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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

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Practice Makes Perfect

A/N: You know I had to. Can you tell I have studied rhetorics at uni?

Summary: You are Mr. Ted Garcia’s political advisor and you help him with practicing his upcoming speech.

Pairing: Ted Garcia x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, oral sex m receiving, strip tease, dirty talk, verbal humiliation, praise kink, come swallowing, face-fucking

Word count: 2.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54597913

Practice Makes Perfect

“Go over it again,” you order as you are perched on the desk, one leg crossed over the other by the knee and your red-bottom stiletto dangling from your toes. You are gripping the edge of the table, and whereas your position looks downright sinful, the smile on your face sports innocence, “Go on, Mr. Re-elected Mayor.”

Ted whips around to face you, reaching up to loosen the knot on his tie. He smiles, a little uncertain of what to make of you, “You don’t know that yet, sweetheart.”

“I know you won’t win the reelection if you don’t practice,” you shrug your shoulders and then move your hands to lean back on your arms.

“I’ve gone over it a million times,” he says with a sigh, “Would much rather call it a day and order some food. We haven’t had Chinese in a while, have we?”

“Ted,” you stop him, “I need the speech tomorrow to be absolutely flawless. I’m your advisor; it’ll reflect badly on me if you stumble. Not to mention, I’m a woman so I have to work twice as hard to earn the public’s respect. They probably think you hired me to suck cock. That’s what they’re saying anyway.”

“Didn’t I?” He jokes and steps towards you.

You glare at him but there’s no malice in it, “I could get you fired for that statement, you know.”

“I should fire you for being so distracting,” he retorts. When he gets close enough, he reaches out to curl a strong hand around your thigh and uncrosses your legs. He steps between them but you shake your head when he tries to lean over you.

“Go over it again,” you repeat. You lean back a little further until you are able to lift your leg and place your heel on his chest, pushing him backward and away from you. He follows your silent order of staying back but still grabs your ankle hard enough to make you shiver.

“From the top,” you say to not lose face.

“And if I don’t, Ms. Advisor?” He challenges.

“You’ll regret it,” you tease him by sounding almost bored, “Try and see what happens.”

Ted sighs and lets go of your leg, simultaneously letting go of the idea of getting to fuck you as a way of ending his work day. He moves back to the center of his office, clears his throat, and shakes his arms as if trying to loosen up his tense body, “Right, let’s give it another go.”

You cross your legs again and wait. He is going to have no idea what hits him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of our beloved city, as I stand before you today, I am filled with hope and optimism for the future of our city…” He begins and his tone is laced with a charm that you know better than to believe. Others, however, will eat it up.

“Very good, Ted,” you praise when he is a few more lines in. He meets your eyes for approval, a playful smirk on his lips. You wipe it off his face not a moment after, having reached up to unbutton your shirt until it falls open and reveals your lace bra, “Continue.”

Ted’s gaze shamelessly lingers on your chest for a few seconds before he does as he is told. It is so easy, like Pavlov’s dog.

“We stand at a crossroads, where the decisions we make today will shape the trajectory of our city for generations to come,” he speaks with confidence, fuelled by the shirt falling off your shoulders and pooling around you on the desk. He looks deep in thought as he tries to remember the keywords that guide him forward in his speech but when you let a shoe fall to the floor, only to let the other one follow, he looks up to satisfy his curiosity, “And I believe that embracing technology is not just an option, but a necessity if we are to thrive in the 21st century.”

“God, you are killing it, Mr. Garcia,” you are only in your skirt and bra now but the bra won’t stay on for much longer. You reach up behind you to unclasp it but there’s no follow-through. You raise a brow in disapproval, “Well?”

“Fuck, where was I?” He runs a hand through his hair. You don’t blame him for forgetting because he doesn’t seem to have blood in his brain right now; it appears to have gone south where he is tenting in his suit pants.

“A mayor doesn’t swear,” you tut with a little shake of your head, hand still in a waiting position to expose your tits to him. You decide to help him, “My vision for our city…”

“My vision for our city is one where technology serves as a catalyst for positive change!” His voice is slightly louder than normal as if relief floods him because he knows by now that remembering will get him to see you naked. He straightens, “Where innovation brings economic growth, and where every person has the opportunity to succeed.”

You undo your bra and let the straps fall down your arms until you teasingly drop it onto the floor. Your breasts are exposed to the air conditioning unit sending out cold air in the mayor’s office, immediately causing your nipples to harden at the temperature drop. You let out a teasing moan and jump off the desk to make your tits bounce obscenely, “I wanna hear more, Ted. Please.”

“I— uhh,” his gaze is fixed on your chest.

You place a hand on the skirt’s zipper along your side, teasingly pulling it down along your thigh. It seems to kickstart his memory again, “Where smart infrastructure optimizes traffic flow, reduces energy consumption for a greener future, and - Jesus, baby - and thus enhances public safety. A city where access to high-speed internet and the newest devices is not a luxury, but a fundamental right…”

“God, you are so sexy like this,” you say with a grin, hoping that he catches onto the way your eyes drop to his mouth when he speaks, “Nearly convincing me, baby.”

You start to wiggle your hips to get out of your pencil skirt, causing your whole body to shake as you move the fabric down over your legs. It makes Mayor Candidate Ted Garcia’s whole brain go dumb because he stops reciting his speech altogether and simply admires the way your breasts jump with every movement of your lower body.

“Did I tell you to stop?” You ask when the skirt lies in the pile with your bra and shoes. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your matching lace panties, “Just a little more.”

“But you’re nearly undressed,” he points out and hits his chest to clear his throat when his voice seems to have gone up an octave. He looks almost pained when you stop any motion to step out of your underwear.

“Listen, here’s what’s going to happen,” you move to stand in front of him with only inches between the two of you, “You’ll make the rest of the speech I wrote with your sexy, big cock in my mouth, and I won’t make you finish until you’re finished.”

Ted swallows thickly. He nods and tries to be cocky one last time during your relentless teasing, “You sure I didn’t hire you because of your fellatio skills?”

“Why don’t you use your own tongue instead of worrying about mine and make those little words roll off it?” You bite back, “One more line.”

“H-however, embracing technology is about a lot more than just improving efficiency,” he tries his best not to stutter too much. Oh, you cannot wait to hear him lose it when you close your lips around his beautiful cock.

“Mhm, what’s it about then?” You encourage. The panties come off then, pooling around your feet until you kick them to the side.

“It's also about fostering a culture of innovation and entrepreneurship,” he replies with his eyes between your thighs to watch your throbbing cunt. Despite your cool demeanor, you have never wanted him more than right now, and seeing him desperate and faltering because of something you have done is a feeling out of this world.

You sink to your knees with a dirty smile, keeping your eyes on him the whole time to watch the satisfying sight of his burning desire corrupting his concentration. You wish to tell him that he is so good today, that he hadn’t lied about going over the speech a million times.

You settle for showing it instead, undoing the button on his black slacks and then the zipper. He twitches behind the fabric. You are salivating by now, aching between your thighs to taste him on your tongue. You pull out his cock with little effort, grinning mischievously up through your lashes as it springs free and nearly hits your cheek.

“I’ll start dripping on your floor if you get it right, don’t you want that?” You say it and then start to gather spit in your mouth, preparing yourself for his generous size to slide past your lips.

