intended. "i've been half in love with you since we kissed and i think i've always loved you jj. seeing the two of you together made me so jealous and then sad and then jealous again! so yes of course i want you!"

the boys give you blinding smiles, the worry of potentially ruining your friendship disappears.

you lean forward and grab both boys in front of you. pulling them in. you need to feel their touch and their heat just to prove to yourself this is real and not some fantasy you've created to process your emotions.

"please kiss me" you breathily ask, which prompts both boys to lean in to kiss you at the same time, effectively making them bonk heads. it makes you giggle at their clumsy eagerness. your giggles prompt them to share the laugh as they tenderly touch their heads.

jj kisses you first and you feel the cliche sparks and fireworks. like everything you've ever wanted want given to you with just one kiss.

"don't hog her!" pope whines and he gently pulls you away from jj so he can have a turn.

popes kiss is different but not less perfect. he takes your breath away and you've never felt more loved sitting here in between the two boys you care so much about.

"now whose hogging her!" jj grumbles and leans in to peck pope on the cheek.

this is going to be so much fun.

AHHH WHAT DID YOU THINK??? i'm having so much fun with this.

tag list: (lmk if you wanna be added) 💜

@theoraekenslover

@redhead1180

#jj maybank #obx #outer banks #pope heyward #jj maybank x reader #my headcanons #jj maybank x oc #pope x reader x jj #pope heyward x reader #imagine #smut #jjpope #jj maybank smut #pope heyward smut

[softstarlite]

Se nos rompió el amor

CHAPTER 1

Summary: You thought your love was strong and could conquer everything, I guess you were wrong...

Warnings: Physical violence, talk of doctors, talk of pregnancy, toxicity from romantic partner, implied age gap. (Not proof read)

Rating: +18

Word Count: 1.6K

Sneak peek / Chapter 2 / Masterlist

Divider by @saradika

A/N: yes sorry guys, I've done it, I've started another series when I feel stuck on my first one, The Casualty of Love. I promise that'll I try to update that one as soon as I can.

You fidget with your hands on your lap like you always do when you're nervous, before you can continue to let your anxiety eat you, you hear your last name called. You look up from your lap to the nurse looking around the waiting room and then you stand up.

“Soy yo (it's me)” you inform her and when she signals for you to follow her, you do.

Minutes later after a full check up, when you hear the confirmation of what you feared from the doctor's mouth, you feel your entire body going cold, you and him hadn't even talked before about this possibility, which now that you think about it was incredibly irresponsible.

Your walk home is something that you don't even remember by the time you´re already there. How were you supposed to tell Javi? You guys have been having your worst moment in your relationship lately, always irritated answers to questions, the rolling eyes or the groaning after a complaint and let's not get started on the countless arguments.

You knew that his job was frustrating, stressful and many more things that can mess up with somebody but you are not at fault for any of those things and yet you were paying for them. You fear this would only make the entire situation worse and you would lose the only family you have left.

It's not after 2 am that Javier arrives to your shared apartment, in the almost two years you and him have been together he had always tried not to arrive home this late, so on the nights that he had succeeded you would wait awake for him and on the nights he would have no other option but to arrive this late you would have fell asleep waiting for him on the couch, but today it was a surprise because there you were at this ungodly hour on the couch but not asleep, instead with a lime blossom infusion in hand.

“Where were you today? I came home for a few hours to have lunch together but you weren't here” that's the first thing he says to you while putting on the coffee table his keys, his satellite phone, his gun, his badge and his sunglasses, not even a hello, or a, what are you doing awake?

“I was running a few errands” you lie, not sure if you could share with him what the doctor had confirmed just yet.

You hear him scoff and when you look at him, he is pouring some whiskey on a glass. “What?” you ask him with confusion painting your face.

“Oh nothing” he answers with a shrug and a lace of sarcasm in his tone “just curious about what those errands are querida (dear)”

You put the cold cup on the coffee table beside his sunglasses and then put your legs on the couch under you, your arms hugging themselves “well umm…” but before you can come up with a fake errand that you´ve been doing earlier on the day, he cuts you off.

“umm… umm…” he mocks your doubt “can think of a lie that fast querida?” he spats at you with slight anger.

You don't know if you´re more confused about how he could have found out or about why he would be so angry at you for it. Sure like you said earlier, it was unplanned and you two had never talked about it before, but you would have expected another reaction from the man you knew and loved. You stand up from the couch quickly with your hands reaching for him.

“Javi, I'm sorry for not telling you before but…” again before you can finish, he cuts you off and takes a step back so you can't reach him.

“¡Claro! (Of course!) Because telling me earlier would make your cheating better, that's exactly why I'm mad!” he say stepping away from your reaching hands and turning around, running a hand through his hair he curses under his breath “Por el amor de Dios… (for fuck´s sake)”

You're taken back by his accusation “Wh-what?” what was he even talking about? Cheating?

“Don't you even dare to try to play the innocent card; the whole sudden glowing thing that even Steve keeps complimenting you about, the weird whispering phone calls on the evenings, the sudden errands that you can't even explain today” he runs a hand over his face with a frustrated groan “is your little “friend” from work isn´t it? Carlos is his name i think”

Still in some kind of shock from this out of the blue accusation, you stare at his angry face for a few seconds before answering “Carlos? Javi even if i was cheating, which i'm not, it would definitely not be with him, he's…” you sigh “he's not into women…”

“Well if not him then with who, i deserve to at least know that” he demands.

“No one, Javi, I'm not cheating on you, I know those things you said can be seen like I am but I promise I'm not” you try to reach for him again but he grabs your wrist before you can.

“Oh so since the innocent card didn't work, now you´re trying to play the “you´re imagining things” one?” he scoffs and his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Javi you're drunk” you have been able to smell the alcohol in him since he came through the door “and lately you´ve been too stressed because of work, let's relax, lets go to sleep and talk about this on the morning, please” you look into his eyes “por favor Javi…(please Javi…)”

He shakes his head “No, you´re not putting this on me, ni te atrevas (don't even dare), i'm not letting you have all night to come up with all the lies you can so you can trick me in the morning” he pulls you towards him by the wrist he has on his hold, then he grips your jaw with his free hand making you look at him “just fucking confess already” you put a hand on his chest to try to push him back.

“Javier you're hurting me…” you try to reason with him to let go of you.

“Cariño, i can assure you, you've hurt me more with your lies” you can see his eyes turn a dark color.

“I-I'll tell you” you try to let your words out with his hand constricting your jaw and cheeks “I'll tell you where i´ve been today” he almost seems surprised by it.

He finally lets go of your face to let you say what he thinks will be a confession of adultery “I was at the gynecologist”

He scoff and shakes his head “i said no more fucking lies!!” he raises his voice a little.

“You can call the office as soon as they open if you don't believe me” you say with a shaky voice, feeling fear for the first time in the presence of Javier “she'll tell you all about the pregnancy” you finally say with a hint of venom in your words.

Immediately, you can feel his hand and grip leave you; he takes a step back, leaving your personal space, you can see a million thoughts passing through his eyes, like he is connecting all of the dots.

“P…pregnancy?” he talks out loud but you see that it's not towards you but to the thick air, then his eyes connect with you again, an expression of confusion, fear, regret and sadness mixing in his face “you're pregnant?” his voice comes out as a breathy whisper.

You can only nod while you finally let your tears fall from your eyes. Javi can feel his heart ripping apart, sobering up in a second, the truth sinking in him.

Now that his grip on you is not longer, you rub at the wrist he had gripped so hard that now it was red. You see him still standing there in shock, you take that opportunity to make a beeline to your purse, taking it to the bedroom where you put in it a few clothing items and some underwear, then you quickly put on some shoes.

When you walk out into the living room, he's still there, looking at the wall behind the couch, you walk in front of him towards the front door; your passing in front of his eyes makes him snap out of his trance, his eyes following you now.

“Baby…” his voice now soft, apologetic “I…I…I´m so sorry” he apologizes looking at his hands like they don't belong to his body “I don't…I shouldn't have…” he tries to step towards you and reach for you but you instinctively step back, a hand finding home on your lower stomach and your eyes closing hard.

He feels like a monster, like the worst human being to walk this earth, for a moment he even thinks more highly of Escobar than himself. He feels shame and guilt eat him from the inside.

“Please baby lets just talk, I'm really sorry, please…” you can see for the first time, since you guys met, tears in his eyes.

