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headkiss · 4 months

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maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

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Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

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wallflowerimagines · 1 year

Note

Howdy dowdy, Partner. It's me, ya boi, Skinny Penis.

How would the Lords react to a selectively mute S/O? Especially their reaction to them talking to them for the first time.

I have this mental image of Heisenberg's S/O saying something really casually (while they're relaxing or something), and he just whips around to look at them and he just shouts "hoLY FUCK!"

Saw the first line of this ask and then it was followed by a cute prompt????---

Warnings: swearing, my typical brand of silly

Alcina Dimitrescu

She's so used to your quiet demeanor it's to the point where she COMPLETELY forgot that your silence is a choice.

Alcina quite honestly never expected you to speak to her, and she was mentally planning for the rest of your relationship to be this way -- all of the servants are learning to sign, just in case, and she has pens and paper in every room if you prefer to write as your form of communication.

When you do finally speak up, she's frozen. What.

Oh. You can. You...can speak?

It's one of the times you've ever seen Alcina baffled, because honestly? She has no idea what to do.

However, you can bet she IMMEDIATELY analyses the situation in order to make sure she can get you to keep talking to her. Whatever made this happen needs to be repeated as much as possible -- Now that she knows you can be made comfortable enough to speak, she needs to hear you speak again.

(It might not have been your intention, but you hit her right in the superiority complex. Her partner spoke to HER. JUST her. Exclusively. Alcina is going to be riding this high for decades)

The Lady Dimitrescu is a big believer in positive reinforcement with her loved ones, so you better believe that every time you speak she is extra affectionate, because she does like to hear your voice!💞

Essentially, you have prompted constant affection DO NOT RESIST---

Donna Beneviento

I mentioned this in my other Donna x Mute reader post, but Donna is able to relate to a mute s/o a lot.

She's pretty nonverbal herself, so often you two have moments of quiet peace, where the two of you are doing your own thing together in the same room, taking breaks only to hold hands, cuddle, and kiss each other sweetly.

Truly dreamy💕💕💕

The first time you speak to her though, she's sewing a new outfit for one of her dolls, while you're reading in the setee beside her.

You peak over her shoulder, clear your throat and say: "You're really talented, Donna".

She drops a stitch.

Her face is burning underneath her veil. The first thing you say to her is a complement??? About a skill she is actually proud of??? That's already enough to get her heart stuttering, but you said her name.

It feels like such a small thing, but it sends Donna into a tizzy. Your lips formed the syllables of her name, and she can't get over it. You said a compliment and her name in the same sentence.

She's swooning. Smitten. Overcome.

Expect some flustered giggling and a compliment in return.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore has no chill whatsoever.

He literally drops everything and scuttles across the room to stand in front of you, flitting his hands around you in excitement, not quite touching you but close.

He's! So! Excited!

He didn't process what you even said-- you SPOKE TO HIM!!!! Fireworks are going off in his brain, Kool and the Gang are celebrating the good times, life is beautiful and love is in the air....

Moreau is delighted by this development. You feel safe enough around him a monster to vocalize your thoughts. You trust him. He already knew you did, but this is confirmation he didn't even know he wanted. Moreau almost starts crying he's so relieved.

Meanwhile you're repeatedly trying to warn him about the disaster occurring on the stove.

"... Salvatore, honey, the pancakes are burning."

Honey???? HONEY??? Are you TRYING to kill him????

Salvatore staggers on his feet, unintentionally the most dramatic you've ever seen him.

Sighing, you hide a smile behind your palm and give him a little smooch on the cheek before you go rescue your breakfast.

Moreau flatlines. Better give him some mouth to mouth 💗.

Karl Heisenberg

Absolutely shocked the first time you speak.

He's working on a soldat, fully used to the silence as he solders body parts together to make a deadly monster worthy of murdering Mother Miranda.

"You missed a spot--"

jESUS FUCK

Very softly, you speak up again. "At the shoulder. It's not... It's not fully connected."

Heisenberg whips around to just...stare??? At you for a bit?? His face is totally expressionless, but make no mistake his brain is reeling.

What is he supposed to do here? You feel comfortable enough to talk with him--this is a big deal, right? Is he supposed to comfort you? Praise you?

Still, it's not in Heisenberg's nature to make a big deal of things, and he doesn't want to spook you.

Eventually he nods, grunts in acknowledgement, and gets back to work.

Still, your words ring in his ears. Your voice fits you so well? He never really thought about what you sounded like before, but honestly now it's all he can think about.

Much later, when you almost forget about the whole thing, he'll offhandedly say he's proud of you for finally speaking up for yourself.

It's kinda condescending? But you know Heisenberg pretty well, and the fact he refuses to meet your eyes let's you know he's just being his normal, socially stunted self.

Thank him for the "compliment" and you'll get a pleased grin back, as well as a teasing hair ruffle. He's...happy you're comfortable with him.

It just makes your relationship feel even more right. ❤️

#re8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #lady beneviento x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #lord moreau x reader #lord heisenburg x reader #salvatore moreau x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #x reader #silly #soft

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chlorinecake · 6 months

Note

What are your thoughts on gang bang?

My sincere thoughts on it? Honestly can’t say that I’m a fan. However, I’ll take this ask as an opportunity to write something ~different~ for my community of horny engenes !!

cw swearing, unprotected sex, m. & f. oral (both giving and receiving), slight exhibitionism, boob play, reader gets fucked by the hyung line, not proofread wc 1.3k

So by now we’re all pretty familiar with enhypen’s infamous resort episode, right?

Imagine Lee Heeseung, one of the richest, most attractive guys at your university inviting you to a pool party held at his condo over the weekend.

You wore an ordinary emerald green two piece bikini with a thin shawl tied around your waist, sitting at the poolside while your eyes merely glazed the book you brought with you. It was supposed to act as headphones to an introverted gym bro, but God knows you weren’t AT ALL interested in reading anymore.

Too distracted by the bulge fest Heeseung and his three equally hot friends were granting you with, the only thing on your mind was how you were gonna fuck at least one of them before the night was out.

Luckily, the pool had already started to clear out within an hour, so you had the perfect chance to make your move with Heeseung's groupies out of the way.

Abandoning your now damp book and shawl, you joined the four boys in the pool, the view of your perky tits and ass against the underwater lights thoroughly enthralling their attention.

“Hey, stranger. It's about time you got your nose out of that book," Jake chuckled, making a spot for you to squeeze in between him and Heeseung in the water, "I’m surprised a girl like you even swung by tonight."

“Don’t be," you said, looking him dead in the eye, "I’m not all books and brains like you might think I am.”

“Great, so why don’t you enlighten us?" Heeseung offered, trying to out-intimidate you, "I’ve invited you to my parties in the past, but you never showed. Why change that tonight?”

You opted for a more humorous response to his cheeky question.

“Because, you’ve obviously been keeping track of my attendance records… I wouldn’t want to risk my midterm grade like that,” you pouted playfully, kicking your feet in the water which only drew their attention back to your body.

Dogs, you thought to yourself. They weren’t even trying to hide how thirsty they were.

“No worries… Heeseung lost the backbone to give cute girl's honest ratings a while ago,” Sunghoon poked, earning a circle of laughter from the inside joke he'd just told.

“Yeah, buddy. You’ve seriously lowered your standards over the years,” Jake pitched in, “prudes like her don’t know how to have a good time, so just quit with your efforts.”

You scoffed at his sly remark, Heeseung splashing water at Jake’s face in both your defense.

"Hmm," you began, speaking more boldly, "last time I checked, prudes are easy targets... I figured guys like you couldn't handle when girls play hard to get anyways."

“That’s sweet and everything, but I'm afraid you've misjudged us," Jay interjected, "guys like ourselves actually enjoy a challenge once in a while... even when the prize is amateur at best.”

“Pfft,” you amused, humored by how much they underestimated the lengths you'd go to for a good fuck, even if you made a fool of yourself while doing so. You played along, planning to make use of your dirty mouth to rile them up even more.

"Look, now you've made her mad," Heeseung sighed at Jay who only shook his head in response.

"Not mad, but extremely horny, yes… and when I'm in the mood, I prefer to skip the mind games and just use my words," you said with a seductive voice, looking them all dangerously in the eyes, "If any of you perverts wanna put your boner's to good use before the night is out, you know where to find me."

The look on their faces was a mix of shock, offense, and desire, their eyes following the trail of water your feet left behind as you made your way outside of Heeseung's pool and into his condo.

“What the fuck is her deal,” Sunghoon asked rhetorically, being the first of the bunch to make his way out of the pool, following behind you.

Jake contemplated with himself before calling out to Sunghoon, "Aye, wait up," nearly slipping on his ass as he got out of the pool.