“I want that,” he breathes, “Fuck yes, I want that.”

“Then tell me what you envision,” you hint and then you take him into your hot, waiting mouth. He tastes so fucking good, heavy on your tongue as you relax your jaw until he stabs the back of your throat.

He sucks in a breath as you hollow your cheeks and slowly pull off, only to repeat the move again and again, “I envision our city attracting the brightest minds from around the globe to come—“

You hum around his girth at the choice of word, a giggle bubbling up in your throat. The vibration of your noise makes Ted settle a hand on top of your bobbing head, ready to yank if it becomes too much and he needs release right then and there. He corrects himself professionally but falters once more because you moan at the taste of his precome oozing from the tip, “I mean work together and create the next huge— b-big thing.”

You reach underneath his dick to cup his balls and massage them in your palm, working your lips up and down his shaft simultaneously. You have to breathe deeply through your nose, resulting in your neck muscles tightening slightly while he speaks.

Ted moans out loud for the first time then, having gone past simply stuttering and swearing. He looks down at you with a slack jaw, and when he stays quiet for just a little too long, you start to pull off. He sounds panicked, yelling out a no.

“Of course, with great technological advancements come great responsibilities. We must be vigilant in protecting the privacy and security of our citizens,” as soon as he starts again, you go back into it with even more enthusiasm, removing your hand from his balls to reach up and grip his hip. You pull at it to show him what you want, and he breaks the long streak he has had with simply reciting his speech for tomorrow, “You want me to fuck that dirty little mouth? Huh?”

You moan in confirmation, nodding with his cock far down your throat. The eyes you send him have him breathing hard and nodding repeatedly, doing an experimental thrust, “Yeah, that’s what you want. You just wanna please your local elected official, you little slut.”

He can’t fail now. You furrow your brow up at him, trying to look displeased despite how wet you are right there on the floor. He catches on, tries his best to talk comprehensively whilst sliding wetly and repeatedly past the very tight space at the back of your mouth, “R-right, where was I? Shit, that’s right. That's why I will do everything in my power to implement the correct measures and promote trans - fuuuck - parency.”

You press your thighs together when you hear him moan through the end of his speech. He sounds so sexy that you can’t imagine stopping even if he doesn’t get to the last word, and you whimper around his thick cock to push him closer to the edge.

It’s the first tear that falls from your eye that has him on the brink but he still powers through, “Together, we can use the power of technology to build a city where innovation knows no bounds, and where the sky is truly the limit.”

You are sure it looks like you’ve pissed yourself with how wet you are by now, a patch having formed underneath your dripping cunt. You move your hips to find some kind of friction but to no avail. Above you, Ted rounds off his speech.

“So I ask you, my fellow citizens - fuck, honey, I’m gonna come… I’m gonna come right in your pretty mouth, ah, ah, a-almost - uhh, to join me on this journey towards a brighter future,” he thrusts his hips even faster at this point, his pitch climbing until he is whining instead of talking. The way you can feel his pulse on your lips lets you know that he isn’t lying, so you allow him to fuck your throat frantically even if it hurts a little, “Let us embrace technology with open arms, and together, we will— we will— shit, we will build a city that we can be proud to call home. Thank you!”

He comes as soon as he has said those last two words, and they become his mantra as he spills down your throat with several twitches of his cock that simply will not stop, “Thank you, oh fuck, thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

You swallow greedily, sucking him completely clean until he shakes his head in oversensitivity and pulls out of your mouth. He tastes like himself and power, enough to get you drunk.

“You are fucking fantastic,” he groans when tucking himself back into his pants. He crouches down to meet you at eye level, marveling at the way you are practically fucking yourself onto the air, “My sweet girl.”

“Fuck, I need you,” you pant with tear-streaked cheeks.

“Here’s an idea since I did so well,” he starts, reaching into his pocket to hand you his phone, “How about you call and order us some food and I rub your cute little clit while you do it? Then we’ll see who is the real professional orator here.”

You want to reply but you can barely press the number of his favorite Chinese place and you almost come the second he touches between your thighs.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #eddington #ted garcia #ted garcia smut #ted garcia x reader #ted garcia x you #my writing

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luvelve · 9 months

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husband!mingyu who secretly knows that one of your weaknesses is seeing the band of his underwear whenever he stretches. something about seeing CALVIN KLEIN in all bold letters whenever the giant man stretches his limbs. hanging just below his torso, let it be red, black, grey, or just the classic white calvins, it’d be sure to make your stomach flutter.

how else could he have picked up on this not so little obsession of yours when every time his underwear peaks, your cheeks turn a bright pink hue and suddenly you forget what mingyu was talking about just then.

“though we could get 2 vacuums instead, one for upstairs and one for downstairs.” mingyu says after your mind has somehow turned 7 innocent seconds of him stretching into a short calvin klein montage with some flirty doja cat song playing in the background.

“that’d be smarter and easier for us, right?” he adds, fixing the folds of his shirt. you’re now completely unaware that your mouth is hanging slightly open and that your cheeks are now the same color as mingyu’s favorite pink hoodie.

“yeah, uh huh.” you nod your head absentmindedly, now finally shifting your gaze at your husband’s face. this doesn’t go unnoticed by him though.

“okay, so what did i just say, my love?” his tone playful, deciding whether or not he should tell you that he knows why you’re all flushed right now. he turns his body on the couch so he can fully face you.

he scans your face and he recognizes that look on your face. it’s the same flushed look you had when mingyu first kissed you outside your apartment. the same look when he showed up with flowers and your favorite chinese takeout on a random tuesday. the same look when he brought you to his parents’ house and accidentally said he wants to marry you.

after being married to each other for almost 3 years, mingyu finds it endearing that he’s still able to leave you all flustered. whether it be stopping in his tracks to tie your laces, to removing the strand of hair on your face, and even flashing the band of his underwear apparently.

“uh, we’re getting a new vacuum… and we can get those dyson? ones that you’ve been telling me about.” you shoot him a sheepish smile and it takes everything in him to not kiss you right now.

he pauses and flashes you his signature smile. his canines poking out at the side.

“what?” you say, giggling at the giant teddy bear that is smiling at you for a reason unknown to you.

“baby, i know.” he huffs, closing the tiny gap in between the two of you.

“know what?” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him.

being the gentle giant that your husband is, he wants to lay it to you gently so as not to totally embarrass you, but he’s afraid it’s gonna happen either way.

“my love, i know that whenever i stretch, like when i put my hands up like this and my tummy shows? and so does my underwear? baby, i catch you staring.” he trails off after demonstrating to you and he starts giggling and snakes his arms around your waist. your faces are now practically centimeters from each other. there’s only love and adoration in mingyu’s eyes.

“you-what do you? no, i don’t. babe, i don’t even know what you’re talking about.” you bite your lip in attempts to hide the giant smile that’s about to form on your face.

all mingyu can do is laugh and bury his face into the crook of your neck. meanwhile, your insides are burning from the embarrassment that your husband knows your little secret and your cheeks are turning bright red this time around.