“Please don't…I can't” you shake your head again and again while tears fall from your eyes and snot leaves your nose,

He watches you turn and leave the apartment, he falls to his knees, looking at his hands again while he lets the tears finally fall from his eyes, his heart breakin in a million pieces, and anger for himself building on his chest.

Next chapter

#narcos #pedro pascal characters #chucho peña narcos #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña narcos #javier pena narcos #javier peña fic #javier pena fic #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña x f!reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier pena x female reader #javier peña x f!hispanic reader #javier pena x f!hispanic reader #javier peña #javier pena

[teddiesworldd]

"you're perfect to me".

body issues? not allowed, honey. i feel like simon would be so good at hyping you up when you're feeling bad about yourself. he'd just know the perfect thing to say to you to make you feel better. (500 words)

a/n: this is something i struggle with so maybeeee this is a bit of a self-insert. oh well, hope u enjoy! i've tried to write it so it can be applied to any body type.

pairing: simon riley x gn reader

tags/warnings: body issues, self-critical talk, insecurities, brief mentions of sex, angst(??)

you looked into the mirror for probably the 100th time today. your weight had changed, it was no secret. if anyone looked hard enough, it would be obvious. it was difficult to recognise the person looking back at you. all your little imperfections had just added up and up and suddenly you hated yourself. how could he look at you and still love you when you were so different to who you were before? he'd probably noticed how you were feeling, too. you'd been wearing baggier clothes, moving his hands away when he cuddled you, dimmed the lights when you made love. you just didn't want him to see what you were seeing. for him to feel your body under his touch.

hiding it was going well until he asked you to shower with him. it was something that normally you'd say yes to, so when you declined, something clicked in his mind and he worked out why you'd been shying away from him recently.

"lovie, is there something you wanna talk about?"

he looked down at you so sweetly, with such concern in his eyes, that you immediately started to break down in front of him. it was like everything you'd been bottling up inside just burst out all at once. he pulled you into his chest, running his big hands through your hair and over your back.

"i hate how i look now." you whispered. "my body is so different. i used to be so pretty"

simon's heart absolutely crumbled. he thought you were the prettiest thing in the whole world. he couldn't believe you could see yourself as anything other than beautiful.

"you're perfect to me. absolutely perfect. when i first saw you, i thought you were gorgeous, love. and i still think that. every morning when i wake up and see you, i think the same thing. i got so lucky with you"

he looked down at you and carefully wiped your eyes. he looked just as broken as you did, still shocked that you could see yourself so badly.

"but i don't look the same anymore." you replied. it was so hard to believe him when your head was being so cruel to yourself. you didn't think he was lying to you, definitely not. it was just so different to what you'd been telling yourself.

"it doesn't matter if your body has changed. i still love it. i still love you." he pressed a gentle kiss to your salty lips. it was firm, but so loving. "let me show you how much i love your body."

he took your hand and led you to the shower. it was so difficult to let yourself be seen. to be so vulnerable in front of your lover. but you trusted him. he gently washed your hair and body, massaging the soaps into you which relaxed you completely; you could feel yourself melting into his touch. the way he looked at you - like you were the most precious thing in the universe - it made you feel so much better about yourself.

˚✧. thank you for reading!

˚✧. please reblog to support me <3

˚✧. dividers by @ saradika-graphics and @ si-eunnis

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#ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #cod mw2 #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley angst #cod modern warfare #new blog #teddiesworldd

[starryficsfinishwen]

✧。◟ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ! — PGR Men x reader

last night, I laid in bed so blue / then I realized the truth!

summary // how do your favorite constructs kiss you?

a.n. - post Valentine's post :D I've been so busy with irl lately, I only just got back on my Tumblr 🫠 how'd your valentine's go?(I had a date with my school project :'D so peinful)

pairing(s) - lee, chrome, wanshi, kamui, camu, watanabe, noan, roland, noctis x f!commandant (and can be gender neutral!) (separate!)

content // suggestive LOL basically how your favorite playable characters would kiss you scenarios~

dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Lee: Hyperreal

Kissing Lee is like breathing.

Inhaling, in the way his hands are on your jaw, the little smile on your lips when his breath fans yours. Breathing in, the smell of the cologne you've gifted him makes you dizzy in a good way, the softest brush of his mouth on the corner of your lips. Taking in, the taste of chocolate; bitter as the coffee you made the first time, yet morphs into something so sweet as sugar cookies, and you can feel him smiling as your lips meet, savoring every drop he offers—

Exhaling, as Lee pulls away to give you air, foreheads touching, because you are both too intertwined to move away from one another.

“We made quite a mess here,” you giggled.

The newly-made kitchen of the Gray Raven base is as messy as a child's breakfast: pots and pans strung everywhere, chocolates and other liquids splattered all over the counter, the drain is probably clogging for some reason (it was Lee's fault), and there was a burnt cake placed somewhere (your fault) but you both never minded those.

“I told you to let me handle all the baking,” Lee huffs, thumbs unconsciously caressing your jaw, “You had to be so stubborn.”

“I knew what I was doing,” you pout, “You always follow the recipe, even though you could just do some feeling!”

“I am starting to doubt your feelings. Remember the first-”

“-not another word.”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry to burst your bubble.” Lee smiles at you, hands now placed beside your legs on the table you sat on, “We might as well clean up and just order something else.”

“Nooo,” you whine, tugging on his 'Kiss the Cook' apron, “The last cake is in the oven. It'll be done. I promise, it will taste yummy.”

Your lover laughs, his head rubbing your cheek, “Remind me again why we are baking?”

“It was supposed to be my surprise for you for Valentine's.” You admit, sighing, “You had to come and ruin it.”

Everything feels natural; his body fills in the gaps in yours. His head rests on your neck, your hand on his cheek and hair, his arms on your waist. You breathe in the same air, laughing off the smell of the burnt cake from earlier.

“I'm sorry,” he softly murmurs, his lips lightly kissing your neck, “...at least I get to take you out tonight.”

“Tonight?” Did you have a plan for tonight?

“Yes. I reserved a table for us at the restaurant you like.”

What a surprise. Pulling away to look at Lee's cerulean eyes, you somehow realized something:

“I thought you hated dining outside of our lounge.”

“I do,” Lee purses his lips, before sighing, “but I know we've been busy and you wanted to eat outside. Besides, it's still practical because of the restaurant's offer for Valentine's.”

Ah, this man is so smooth. You already knew that it wasn't just for that reason. Leaning to press your lips into his, you could feel your heart leap out of joy. You could hear the ting of the oven, but you never cared. You only wanted Lee's kiss— Lee's love, in the form of inhaling, taking in, exhaling.

“Commandant,” Lee pulls away slightly, whispering, “the cake-”

“I love you, Lee,” you giggled, hands threading in his hair as you purposely let your leg catch that particular spot that made him shudder, “You're so sly.”

“...You better finish what you've started, Commandant.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Chrome: Glory

Kissing Chrome is needy.

It's hot, it's heavy— his hands that grasped your shoulders, almost afraid you'd disappear if he wasn't careful; yet, still so gentle— his lips on yours are so soft, you feel like you'd melt if he wasn't holding you.

“I missed you,” Chrome mumbles when he parted from yours for air, “I missed you so damn much.”

It's not a common occurrence for the both of you to be away from each other. He was the Captain of Strike Hawk, and you had your own team. But to be away from the public eye, to be in some random corner of the streets, as your heavy breathing mingled with one another and your bodies touching, you remember that you couldn't be away from your lover far too long now.

“I missed you, Chrome, I missed you, too.” You could sob from the intensity of your situation, hands reaching for whatever part of him—his shoulders, his arms, his cheek— “Thank God, I can finally see you.”

“Me too,” Chrome breathes, placing a kiss on the crown of your head, “I couldn't wait any longer.”

“Do you still have more appointments?”

“I do,” he groans, frustration evident on his pretty face, “I still have to meet a few more people...”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Chrome is the one who apologizes instead, starry eyed twinkling that made you frown instead.

It's always busy and no rest days. Apart from your lover being such a dependable leader, sometimes, your greed makes you want to steal him away. But alas, as you caress his cheek, the cool touch of his skin underneath your fingertips, it makes you lean onto him, lips kissing his jaw.

“[Y/N]...?”

“I missed your touch,” You admit, hands now on his cheeks, “I missed your face. I missed your hands, your kisses— I don't want to be away from you longer.”