"Yeahhh, I'm not sure if she wants all of us to join her," Jay pitched in, watching as Heeseung slowly made his way to the pool staircase.

"How dense can you be, bro? The girl's obviously a raging slut. She's practically begging to have all her hole's filled tonight," Heeseung huffed, shaking the water from his hair before dumbly following your water trail as if hypnotized.

Jay was putting up a front, but he was equally, if not even more eager to get off one way or another.

Introducing your fivesome location of choice: Heeseung's indoor sauna.

Some debating time took place before you guys actually started anything, discussing how they planned to take turns fucking you before finally agreeing on going at it in groups of two.

As expected, each of the four boys had their own way of toying with you.

Heeseung took the lead, fucking up into you as you bounced on his cock, your hands desperately clinging onto his shoulders as if fearful that the force of his thrusts would make you fall.

“Fuck,” he hissed, relishing in the sensation of your slimy walls clenching around him.

The surrounding boys palmed themselves while they awaited their turn, some of them even pulling out their phones to record the filthy scene.

Jay, being one of the more impatient ones, took it upon himself to wrap your hand around his dick, guiding your movements with one hand while he massaged your tits with the other. “Since Heeseung here forgot we’re supposed to be sharing,” he groaned, melting into the warmth of your grip.

After the two eldest boys had their fun, Jake and Sunghoon helped themselves to you next.

It caught you off guard when Jake kissed you, his tongue entering your mouth as he explored your folds with his free hand, testing just how eager you were for more.

You were eventually put on all fours, Sunghoon forcing your wobbly legs open as he chuckled in your ear, “don’t tell me you’re already getting tired,” he smirked, landing a harsh smack against your pulsing heat.

Jake gripped your hips, the hot pressure of his cock swirling at your entrance before he finally rammed himself all the way in, delighting you with a feeling of fullness. “So tight,” he whinced, slowly grinding into your hole before picking up the pace.

Sunghoon only gave Jake so much fun time before tapping in, telling Jake to pull out and just hold himself so he could finally have a go.

Although you were still on all fours, Sunghoon was much rougher with you than Jake was, leaning down to graze your shoulder with his fangs while his free hand gripped at your throat.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rutted into you from behind, smacking your ass just to hear you whine before you both finally climaxed.

"Alright, show off," Jay teased, guiding your tired body into the missionary position, propping you up on your elbows so Heeseung could have full access to mouth.

You’re sure Jay's goal was to make you squirt just from how aggressively he fingered your cunt, diving down to leave rough kitten licks against your puffy clit as he whispered against your heat, “So fucking pretty for us.”

Meanwhile, you watched Heeseung’s eyes flutter as you slowly inched your lips down his length, delicate hands caressing your cheeks as if petting you before forcing your head down a little further. He trembled at the feeling of your throat tightening around him, “Fuck, you feel so good," he nearly whimpered, chest heaving in harmony with each bob of your head.

Despite your mouth being stuffed, broken moans escaped your lips as Jay eased you toward your third orgasm of the night, your body squirming beneath him as your shiny release coated his lips and chin, adding to the foul sounds echoing within the sauna space.

And with that, your steamy night went on for what felt like hours, the four horny boys chasing their highs and passing you around like the main course at a holiday dinner party.

All of this action was definitely not on par with how you initially planned to spend your weekend night, but it wasn't something you had a problem with, either.

a/n: I felt tempted to include the entire enha legal line in this drabble… I’m sorry, but there ain’t no way you’d be able to process all that dick at once, BYE-

No tags bc this one sucks . I literally might randomly delete this one day… — feel free to check out more fun reads like this on my enhypen bookshelf !!

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homicidal-slvt · 1 year

Note

I have a request! 141 plus König playing a long game of strip poker with a female reader. Things get steamy and the reader gets gang banged?

"You Can Handle It, Right?"

141 + König x F!Reader

Civilian|Y/N

Characters: John Price, Kyle Garrick, Simon Riley, Johnny Mactavish, Alex Keller, König

Warnings: Smut, Gangbang, Unprotected Sex, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Oral {M Receiving}, Rough?, Boyfriend!Alex

You weren't exactly sure how you ended up here but you weren't about to complain, rough calloused hands palming at every inch of you.

It was supposed to be an innocent game of poker with your boyfriend Alex and his friends, until however Johnny cheekily suggested strip poker.

"Strip poker? Seriously?"

Simon didn't seem all too thrilled by the idea but him and John were the best at the game so they didn't have to worry much.

You glanced over towards Alex who seemed just as excited about it as Johnny, Kyle seemed pretty happy and nervous about the idea and König... Well, König was fidgeting but you weren't sure if it was nerves or excitement... You hadn't known him as long as the others so you couldn't read him well yet.

"Sounds fun!"

You were down as long as they were, being shy about your body wasn't your style and that became very clear very fast.

As the game dragged on you ended up being the one stripping the most off- aside from Alex who also seemed to suck ass at poker. The guys eyes were glued to you as you casually tugged off your shirt and discarded it along with your shoes, socks and pants. You were just in a bra and underwear now.

You didn't miss the adoring but also lustful look in Alex's eyes as they took in your features, he's seen you like this many times but never fails to be amazed- however the others hadn't gotten this chance before and it was clear.

You had them absolutely drooling.

"How about a new game... Strip pokers getting boring."

Alex spoke up and little did you know the offer he was going to propose.

Your chest was pressed flush against John's and you could feel his thick chest hair bristling against your bare breasts, he had one hand on your waist and the other was holding his cigar- the man didn't pause his bad habit even for fucking you.

"That's it, love. Just like that."

He breathed out the smoke but aimed away from your face as he did so, you currently were being held up by Alex behind you with John's dick pressed deep inside you. Alex trailed kisses down the back of your neck.

"You're so pretty, baby."

He murmured against your heated flesh, pressing up closer as well aching to have his turn inside you but also enjoying watching you get fucked by John.

The other guys also were enthralled by the filthy display, your head back mouth agape like you couldn't get enough oxygen with the way he was bucking into you, John's tip felt like it was kissing your cervix and threatening to rearrange your guts entirely.

Vision blurred from pleasure you were getting close, before you could release though John pulled out and stroked himself a few times cumming on your thighs instead. You let out such a pathetic little whimper that it made the man chuckle.

"Don't worry, love. I'm sure the boys will take good care of you."

Swiftly you were manhandled over to the table, you weren't entirely sure who's hands were who's. Your hands wound up firmly planted on the hard wooden surface for support while bent over, Alex stood in front of you but you were unsure who was behind you.

"Open."

Without hesitation you opened your mouth for your boyfriend, he slipped his dick into your mouth and grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail, you hollowed your cheeks and bobbed your head while sucking, earning so many sweet little moans from him- your eyes watering as you nearly gagged a few times.

"Fuck... Bonnie."

You recognized that Scottish accent and term of endearment, while having your throat fucked you felt a pair of rough calloused fingers toying with your clit, you whined and groaned around Alex's cock your drool dripping down onto the table. You heard a chuckle from the Scot behind you, unable to see him but you could just feel the smirk on his face as he spoke.

"Ye like that?"

His deft fingers made quick work out of you, circling your clit and then plunging into your heated core, curling and stroking along your pulsing walls. He adored making you come undone while you were choking on your boyfriend's dick at the same time.

Though he needed his own release as well, positioning himself at your entrance he easily slid in and began thrusting, your legs wobbled and shook. Even with the table as support you were struggling, almost collapsing forwards onto the hard surface.

Johnny gripped your waist tight and assisted in keeping you from caving in, pacing his thrusts to match your bobbing on Alex.

It wasn't long before Alex spilled his seed down your throat, his cock pulsing and twitching in your mouth while he groaned, he smiled down at you in such a sweet away as he pulled away.

Who would think this is the same guy letting you get ruined by his friends?

"So pretty."

He remarked softly before moving out of the way for Kyle, unlike the others Kyle actually seemed a bit nervous. His pupils blown out with lust he reached out gently gripping your chin, all his nerves went away when he saw your fuck-drunk face.

"Shit... You like getting used like this don't you? Slutty little thing."

You didn't exactly peg Kyle for the type to be degrading but you weren't complaining, your cunt squeezing Johnny tighter as he was still fucking your tight hold chasing his own high while also driving you to yours.

"Fuckin' hell.... I think she likes that."

You didn't miss the slightly darker look on Kyle's face along with his smirk, opening your mouth wide for him to stuff his length in, taking it down your throat like a good fuck toy.

"Alex trained you well, didn't he? Such a good little whore. Taking several men... Bet ya always fantasized about this, huh?"