“my love, its okay. so what if you find my underwear hot? i mean i find a lot of things about you hot. like when you pump gas into our car. hot. when your hair’s wet and you wrap it in a towel and you take it out from the towel? hot. oh, when you wear my shirts and hoodies. well that’s more of cute, but you get the point. babe, i could go on and on, you know.” he continues to rub circles onto your waist where his hands are resting.

you’re reminded of how loving and gentle your husband is because only he could rub away the embarrassment of finding his briefs hot.

“how long have you known?” you whisper, the bright red stain on your cheeks fading away. holding his chin between your thumb and index finger.

“i don’t know, i guess when we were having lunch this one time at that fancy place near us. that was the first time i caught you. so maybe a month ago?” his gaze is soft with a hint of playfulness.

“well, there goes my secret, i guess.” a pout forms on your face and all mingyu can do is lean in for a kiss. it’s not rushed, it’s the kind that says i love you. you can feel yourself melt into him as he takes one hand from your waist and places it onto your cheek. both of your arms wrap around his neck to pull him even closer than he was before.

“doesn’t mean i’m gonna stop doing it though.” you break away from the kiss momentarily to say to him. you shoot him a naughty look that he’s all too familiar with.

“that’s my girl.” he replies, leaning in for another kiss.

so this was completely self indulgent, and the first thing i’ve written. this was supposed to be like a 200 word blurb MAX but i got carried away :<

anyways, please enjoy <3

#kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen #svt #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt x y/n #mingyu imagines #svt imagines #svt au #mingyu au #mingyu scenarios #luvelve’s

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webslingingslasher · 3 months

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cherry buys the cherry lube (best kind) as her last step to convince peter to fuck her and he just sighs JDBDDN

she’s just a girl😔 he needs to give her what she wants! in the name of feminism

an: nsfw content!

sitting crisscrossed in peter’s bed, you reach over the side to grab a small bag from your backpack. the thin plastic had three red thank you’s printed across it. you raise it over your head and give it a shimmy.

‘guess what i got?’

‘a lamborghini.’

‘so close! okay, you know that sex shop off that exit with the chinese place?’

‘no.’

‘oh. i’ll have to take you-’

‘no thanks.’

‘- but i went there and i found something. something i think you’d like and something you think we’d need.’

‘i’m scared.’

‘i’m not!’ you shake out the bag, a palm sized bottle of lube falls, it lands on your lap and you quickly present it to peter with a proud smile.

‘lube?’ you shove it out into his hands, ‘look at the flavor!’ peter squints at the bottle, then scoffs. ‘really? cherry?’

‘oh c’mon, it’s perfect!’ you start listing off why, ‘you call me cherry, you’re taking my cherry, and it’s cherry lube, to do said previous thing.’

you’re waiting for his excitement, you reach forward to push at his cheeks, forcing a smile. ‘what? you don’t find it funny? i thought i’d at least get a chuckle from you.’

peter watches as you tear the plastic around the cap with your teeth. ‘do you think it actually tastes like cherry?’ you stick out your tongue and put a small drop on it, you hold it out to peter and wave your hand along.

he’s got hesitant eyes when his own darts out, you give him the same amount. your face sours at the taste, peter has a poker face. ‘ew.’ it sticks around, you wipe your tongue off with your shirt.

'that was gross- unless you like it, i assume you'd be doing most of the tasting.' peter tosses the bottle into a trashcan you didn't know he had. 'is that new?' peter shakes his head, you tilt yours and try to place it. 'weird. never noticed it before. also, you owe me four dollars.'

'why do i have to pay you back?'

'you threw it away.'

'it was inedible.'

'false. i could've used it by myself.'

'go dig it out then.'

'i deserve more than trash lube, peter.'

'consider it a favor, you shouldn't be using scentsy stuff down below. i've heard they don't like it.'

you squint at him, 'what's it for then?' peter looks down at his crotch, 'blowjobs.' you drop your mouth a little, that hadn't occurred to you. 'oh, i see.' you have a moment where things click into place. 'so that would also explain flavored condoms.'

'please tell me you didn't get flavored condoms.'

'of course not.'

peter relaxes, you prefer him on edge.

'i don't know what size you wear. is it a one size fits all thing cause i've seen those videos where people hang them out the car window and they turn into balloons.'

'think of it as a pair of leggings. could you fit into a pair three sizes too small? sure can. is it comfortable? absolutely not.'

‘and ones that are too big just fall off? that explains a lot, actually.’

‘personally, i’d be more mortified if a condom came off because it was too big versus just admitting i need a smaller size.’

your eye twinkles, ‘and what size are you?’

‘you buy the tampons, i buy the condoms. deal?’ you can't lie, learning male anatomy has been your favorite part in all of this.

peter lays back with his hands behind his head, you straddle his lap and he's watching with close eyes. 'what? i can't get comfortable?'

he smiles. sometimes you get a ping in your lower stomach when he looks at you like that.

'all this bedspace and you choose to get comfortable on me?'

'i have a feeling this will be my favorite seat.' a smug grin.

'you're bold for a virgin.'

'would you rather me be scared to be near you, a man with a penis?' peter's head tilts, you know what's coming. 'oh? so you didn't have a panic attack when you saw my dick?'

you twitch your nose at the quip, you pat his tummy, hovering over his waistline. 'speaking of, you should let me see him again. i'm prepared and i wanna touch.'

peter's ignoring the spike in his blood pressure, he doesn't like the gleam in your eye. 'or... i think i have a suggestion for how you can make up the four dollars you owe me.'

'i owe you nothing, but lets hear it.'

you act out your words. 'you,' you point at him. 'me,' you point at yourself. 'having sex,' you gesture to your placement, then the bare spot next to him. before he can ruin it, you continue. 'right now.'

'do you think if you keep asking i'll say yes on a whim?' you lean in, inches from his face. 'you want to have sex with me. you want to take me to pound town. you want to make me a real woman.' it's a poor attempt at hypnotizing.

'okay, well, being a virgin doesn't mean you're not a real woman. second, you still get nervous about making out with me. you're not ready for sex.'

okay, maybe so. it's not your fault you don't know how to act around him, he's the first guy you've seen for longer than a week and he's not your boyfriend.

'i'm not anxious about kissing you.'

'oh, really? do it then.' he called your bluff. you've kissed people before but this whole arrangement was peter's idea so you've left all the initiation to him.

'fine, i'll kiss you.' you make no movements.

'i'm waiting.' you swallow tightly and move in, he's got that smile that makes your heart beat fast, you still haven't pinpointed why. 'i'm going to kiss you.' peter nods, 'go ahead.'

you get closer, 'i'm seriously gonna do it.'

'c'mon, cherry. i hate a tease.' you power through the part of your brain that tells you you've never kissed a guy, you've always waited for them to kiss you. you hold your breath and land a peck on his mouth.

'there. i did it.'

'did what? kiss me like i dared you?’ he finds it funny, that's what you get for being bold. you won't make him laugh this time. you move quick, your lips melt over his, you always forget how good of a kisser he is until you have your mouth on his and you never want to separate again.

it becomes sloppy, when you lick his bottom lip peter groans, it sends a spark to your thighs and you involuntarily clench around nothing. you gasp when you're flipped onto your back, peter's dotting a line over your jaw.

when a rough hand skids under your shirt, you suck in a breath.

'relax.'

it's easier said than done. peter's right, you talk a big game but when he actually tries to do what you want, you hit the panic button.

'sorry, i was just thinking about the four bucks you owe me.'