Was it your position that somehow made you hot? Or was it the way Chrome leaned more into you, kisses reaching every inch of your face, to your chin, to your exposed jaw— you stifle a quiet moan, as Chrome nips at a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, something that you've never touched before, something that was a step closer into your relationship.

“I am trying so hard not to overwhelm you, [Y/N]. I missed you so badly,” Chrome groans, “but finally seeing you, finally being able to touch you...I want to show you how much I missed you, but I'm afraid it'll be too much...”

“Don't stop,” Boldly, you proclaimed, hands running through his hair, disrupting it into a messy one, “Let's go home, Chrome. Show me how much you've missed me, and I'll show you mine.”

Pulling away so slightly, Chrome's turquoise irises reflecting a darker shade amidst the light from the crack of the corner. In between those eyes and your pending responsibilities, you already made your decision. As you feel Chrome's hold on your hips, you pressed your lips to him.

“I hope you'll stay true to that offer, [Y/N].”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Wanshi: Hypnos

Kissing Wanshi is dreamy.

In the tender tones of daylight, the artificial sun bleeding into your skin. There are too many touches all at once, but neither the two of you bother to pull away. Wanshi's lips find your skin without a hassle, humming when you swallow your laughs. He's everywhere— your hand, your arm, your shoulder, the dip of your breasts, your clavicle— everywhere but your face.

“Wanshi,” you purred, never bothering to open your eyes, “you're so needy...”

“Hush, let me dream a bit longer,” your lover sighs in your neck, nibbling your skin, “it's not everyday I get to kiss you like this.”

“We'll both be late at this point. Didn't you say Captain Chrome warned you already?”

“He already put those rules before,” he pauses, yawning, arms now wrapped possessively around your waist, “I'm exempted.”

“I won't be surprised if you get to be deprived of your capsule for another week...”

“Hey, this is about us today,” he murmurs, lightly kissing the side of your neck, “I don't want to hear another man's name in our bed...”

Your lover never learns. But still, you couldn't help but laugh at his antics. It's his problem anyways, not yours. As you giggle, your hand finds itself cupping Wanshi's soft cheeks, squeezing it.

“Wanshi, darling, we really need to get up soon. I also have work.”

You could feel Wanshi pouting against your skin. Without a warning, he gets on top of you, golden eyes looking at you. “Five minutes. Give me five more minutes, and I'll let you go.”

As you were about to ask what he meant, Wanshi leans down to capture your lips with his. You squeak from surprise, but in the end, you couldn't help but submit to his whims. His soft lips, the love that permeates from him, slipping in so deeply into you as you felt yourself buried deeper into the sheets. Your hand finds his, intertwining as he leads it above your head. Forget your job, forget that it's another shitty work day; it's only you and Wanshi, in your bed, and his dreamy kisses.

You love Wanshi, and you'd always pick him, despite his sleepy circumstances, despite everything else.

“Mm...Wanshi, give me more than five minutes.” You mutter, letting your legs wrap around his waist, pressing into him.

“Oh?”

“Yes, nngh, you win this time. Now, give me more kisses.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Kamui: Tenebrion

Kissing Kamui is like catching the sun in both hands.

More like a surprise; playful shouting as he wins another round of your favorite game, leaving you dumbfounded in your chair. You love your man so much that you'd rather see him with that goofy smile on his face. But sometimes, some victories feel like they are being rubbed hard on your face.

“Haha! This is the third time now!”

“Alright, alright,” you shrug, placing the controller down, watching Kamui lead out of his seat, “You win.”

“Does this mean I get to have the seat for a week?”

“A month, too, if you want,” you shrug again, “Congratulations, Kamui.”

It's his playful character that made you fall for him in the first place— a unique laughter, the way his eyes crinkled with delight, how Kamui's feet would curl. But unbeknownst to him, however, you had another trick on your sleeve.

“Time for a free round!”

“No, thank you,” you flutter your eyes at him, “I'd like to see you play for now. I might get you next time if I watch your movements.”

Kamui laughs instead, making your stomach jump, “Babe, just watch, then. But I'm sure that I'll win again like always.”

As Kamui positions, your plan goes into play. He won't win against you, the real mastermind of the game.

Kamui's eyes glimmer as he focuses intently on the game. Somehow, in the middle of scoring another new record, his mind lands on you.

“[Y/N]? You seem qui-”

When he turns his head, he is met with a surprise kiss on his lips. Kissing Kamui always felt like reaching for the sun in your hands, especially this way: the surprised sound from his lips when they met yours, the softest yet so hot as he absentmindedly drops his console, reaching to hold you; Kamui doesn't hesitate to kiss you back with the same intensity— tongue tasting his favorite drink on yours, the smell of your perfume, and the dizzying heat when he refuses the pull away, in spite of your little plan.

You squeak when Kamui gently pushes you onto the sofa, him breaking away to find your saliva strung together on both of your lips. The game plays in the background, forgotten as Kamui straddles you. Looking back at his glinting eyes, you seem to miss this in your equation.

“Really, [Y/N]?”

“Y-you didn't have to- I-I thought you'd-”

“Tsk, tsk,” Kamui laughs, thumb caressing your swollen lips, “[Y/N], you already knew I'd let you win. I guess you'll be getting your present early, then~”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Camu: Crocotta

Kissing Camu is like snow on the beach.

So rare, so sudden. It's the rumble of the vending machine of some unknown brand, dropping a new kind of food. Was it edible?

“So they really did put up these things.”

It's the low sound of Camu's husky voice surprising you on a random sunny afternoon. You quickly pick up the food, presenting it in front of him, “Do you mean this?”

Camu takes the food from your hand. It's a cake in a can, you presume, as it is written boldly on the cover. Squinting his eyes, Camu effortlessly tears off the lid without the use of the safety pin. At this point, such a scenario no longer surprises you.

“A cake in the can?”

“A cake in the can.” Camu affirms, giving it back to you, “It was a staple for the Japanese vending machines back in the Golden Age.”

The little treat (although forced open) seemed cute. Using the spoon provided, you took a few bites. Immediately, a yummy flavor pours into your mouth, making you squeal with joy. You quickly taste more.

“Mmh! It's so sweet~!”

“Yeah, they're usually really sweet.”

Taking a large spoonful, you hold it out to Camu. “Would you like some?”

Hesitant. Camu looks at you, somehow judging you (do you usually hold out food to random people?), yet cautiously leans down to your height. His eyes never leave yours as he takes a bite, even until he gulps it down. Your eyes twinkle as you notice your joy reflected in his, signaling the sweet taste of the dessert.

“What do you think?”

“...it is very sweet.”

“I really want to eat more of this~” you grin, “let me order-”

Camu holds your shoulder, causing you to stop. When you turned to look back at him, focused dark eyes looked at you.

“Wait.”

Camu leans forward, his face inches away from yours. As you feel your temperature grow higher, you only notice Camu's thumb caress the corner of your mouth.

“...you had a bit of cream there.”

Did you only notice Camu's handsomeness just now? Or was it because of the close proximity? His breath is cool on your lips, pretty dark eyes devoid of any harshness that he usually portrays, yet the subtle softness of his features somehow made him look more handsome up close. It makes you want to kiss him.

“I'm sorry?”

Snapping out of your reverie, you blink at him, “Huh?”

“You said you wanted to kiss me.”

Crap. You and your thoughts! You groan, trying to mask your reddening embarrassment, “Ah, Camu, I'm so sorry, I didn't-”

But Camu closes the gap anyways. It catches you off guard at first, but his kiss is cool and warm at the same time, almost felt like bathing in the sea amidst the snow. You taste the sweet cake on his lips, the smell of peppermint invading your senses. It is only a short while, ending as fast as it started. When he pulls away, you find dark eyes reflecting your emotion: curiosity.

“...ah-!”

“Technically, we indirectly kissed already.”

Camu points at the spoon, realization dawning on you. You squeak, trying to assess more of the situation. But Camu, with a small smile on his lips despite the deepening blush on his cheeks, coughs, “...I guess it's time for me to ask you out later during the Valentine's event, then.”

You were about to ask what the deal was about, until your mind whirred back to his initial words.

“I thought you don't like Valentine's?”

“I don't like Valentines.” He said.

“So why...?”

Camu, turning away from you, before looking back with a smile on his face, “I like you, obviously.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Watanabe: Epitaph

Kissing Watanabe is always a surprise.