Of course you couldn't answer him as you were rammed from behind while getting your throat used like a fleshlight at the same time, you were an absolute mess as you orgasmed on Johnny, your moans and cries choked out by the cock in your mouth.

He came undone immediately after you did, groaning out as you felt a thick heat flood your tight walls. Kyle still using your mouth till he finished as well, forcing his dick all the way down when he came so you were gagging on it, his semen sliding directly down your throat.

He pulled away and finally you could breathe, desperately panting when Johnny finally let go of your waist, you just helplessly collapsed onto the table your chest smacking against the hard wood.

You didn't get a break for long though, a pair of gloved hands that you instantly knew was Simon lifting you up by your mid section and rolling you over onto your back on the table.

"Are you alright to continue?"

He asked genuinely while gazing deep into your eyes, after you gave a little nod to confirm he slid his hands down to your thighs, his gloved hand stroked along your skin while he made intense eye contact with you for a moment- still making sure you were definitely okay.

Then he swiftly spread your legs as wide as he could, burning gaze directed at your abused and messy cunt that was spilling slick and cum.

"Yet you still aren't satisfied, are you?"

He remarked but you didn't have chance to answer, he roughly manhandled you into a mating press with your legs draped over his shoulders.

"We can fix that."

His gruff voice filled your ears as you felt him slide in, you two were quite the sight. Him still fully clothed with just his jeans unzipped and cock out, meanwhile you fully exposed beneath him staring up into the deep pools of hazel that were his eyes.

He was actually a bit of a tight fit and you felt like you were going to be speared straight into your other organs, eyes rolling back he quickly grasped your chin, his grip tight but not enough to hurt just enough to get your attention.

"Eyes on me."

He stated the command in a straight forward way and you obliged, struggling as you maintained eye contact. He didn't hesitate to fuck you hard and rough, quickly realizing you seemed to like it that way and who was he to deny you that pleasure, the feeling of getting used by a big rough and tough masked man.

You ended up coming again and spasming wildly beneath him, his breathing heavy as well he didn't last much longer either, filling you to the brim he kept moving riding out his orgasm inside you. You were filled and covered with cum by this point- so fucked out you nearly forgot that there was one more guy left.

The whole time König had stood just observing, his deep dark and clouded eyes locked onto your shaky form.

Next thing you knew you were hoisted up off the table by an unfamiliar pair of incredibly strong arms, quickly pinned between him and the wall- though König felt almost like a brick wall himself.

His eyes were down right feral behind that hood, you felt your throat clench but also couldn't deny there was something about it that did something to you, he was the only one of the guys you didn't know really well before hand...

You didn't know what he was capable of.

He wasn't exactly gentle by any means, he was cautious of his size so as to not genuinely injure you- but he wasn't gentle. Holding your waist with one hand having you wrap your legs around him, the other hand slipping down to your folds.

He teased your clit with his large gloves hand before quickly stuffing his fingers into your hole, you felt the gloves seams scraping at your tender and over stimulated insides, your whines only seemed to fuel his desire to ravage you even more.

"You can handle it, right?"

You eagerly nodded and though you couldn't see it- he was grinning behind his hood. He was going to ruin you.

"Good girl, Liebling."

The large Austrian man took you right there against the wall, his dick splitting you open. If you thought you weren't going to be able to walk before- well you sure as hell knew you weren't going to be able to now.

{This was a struggle idk why- I guess I'm not good at writing a fic with multiple guys LOL}

{Inspired by this fic by @catsnkooks }

{More Content}

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hazbinhazmeinachokehold · 2 months

Text

The hotel gang + overlord!reader part 2

Part one here

!Not beta read!

While it may just be the stress talking, the bed was surprisingly comfortable, for a hotel at least. Today was a lot. Even if this hotel seemed to be a net positive it was still a lot. So the comfortable bed made it seem like you already made it to heaven. As you sank into the bed you drifted off to sleep.

You awoke to a few loud and powerful knocks on your door. "Hello? If you're awake we are going to do some trust exercises!" Charlie called out. You unintentionally groaned as you got up.

"Give me a minute!" You replied.

"Okay." Charlie said as she left. When you got up you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't a mess by any means but you've definitely looked better. You freshen yourself up slightly before going downstairs.

The Hotel residents and staff were all in a circle. You sat down in one of the gaps in the circle. Charlie cleared her throat.

"Okay everybody let's go around in a circle and say our names first! I'm Charlie." She paused, "As you all know." Everyone else proceeded to say their name, which you already knew everyone's name. Excluding the short one-eyed girl, Niffty, and the girl with an x over one of her eyes, Vaggie. Then your turn came.

"Uh- Hi! My name is y/n" You cringed at the nervousness in your voice.

"Now I want everyone to tell a fact about themself. It doesn't have to be anything huge, just something to get to know each other." Charlie said, "I love musicals!" Yeah, that was pretty easy to guess.

Angel was next up. "I love sitting on big, HUGE-"

"Angel I fucking swear." Husk cut him off.

"Comfortable chairs! What were you thinking?" Angel had a smug smile plastered on his face. "Also cocks as well." He added. Husk and Vaggie groaned.

Niffty went next, but Charlie spoke before her, "Please try not to scare away our newest member." She pleaded. Niffty pouted but compiled anyway.

"I love writing fanfiction! Escapily with bad boys." Her tone turned slightly seductive at the end. You elected to ignore that.

There was a silence as everyone waited for Vaggie. Charlie stretched her palm out to tell her to talk. "Oh- yeah right sorry." She shook her head slightly, "I like to dance."

"Really!? How come I never knew that?" Charlie asked.

"It never came up." Vaggie smiled faintly

"I'm the bartender," Husk grumbled. Vaggie elbowed him. "What? I told a fact about myself."

Alastor let out an "ahem" noise. The focus shifted to him. "While this is a fact in general, I believe that radio is the utmost form of medium." As baseline as this was for a guy such as Alastor, you also kind of expected it. Alastor would not let anything deeper about himself slip. So why not go for the most well-known part of yourself. "Now, y/n, darling I do believe it is your turn."

Oh shit right. You've just met these people so don't go with anything personal. Also, make sure it doesn't make anyone uncomfortable. “I really don’t like being an overlord.” Your mouth moved before you could comprehend what you were saying. Well fuck. If this was a TV show you’d clearly be the comic relief, at least right now. Everyone but Alastor and Niffty had some form of uncomfortable plastered on their face. Alastor however had a curious yet sinister smile on his face. Niffty wasn’t really paying attention to you, she was chasing some random cockroach.

You wanted to go back on that statement but something was saving you from embarrassing yourself further. Do demons have guardian angels? If so, yours was working overtime right now. But they also weren’t getting much work done.

Your real savior was whoever blew the fucking wall up. Everyone's head was quickly aimed at the now missing wall. While Husk just accepted it everyone else, including yourself, to find the source. Like you were in some sort of horror movie character getting ready to be stabbed. But you instead met with a huge mechanical blimp that had an impractical amount of guns.

“There you are!” The person in the blimp called out. It was very hard to hear but it was just loud enough. “Alastor, are you ready to be beat-”

“Who is this?’

“Who- Who am I!?” The voice was very clearly offended at Alastor's lack of knowledge. You just drowned the rest out. Alastor was cruel and frankly heartless. But he also did not like wasting time. So even while this poor sinner's fate was sealed, thankfully it wouldn’t be as drawn out as his past victims. You turned around to hopefully save any shred of innocence you were able to save. As you entered through the wall you could hear both Alastor and his victim speak.

“Thank you for another forgetful experience!” Alastor said. You didn’t necessarily

want to look but you did so anyway. Kind of like watching a car crash.

“Thank you…” the snake struggled to get out, “ For letting your guard down!” He ripped part of Alastors coat off. Well, that's not good, for anyone really. Alastor’s coat got torn and this sinner is about to die again. Or at the very least get seriously injured. You’re honestly surprised he lasted this long. He was notably weaker than The Radio Demon’s usual opponents.