'don't lie when i'm about to get handsy.' you squirm when fingers tuck themselves into the band of your bra. 'handsy how?' it's peter's turn to take control.

'how do you feel about hitting second base?'

'you're gonna finger me?' your voice pitches while your mind starts racing, you weren't prepared for this. 'easy, killer. second base is just me feeling you up, when you're ready for more, let me know.'

relief floods you, you get more comfortable underneath him. 'oh, okay. yeah, you can get handsy. do you want me to take my shirt off?'

'i want to suck your tits, you decide.'

your entire body flushes warmth, your cheeks are like lava. 'oh! i've never had that done. does it feel good?'

'i don't know, but i'm here if you want to find out.' you nibble on your bottom lip, it's all about eventually having sex and part of that might include your boobs.

'i'd like to find out.'

peter doesn't rush into it. for someone who doesn't like to be teased, he loves teasing. it feels like an hour passes before you're bare chested, a slurry of insecurity flashes when he doesn't immediately go to town.

'you're beautiful.' peter feels a little silly saying it, he hasn't really complimented a girl so softly under the guise of sex before.

your heart pounds, you've never heard it said so authentically. peter genuinely believes what he's saying, you don't think a guy has ever called you beautiful. you've gotten hot and sexy but never beautiful. you feel the need to give him something back.

'you're handsome.' you might be bad at this, you feel his smile in the crook of your neck.

'thanks, cherry.'

slow marks dance over your collarbones, when they reach your chest you almost flinch. 'i'm okay.' you were speaking to yourself, but maybe peter also needs the reminder. 'are you trying to convince me or yourself?'

'yes.'

'you can tap out. no harm, no foul.' no, you got this far and if you back out it would be taking ten steps backwards. 'i'm not tapping out, i'm waiting to see if what you're saying is worth all the hoopla.'

peter snorts, 'hoopla.' you're about to give a rebuttal, instead you grip the back of his head and let out a breathy 'oh wow,' when peter swirls his tongue around you.

it's igniting you all over, you don't know why you thought it would feel bad. when there's a vacuum seal and peter starts sucking, you're a goner. when he mixes in that little twirl method, you let out an earth shattering moan.

your hand slams over your mouth. 'sorry! i've never done that before and i-' there's a dark look in peter's eyes, you can't decide if he's more upset about your words or making him stop.

'don't ever apologize for your pleasure. got it?' you nod quickly, you'd agree to anything if it meant peter would keep going. 'okay, okay, got it.' it's all he needs and he's back to work, the breast he doesn't have in his mouth is being treated with his hand.

there's double sensation, peter's going back and forth and now you can't think straight and... and... you're about to come and you've never done that in front of another person.

'please stop!'

peter drops his mouth open and freezes, he's moving with caution when he pulls away from you. you race for air while the knot in your stomach slowly untangles.

'are you okay?' peter's looking over every inch of your body, you smile sheepishly and look anywhere but him. 'yeah. i was just like... you know?'

'no.'

'i was gonna... you know? and i've never done that with another person.' peter's trying to jump through the hoops of your 'you know?'s' you say that a lot and very rarely does he actually know what you mean.

'you were about to come?' everything burns, how is he so casual about all of this? 'yeah.' the look on his face tells you he already knew that. 'what did you think the point was? just for fun?'

'you didn't tell me that! how was i supposed to know?' he gives a half shrug. 'it gets some people off and others need more. it was a gamble, nice to know which crowd you fit in though.'

you feel a bit silly, of course that was the intention. wasn't this whole thing about your pleasure? 'if you get me off, i have to get you off.' peter's quick to shut you down.

'you don't have to do anything. sex isn't transactional.'

'yeah, but, peter, i want to please you too. this doesn't do much for me if you keep me away from you.' peter takes your concern to heart, he nods thoughtfully and calmly explains his hesitation.

'i understand that, and i promise we'll get there. mutual pleasure is something we need to conquer before sex, yes. but for right now, as someone who's done those things for a while, i'm on the backburner. i need to catch you up to speed on some things first, okay? you've never come in front of someone, you don't need to be trying to tack blowjob skills on top of that.'

peter has an excellent argument, you just feel bad he's not getting anything in return. he doesn't owe you anything, he's just doing you a favor and he absolutely doesn't owe you loyalty. it's not like peter likes you, he's just doing you a favor, that's all this is.

'just because...' your tongue feels thick, it feels hard to say what you're about to say and you don't know why. 'just because you're helping me out doesn't mean you have to suffer. so if you want to hookup with someone more experienced while we-'

'no. that's not what this is about, that mentality is why we're not just jumping into sex. cherry lube or not.' you don't know why that relieves you, you don't know why you feel so much better knowing peter wasn't looking for anything with anyone else.

just in case; 'if you do hook up with someone else-'

'i won't.'

'-i believe you. but if you do, can you promise not to tell me? if you need to take care of yourself outside of this just don't let me find out, please.' it'd be crushing to know what peter's doing with you while knowing he's doing the same thing with another girl who could actually pleasure him back.

'cherry, seriously, that's not what this is about.' it's sex. it's only about sex. how could you be confusing it?

'sex is about open and honest communication. it's about trusting each other and being vulnerable. it doesn't matter if it's a one night stand or a committed relationship, it takes a lot to open up to someone else like that. if, and i wouldn't, but i'll entertain you- if i wanted to step out of this, i'd tell you first, because that's what you're supposed to do.'

when you picked peter out of the line of frat boys you had no idea you got the one who was all about slow and steady. you expected a quick one night and to be sent off to live the world as a non-virgin, not the beefy gentleman in front of you.

'you're one of a kind, parker.' peter winks at you, you feel warm. 'same to you, cherry. this only works if we're open with each other, i'm not just teaching you the physical parts of sex, i'm trying to show you the mental and emotional side of it because that's way more important than the actual sex, does that make sense?'

you think you get what he's saying. 'so, because you already know these things, your pleasure doesn't matter right now?'

'correct.'

'and if it matters to me?'

'don't let it. because if it becomes an issue i'll...' he trails off, he's waiting on you to finish it for him. you'll prove you've been listening. 'tell me.'

'bingo! look at you, cherry smart.' you groan, 'that was gross.' peter squeezes your knee, he's looking over your face for any hesitation, he doesn't see any.

'are we good? we're on the same page now?'

you nibble on your bottom lip, you think you covered everything. you didn't know there were so many things to sex. 'yeah, same page.' peter's happy with that, he nods once and turns back on the horny part of his brain.

'still wanna call it quits or keep going?'

same page, same page, same page, same-

'keep going.' you sound nervous, peter catches it. 'are you sure? we can put it on pause and-'

'no, i wanna...' time to be a big girl, you're both on the same page. 'i wanna have you make me...' you lose your tenacity but you still power through, even if you mumble the last word. 'come.'

peter tells you if you wanna stop, at any point for any reason, just call it like you did before. you agree but tell yourself you were going to get through it because the sooner you open yourself up for pleasure, the sooner peter opens himself up for the same thing.

it's not a hard thing to power through, this time you're not shy about quiet whimpers or tugging at the back of peter's hair. 'oh my god,' you squeeze your eyes shut, there are zings of want being sent into your core, it's an unreal feeling.

peter grazes his teeth over your nipple, your back arches from his bed. 'okay, yeah, shit, fuck, okay.' you're bad at staying calm, peter's humming into your skin, you want more. you want everything he's given you multiplied by ten.

a switch to your left breast, it's just as satisfying. when his thumb tweaks your bud, you push up further. 'i want more, please more.' you don't know what you're asking for, you're hoping peter will help you out.

peter sucks harshly, your breath hitches and at that perfect moment, he grinds his hips into yours. an egregious moan rips from your throat, you can't help the tumbling whimper, it sounds pathetic. peter must like it, he rolls harsher, his jeans meet your bottoms perfectly.