It's when you least expected it. From the sudden kisses in front of children, to meet ups in the warehouse, and even in random times of the day. Watanabe would always keep surprising you, you almost think it's a routine at this point (God Bless your heart; hopefully his antics won't kill you before your fated day).

However, lately, it's almost not happening.

“Hello, [Y/N],” your lover greets you as he passes by, opting to continue talking to the man beside him. You retract your expectant hands.

“Watch out, [Y/N].” Watanabe calmly catches you by your hips, when a child nearly hits you with the ball. You wanted to reach out, but he was already walking away.

“I'll be taking that.” And gone was the playful kiss on your shoulder, instead, it was a smile on his lips as he took the supplies and left you in the dark. What the hell was going on?

On a random evening, he started to avoid you on purpose.

“Watanabe!” You cried out as you watched him disappear from the sea of people.

It was the nth time of you trying to track him down that day. Tired from running around, you slump against the wall, tears filling your eyes. Your tears began to escape your eyes as the atmosphere around you, despite it being Valentine's, was full of love and laughter.

What did you do wrong? Watanabe is your lover, one you've long promised to be with forever. But what was forever if he no longer looked at your way?

“Miss [Y/N]?”

Sniffling away your tears, you looked up to see one of the Forsaken soldiers. “Y-yes?”

“...are you alright?”

“Y-yes, yes,” you were not, but you still stood up, facing the soldier, “What do you need?”

“Could you kindly come with me to the warehouse? I need someone to inspect the weapons before we head out tomorrow.”

Wordlessly, you follow the construct. Your mind swims in a hazy sea of doubts and self depreciation. Should you leave this place? Go back to Babylonia? You are still welcome there, last time you checked. But the people...

It didn't take a while before you both arrived at the destination. Stepping inside the dark warehouse, you failed to notice that the door behind you closed. As you ran to pry it open, from the corner of your eyes, you saw a lone light shine in the middle of the dark warehouse.

It's Watanabe.

All of your anger rushes to your brain. Your legs move quicker, however, sprinting to reach out to the estranged man.

“You selfish little-”

“[Y/N]-”

Anything Watanabe says is fast, but your reflexes are faster. You held onto his arms, your tears of anger flowing as you cried out.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I know, I know-”

“Do you know how sad and angry I am at you? For leaving me with no answers?”

Watanabe does not answer. He lets you speak.

“Why? What did I do wrong? Why are you ignoring me?”

“I am aware, yes.” He answers, sorrowful, “I am sorry for treating you that way, [Y/N]. I know I shouldn't have done that, but my actions hurt you instead.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Watanabe doesn't answer. Instead, he reaches out to cup your cheeks, genuine sadness reflecting in his expression.

“I have been thinking. And I made up my mind.”

He caresses your cheeks with such reverence, it almost makes you melt. “...being away from you is so cruel. I wanted to make such a heavy decision, to leave you so you could be with another human, but I realized that I was just like you— I would be angry, too.”

Watanabe leans down, your forehead touching, “I want to be greedy for you, [Y/N]. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Suddenly, you were aware of the weight of your words from earlier. You weren't mad; you were devastated. Should this man, the love of your life, leave you, what becomes of you, then?

“Watanabe...”

You tug on his collar, whispering, “Don't go. Kiss me, please.”

Kissing Watanabe really is a surprise. It's fulfilling, in a way that completes you like a puzzle, his warm lips on yours. You love him just as much as he loves you, perhaps more— it's agonizing, it's too much, yet you crave for him; he is all you have. When he reluctantly pulls away, he whispers your name.

The lights of the warehouse turn on. And behind him, a dazzling display of flowers and pictures are shown.

“What-”

“I know it's not much, unlike the luxuries in Babylonia,” Watanabe kneels down, the glittering stone on the engraved jewelry in his hand, “But this is all from every corner of my heart; I love you, my [Y/N]. Please accept my proposal.”

You couldn't hold your tears anymore— from anger, they turned into immense joy. The answer has long been spoken.

“Marry me, my [Y/N].”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Noan: Arca

Kissing Noan is sweet.

Little kisses and noises of joy as you take breaks in between your book reading. It's his warm hand on top of yours, the other busy flipping through the pages. Noan's voice is a soothing lullaby, a gentle lull as he reads the passages for you.

“It's quite ironic,” Noan breaks away from the book, putting it aside as he brushes away the hair covering your face, “I thought you wanted me to read to you.”

There you were, comfortably laying on his lap, watching him with tired eyes. Slightly pouting, you weakly tugged on his scarf, “Noan, why did you stop...”

“My lap isn't very comfortable to sleep in. Let's move you back to your base.”

“Nooo,” you stubbornly shook your head, trying not to let Noan stand, “Finish reading the book, please? You're almost at the exciting part...”

Sighing, Noan picks up the book. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, one of the books that caught Noan's attention. Driven by your immense curiosity and how Noan was itching to read the story, judging by its summary, you thought it was a nice idea to let him read to you. It's hitting two birds with one stone!

“I don't get how you're so interested in the book,” Noan asks, flipping back to the page where he left, “You're already falling asleep.”

You don't have the heart to tell him you've already read it while you were still in the F.O.S. “Well, I think the concept is neat.”

“The concept of a man who has the body parts of dead people off killing people just to appease his creator?”

You shrugged, “I mean...”

Noan laughs, fingers idly drifting and drawing circles on your cheek, “Just tell me that you're just doing this because you think that I'm interested in it.”

“Are you not?” You turned to catch brown eyes looking at you with mirth.

“In a way, yeah.”

You pondered for a bit, trying to remember the contents of the book. Lifting your hand to cup Noan's cheeks, you huffed, “Y'know, you remind me a bit of the monster.”

Quickly catching yourself with your words (to which Noan laughs), “I mean, minus the killing. Wait, no, I mean-”

“Okay, okay, something related to that?”

“Yes, that.” You grinned, “the monster wasn't supposed to mean any harm. He simply wanted the attention and love from his creator.”

Your lover, in a way, was similar to the monster of the book. Rebuilt and revived, nearly as a killing machine. But does a killing machine have to look this beautiful in the hazy afternoon glow? Noan's lips parted for a bit, before pursing them. Lifting your head, you snuck in a short kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“You're similar yet different from the monster, Noan.” You murmured, closing your eyes as you inhaled his smell, “Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”

Noan chuckles, lightly squeezing your cheeks, “and you tell me you've never read the book before-”

“I didn't disagree, didn't I?”

“Hmm...”

“Noan,” you whispered, “Unlike Frankenstein's story, you are never feared, nor despised.”

You kissed Noan. It's sweet— the taste of the cookies you gave, the herbal tea; his lips that were made to kiss yours, to fit; and Noan, who went through too much, was yours to protect forevermore.

“You are loved, even more than your creator.”

When you pull away, deep red tinted his cheeks and ears, which made you laugh. “Well, Noan?”

“Mm...I should stop reading the book since you already know-”

“Keep going, please?” You purred, “I like you reading to me.”

“...mh, fine, you're lucky I like you.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Roland: Flambeau

Kissing Roland is, well, comedic.

He's laughing; the crescendo plays a melodic tune, as he plays his role. Your lover is a clown at this point, laughing manically with every step he takes.

But you love him anyway. You love your clown.

“Roland, dear,” you giggle, “Remind me again what's my role?”

He pauses, before approaching you. “Mi amor,” Roland reaches out to your hand, kissing it, “You are the lead of this play!”

As he continues to play his role, you are sitting in front of him, on a fancy chair. For Valentine's, you half-expected Roland to join the theatre, however, he was here in front of you— with only you as the audience and apparently the lead as well.

“What do I do?”

“Sit prettily there,” Roland winks, “That's your role.”

“Alright. Do I still get compensated?”

“Hush, the climax of this story is now nearly in full bloom.”

With a crisp spin, Roland turns to face you, the spotlight hitting every nice angle he had. In his hand, a single, beautifully blooming rose.

“Mi amor, my love, my light,” Roland began his monologue, “Though it has been a very long journey and story, here we are, still alive.”

Ah, you realized this scene now. The first proper confession.

Roland walks to you, despite his clownish appearance, he genuinely had a sweet smile on his face. “Damned by those who defy our circumstances; from this day forward, I am yours, as much as you are mine.”

He looks at you, with gentle hands holding your cheek, “What do you say, mi amor?”