He, quite appropriately, said “Oh shit-” Before an explosion (you can only guess caused by Alastor) caused him to fly away. Welp, he’s gone forever now. The hotel seemed nice for the most part. It honestly still does. You just wish you weren’t staying in the same house as The Radio Demon. But now that you think about it, almost everyone here seems to have something severely wrong with them. And that includes you too. So at least you fit in.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #charlie x reader #angel dust x reader #vaggie x reader #niffty x reader #husk x reader

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povlnfour · 6 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ END UP HERE (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!reader

summary: a night out, a long walk home, and a pretty stranger happy to accompany you.

word count:

content warnings: mentions of alcohol/being tipsy, not proof read bc authors dyslexia won

“how did we end up talking in the first place?” — end up here, 5 seconds of summer

“do you even know who that is?” was the first thing your friend had said when she dragged you away from the group gathered around you by the bar.

of course you didn’t know the names and faces of the all people who scattered the club. all you knew was that this was one of the hottest places in monaco, and it’s guest list bolstered some giants of the motorsports world, a fact you were well aware of before agreeing to join your friends for the night. the group were ecstatic to have received a private invite to such an exclusive place from one of your more grander friends, the prospect of mingling with celebrities certainly playing on their minds — but you were more bothered about trying as many cocktails on the long menu that the place offered.

what you hadn’t expected was to be a point of attraction the moment you walked in. you knew you stood out in here, dressing nothing like the celebrities and trust fund babies you mixed with, but you certainly didn’t anticipate this drawing people towards you.

a man had approached you as you ordered a round for the small collection of friends you had come with, asking for your name. wanting to pay no mind to potential suitors, you told him trouble, before a sharp tug on your arm to drag you back towards the dance floor (drink now in hand) had you being reprimanded by your friend.

“am i meant to?” you hissed close to your best friend’s ear, straining to be heard over the baseline.

“you’re hopeless.” she had groaned, swiftly merging back in with the other girls in attendance. the group was growing with every hour, the alcohol running through people’s veins allowing for more socialising with strangers.

the music blared on, and you suddenly realised you weren’t half as drunk as you had intended to be. there was a nice buzz below your skin, one that danced through your fingertips and let you lower your guard on the dancefloor, but it was clear you’d remember everything in the morning (which wasn’t your initial intention).

with a swift glance around the room, you caught the eye of a handsome stranger. his face was recognisable, but not enough to put one of the aforementioned names to the sight. he was most likely another driver, as you recognised a few of his friends that milled to one side from the television.

the pretty stranger sent you a wink from where he lazed against a wall, your eyes grazing down his arms to the small glass of presumably whiskey he was nursing. you may have done something stupid, approached him on a whim, if it weren’t for your friend grabbing your arm once again and dragging you back into the action.

your bold decision had been interrupted, but it didn’t stop you from putting on a show. you were suddenly aware of the eyes following every move, ensuring that each roll of your hips was perfectly in his eyeline.

a few drinks more, and a lot of dancing later, people began to file out with each passing minute. one of the friends you had originally attended with left with a man she had met that night, another leaving to get food with a group you had met on the dancefloor, until it was just you and two others from the initial gang left. there were quite a few people fluttering around still, clearly determined to stay until doors closed.

you were tired by now, more than ready to call it a night despite the adrenaline still flowing through you. it was more that stage of just drunk enough that you could keep going if you wanted to, but sober enough to be somewhat responsible.

well, somewhat responsible.

when your remaining friends had expressed their interest in moving to a different club, you had politely declined the invite to join. it took some convincing that you’d be okay walking home to your apartment on your own, but once they were thoroughly convinced, they bid you adieu and left you alone.

alone, bar the presence of a certain handsome stranger still hovering in the guest area.

he was flanked by some of the same people from before, the crowd having dwindled enough that it no longer looked impenetrable. you recognised two of the men from the group who had approached you at the bar, confirming your suspicions the brunette from before was involved in racing one way or another. if you had half a sense, that information would have made you turn back and rethink your decision.

you were too far into your master plan now (also known as: not sober enough to make fully calculated decisions), and you knew what you wanted.

so with shoes noticeable tighter on your feet than they were at the beginning of the night, you took a heavy stride towards the collection of people chatting amongst themselves.

before you had even breached the small collection of chairs that held the strangers friends, they all seemed to notice your arrival and disperse as though commanded, leaving only you and your target. you barely had to look up to know his attention was all on you at the moment, and the alcohol in your system brought out an involuntary giggle at the thought of keeping him hanging all night.

“hello, trouble.” he spoke breezily, accent a lot more british than you were expecting.

“glad to know that got around.” you grinned, stopping just a foot ahead of him, distance close enough that he could touch if he really wanted to “wan’a keep calling me that, or should i put you out of your misery?”

the stranger was even more tanned up close, skin smooth and glowing under the club nights. his cheeks stretched with a smile under your attention, and you couldn’t help but mimic the action. “i could think of a few other things to call you, but your name would be nice”

“y/n.” you offered, taking the drink out of his hand and downing the remaining drop as a form of payment.

he laughed lowly, accepting the now empty glass back without batting an eyelid. “lando.”

“well, lando. it would appear all my friends are gone, and i have no one to walk me home,” you put on your best pout, jutting one hip out to the side to really emphasis just how distraught you were over the turn of events “care to do the honours?”

lando didn’t bother pretending to dwell it over, instead pushing himself off of the wall in one smooth action, and offering you an arm to lead. you took it gladly, expecting him to at least offer a goodbye to his friends. to your surprise, he did no such thing, leading you to an exit you certainly didn’t recognise.

when the fresh air hit you, your body relaxed in relief, entirely unaware just how stuffy the large yet crowded club had been for most of the night. the silence in the roads around your exit told you that lando had most likely guided you towards the back door of the club, a much easier escape into the main streets of monaco without the fear of the crowds. yet another sign he must be someone important. if you thought about it enough, you recognised his name from the world of motorsports, but you couldn’t entirely place him.

you didn’t care to ask for now, way too focused on tearing the heels off of your feet to feel the cold ground below. dangerous, yes, but well worth the relief you gained from the relief of release from such terrible choice in footwear.

glancing back at lando, you found him watching in amusement, leant against the doorframe with an eyebrow raised.

“i didn’t plan to be out this late.” you defended before he had even said anything.

lando raised his hands in a defence of his own “no judgement here. you were certainly putting in a shift on the dancefloor.”

humming, you began to step along the curb side that started your route home, passing lando a glance over your shoulder. “i knew you were watching.”

“yeah? putting on a show?” lando caught up with you despite your head start, probably made a lot easier by the fact you were practically pigeon stepping along the pavement, playing around with your own balancing skills. he was able to make up ground rather quickly.

the bars and casinos that littered the streets around you were still open and bustling, the bright lights of monaco all blurring together by now. you noticed a few cars go by, ones you didn’t recognise but could certainly admire, and it seemed your new friend was doing the same.

“yup!” you exclaimed, pointing down a street that held some of the now closed cafes “this way.”

lando turned easily, his hand coming up to rest on your waist as the stones dug into your heels and you stumbled as a result. you steadied yourself with a determined got it, but weren’t deterred at all — if you wanted to walk like this, you were going to walk like this!

… a thought that only lasted a few more seconds as you got fed up of such a slow pace. you took to skipping instead, hopping slightly in front of lando and turning to face him. you could see the amusement on his face mix with a certain fear, most likely over the fact you weren’t looking where you were going. you swung the hand up with your heels in it as you spoke again, narrowly missing hitting yourself in the face. “i like your shirt!”

lando laughed, quickening his pace to close the gap, and gently engulfing your hand in both of his. you were just about to ask him what he was doing when he cleverly dislodged your heels from your grip and took them himself. you would have pouted, poked fun at him not wanting to hold your hand, had he not slipped his spare one into yours, pulling both of your arms back to your side and leading you down the roadside facing the right way this time.

“boo,” you shoved at his shoulder ever so slightly “i thought you’d be more fun than this mr. lando.”

like anyone would with a petulant child, lando grinned and pushed you away, pulling you back suddenly via your fingers that were intertwined. the action made you squeal, gripping on to his shoulder when you returned to his side. you frowned at him, no real weight in the action, but it was worth it for the reaction when he poked the tip of your nose with a wide smile.

“you’re certainly living up to your nickname, trouble.” he added, and you began to swing your conjoined hands between your bodies, a pep in your step that he happily mimicked.

you giggled, pulling yourself back to briefly bury your face in the crook of his neck, cheeks heating up at the memory of what you had done tonight. “i’m so sorry to your friend who i entirely pied at the bar.”

lando laughed again, this time full bellied and hearty. you could feel him shaking his head in amusement, glancing up from where you hid your face to find him already smiling at you. “don’t be. george needs humbling.”

you stopped walking suddenly, face gone pale as you realised who that man had been, and why your friend was so shocked. lando got the memo, stopping in concern and prepared to help you out of any hypothetical crisis. “please do not tell me i told george russell my name was trouble, and ditched him at the bar.”

there was a beat of silence for just a second, lando keeping his composure, before he suddenly doubled over in violent shakes of laughter. you whined in instinct, pleading with him that it wasn’t that funny, but eventually humour won and you joined him in his joy.