'doin' okay?' you answer by shoving his head back down. 'mhm, keep doing that please.' peter follows the instruction, whatever gets you off, he'll do.

bump and grind, he's back on your right tit. it's been ten minutes but you can already tell he prefers that one. it took longer to build because you edged yourself, but peter hit that one spot and your thighs are a vice grip around his hips.

'oh my fucking god, peter.' he said he doesn't know if it would feel good, you wish you could share a fraction of what you're experiencing. your lower stomach tightens, peter latches down harder as if he has a sixth sense for what you're about to do.

you don't know what to do with your hands, when you grit your teeth and meet his miniature thrusts, they land on peter's arms and your nails dig in. your eyes slam closed, you see white light as if your picture was taken with the flash on.

'shit, shit, shit, shit!' you swear you're drawing blood from him but all you can think about is the heat exploding from your body. your hips buck they never have before, there's a sense of delight backing it up.

you've never had an orgasm like this in your entire life. it feels so different with another person, it felt like it was never ending. your legs feel like they locked up, you stop breathing for a solid second before you're gasping.

peter pulls back, your head is still spinning. your chest rapidly rises and falls, you feel marks over your face but you're so far away in your mind it's muddled.

'c'mon, come back to me.' you feel more awake, there's a wet kiss to your cheek, then another to your chin. 'c'mon, cherry. find your mind.' you do, your eyes open, you forgot you had them closed. it's like peeling them apart.

you feel wrecked.

'hi.' peter's got a cocky grin, he deserves it. you run your hand down your face, you feel fuzzy. 'hi.' you remember the harm you might've caused, you slightly shake when you reach for peter's arm, there's no marks.

'how are you feeling?' like you're leaking into his mattress, like every muscle is weighed down, like you couldn't stand up if you tried. the best you can come up with is, 'floaty.'

'that might stick around for a minute. want some water?' you hadn't thought of it before, but suddenly you feel parched. peter reads your mind, he's already holding out his water bottle.

'everything's better right after, no idea why.' peter guesses it's something with endorphins and brain chemicals, but he's never bothered to actually look into it.

after sitting up, you chug. even after the water you're still breathless. 'holy shit.' falling forward, peter catches you. you lay on him as a half hug, all he's doing is supporting your weight. you feel terribly heavy right now.

'thank you so much, oh my god. holy shit, a guy just made me come in my pants, what the fuck is my life?' a sprinkle of kisses from your ear to your cheek, 'don't build my ego too much or you'll have to deal with it.'

'i feel so heavy right now.' you drop to the pillow at peter's push, you don't have it in you to fight back. it's not necessary because peter falls right next to you and scoops you into his hold.

or, another way to put it, peter's cuddling you. peter's cuddling you while he's kissing your shoulder, it makes your head spin even more. 'what are you doing?' you're not fighting him on it, if anything you're leaning in further, he's just never cuddled you before. it feels nice.

'aftercaring you. doing my best to get you back down to earth from your floaty space.' you nod like you understand, there's still some things you need to get better at.

'hey, peter?'

'yeah?' he's much quieter.

'you don't owe me four dollars anymore.' a puff of hot air into your skin, at least he finds you funny. 'good. you were never gonna get it anyways.'

#the virgin files #frat!peterxvirgin!reader #peter parker smut

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gingiesworld · 6 months

Text

Let’s Go Home

Stripper Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst. Smut. Fluff.

Summary: Wanda was a teen mom so she had to find a job to provide for the twins since their father disappeared from her life before they were born. So she did the only job she was qualified for. Although during one of her trips to the grocery store, she met a woman, someone who she never realised would become a constant in her life. Although she was afraid to reveal her career to Y/N, she finds out when she is dragged out to a strip club by her friends.

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

Word Count: 2.6k

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda Maximoff had struggled throughout the last years of her teens and her early twenties. The twins are now 7 years old and she manages to keep a small two bedroom apartment over their heads. She never received much financial help from her parents, other than her mom sneaking her some groceries or new clothes for the three of them.

What she never thought that her life would change the moment she stepped into her local grocery store, bumping into a woman, slightly taller than herself.

“I’m so sorry.” Wanda apologised as her cheeks flushed a deep red in embarrassment.

“It’s ok.” The mysterious woman smiled at her. “My eggs aren’t broken so my sister won’t have my head just yet.” She joked with a smirk.

“I.” Wanda was lost for words as she looked into the mysterious woman’s eyes, only just noticing that she wore dress pants, shirt and a leather jacket.

“I’ll see you around sweets.” She said as she walked past her, Wanda’s eyes followed her as she also picked out the box of mac n cheese and hot sauce before heading towards the check out. Once Y/N had left the building, Wanda let out a breath as she soon carried on with her own shopping before her brother dropped the twins off.

As the days went by, she couldn’t get the mysterious woman out of her mind. Her eyes had imprinted into her memory. It wasn’t until weeks later that she met her again, but at a family gathering to celebrate her brother’s engagement.

“Hey you.” She spoke as she stood beside Wanda at the buffet table. “I never thought I would see you again.”

“Well, I am a hard woman to find.” Wanda played along as Y/N smirked, pressing her lips together as she thought of a remark.

“Well, I never thought I would see you here at my colleague’s engagement.” She smirked as Wanda turned to face her.

“So, you work with my twin?” Wanda asked as Y/N nodded.

“Yes, we are currently working on a project together.” She leaned in before continuing. “It’s top secret.” Wanda’s hairs stood on the back of her neck as a blush started to creep up her face. “I’m Y/N Belova.”

“Wanda Maximoff.” She shook Y/N’s hand as the two soon started to fall into easy conversation. As the night soon came to a close and everyone started to disperse. Y/N congratulated the newly engaged couple before approaching Wanda.

“Is it too forward if I say you were the most stunning woman here tonight.” Y/N spoke as she brushed some of Wanda’s hair behind her ear, her twin and his fiancèe watching the whole interaction with smirks on their faces. “Can I maybe get your number, you know so we can maybe meet up again. Just us?”

“Yeah.” Wanda stuttered as she took Y/N’s phone from her, entering her number and saving it before Y/N kissed her cheek before bidding goodbye.

“So?” Pietro teased as Wanda swatted his arm.

“The guest room is set up for you Wanda.” Monica told her. “The twins are already asleep in their cots.” Wanda thanked the two before joining her two 7 year old boys. Smiling as they slept cuddling their plushies before she turned over herself.

The first date went by smoothly, her parents had the twins while Y/N had opted to take her to a chinese restaurant downtown.

“So, what about you?” Y/N asked Wanda. “You know a lot about me now, let me know who you are.”

“Well, I work in a bar.” Wanda spoke coyly, not really giving her real occupation. “I also have two 7 year old boys.”