In the original story, you ran away out of fear. But you were in a new scenario with him now. Smiling, you dragged him to you with his shirt, “Hmm, sounds missing.”

You wink at Roland, “Ah, I know now.”

Without a warning, you closed the gap in between your lips. Roland eases into you easily; grasping at hands, responding to your move. It's still soft, his lips that make you dream of oceans and theatre plays— it makes you want more.

But Roland pulls away, chuckling, “Well, that certainly wasn't part of the script.”

“You kept missing the cues,” you stuck your tongue out, “I merely filled in the gaps.”

“That's my girl,” Roland praises, “My perfect muse, my perfect actress.”

Comedic, in a way that it's the perfect timing. You leaned further to kiss him more.

“Mm, I still have a few ideas you can add to your script.”

Roland's hand in your hips tightened, mirroring your smile, “Do tell, we should execute it afterwards.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Noctis: Indomitus

Kissing Noctis is wild.

In how he holds you effortlessly in one hand. You grasp where your hands could reach, but you could only breathe in. In how Noctis's voice sends shivers. A melody that echoes so long.

His lips are begging to be with you. It's almost painful.

“[Y/N], [Y/N],” Noctis whines, “Please, let me touch you.”

“We are in a public area, Noctis,” you whisper, aware of his creeping fingers on your pants, “Mmh, it's not just me...”

Your lover was supposed to be a grown man, but who knew his neediness could make him such a needy child?

“Please, please, I promise it won't take long,” He groaned as his fingers rubbed your thighs, “I'll be very quick.”

Sighing, you try to look around you. Making sure that no one else could see, you pulled Noctis closer, lips mere inches away from one another.

“Be quick, okay?”

And you trust Noctis. Kissing him is wild— as if asking to be breathed back to life, he kisses you with such fervor. Never minding touchy hands, it's so hot that you unconsciously opened the buttons on your shirt. Noctis loves hard and harder, the beating of his heart a testament. His tongue on yours, hands everywhere else.

“Thank you,” he cries out, making you throb, “I owe you so much...”

“How about pushing it past my limits today, Noctis?”

Without a word, Noctis slips into you for one more stolen kiss. “You have my word, then, [Y/N].”

Writing this half asleep HAHAHAHAHSHSHA

— starry

#pgr #punishing gray raven #punishing gray raven imagines #pgr commandant #pgr global #pgr lee #pgr chrome #pgr chrome glory #pgr hyperreal #pgr wanshi #pgr kamui #pgr camu #pgr watanabe #pgr noan #pgr roland #pgr noctis #pgr valentines

[scenteddelusion5]

Yay requests open? If you don't wanna do this it's perfectly fine I understand!

It's an alastor x Fem reader who was his co-host in life

A Single Radio Wave

Alastor x fem co-host reader

Note: I love this idea!!!

Word count: 1977

The Radio Demon's reputation had spread far and wide in hell, yet it never spread beyond this retched place. Everyone in hell knew of the radio host, knew of his broadcasts and they were scared of him. Demons were intrigued and scared by radio's, they were the cursed items of that demon after all.

But up in heaven everyone looked forward to relaxing at home and listening to the old-timey device. After all, the Radio Angel's broadcasts were the hight of most people's already fantastical days. Everyone adored her, she was without a doubt the most loved angel in heaven; kind, sweet, intelligent, funny, witty, looks. She had it all. And yet, her amazing reputation never spread beyond the golden gates. This divide meant that neither one knew what their love was up to in dead. Still, they both looked back on their days together fondly.

It happened when Alastor's last co-host had been in an accident and they were looking for a new hire, that a knock came from the door. William, his intern opened it to reveal a charming young woman.

"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you but do you mind if I wait out the storm inside?" She asked and as if to help her cause, a thunder bolt struck at the top of his tower.

"Come in." Alastor walked up behind William and let the girl in. " We can't let a lovely young woman like you stand outside in the rain. Would you like a cup of joe? William was just making some."

"If I'm not intruding." She took of her drenched coat and sat down in a chair.

"Of course not." William ran off into the small kitchen while the radio host talked to her. "The name is Alastor, it's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand.

She shook it. "Y/n, Y/n L/n. And it's a pleasure to meet you too."

After William had left, the two were still talking at the table.

Y/n's eyes looked around the room. "So you're a radio host. How do you find it? Do you like it?"

"It's amazing, my dear. We have a few odd hours and I had to train my voice, but I quite like it." Alastor had been looking the girl up and down. She was very beautiful, had a good voice and they had an entertaining conversation. This Y/n had the potential to become his new co-host. "And what about you?"

"I... Was just fired today. My boss decided that a 'sweeter' face would pull more clients in. It's a dinner, what do my looks matter?!"

"The man sounds like a handful."

"Oh believe me, he is," she sighed.

"Hey," Alastor started, "how would you feel like starting a career as my co-host, the position just opened."

This surprised the woman. Female radio hosts weren't unheard of, however, they weren't at all common. There were also a lot of limitations put on them.

"I would love too but I don't think I would be any hood at it." She took a sip of her cup.

"I'm sure you'll be great." Alastor hyped her up. " How about you come in tomorrow for a practice round and if it suits you, you'll become a permanent employee?"

"You know what? Why not? I'll be here tomorrow." Y/n agreed.

" 7 am sharp starts the broadcast, be here at least half an hour before that. I'll see you tomorrow then, dear?"

"Yes, see you tomorrow."

And that's how Alastor had found his new co-host and future wife.

Not everyone was happy with Alastor's new coworker. Either people disagreed with having a female host all together or they were jealous that SHE was his new 'radio partner' as Alastor calls it. The man was considered a fine bachelor after all and girls all across New Orleans fawned over him.

During the first year of her employment, Y/n and Alastor grew closer and closer. Until one day, he popped the question.

"Y/n, I've known you for a year now and you are by far the most dazzling woman on earth. It would be an honour if you would give me the chance to court you." Alastor stared lovingly into her eyes as they lid up.

"Of course I want you to court me! You really know how to keep a lady waiting." She pulled him by the arm into a big hug.

His face adorned a bashful red hue while he brought his hand to pat her head. He truly was in love and it couldn’t feel better.

It didn't take long for him to pop the question after that and the two shared the news of their engagement to the whole city. Walking through the street, Y/n got a few jealous glares while on her way to her newly shared home.

Alastor was waiting on her in the kitchen making his mother's jambalaya. "And what was my favourite radio host up to?" He asked.

His fiancé, god he loved thinking about how she was HIS now, put a bag on the kitchen table and started rummaging through it. "You know that new shop that opened up down the street? I found this." She held up a little yellow romper.

"Dear, isn't it way too early to shop for baby clothes?" He chuckled picking up the small clothing article. "We aren't even married yet."

"I know Ally." She smiled at the very feminine and cutesy nickname she once called him and then just stuck. "But I'm ready, ready for our own perfect little family."

'Perfect'. Oh if only she knew, she knew what Alastor was up to while he was 'hunting'. But no, he will never show that side to her. He couldn’t imagine the look on her face, the heartbreak... No she was perfect and deserved only happiness and he would give her the world if she asked.

Their wedding was beautiful. Alastor cried seeing his wife in her wedding dress. They celebrated into the night and again when they got home. Alas, their marriage didn’t last for long.

During one of Alastor's 'hunt' in the woods he heard a bunch of dogs approaching. He ran and ran, and then, there was a gunshot.

Everything went white, then black and lastly red. Red? It was a sky. Looking around he saw a city filled with demons, he was in hell. Alastor saw his own reflection in a puddle, he looked different. His pretty dark hair and brown skin was replaced with red and grey, on top of his head stood fuzzy ears and antlers? Looking at his new appearance he wondered if Y/n would like it....

Y/n... Would he ever see her again? Probably not, she was perfect, his love would get into heaven while he was doomed to be away in this hellfire pit. But maybe, just maybe there was a chance she would be cast down too and if that were to happen, he had to made sure he was able to protect her. So, the Radio Demon was born. A demon willing to do anything to gain more power.

Years went by and Alastor thought about his wife every single day. Did she find out about his murders? Did she hate him for it? Did she become a cast out because of it?

After decennia of not getting a single sign of ever being reunited with Y/n, he gave up. That was, until the princess of hell got on television and told all of hell about her 'Happy Hotel' and her idea of rehabilitating sinners. It was impossible, still, his got told him to go there. Just in case. To prove to himself that he will NEVER see Y/n again.