“oh my god my friends are never going to let me live this down!” you shouted, leaning on his hunched over body for support.

you were getting a few looks from passersby, probably confused at to why two young people were practically keeled over in the middle of the busy streets in the early hours of the morning. it was funny, really, you hadn’t even noticed just how busy the streets around you actually were as others made their way home. you had been so transfixed on the man beside you for most of it.

“that’s— oh my god i’m not letting him live this down.” lando chuckled, slowly gaining his composure once more as he straightened up. you didn’t miss the way he had to wipe tears from his eyes, and you thought briefly you wouldn’t mind making him laugh like that again.

“well, now i’ve embarrassed myself thoroughly…” you began, lando grinning as he smoothly linked your hands back together and continued the route down the road, counting on you for guidance as to the direction of where you were staying.

you hummed to yourself as you kept walking, a tune that you had heard in passing at the club that night. lando recognised it almost instantly, head turning to look at you with a raised eyebrow “bon jovi?”

you smacked your lips together “is that who is by? i only know like three lyrics. something about living on a prayer.”

“that’s the one.” he smiled again, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight tooth gap that made his grin so adorable.

whilst this wasn’t the way you had initially seen your night going, you wouldn’t complain about being looked at like that. it was surprisingly easy to talk to the man, despite his obvious status and the fact that he was most likely famous. he hasn’t made you feel out of place, and it made you want the night to keep going.

so when you stopped in front of your hotel, building towering over you, there was a surprising ache in your chest that this could be it.

“well, this is me.”

lando looked just as disappointed as you, clearly hoping the jaunt would be longer. he didn’t fret, simply offering to walk you inside so that he could be sure you got in safe. you both knew he could simply watch you walk through the doors and be fine — what with the establishments security and all — but it was clear neither wanted the journey to end just yet.

you accepted, not one to turn down more time spent with a pretty person, and it was only when you called the elevator that you began to say your goodbyes.

“well, thank you for, uh, walking me home.” you shuffled, watching as the numbers decreased on the led screen to indicate the lift was getting closer.

“thank you for making my boring night a lot more interesting.” lando retaliated, hands slipped in the pockets of his jeans to feign nonchalance.

the telltale ding of the elevator doors opening made your heart drop. perhaps it was the remaining alcohol in your system despite how much you had sobered up by now, but a certain bravery was lingering.

“i’m gonna wonder where this boldness came from in the morning.” you started, barely registering the confused expression on lando’s face before you pulled him down and crashed your lips together.

lando reacted instantly, hands wrapping around your waist as your own tangled in the curls at the bottom of your neck. the heels he held in one hand collided with your body at the impact but you paid them no mind as he confidently walked you back into the elevator until your back was pressed against the large mirror. he wasted no time in pushing your bodies together, using his strength to tug your waist against his as he reluctantly broke the kiss, still remaining close enough to whisper against your skin, “what floor?”

“seven.” you responded, kissing him again within milliseconds of finishing. you could feel his hands fumbling around on the buttons, helplessly searching for your floor without turning his head before the doors closed and you were finally away from the prying eyes in reception. you had certainly given security a show.

that would be an embarrassment for the morning, for now you were significantly more focused on the way lando’s hands traced the curve of your ass. he gave a firm squeeze that had you gasping into his mouth, an action he took perfect advantage of.

any vertigo the elevator moving upwards may have brought you was grounded by the firm hold on your body and the tongue slipping into your mouth. he tasted vaguely of whiskey, dulled throughout the night, and you found yourself getting addicted to the feeling of his mouth of yours. you may have done something more scandalous right then and there had the lift not drawn to a stop and the doors beeped open.

the two of you turned, being met with a giant FLOOR 8 ahead of you — and that was when you lost in once more.

leaning on lando, you couldn’t help the uncontrollable giggles that slipped from your mouth as he selected the correct floor this time.

“in my defence, i was preoccupied.”

a/n: hello pals

i realise only now how similar this is to overdrive but,,, forgive me i wrote it in a meeting

me vs characters meeting lando on a night out and being obsessed immediately >>>

i also: heavily dislike this it just felt rushed so any comments appreciated as author is suffering. battling with my dyslexia every two seconds writing this

- gigi xx

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @paolexsstuff @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @moonypixel @celestialpato @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ works #lando norris #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #mclaren #lando norris au #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris scenario #lando norris one shot

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miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Lust. (141 x Reader.)

The gang bang version to this is here

!CW! NSFW, Smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, porn without plot, read at your own risk. (Lemme know if I missed any.)

(Summary): After a hard mission, task force 141 has to find creative ways to relieve tension.

This was a requested story, you can find the ask here

The small room everyone was in was filled with the smell of rotting wood and dust. Everyone was covered in dirt and sweat, a little dried blood.

“Exfil can’t get to us until morning, settle in.”

Those were your Captain’s instruction, so everyone did. You took up one small corner of the room you were in. The house you were in was in the middle of the desert, the furthest thing away from any threats. Most of the house was leaky and some parts of the roof had caved in, leaving the entire task force to one room. There was an old couch, and everyone had set up around you, almost in a circle. All you had was a sleeping bag and an emergency blanket for comfort so you laid them both out. It was still too warm so you were sitting on top of it. You tried getting comfortable but it was a little hard. Everyone had a couple emergency MRE’s and first aid kits. You tended to your wounds, patched up, and ate one of the MRE’s.

“I don’t have sweats or extra clothes in my bag so you’ll all just have to be okay with me sleeping in my boxers.” Soap calls out.

“That’s fine, no one cares.” You call out. “Use a buddy system if you have to go outside to relieve yourself or for any other reason.” Your captain calls. He’s laying on his own sleeping bag a couple feet from you. Soap starts removing his clothes, tucking them near his bag and laying down. The room fills with an awkward silence and everyone shifts uncomfortably. It was clear no one would be getting much rest. A deep sigh brings everyone out of their own thoughts. “Maybe we should do something. Like.. play a game.” Soap says. “What, like one of those ridiculous games you played in grade school?” You laugh. “You got any better ideas?” Soap rolls his eyes. “Not really. I’m in.” You shrug.

“Truth or dare?”

“Can’t really do many dares, Soap.” You laugh. He smiles. “Alright alright, truth or truth?” You laugh, sitting up in your sleeping bag. Everyone follows suit. “I think I seen some old bottles of vodka in the kitchen. Maybe we can do a drinking game like never have I ever.” Gaz suggests. You nod your head, standing up. “Captain could probably pick out good liquor. He’d be able to tell which is good to drink and what’s bad.” You smile. “Damn right little lady.” John pushes past you, you follow him into the dingy kitchen and he opens up a couple cupboards, finding 2 unopened bottles of liquor. Gin and Vodka. “Alright. We’ll just pass around the bottle.” You nod your head. “Before we start I’m ditching my clothes too.” You complain. They were dirty and had blood all over them. “Yeah me too.” Gaz complains. Pretty soon everyone is just sitting in their undergarments. Most of you were pretty beat up. Bandages and cuts and bruises all over.

Each of you form a circle and John picks up a bottle.

“Alright so.. if you don’t already know, never have I ever works like this. Someone asks a question, and if you’ve done it, you drink, if you haven’t, you don’t.” You explain. Everyone nods.

“Alright, I’ll go first. A warm up question.” Gaz sits up. “Never have I ever… been stuck in a dingy house in the middle of a desert.”

Each of you pass around the bottles of liquor.

“Bloody hell that is shite.” Captain Price flinches. He lowers the bottle of gin from his lips and shivers. “Steamin Jesus that is horrible.” Soap laughs, passing the bottle of vodka to you. You take it, tipping it back. Flinching as you set it down. “Alright. Soap, your turn.” Soap laughs. “Alright uh..” he pauses, thinking to himself. “Never have I ever gotten into a fight.”

Everyone passes around the bottles again.

This goes on for a few more times and everyone is starting to feel buzzed, loosening up. “Okay, Y/N.”

“Never have I ever had a dirty dream about someone in this room.” You smile. “Ooooh. That’s a good one.” Gaz laughs. Your captain, Soap, and Ghost each take a drink.

The game goes on like this until most of the liquor is gone. Everyone settling into their own little worlds. Playing on their phones, reading. Or just relaxing. The same tension is still thick in the room, everyone can read it. “Alright. I hate this. Let’s try something else.” Your captain says, sitting up. “What do you mean?” Gaz laughs, taking a breath. “I was thinking we find another way to relieve some tension.”