“Really?” She asked her, with a shocked expression on her face.

“I understand if you don’t want to take this further.” Wanda started to gather her things before Y/N stopped her movements.

“I never said that.” She spoke sincerely. “I was shocked because we are the same age and you must have been 17 at the time of their birth.” Wanda sat playing with her fingers nervously. “All I am saying is I don’t care if you have children, I just want to be able to take you out, make you feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet, because well, you are.” Wanda chuckled lightly as Y/N smiled. “I want to see this through Wanda, maybe meet the twins when you’re ready of course.” Wanda nodded as the two finished the evening, with Wanda telling her about the twins, about how they’re polar opposites.

Their first kiss was shared on their third date, Y/N had opted to take Wanda on a pedal boat down the river, something which Wanda was weary about.

“I feel awful.” She whispered as Y/N looked at her curiously. “I can’t afford to treat you as you do me.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“I enjoy treating you Wanda.” She told her honestly. “I want to treat you how I believe a woman should be treated, and I don’t care if you can’t return the favor because you being here with me, is all I ever want from you.”

“How is this not a dream?” She whispered as Y/N smiled at her.

“Well, the moment you answer my question, you will understand that this isn’t a dream.” Y/N smiled tenderly as she held her hand out for Wanda, helping her out of the boat and onto the dock. “Wanda Maximoff, will you be mine?”

“Yes.” She breathed as she stepped forward, kissing Y/N passionately as she wrapped her hands around her neck. They broke the kiss as the smiles on their faces grew, pressing their foreheads together.

“You make me so happy Wanda Maximoff.” Y/N whispered before Wanda pressed her lips to Y/N’s once more.

As Wanda needed more money, she had to take on more shifts at the club, leaving the twins with Agatha, her neighbour, but she also had to cancel on some dates that she and Y/N had arranged, just so she could make ends meet.

As the months went on, the two grew closer and their feelings grew deeper. Y/N knew before Wanda that she was in love with her. She wanted to tell her but every chance she had, she chickened out.

“Come on Y/N.” Maria smirked as she wrapped her arm around her best friend’s arm. “It’s my night!”

“I know.” Y/N smirked as Maria dragged her into the club, Sharon and Daisy behind them. “You are marrying my sister.”

“And you are my maid of honour.” Maria smirked as Y/N nodded. Groaning as she realised the club they had entered. “Come on, I deserve this. I am going to be with Nat for the rest of our lives.” She pleaded as her eyes caught sight of one stripper walking by.

“Fine.” Y/N nodded as Maria dragged her to the bar, buying their drinks before taking a seat in front of the main stage.

“Now please welcome our very own Scarlet!” A voice sounded over the music, everyone’s eyes on the curtains as a woman in a red lace lingerie walked towards the pole in the center of the stage.

They watched as she moved to the music, doing her routine before Maria nudged Y/N’s arm.

“Is that?” She questioned as Y/N’s eyes met Wanda’s.

“Wanda.” She whispered as she moved away from the stage, taking her glass with her and downing it before heading towards the bar, taking a seat in a vacant stool.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t know she worked here.” Maria apologised as Y/N waved her off.

“Neither did I.” Y/N spoke bitterly as she spotted Wanda approaching her.

“Y/N, can we talk after my shift?” Wanda asked as Y/N clenched her jaw, watching how most of the men had their eyes on her half naked form.

“Sure.” She finished another drink before asking for a refill. “I’ll be here.”

“I think you should stop Y/N.” Maria told her as she took the drink away from her.

“What time do you get off?” Y/N asked her as Wanda looked at the clock behind the bar.

“Two hours.” She answered as Y/N nodded, pursing her lips as she stood up.

“I’ll be outside.” She told her before leaving the bar, Wanda’s eyes watching as she disappeared. Maria went back to the others as Wanda finished her shift before collecting her tips at the end. Heading out to see Y/N sat on the curb, the rain pouring down as Wanda approached her.

“Let’s get you home.” Wanda whispered as Y/N took her hand, the two headed towards Y/N’s apartment before Y/N let go of her hand, only five blocks away from her apartment.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a stripper?” Y/N asked her, pain in her eyes. “Do you not trust me enough to tell me?”

“No.” Wanda told her. “Of course I trust you, I trust you with my life and Billy and Tommy’s lives.”

“Then why did you lie to me?” She asked her, the rain pouring down heavier as Wanda sighed.

“I was ashamed.” She answered her. “I thought that if you found out about my job, you would think less of me. You would think I’m a whore.” Y/N shook her head as Wanda chuckled, moving her hair out of her face. “It’s what everyone thinks, my father thinks that of me without the whole stripper job because I got pregnant and had the twins at 17. I never graduated high school, never went to college or even had a job while in high school. It was all I could get to be able to put a roof over our heads, food in our stomachs and clothes on our backs. I try to put money away for the twins' college funds and that isn’t working very well.”

“Wanda.” Y/N whispered as she stepped closer, her hands reaching out as Wanda slapped them away.

“Just say it.” Wanda spoke shakily. “Just say that it’s over and we can’t see each other. Just do it.”

“No.” Y/N shook her head as she took Wanda’s face in her hands. “I never want to say goodbye to you.” A small smile formed on her face. “I love you Wanda. I am so in love with you that not having you in my life hurts me. It physically hurts me.” Wanda listened as she spoke. “I think you are the strongest woman I have ever met in my life. You have raised two wonderful boys on your own. You have provided them with everything they need and more. You did all of that while working a job that not many people would take.” She gazed into Wanda’s eyes. “And that is pretty fucking amazing to me.”

Wanda pressed her lips to Y/N’s in a passionate kiss, her hands holding onto Y/N’s wrists as they pulled away. The two panting as Y/N spoke.

“Let’s go home.” She whispered as Wanda nodded, Y/N taking her hand as they practically ran to her apartment. Once the door was closed, Wanda started to remove her jacket before she pulled Y/N in for a searing kiss. Gripping onto the collar of Y/N’s jacket before she pushed off of her, leading her way towards Y/N’s bedroom. Pulling away completely as she pulled her own top over her head, revealing a different bra to what Y/N had witnessed her in, Y/N stepped closer as Wanda’s hands reached behind her back, unclasping her bra before Y/N’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against her.

Caressing her face as she brushed the wet hairs away from her face, soon moving her thumb to softly graze Wanda’s already swollen lips. Watching as Wanda opened her mouth to take Y/N’s thumb, sucking on it as she started to unbutton Y/N’s shirt. Slipping it off before she bit onto Y/N’s thumb.

Y/N watched as Wanda swapped places, pushing Y/N onto the bed, leaning up on her elbows as she watched Wanda finish stripping until she stood bare. Sighing as Wanda straddled her lap, her chest brushing against Y/N’s as she leaned in to kiss her fiercely. Y/N’s hands gripped into Wanda’s flesh, keeping her close to her as she pushed her tongue through Wanda’s lips, making her moan as their tongues danced together.

“Ride my face.” Y/N whispered as they pulled away slightly.

“What?” Wanda asked unsurly.

“I said.” Y/N husked out. “Ride. My. Face.”