Y/n was on her way back home. She was in a hurry knowing that her new husband would be home soon from his hunt. She was planning a surprise, having made custom baby shoes that had their names engraved but she hadn't been able to pack the gift. As she was running through the street, a car swirled. The last thing she remembered was the front of a Ford and screams.

Everything went white, then black and then blue. Looking around, she was on a golden pat that led to a golden gate. Was this heaven? Saint Peter was waiting by the gate and happily led Y/n in.

She had quickly found a new home in heaven; she started up her own radio show, decorated her house and made a few friends. Everything was ready for when her husband would join her but that day never came. Every day she laughed and joked around on the most beloved and popular radio broadcast in heaven and then went home crying about her husband and grieved the small and sweet family she would never have.

One day she was bold enough to visit the seraphim and ask about her Alastor. The answer that was given to her was devastating.

"I'm sorry but he doesn't belong in heaven."

That night, Y/n couldn't sleep, all she could do was cry.

Decennia went by and she had made peace with the fact that she would never see her husband again. That was until the princess of hell came up to heaven with the idea to rehabilitate sinners and the news came out about the yearly exterminations. Winners started to protest, most of them had family down there. What if they died because of heaven's heartless decision?

Y/n was haunted by the same fear. One night, she tried to sneak out to the golden gate and jump down but was promptly stopped by peter.

"Hell isn't a place for a lovely woman like you." He had said.

Y/n wasn't hearing any of it thought. She was determined to find her husband again. So instead, she started messing with her radio station.

"ALLY!!! PLEASE ANSWER ME!!! Please." She sobbed. "Please be, alive! Alastor I love YOU!!!"

That night, Alastor sat on the hotel's balcony reading a book when his microphone started acting up.

"A-..... M.... ase... v.. O!!!"

Strange. If it hadn't been decennia since he last heard her, he had recognized his wife's voice in the glitchy fragment, he, however, didn't. As he was checking his microphone, he got called over by Rosie and the other cannibals that were training for the battle.

It was the next day, Y/n pulled herself out of bed, changed and made her way to her radio tower. She had to use this broadcast to spread more awareness about the exterminations.

Alastor woke up that faithful morning from her microphone. A broadcast came from it, but he wasn't in his radio tower? And it was a female voice? His eyes fluttered open and really started listening to what was being said.

"It's a sunny day as usual here in heaven. A small chance of clouds in the late afternoon but those will be swept away fast."

Alastor knew that voice, he was sure of it. It was his wife, his beloved wife, broadcasting from heaven. He could finally hear his love again.

"On to the news! I think we all heard about it around now, but during the trail with Charlie Morningstar about the Hazbin Hotel, it came out that heaven has been exterminating the human souls down in hell. Your loved ones could be gone... Forever... Winners are demonstrating around the holy palace, come with us! Come down and stand help us stand against this injustice! I'm going and so should you!"

And she was fighting for him. She was probably so scared that he would be dead. He would do anything to find her again and if he had to fight heaven, he would do it.

The Radio Demon gained a new confidence that day from a single radio wave that made it through to hell.

The end

Note: I know that the fragment would be more than a single radio wave, it just sounds cool.

Masterlist/request guidelines

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel requests #reader requests #x reader #reader insert #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel radio demon #radio demon #alastor the radio demon

[jobean12-blog]

Feelin' Gourd

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,454

Summary: You really want to go on a trip to the farm but not with the girls this year. This year you want your husband to take you and even though he's the boss and busy a lot he always makes time for you, even if it means stepping out of his usual role and being soft and sweet...because for you, he'll do anything.

Author's Note: So I've decided that mob!Bucky is one of my kinks, especially when he's a big softie for his woman. And honestly, he's perfect! So here's my first kinktober '23 story featuring mob!Bucky and his softie side. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always❤️❤️❤️ and Happy October! Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: It's fun and fluffy and sweet and soft!

Steve escorts the men out of Bucky’s office and down the hall. He smiles warmly at you before his face hardens into it’s usual work mask again as he practically pushes the men out the door.

With a soft goodnight to you he shuts and locks the door of your house.

Without waiting another second you skip to Bucky’s office, stopping in the doorway when you see him focused on his phone.

“There you are doll face,” he croons.

He looks up as he sets his phone down on his desk.

“Work done?” you ask sweetly.

“All done,” he says as he holds out his arms for you.

You rush into the room and around his desk, falling against his chest and nuzzling his neck as he drags you onto his lap.

“Mm,” he hums appreciatively as you wrap yourself around him.

He kisses your temple, taking your face in his hands before pulling your mouth to his. The kiss starts out sweet and soft but swiftly grows deeper as his fingers search for the bottom of your shirt, sneaking beneath to feel more of your skin.

“Bucky,” you breathe out, pulling away enough to look into his eyes.

“What?” he asks, slightly breathless himself. “Missed you today.”

He gives you his best boyish smirk, the one reserved only for you, and it makes your heart flutter.

“Missed you too,” you whisper, peppering his check with butterfly kisses, “but…”

His lips find yours again and your words are lost against his mouth, his hands dancing higher until he’s toying with the clasp of your bra.

He unhooks it with ease and starts to peel it off under your shirt.

“Buckyyyy,” you pout.

“Doll,” he groans as his hands roam over your newly exposed skin.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

He stops his caresses, giving you a disgruntled look.

Your expression falls and he immediately brushes his thumb across your lips, cradling your cheek and drawing you closer.

“No, none of that now baby doll. I’m sorry. Talk to me.”

You instantly brighten and he growls out a mumbled curse, knowing you totally got one over on him. With a bright and triumphant smile you toy with his tie, mindlessly adjusting it as you begin to talk.

“I want you to take me pumpkin picking.”

His eyes widen and he blinks several times. “Pumpkins? Like on a farm?”

You nod excitedly, bouncing in his lap. “YES! We can pick our own to carve and get some for the front of the house and even get apple cider donuts and hot apple cider and take home a pie or pick apples to make a pie and maybe even go for a hay ride!”

Your enthusiastic wave of words rushes out and he can hardly keep up and all the while you’re still fiddling with his tie and the collar of his shirt, smoothing out each until they’re perfect.

“Didn’t you go do this with the girls last year?” he asks softly but with a smile.

“I did,” you start, pouting a bit. “But I want to go with you!”

He opens his mouth to speak but you press a finger to his lips.

“PLEASE! PRETTY PLEASE! PRETTY PLEASE WITH A CHERRY ON TOP!”

When you’re done with your pleading he grabs your wrist and holds you finger to his mouth, kissing the tip softly before pushing your other fingers up so he can kiss them all too.

“Of course I’ll take you,” he whispers.

You squeal in delight and kiss him, trying to pull away to tell him more about what you can do at the farm but he keeps you pressed firmly against him as he spins his desk chair and lifts you out of his lap, placing you on the edge of his desk.

When he finally releases your lips you nibble your bottom one, watching as he kneels down, spreading your legs and tugging on your panties.

“Thank you Bucky,” you whisper.

“I didn’t even do anything yet doll,” he teases.

“I meant for agreeing to go pumpkin picking with me.”

“You know I’d do anything to make you happy,” he murmurs, kissing along your calf, his fingers massaging your soft skin as he moves higher.

Bucky struts out of your walk-in closet, adjusting the collar on his shirt before smiling at you.

“Ready doll face?” he asks.

You look him over from head to toe then sashay your way into his arms. “I am…but I think you might need to change.”

He frowns. “Why? I thought my red shirt was good…fall color and all.”

“Oh the red is perfect,” you assure him. “But I’m not sure you need to wear one of your three-hundred-dollar Prada shirts to the farm.”

“Huh,” he muses. “Am I going to get dirty?”

“The pumpkins are sometimes muddy or dirty with soil and there’s lots of dust and vines…if there are horses and other animals there might be…”

“So I should lose my Prada loafers too then?”

He grins, looking slightly sheepish.

“Definitely,” you giggle, giving him a soft kiss. “But the jeans are perfect.”

You step back to let your eyes roam over his thick thighs that are on full display in the tight denim.

He starts to unbutton his dress shirt but you stop him, slowly undoing each button yourself until it hangs open and reveals his tanned and toned chest and stomach. You ghost your fingernails down his skin, watching his muscles flex from your touch.

When you push the shirt from his shoulders you sigh, “why can’t you just go like this?”