“What, a gang bang?” Gaz jokes. “Hate to break it to you cap, but I don’t think poor Y/N could handle that.” Your mouth props open and your cheeks burn. “I like your taste Garrick, but that’s not what I meant. I mean.. similar. But.. less hands on.” Ghost pulls off his mask, this wasn’t the first time you’d each seen his face. “Are you suggesting we.. touch ourselves?” Soap asks. John nods his head. Everyone steals glances at each other. “If everyone is okay with it, I suppose.” Everyone makes a silent agreement and relax into their sleeping bags. You swallow hard, seeing each of them release their throbbing cocks from their refinement. You play with your fingers, hiding the fact that your cotton panties are soaked in arousal. “You alright lass?” Soap laughs. His hand is already pumping the shaft of his cock. “Uh.. y-yeah. I just..” you pause. “It’s okay to be nervous sweetheart.” Gaz breathes. By now, even Ghost has shed his boxers. You’re the only one still wearing any clothing.

“Let us guide you yeah? No need to be nervous.” Your captain smiles. He’s closest to you, so he moves himself near you. “May I?” He asks, fingertips moving toward your panties. You nod your head. He grasps them, sliding them down your legs. “You touch yourself before?” He asks. You nod your head skeptically. He smiles. “S’alright. Just pretend like the room is empty yeah? You don’t have to if you don’t want to though.” You nod your head. He moves back to his sleeping bag, starting to glide his own hand over his cock. “Start slow.” Simon is looking you in the eyes as he pumps his cock slowly. You nod your head, fingers skeptically gliding along your stomach. “Rub small circles over your clit. You can slide lower if it’ll help.” You’re surprised how vocal Simon is to you. But he can see how nervous you are. You start slow like he said, body relaxing as you spread your legs further. When you look up, you can see that each of their eyes are fixed on you, making you a little self conscious, crimson creeping up your cheeks. You need to relax, so you let their small groans egg you on. Your fingers dip inside of your soaking hole, a collection of moans filling the room as you do. Simon spits into his hand, the squelch of it drawing moans from your mouth.

“Fuck.. so pretty.” Soap gasps, eyes on you. You’re breathing hard, your free hand moving to rub at your clit. Simon tilts his head back against the wall he’s leaning up against, a groan leaving his lips. Soap is leaning up against the couch, thumb gliding over the tip of his cock to gather the precum from the tip. Gaz watches you intently, hips bucking with each jerk of his hand. Your captain has his eyes on you as well. Hand working up his cock steadily. He keeps the same pace, stomach clenching up. A mewl falls from your lips and your body starts to shake slightly, a chuckle falling from each of their lips. “So eager to cum.” Gaz laughs. “Yeah she is. S’quite the sight.” Simon let’s out a deep chuckle. “Relax Y/N. No need to rush.” You try to let their voices soothe you, slowing your movements. “Slow down, try curling your fingers.” Soap instructs.

“Ah- like this Johnny?” You whimper. The way his name rolls off of your lips has his dick jumping in his hand. “Yeah sweetheart. Just like that.” He growls. His eyes are burning into you, you’ve collected the stares of each of them as you bury your fingers into your wet cunt. “Regretting not taking Garricks gang bang idea.” John chuckles, drawing small laughs from everyone in the room except for you. You’re too focused on the way your fingers are moving into yourself. “Almost busted when she said my name like that.” Soap laughs. Hand still steadily stroking his cock. Simon laughs, adjusting his position. “Y/N, you feeling good sweetheart?” He tests the waters, trying to get you to say his name. “Y-yeah. Feels so good Simon.” You pant, He raises his eyebrows slightly, groaning out. Soap chuckling when he catches onto what he’s doing. “Fuck that’s hot.” Simon groans.

Your moans are getting louder, unsteady. Your fingers are working at your pussy faster than before. You were getting close, they could tell. “S’alright love. You can cum for us. Show us what a good girl you’ve been yeah?” John breathes. Your chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate and you’re working at your clit with your free hand, a mewl leaving your lips as you buck your hips into your hand. “Ah- I- I’m-“ you can’t finish your sentence, a cry leaving your lips as you reach your high, soaking your hand and your emergency blanket beneath you. Moans still spilling from your blushing lips. “Oh fuck-“ Gaz groans. He’s the first of the men to reach his own high, ropes of cum spilling from his cock and coating his front. He jerks himself off faster than he intends, bucking his hips as he pumps himself through his high. He relaxes, head tilting back as he pants, coming down from his high. Soap is next. Unsteady pants, each louder than the last as he finishes up his own front, he’s a lot more vocal than Gaz, groaning out as he finishes. “Fuck!” He gasps. Relaxing back into the couch. Your eyes draw from Soap to your Captain, hearing him moan out. He reaches his high, gritted teeth holding back the moans that desperately want to leave his lips. His cock throbs against his hand with each spurt of his cum that covers his thighs and stomach. “Fucking hell-“ he gasps.

Finally, eyes fixed on Simon as he pumps his cock. Your clit is still throbbing as you stare, watching the cum spill from the tip of his cock. His head is tilted back and you’re watching as his adams apple bobs as he swallows back the whimpers he’d usually let out. He hisses as his hips jump, finishing up his front.

Each of you relax into yourselves, the room feeling hot and thick with arousal. Nobody says anything as each of you clean up, settling into your makeshift beds for the night. The silence is a comfortable silence, and everyone seems much more relaxed than before, leaving your captain feeling better about the welfare of his team. Each of you fall asleep with no words exchanged, and every single one of you had a new secret to take to the grave.

Or maybe, another game of never have I ever.

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #soap smut #simon ghost riley #ghost smut

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obsessivelullabies · 5 months

Text

⎯ pervert arataki itto.

pairing : arataki itto x fem!reader.

tags : smut, arataki itto x reader, itto x reader, pervert itto, genshin x reader, genshin impact.

warnings : stalking, smut, 18+, yandere behavior.

authors note : unedited, short.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

⎯⎯ you were a simple woman. you resided in inazuma. if there was anything to say about you, it would be that you enjoyed peace and quiet. you didn't like anything to be big, flashy or troublesome. you can still remember the day you met itto.

⎯⎯ you were indulging in some ramen from a street vendor, as you handed over your mora, you heard a deafening cry of chaos. a massive oni announcing himself as he strolled down the street.

⎯⎯ to make a long, dragged on story short of poor haggling and pleading, you ended up buying this oni his own bowl of ramen. to your own dismay, as you tried to leave, you were followed.

"hey! heyyy!" the oni repeated as you tried your best to quicken your pace in a poor attempt to be away from him.

you sighed, trying your best to keep your manners, "hello." you greeted him flatly, giving him a weak smile.

the oni strode beside you, a wide grin on his face as he held the bowl of ramen in his hand. "i've never seen you here before. who are you?"

as you opened your mouth to give him a short introduction, he cut you off. "name's arataki itto, you probably know who i am." itto hooted, "the leader of the famous arataki gang!" he boasted.

"..never heard of it." you mumbled, keeping a quick pace, lest he try to recruit you into his weird street gang.

⎯⎯ itto's jaw practically dropped. your small interjection caused him to begin a series of ramblings about him, his gang, what his gang did. you didn't pay attention to most of it.

⎯⎯ itto felt immediately drawn to you. you were so sweet to him, buying him ramen, giving him a cute smile and listening to his yapping. from the first day you met, itto vowed to stay by your side, to protect the kind young woman who had done such a thoughtful small gesture for him.

⎯⎯ and that's exactly what he did. he followed you around, observed you, made sure you steered clear of danger. he thought of it as bonding. bonding without your knowledge or consent.

⎯⎯ from what you knew, you ran into itto every so often. you two would chat casually about nothing in particular. you even invited him over for tea.

itto rushed out of your quiet home, right after he finished a small chat alongside tea with you.

he had a treasured possession stuffed into his pants. a pair of your delicate, lacy panties.

itto practically bolted towards a discreet alley, clutching your panties in his hand. he stared at them in contemplation. his granny raised his to respect women. to not be gross or lewd.

that was all thrown out the window when he caught a whiff of your essence.

almost instantly, his large hand was down his pants, teasing his leaking cock as he stroked himself. his other hand held your panties up to his nose, he buried his face into your scent.

a part of him felt gross, but the other part could only think about how your walls would feel squeezed around him, milking his balls.

he thought about how good he’d fuck you, how your perky tits would bounce as he claimed you over and over again.

itto’s mind was consumed with the thought. he’d breed you, stuff your gorgeous cunt with his babies, make you feel so good.

itto came hard, his cum staining the inside of his pants. he groaned, panting as he envisioned your gorgeous body and your pretty smile.

he knew he had to make his fantasy real. he had to have you.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

#yandere #yandere x reader #genshin yandere #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin itto #arataki itto #arataki itto x reader #arataki smut #genshin x you #itto x reader #itto x y/n #itto x you #genshin drabbles

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lordofthecherubs · 2 months

Text

You're so pretty when I'm all over your mouth

“Oh, cowboy, I’m going to eat you alive.”