Wanda didn’t hesitate in moving so her aching core was lined with Y/N’s face. Y/N’s hands holding onto Wanda’s thighs as she lowered herself down, sighing at the contact as Y/N’s tongue ran through her folds. Gasping as Y/N’s teeth grazed her clit before thrusting her tongue into her hole. Wanda gripped the headboard as she thrust her hips, Y/N’s nose hitting her clit the right way as Y/N pulled her down more.

“I’m so close.” Wanda whispered followed by a guttural moan as Y/N pulled her closer, her tongue going deeper than before, soon sending her over the edge. Her thighs clenching as Y/N lapped up every drop before Wanda moved from her. A sigh leaving her lips as she lay beside Y/N, watching as she moved to get something from her closet before stripping.

“Are you ok my love?” She asked Wanda as she hovered above her, their skin ghosting over Wanda’s.

“Yes.” She breathed out as she looked up into Y/N’s eyes. Her arms wrapped around Y/N’s neck, pulling her down and kissing her hard, their tongues dancing as Wanda gasped, feeling the strap run through her folds as Y/N rolled her hips.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” She reassured the woman beneath her. Slowly insert the silicone toy, inch by inch until it was all inside. Wanda’s legs wrapped around Y/N’s waist as she started to thrust her hips lightly. Swallowing Wanda’s moans as their kisses became none existent. Their hips moving together as Wanda kept Y/N’s body flush against her own.

“Fuck.” She gasped as Y/N lifted her legs, throwing them over her shoulder, hitting her at a different angle, making her mewl at the new position,clenching around the toy as she could feel herself getting closer. “I’m so close.” She screamed as Y/N moved to capture her lips in a rough kiss, the two moaning as their nipples brushed together. Wanda’s legs soon trembled as she came, screaming Y/N’s name as she slowed her movements, helping Wanda ride out her high.

“I love you.” Y/N whispered as she caressed Wanda’s cheek, a smile on her face as she admired the woman below her.

“I love you more.” Wanda whispered before kissing Y/N softly, both were finally happy with their lives, having confessed their feelings for the other, despite their fears and insecurities.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 month

Note

I kinda hate myself for asking this but can I get more of Your Personal Ghost?? Maybe a part two or just more of him in general??

.⋆｡Your Bandit｡⋆.

Brahms Heelshire x plus size reader

With the disappearance of all of your panties, some new information comes to light that isn’t as unwelcome as you thought it would be

Warnings: panty stealing, fluff, swearing, writer!reader WC: 1k

Minors DNI

Part 1

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“I swear I just did laundry.” You muttered, frustrated as you stared down at your mostly empty underwear drawer. Your panties had been disappearing at quite an alarming rate but they always ended up in your laundry hamper even if you couldn’t quite remember if you ever even wore them.

You sighed and slammed the drawer shut. Dressed only in an oversized t-shirt, you stomped your way down to the laundry room in some deluded idea that maybe the washer had somehow eaten your underwear.

The small room in the basement of the house echoed with your aggravated curses as you dug through not only the washing machine but also the dryer and the linen closet in the corner. But nope- no panties, dirty or otherwise.

“I give up!” You threw your hands into the air. “Whatever ghost is in this stupid fucking house, stop taking my fucking underwear! I need that shit!” You received no reply back except the house groaning as it settled. “I hate this place.”

Fishing a pair of leggings from the dryer, you tugged them on angrily as you muttered to yourself under your breath. “I’m gonna blow all my savings on fucking panties and ya know what, they’ll just go missing again. This is such bullshit.” Stomping away from the laundry room, you were dead-set on restoring your supply of undergarments and keeping it that way. No pervy ghost would get the better of you.

The wall by the front door creaked ominously as you stuffed your feet into the worn sneakers you couldn’t seem to part from. You didn’t even bother to address your haunted mansion, only stepping into the brisk morning and slamming the door shut behind you. It would be a long drive to the shops but it would give you time to plan your revenge.

——————

Your anger had dissolved to almost nothing by the time you pulled back into the driveway, getting home a lot later than you expected. It was stupid to think that the house was haunted; it was old, sure and a questionable history, no doubt. But haunted? That was idiotic at best. Yeah, you heard the ghost stories and still couldn’t find it in yourself to take down any of the creepy family portraits scattered around the eerie hallways. You were just lonely and in desperate need of some inspiration for your stagnating writing.

Your sigh was carried off on the breeze as you stepped from your car. The heat still emanating from the engine gave you a brief respite from the cold while you gathered yourself. “I’m losing my fucking mind.” The plastic bag stuffed full of brand new panties crinkled as you pulled it from the back seat, along with a well-deserved (in your opinion) bag of Chinese food from the only takeaway shop in a 50 mile radius.

Too lost in your own head, you didn’t notice the light on in one of the empty bedrooms and the dark silhouette against the thick glass of the window. Maybe if you had, you would’ve thought better than to call out into the house as you took off your shoes. “Honey! I’m home!”

You chuckled to yourself at your little joke, completely oblivious to the barely audible footsteps above you. The bag of panties landed with a soft thud at the foot of the stairs as you passed by it, a gentle reminder to bring them upstairs once you had your fill of bland food and plenty of wine.

The huge shadow that darted behind the wall followed after you, far closer than it normally was though, as usual, you were ignorant to its presence. You hummed under your breath as you laid out your feast on the kitchen table. The food was now only lukewarm though you didn’t mind, the cheap bottle of red sitting in the pantry would warm you up plenty.

You pulled the cork from the bottle stem with a satisfying pop, too occupied by your task to see the large painting of a landscape lift itself from its place on the wall. The squeak of the Styrofoam covered the creak of the floorboards as a heavy weight settled on them.

Just as you pulled out a kitchen chair, you heard heavy breathing over your shoulder.

“Welcome home.” The voice that rang out through the room was a strange mixture of that of a young boy and a grown man. Your entire body froze as fear shot through your veins. The house settled into silence as your gaze creeped to where the voice had come from.

Standing in front of a man-sized hole in the wall was a veritable giant. He loomed over you, even at a distance, his body wide with sinewy muscle that was barely covered by the large cardigan he wore. Greasy black curls hung down over his face or rather what should have been his face. The orange glow of the kitchen lights bounced off the cracked white porcelain, making his dark brown eyes stand out as they shone with anxiety.

“I’ve been waiting for you, I missed you.” His paw-like hands clasped together in front of him, his fingers nervously intertwining as he waited for you to do something, anything.

Your lips parted and there was only one thing you could think of to say. “You took my underwear.” His whole body curled in on itself as he cringed like a little kid when they would get in trouble. His head bobbed. “How- how long have you been here?”

“My whole life.” He answered. His huge shoulders dropped as he lowered his head, looking at you through his eyelashes.

“Holy shit, you’re Brahms.” The boy who supposedly died in a fire in this very house almost 20 years ago. Suddenly you knew why you got this house for so fucking cheap. “And you’ve been watching me?” His nod was slow, almost as if he were ashamed.

“You’re nice.” He simpered.

“Oh fuck,” You whined, “This is a great idea for a book. C’mon get some food, I suppose that neither of us are going anywhere for a while.” He lumbered over, his eyes still wary but the slight pink tint that you could see spreading down his neck told you just how pleased he was with this development.

“Were you the one deleting my writing?” Brahms’s breath hitched and before you could blink, he grabbed a box of fried rice and scurried back into the hole in the wall.