He huffs out a laugh and adjusts his belt, drawing your attention to the trail of dark hair that lines his lower stomach and the disappears into his jeans.

“Still wanna go pumpkin picking doll?” he asks wearing an amused and smug smirk.

You slowly drag your eyes up to his and cock your hip out, placing your hand there and stealing your features.

“YES! Now find a tee shirt and hoodie and change your shoes.”

“Where are my hoodies. I thought you stole them all,” he says as he’s walking back into the closet.

“I left you one…maybe two!”

“What about a flannel?” he calls out.

“Perfet,” you reply.

Once he’s dressed in his soft tee and even softer flannel, his feet clad in leather lace up boots you head for the door.

It’s still early when you get to the farm so there aren’t many people around yet. You and Bucky walk hand in hand under the warm sunshine toward the pumpkin patch.

“What are we looking for exactly?” he asks, eyeing the rows of orange squash.

“I want some really big ones for the front of the house! And then we need two for carving and some smaller ones for more decoration. And I want gourds too…they have a lot of different colors and shapes!”

“Am I supposed to carry them all?”

He looks suspicious and when you start to smile he takes you in his arms brushes his lips against yours.

“I will if that’s what you need me to do.”

You melt into him, sliding your arms around his waist. “As much as I’d love to see you trying to carry all these pumpkins, we can just get a wagon.”

You peek around him and point to the red wagons lined up along the fence.

“Phew,” he says with a laugh.

You walk through the patch, Bucky dragging the wagon behind him as you gush over every pumpkin you see, picking them up, inspecting them and asking for his insight. He takes his job seriously, examining each one with thorough precision before giving you his honest review.

“This one is perfect for carving,” he says, holding up the tall but still wide pumpkin with a good flat face.

“It is!” you cheer. “What are you going to carve?”

He stands there, looking from you to the pumpkin. “I have no idea!”

You bend over with laughter, loving to see your husband in such a relaxed state but also taking the pumpkin picking so seriously. He never does anything half-assed.

After he sets the pumpkin in the cart he looks over what you’ve picked so far. “One more?”

You throw your arms around his neck. “I love you so much. I’m having the best time.”

He wraps you in his embrace, nestling his face into your neck. “Love you more doll and me too.”

“Before we pick more can we get some cider and donuts? I’m hungry.”

“Of course,” he says, tucking you under his arm. “I hope they sell these donuts by the dozen. I have a feeling I’m going to want more than one.”

@randomfandompenguin @book-dragon-13 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @lizette50

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #mob au #mafia au #bucky au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #kinktober 2023

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Naughty fantasies | 500 follower special 🖤

Pairing | Boyfriend!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Avenger!Fem!Reader

Word count | 2.5K

Summary | Bucky recently discovered a specific fantasy he's been wanting to fulfill. Even though you two have never experimented with roleplaying before, you're instantly on board when he brings up the idea of a Student/Teacher roleplay. It's just not the way you had initially thought...

Warnings | Established relationship ~ boyfriend/girlfriend, use of nickames ~ Doll, Baby Boy, Baby

Smut | Porn with some plot, Bucky watching porn, implied male masturbation, oral ~ M&F receiving, deepthroating, student/teacher roleplay, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), Sub!Bucky Barnes at first, but later he takes back control.

A/n | Firstly, I want to apologize that this has taken so long to be posted, life got in the way and with Fluffcember going on too it was hard for me to find the time to write this. But it's here now, and I hope you will all enjoy it! This is written as a thank you and celebration for reaching 500 followers; this one has been chosen by all of you! 🩵

A/n 2.0 | This is proofread by the amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917, for which I am truly grateful! I also believe this was based on a post from @notafunkiller a while back (please correct me if I'm wrong and it wasn't you!) about wanting to see a student/teacher fic with student Bucky, so I hope this will fulfill at least a little bit of that craving 👀🩵

Events Masterlist | 2. ''Don't tell anyone'' | @the-slumberparty

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: Owner

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You've been away on a solo mission for the last three weeks, meaning your boyfriend, Bucky, has been looking for a different way to meet his needs. Not in the form of another woman, but in the form of his fist while watching porn.

The idea of porn was very foreign to Bucky at first, but he has always been curious about it. When he truly couldn't take it anymore, he decided to ask you since there's no one else he trusts more with such a sensitive topic than you.

''Doll? Could you come here for a moment?'' Bucky asks as he's seated on his bed, and you're getting ready for a girls' night out with Nat and Wanda.

You just put on your outfit for the night, and once your heels are on, you're ready to go. During this entire time, Bucky had watched you like a hawk, enjoying every curve of your body when you changed and pouting when you told him you couldn't stay.

If it were up to him, he would have you under him the entire night, making each other cum so many times you don't remember your name, let alone where one person begins and the other ends. But no, you couldn't cancel girls' night again.

''Is everything okay?'' you ask as you walk over to him, putting your hand on his thigh as you look at him with a curious gaze.

''Everything's perfect, but I've been... wondering about something,'' he starts, his voice trailing near the end and a blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

Your eyebrows are slightly raised out of curiosity, and your mind is going a mile a minute as you're trying to think of what could be swirling around in his brain. The following sentence is most definitely not on the list of things to even cross your mind, let alone his.

''Where can I watch porn?'' he said it like it was the most casual thing in the world, like someone asking what's for dinner that night. You nearly choked on your saliva, and after your coughing fit, you looked at him to make sure you heard him correctly.

It turns out that you did.

''Are you okay, Doll? I can ask someone else-'' ''No! I can show you!''

It was unexpected, yes, but you didn't want to give Bucky the feeling that you'd think he was weird or that you weren't okay with explaining these things, too. They're only natural, after all.

And that's how you found yourself explaining to Bucky where he can find free porn, and he has been exploring the wonderful world of online porn.

Ever since that night, he has watched porn a couple of times, usually only when you're away on long missions like you are now. He's been watching one of his usual videos when he stumbles upon something he's never seen before that instantly piques his interest.

Student/Teacher roleplay. After that first video, he has been going down an entire rabbit hole of roleplay porn, but he noticed he gets the most satisfaction from the student/teacher dynamic.

Somewhere along the way, he found out about the dynamics being reversed. It was usually a male being the teachers and a female being the students; in this one, a female teacher was punishing her badly behaving student.

Now, he's trying to find a good way to bring up the fact that he's interested in trying out a little roleplay of his own. It's not something you two have ever tried before, but it's not something you have discussed.

So here he finds himself watching the same video over and over again, his sweatpants on his knees together with his underwear and his fist wrapped around his cock, stroking himself at a leisurely pace.

Despite seeing the video countless times at this point, it never fails to get him off, and this time is no exception if it weren't for the fact that you swung open the bedroom door, just as he was about to reach his climax.

His super soldier hearing had not notified him of your arrival because he screamed when you caught him, his phone flying across the room as he tried to cover himself up.

''D-doll! Fuck! I didn't know you'd be home so soon...'' he mumbles, his face bright red while you walk over to where his phone landed to see if it's okay.

''Please, don't tell anyone!'' Bucky pleads, not wanting everyone to know about the kind of porn he watches. It's nothing illegal or anything, but that doesn't mean he's not embarrassed by it.

''I won't, Bucky; this will stay between us,'' you reassure him as you take off your boots before making your way over to the bed, where he's still waiting for what you're going to do next.

''So, you've wanted to try a little roleplay, huh? Well, you could have just asked me, and I would have happily said yes, silly boy,'' you tell him with a sensual voice.

You take slow steps towards the bed as you pull down the zipper on the front of your Tac suit, exposing your bra underneath.

''But first, do you want me to help with your not-so-little problem?'' you ask him, crawling on the bed and in between his legs before pulling the pillow away, revealing how he's still hard as a rock.

''Y-yes, please,'' he whispers, and without any hesitation, you bend down to give a few licks across his red, weeping tip to lick off the few drops of pre-cum that have gathered.

Your fist wraps loosely around the base, closing your mouth around his tip, sucking softly, and earning yourself a loud moan from your boyfriend that has your pussy clenching around nothing.

Slowly, you work more of him into your mouth and throat until your nose makes contact with his pubic bone, and you're gagging around his length. This turns out the be his undoing, and without so much as a warning, he shoots every last drop of cum into your mouth, letting you swallow every last drop.

''Fucking hell, Doll, you always know how to give a warm welcome-'' he tells you as he's softening and coming down from his high, ''- but now it's my time to give you the same.''