“Please, do.”

And you were going to lick the plate clean.

Warnings/Tags: Smut. 18+ only. Minors DNI. Takes place during the Shady Belle Arc. Reader is a vampire.

The sound of crickets chirping amongst the soft breeze the wind provided was all that distracted you from what was truly on the forefront of your mind right now.

It was that time of the month.

And no, not that time. This was something different.

It was time for you to feed.

Typically, whenever you had these urges, they would go away from simply taking the blood of various animals that you hunted. That’s why you always liked to go hunting alone, unlike Hosea or Charles.

This would have been an easy effort to maintain had it not been for Dutch constantly making the gang move from place to place due to his inability to keep quiet and stay out of the limelight. Constantly having to pack up and go as quick as you could, it reminded you all too much of the incidents in Blackwater, where you lost Jenny and Davey. If only you had more time, you might’ve been able to save them. But you were weak then, and you’re becoming weak now.

Now, the gang resides in a camp they call Shady Belle. It was pretty spacious in comparison to other places you had stayed, an abandoned home in the center of the property. Some members of the gang got to stay inside it, while the rest opted (some more begrudgingly than others), to remain outside in their tents. While Miss Grimshaw had originally wanted you take a place inside the building, you declined; insisting it belong to Abigail and Jack.

So, here you were in your tent. It was on the smaller side, and only provided a slight amount of privacy. Not that you needed much, given the fact the gang had all seen each other at their worst and their best. However, given your… condition, it would’ve been nice to have a place where you weren’t entirely aware of everything going on around you. Along with the urge to drain the blood out of somethings body for your own sake, your senses were heightened. Every smell, feeling, and noise was on another level. You couldn’t miss the way you heard slightly heavy breaths from the tent nearest to yours if you tried. It was Arthur’s tent.

Arthur was one of the most respected members in the gang. In a way, it was like he was Dutch’s son. He also happened to be one of the few who could bring you out of your shell, as strange as that sounded. He was just different. Of course you liked to hang around and drink with the guys, while simultaneously spending time with the women and helping with chores. But you couldn’t help but detach yourself from them. You were hiding something. They were not.

Maybe Arthur was too. Maybe that’s why you feel like you can be yourself around him.

Maybe that’s why the way his slightly musky scent drifting into your direction made your mouth water.

No, stop it. Do not feed on people. Especially people you know.

You couldn’t help but shift around in your makeshift bed, the only thought consuming your head being hunger. Perhaps it would be best to just go hunt a rabbit, but it was far too risky to go alone as you felt yourself growing weaker by the minute.

Letting out a low groan of annoyance, you shoved your paling face into your pillow, hoping that maybe you’d be able to just sleep it off. The sound of crickets and frogs along the shore filled your ears, and you urged yourself to just go to sleep, forcing your eyes shut.

A throat cleared itself behind you.

Almost instantly, you shot up into a defensive position, having not heard whoever it was walk up to where you were.

“Jesus, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Arthur.

You relaxed back onto your bed, sighing out in relief before making eye contact with the man in front of you.

“It’s okay, you didn’t scare me, just hadn’t heard you walk up is all.” You half-lied.

The cowboy let out a laugh. “Didn’t scare you? You looked like a bat outta hell!”

You’re sure he didn’t intend for that to be a pun.

“I just came to see if you were alright. You been tossin’ and turnin’ all night by the sounds of it.”

Of course he noticed.

Arthur noticed a lot of things when it came to you, weirdly enough. He took note of how your skin was always cold despite sitting in front of the campfire, and the way your ears were able to hear things that he wouldn’t have until a few minutes later.

“Oh.” You began to grow nervous, rubbing the back of your neck. “Y-yeah, I’m alright, couldn’t really get to sleep.”

He nodded, pretending not to see through the way you were lying to him. He was determined to dig deeper, for some reason.

“You wanna go on a walk with me?”

***

Upon reaching the entrance of the Shady Belle property, you found Arthur waiting for you, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“All ready to go?” He asked, tossing it to the ground before grinding it down beneath his boot.

All you did was nod, hoping he would take the lead with things tonight.

It couldn’t have been any later than midnight, you were surprised at his admission to not being able to sleep either. Normally, you’d be able to strike up a playful conversation with Arthur easily. But tonight, you were on edge. You hoped he didn’t notice.

As the two of you headed deeper into the forest surrounding the camp, Arthur broke the silence again.

“So, what’s got you up all night, cowpoke? Regretting not taking a room in the house now?” He joked, though you could tell his question was coming from a place of genuine concern.

You forced a laugh, fiddling with the leather of your holster. “I guess you could say that,” you quietly agreed, avoiding eye contact. There was a heat burning in your chest. God, did he smell this good all the time?

“You’re not lyin’ to me now, are ya?” The cowboy pressed, stopping in his tracks beside a tree.

You looked up, attempting to read his face for a motive. But, classic Arthur Morgan style, he lowered his head, leaving his face covered by a black cowboy hat.

You didn’t have the energy to play along with his games tonight.

“And if I am?”

You hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge, but the humid warmth of the air sticking to your skin mixed with his overbearingly strong scent, you couldn’t help but grow antsy.

Arthur raised his head, green eyes piercing into yours. His expression remained unreadable, though you could tell he was searching for what to say, leaving the tension between you two so thick it could be cut with a knife.

The outlaw didn’t hide the way he looked you up and down, and had it been anyone else, you wouldn’t have welcomed his approaching proximity so easily.

Standing before you, staring down at you, you couldn’t make out what he was trying to do. Intimidate you? That wasn’t like him.

At first, you remained looking at his chest, a button down shirt was all that stayed in your line of sight before him.

“Look at me,” He softly said. “Please.”

Inhaling sharply, you raised your head, craning your neck upwards to find his gaze. “If somethin’s botherin’ you, if someone did somethin’…” He trailed off, examining your face for any emotion.

You let a few beats pass before answering. You needed time to think. What do you say to that? You can’t tell him what’s really going on, but you didn’t want to lie either.

The wind blew a couple leaves around the two of you, stray pieces of hair on Arthur’s forehead moving along with them. You bit your tongue momentarily, as if that would satiate the urge to sink your teeth into the exposed skin of his slightly unbuttoned shirt.

This was becoming impossible.

“It’s nothing like that, Arthur. I-It’s…” You focused on your words carefully. “It’s just something you wouldn’t understand.”

A bit harsh, but sometimes things needed to be that way. Otherwise he’d confuse you for glass and see right through you.

You could tell he was a bit hurt by those words, the way his jaw clenched was proof enough. However, he wanted to help. He wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Then help me understand.”

The cowboy stepped closer. Closer than he had ever been before. It was all becoming too much, those same heightened senses betraying you all at once. His slightly sweaty skin shining in the moonlight, looking so desperate to have your teeth sunk into it. His overbearing scent filling your nose, making your mouth water.

Your heart raced in your chest.

“I don’t know if I can, Arthur.”

Thinking logically, what could you even say to him? Hey, Arthur, I know we’ve been running together in the gang for this long, but I forgot to mention that I’m a vampire! And, if you step any closer to me, I may lose my mind, draining your blood in the process!

Knowing Arthur, there were two reactions he could have to that. Laughing in your face, or killing you on the spot.

Both were not favorable.

Calloused fingers caressed your face, his palm held your cheek upwards to ensure you were looking at him.

“Try. For me, cowpoke.”

Maybe this is how he would kill you.

Maybe you would like it.

You were sure your eyes were glazed over at this point. Your fangs poked the inside of your cheek, and your mouth filled with saliva at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. You wouldn’t last much longer like this.

With a shaky breath, you decided it was now or never.

“There’s just… something I need, but can’t exactly get. At least— not on my own.” You attempted to explain, lacking attention in the possible underlying tones your words carried.

Arthur gulped, sweat growing behind his neck. Clearly, his mind had gone south. “You mean…”

You knew what he thought you meant, and you stepped closer to where he stood, the already small distance between the two of you was nearly entirely closed up.

“No, Arthur,” You nearly pushed yourself forward into his chest, grasping at his shoulder to make him lean down, attempting to get your voice in his ear.

“I want your blood.” You said, just above a whisper.

Arthur pulled back, wanting to meet your eyes and make sense of the situation. What he was met with would never leave his head.

The once confident outlaw cowboy nearly buckled his knees at your gaze. Your eyes, full of want, something he thought he would never see from you in his life.

Chills ran up and down his spine, the same he’d get but never admit to having when finding himself cornered by an enemy.

Only, these were different. He almost wanted to lean into it. He almost needed it.

You looked at him like he was a meal.