The next day, you and Bucky discussed roleplay and your interest in trying it out. However, this is also when Bucky confessed he would like to be the one receiving the punishment and taking the sub role in this scenario.

Your discussion has led to you searching for an office you could use, which may have resulted in a somewhat awkward situation with Steve. See, you've been trying to figure out if any offices are available with a lock on the door, but you didn't want him to know what you would be doing there.

"So, about the office… Is there one available?" you ask Steve again. It's been about a week since you last discussed it with him.

"Well, there are plenty available, but I can't exactly assign an office to you without knowing what you're going to do there," he tells you, focusing intently on your face. You know he means well, but that doesn't make it any less embarrassing.

"I have some- uhm- personal business? With… Well, with Bucky…" you say, your voice trailing off to a whisper, and that's when Steve finally puts two and two together. It's not about exactly what you would be doing, but it did click why you need an office with a lock.

"Oh! Well, uhm… Yeah! We have- I'll put you on the list; I'll let you know!" he says as his cheeks turn bright red, and with that, he storms off to try and not make the situation any more awkward. You quickly retreat to your bedroom to tell Bucky the excellent news, but you decide not to mention that Steve has an idea about what you will do.

A week later, you find yourself in the office Steve assigned you and Bucky. The door is locked so you two can avoid getting interrupted.

''Are you sure you want to do this? Because you know I'm okay with this, of course, but I care about your wellbeing too, Bucky,'' you tell him before you start.

''I'm sure, Doll. And I have my safeword if anything happens that I'm uncomfortable with,'' he reassures you. This does make you feel a little more at ease, and you need to get a few more things ready before your scene.

You've already changed into your outfit of a tight skirt that barely covers your ass, a white blouse that is about two sizes too small, your boobs and bra on full display, a pair of high stockings, and high heels. The entire look is finished with a high ponytail and your glasses.

''Ready, Baby boy?'' you ask Bucky when everything is ready, and when he notifies you that he's ready, you instantly switch into teacher mode. Suddenly, you're glad you've been a high school teacher for a few years before joining the Avengers.

''Somebody-'' you start with a raised voice ''- has gotten an F on last week's test. And because of that, they will receive a fitting punishment.''

Bucky's eyes instantly go wide at how you naturally slipped into your role. Between your authoritative tone and the way you look, he can already feel himself growing hard in his pants, and he has to adjust himself already.

This doesn't go unnoticed by you, and you walk over to Bucky, your heels clicking loudly on the wooden floor. You lean forward when you're at Bucky's table, and this only makes your boobs stand out more, making Bucky unable to look away from them.

You clear your throat loudly, and his eyes instantly snap up to yours, and he knows he's been caught. A deep red color appears on his cheeks and down his neck, and you can't help but grin at the sight.

''What's the problem, Baby Boy? Am I making you nervous by standing so close?'' you whisper in his ear after leaning in, and you are so close to him that he can smell the perfume you're wearing.

He bought it for you last Christmas, and you only wear it for special occasions. This occasion is very special, and his head reels from the thought.

You get back up, and he instantly misses you being so close, but that feeling is quickly gone when he watches you walk, the fabric of the skirt stretching slightly across your butt.

The sway of your hips has his mouth slightly agape and his hand reaching down to his crotch, palming himself over his jeans to give him the slightest bit of relief.

''Barnes!'' you say, and he quickly pulls his hand above the table. His eyebrows go into his hairline as he looks at you, and you turn around, sitting on your desk with your legs crossed.

''Come over here, Baby Boy, and I will give you your punishment now, so you won't have to go to detention later,'' you tell him, your glasses sliding down your nose as you playfully look over them.

He slides his chair back without hesitation, and before you know it, he's in front of you, the bulge in his pants very noticeable. He's enjoying this even more than you thought he would, and it makes you smile.

''For the first part of your punishment, I want you to sit on your knees, and eat this pussy until I tell you to stop, is that clear?'' you ask him, and he nods.

''Words, Baby Boy,'' you order, and he follows with a soft 'yes.'

''Good boy,'' you tell him as you spread your legs for him, and he sinks to his knees, his hands hooking behind your knees to pull you towards the edge of the desk. A soft gasp leaves your lips, and Bucky spreads your legs wider with his shoulders, opening you up for him.

The skirt you're wearing rides up to your hips, and when Bucky finds out you didn't wear panties for this, he lets out a deep groan. At this point, he's straining almost painfully against the confines of his pants, but since you didn't tell him he could touch himself, he hooks both arms around your thighs as he starts to eat you out like a starved man.

''Oh, fuck! Doing so well for me, Baby Boy,'' you praise him, and with that, he increases his pace even more, alternating between licking your clit and fucking your entrance with his tongue to get every last drop of your arousal.

He groans against your pussy with the praise, and you can never get enough of him eating you out like that. Your fingers are threading into his long locks before pulling him even closer, making your moans only louder.

''Use your fingers, Baby, use your fingers to make me cum-''

He doesn't have to be told twice because as soon as he hears the words 'fingers,' he is suckling on your clit, his fingers crooked inside your pussy.

Within no time, you're trembling as your legs are over his shoulders, your hand in his hair pulling him away as you're overstimulated and unable to keep yourself up at this point.

''F-fuck me, Bucky, fuck me until I can't fucking walk straight anymore,'' you tell him as he's worked you through your orgasm, and he's glad he can finally free himself from his pants.

After a few quick strokes, he's pushing himself into you, and you instantly clench down on him from the stimulation he's giving you. Once you've finally relaxed enough to let him in further, he slides in, bottoming out in one thrust.

The moan leaving your body is nearly pornographic, and it has Bucky going crazy, too. After getting adjusted to you and how tight you are around him, he leans forward and captures your lips in a soft, sweet kiss that is the complete opposite of the pace he's fucking you with.

With his metal arm, he rips your bra and shirt into pieces in a single motion, freeing your breasts from their confines and ready for him to play with. At this point, you know he's taken back all control, but you don't care; all you can think about is his cock deep inside you, hitting precisely the right spot.

''Need your fingers, please!'' you tell him, and his metal arm slides between your bodies, finding your clit without a single problem, while his flesh hand plays with your nipples, tugging and squeezing both in an alternating rhythm that only increases your pleasure.

Before you know it, you're falling over the edge of your second orgasm, and Bucky is following closely after, shooting his cum inside your pussy as he bends over and captures your lips in a passionate kiss.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and your legs are wrapped around his waist to keep him as close as possible. The two of you stay like that for a little while until Bucky goes soft, and he pulls out, ready to clean you up.

''So, how about that grade?'' he asks you.

''You deserve an A+ after that performance,'' you tell him, and after he's cleaned you up, you try to stand, but to no avail. Your legs give out immediately, and Bucky has done precisely what you asked.

''Here, take my shirt,'' he tells you as he pulls off his Henley before taking off the remaining pieces of your bra and blouse and throwing them in the trash for you. The soft material of the shirt feels warm against your skin, and Bucky lifts your bridal style, ready to take you to your bedroom.

You lay your head against his shoulder with your eyes closed, letting out a content sigh as you let Bucky take care of you. He makes sure all private parts are covered, and despite a few people giving him odd looks, Bucky keeps walking and giving you soft kisses on the crown of your head occasionally.

''I love you, Doll, and thank you for making my fantasy come true. Next time, I'll help you fulfill one of yours,'' he whispers to you before stepping into the elevator, and you fall asleep, getting a much-needed nap.

The elevator arrives at the floor of your bedroom quickly, and when the doors open, Bucky walks past Steve, who instantly turns bright red at the sight of his best friend holding you as you're wearing his shirt.

Steve turns around and quickly rushes into his bedroom to save himself from more embarrassment, though it is unspoken between all three of you that this will never be mentioned to anyone.

It's a good thing you left your bedroom door unlocked - your valuable stuff is always put away safely - and Bucky steps into the large room to put you on your bed without disturbing you.

When he pulls the comforter over you, he is just about to walk away to meet Steve, but you've woken up from the transfer, and you're not engulfed in his warmth anymore.

"Stay?" you ask him in a rough, sleepy voice, and he agrees. Right now, all he cares about is you, and Steve isn't capable of looking either of you in the eye after knowing what you did in that office.

For Bucky, though, this is truly a win-win situation. More time with you and the rest of the day to do whatever he pleases? It's like his dream come true.

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