Something stiffened in his pants.

And you could smell it. The aroma of arousal flooded you, making you swipe your tongue out from inside your mouth and slide over your lips. It was then that he caught a glimpse of your fangs, eyes widening.

The man realized he hadn’t spoken up since your initial comment, clearing his throat the same way he did when he creeped up on you at your tent.

“You can have it. It’s yours.”

What a careless thing to say.

In an instant, almost like a choreographed dance, you launched yourself forward, Arthur wrapping his hands around your waist as you clung to him, listening to the way your breathing grew heavy beside his ear.

“Mine, huh?” You heaved, teasingly dragging your teeth along his neck, loving the way he weakly lowered himself to his knees, soon laying flat on his back with you straddled on top of him.

Your palms laid flat against his chest, and you leaned down to lick over the spot you intended to sink your teeth into. Your jaw fell slack as you prepared to take your feast, but you paused when you felt something poke your behind.

A devious laugh erupted from you. “What’s this?” You asked, reaching a hand behind you to palm at his throbbing erection.

Arthur wiped a hand down his face. “Can’t help it when you’re on me like this, angel.”

Angel. His chosen term of endearment was angel. You could hear the way his heart pounded in his chest, the mixed scent of fear and arousal clouded around him, and he still called you angel.

Pressing your hips down to grind against him, you drank in the way he threw his head back instantly, his hat knocking off his head to display messy brown hair.

"Oh, cowboy, I’m going to eat you alive.”

“Please, do.”

And you were going to lick the plate clean.

The heat of his skin was becoming too much for you to hold back any longer, nearly launching forward towards his neck with your teeth bared. Without any warning, you snapped your fangs into him. The skin was soft, though tender, given the fact that he was a muscular man.

And he whined.

Arthur Morgan, killer, robber, and wanted man across states and cities, whined.

The cowboy’s firm hand steadied on your hips, his grip nearly bruising. The feeling of his neck being punctured into and fed from left him lightheaded, and he pleaded with himself to not pass out. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of this.

The sound of you humming feverishly against his skin, nails digging into his shoulders, and the slight continuous grind of your hips onto where he needed it most, he felt like he was in a dream.

After a few minutes, the initial point of penetration didn’t hurt anymore, leaving his senses to align with what he was feeling next. To ask a man with as limited of a vocabulary as he had to describe the feeling of the blood being drained from his body was a mistake. Because, he wouldn’t know what to say, other than that it was perfect.

The same way Reverend Swanson was addicted to substances, or John to troublemaking, he could become addicted to this.

Time passed, and you eventually pulled away, a mess of drool and blood left on the cowboys neck and your lips.

He wanted to kiss you. Your lips were swollen and covered in the red substance, your hair a mess atop your head, and your eyes half-lidded. He needed to kiss you.

“I’m sorry, that was probably really—“

The same rough hand from before grabbed behind your neck, pulling you down to his lips for a desperately rough kiss, the metallic taste of himself causing him to buck his hips upwards into nothing.

It had to be nearing morning now. The air had lost it’s humidity, and if not for the heat growing between the two of you, it would’ve been cold enough for goosebumps to litter your skin.

The cowboy didn’t hear a word you said, regaining his strength and flipping you over so that he was now on top of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed beneath him.

“Aw, gone shy on me now, cowpoke?” Arthur teased, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

He leaned down and kissed you again, though this time, he didn’t remain on your lips for long. The scruff of his stubble prodded against your skin as he lowered himself down, kissing your neck and collarbones.

“You said you were gonna eat me alive, right, angel?” He asked, holding himself up to look down at you.

Your cheeks flushed, and you nodded, avoiding his eyes.

“Looks like you held back. Can’t have been easy for you, sweet thing, I know,” He paused, grabbing your cheeks roughly to force you to look at him. “I think you deserve a reward.”

Brows pitched upwards on your face, your hips subconsciously rolled upwards at his gravelly voice and sudden dominant nature.

A smirk filled the outlaws face, and he reached down to undo the top buttons of your pants.

“Now, you’re not so desperate you’d take my blood and want me to fuck you, are you cowpoke?”

Biting down on your lip, you didn’t care that you nearly caused yourself to bleed.

Arthur’s large hand reached into your pants, his fingers prodding over the wet spot in your panties.

He hummed. “Guess you are.”

You reached out to dig your nails into his arm as he rubbed his fingers against your bundle of nerves, silently pleading with him for more.

“Gotta use your words, angel. Can’t know what you want ‘less you tell me.”

“P-please, Arthur…need you,” You pleaded, opting to reach down and pull down your pants for him.

The cowboy stopped you in your tracks, pulling them down gently the rest of the way, admiring the way your slick glistened in the moonlight.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He was growing light-headed from the blood loss, and if his pants got any tighter, he might’ve lost his mind right then and there.

With that, he shoved his own pants down along with his boxers, revealing his length to you.

At first, you stared, shocked. The way it bobbed upwards and throbbed, leaking from the tip, you felt bad for teasing him.

Then, gone went your own undergarments, your bottom half on full display to Arthur. If someone told you a few hours ago you’d be in the situation you were in right now, you’d laugh in their face.

But here you are, Arthur Morgan on top of you, lining himself up with your dripping mess of a cunt.

“If it’s too much, tell me.” He said, clearly trying to keep his composure above you.

All it took was a nod, and he slowly pushed himself forward into you, causing you both to gasp.

The grip you had on his arm tightened, the slight pain of him stretching you out engulfing your senses.

Arthur, on the other hand, was doing everything in his power not to slam himself into you without any time to adjust.

He was nicer than that, so he refrained by biting down on his lip. He wouldn’t last long like this, with the way you were so tight around him, pulling him deeper inside.

Once he was fully inside you, Arthur allowed you some time to get used to him, admiring the way you looked beneath him.

“Just tell me when you’re—“

“For the love of God, Arthur. If you don’t move I’m going to lose my mind.” You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Pulling out slightly, then thrusting forward, he couldn’t help the way a groan slipped past his lips.

But it was nothing compared to you. Typically, you liked to remain modest and not cause too much commotion. Though, was that at all possible when a cowboy just let you drink his blood, and was now fucking you like it was nothing?

It was almost overwhelming, the way you both came together like this. You had been so wound up, the feeling of the band in your stomach snapping was approaching rapidly, and it didn’t help when he reached down and began to rub at your clit, a new wave of pleasure added on top of what you were already experiencing.

It was all too much, really. In the best way possible.

“A-Arthur, ‘m close…” You warned, eyes nearly shut as you whined loudly.

“I know, angel, me too,” He said between thrusts, groaning out momentarily. “Need you to be good and cum for me, okay? Can you do that, darlin’?”

You nodded quickly, as if you had any say in the matter.

It all happened so fast, white-hot pleasure you had never felt before ripping through your entire body, tears filling your eyes as you reached a climax like no other. Not far behind, Arthur’s speed was growing sloppy, and he readied to pull himself out of you, but you grabbed his arm again.

“Inside, please,” You begged, cheeks stained with tears as you looked up at him. Almost instantly, that was enough for him. His hips snapped forward, releasing himself inside of you as per your wishes.

The sound of labored breathing filled your ears as he fell down on top of you, catching his breath. You were content to lay on the ground like this with him forever if he’d let you, but you knew he would have questions as soon as he gathered his senses.

Arthur rolled off of you, matching you by laying on his own back, his hand wiping sweat from his forehead.

A beat of silence.

“…So, you’re a vampire, then?”

You wanted to giggle at the bluntness of his question.

“Yes, you could call it that,” You hummed, turning your head to look at him. A drop of blood began to slide down his neck, and you almost instantly shot your hand forward to wipe it with your thumb, bringing it to your mouth.

It was greedy. But he liked it.

Another beat of silence.

“D’you think the camp heard us?”

You both erupted into laughter, soon ending in the cowboy pulling you onto himself, assaulting your face with kisses.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while now, cowpoke.”

You met his eyes. “Do what? Fuck me in the woods just outside camp, or let me suck your blood?”

Arthur flicked your forehead gently.

“Kiss you, smartass.”

So he did it again. And again. And again until you had to push him away because it started to tickle you, and the rising sun began to appear in the corner of your eye.

“We should head back, Arthur.”

“In a minute, I wanna see these things…” He muttered, using his fingers to part your jaw and expose your fangs. “Jesus! Those were inside my neck?”

Playfully, you bit down on his finger. “Sure were, now stop stalling.”

There were more questions that weighed on his mind, but he knew you probably wanted to get back and relieve yourself into some much needed sleep.

Helping you up, you leaned into his side while his arm wrapped around you, the two of you quietly making your way to camp, dawn breaking.

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