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bel1ewrites · 1 month

Text

Booth Five (Sam Carpenter x Reader)

A/n: Here's another one, love you guys.

WC: Idfk

Warnings: smut, top!Sam, bossyish!reader, slightly public sex, thigh riding, more thigh riding, Sam in fancy work clothes

NUMEROUS visits to her favorite place after a long, hard day of work had forced Sam's ears to grow accustomed to the deafening thunder of sensual music that pumped through the hazy club.

Ever since the very first week of her new life in the the city, Sam had made sure to become somewhat of a regular at The Vanity. She made sure to commit each and every worker to memory, even went out of her way to tip a little extra every visit. It was just who she was. She loved to pay attention, and she loved to be aware.

She did not, however, love to be confused.

From her spot on a cracked leather couch, she sits with a drink in her hand, the top few buttons of her shirt undone, and she watches you move. The colored lights run over your body like waves on a shore, black lace the only thing stopping you from being fully exposed. It's euphoric, the way you move. It's familiar and free, icy hot. Sam takes a pull of her drink.

------

"You've got a private booking, honey," your boss calls as you fuss with your hair in the vanity mirror. She's a firecracker of a woman, short and curvy. The voice of a smoker mixed with the tone of a caretaker. "Booth five."

It hadn't taken you long to understand the inner workings of your place of employment. Annoyingly, nothing was ever straightforward, and booth five was not an exception to this rule.

You'd learned that an hour with one of the dancers in booth five had to cost more than your rent; which, albeit, didn't say much. It was the coldest spot in the whole club, nothing but dark red walls and a single black couch, and you couldn't really tell if it was the air vents or the dark aura that made you shiver when you passed it.

This is the first time anyone has requested for you to be in there.

"Um," your voice is steady as you turn around, smoothing a hand over non existent fabric out of nervous habit, "Is it cool if Amber takes this one?"

A beat passes.

"The patron requested for it to be you." If she notices the way your heart drops, she doesn't mention it. Only smiles crookedly and nods, effectively dismissing you from the comfort of being alone.

The beat of your heart doubles that of the music as you walk out of the room, a little unsure and a little irratic. Your heels feel too tall, your chest too tight.

Dancing was different. Dancing didn't bring forth any unwanted social interaction. Sure, there was the occasional creep, but they never really bothered you much when you could tune them out with thoughts of being beneath your covers with hot Chinese food and your cat curled up on your lap.

This was intimate. This was private and there was really no practical way of getting out of it.

You're sure you're going to pass out when you reach the outside of the booth, nothing but a thin curtain separating you from the unknown man waiting inside. Is he married? Is he demanding? Does he expect anything more than a lap dance from you?

A job is a job, you remind yourself, breathing deeply once, twice before stepping inside.

The air is charged. Static pulses around you. So its a woman. There's a woman a few feet in front of you.

She sits there, back against the couch and legs spread like she owns the place, shirt slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. She's tall and dark and has the look of someone who's grown accustomed to getting what she wants one way or another. Her eyes drop down your figure, lingering at certain parts unabashedly. They run over every inch of you slowly, methodically. She wets her lips.

"Hello." She speaks. Her voice is fire and ice. It's raspy and smooth, dark and calculated and so insanely perfect that it makes your ears ring a little.

It's your turn to say something, anything, really. You really do try to greet her, even open your mouth for a second before promptly shutting it again.

"It's reasonable to expect a greeting after one says hello, is it not?" Her brow raises. It seems that all it takes for you to gain your composure is a little confrontation.

You close the still open door and take a step forward, trapping a palpable tension in the room along with the sound of muffled music.

"Sorry about that, I just wasn't expecting... this." Amusement flashes in her eyes. "You weren't expecting a woman?" She questions, patting the space beside her and signaling for you to sit.

There's room for her to scoot over and create a comfortable amount of space between your bodies, but that doesn't seem like something she wants.

Your body moves without your mind's consent, "no, I wasnt," you answer, taking your seat.

She hums, the scent of her cologne wafting over you like a drug. "Disappointed?" she asks, bottom lip puffed out in a teasing pout.

The couch is cold beneath you, but that doesn't stop the fire from rushing to your cheeks. Nervously, you run a hand through your hair and smile, trying not to let her undeniable smoothness get in the way of yours.

"Oh, hardly," you let out a raspy huff of laughter and you can't help the way your eyes flit to her mouth.

A smirk tugs at her lips, pout dropping entirely. "Well aren't you fiery."

"Why did you ask for me?" you pry, gaze hooded.

"Why wouldn't I?" She questions, tone serious and eyes on yours. The air feels thick around you.

She truly is a beautiful woman, silky black hair and dark eyes surrounded by thick lashes. The muscles in her arms pull at the fabric surrounding them. You suddenly feel underdressed.

"Amber normally takes this booth," you offer truthfully.

Amber was a favorite amongst the club. She was all dark smiles and sinful moves. You appreciated her for her wit and ability to seem completely calm at all times; a skill you wish you had.

Her hand drops to the bare flesh of your upper thigh. "I didn't ask for Amber, did I?"

Sam had interacted with the girl numerous times. She'd been working here since that first night and was undoubtedly beautiful, but she didn't feel drawn to Amber like she did you. Her body didn't light up when she saw her like it did with you. You were different.

"What's your name?" you pry.

The heat of her gaze along with that of her palm on your thigh sends jolts down your spine. You can see the muscles in her jaw move as she grits her teeth, swallowing hard.

"Sam."

"Why did you ask for me?" you ask again, eyes on her dark and blown pupils. Your own gaze is hooded, lashes low as you look up at her.

She smiles wolfishly, teeth flashing. "Can't a girl want to get to know someone?"

"Well," you look down at her mouth, "I guess when you put it that way."

The air around you seemed to grow thick, tension lacing through it. Her aura was intoxicating, the way it consumed you so quickly, made you want to give her everything.

She hums, tightening her grip on your thigh, "For such a pretty girl you sure do ask a lot of questions," the words fall from her lips, tone low and dripping with want.

"Yeah?" You smile.

"Yes." She shoots back.

"Really?"

She ignores you, looking at you so intensely you almost think you did something wrong.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly but you can't help it. When she kisses you it's softer than you expect it to be, like she's testing the waters. Her hand runs up your thighs, teases its way to your hip and squeezes the flesh there. It makes your head spin and your heart race, heat settling in your lower stomach.

Teeth graze your bottom lip as she pulls back a little. "Come here," The woman breathes into your mouth. She guides you onto her lap, smiling and leaning further into the couch. You have to arch forward to kiss her again, something that isn't an accident on her part.

Hands grip at your waist, your hips, your ass. She's deepening the kiss like it's pushing life into her and she can't get enough. it's a needy, panting scene as her lips and tongue slide over yours.

She kisses you like you've never been kissed, skill and need intertwining into a moment that makes you dizzy. She's all soft lips and rough teeth, nipping and sucking and soothing.

The musky scent of her cologne messes with your head and you can't stop your hips from moving, seeking pressure to tame the heat inside of you.

She trails her lips down to your neck, hand pulling at your hair to tilt your head back. "That's it, baby," Sam coos, teeth scraping under your jaw, "use my leg." She shifts the two of you before you can do anything, moving you to straddle her thigh. Her lips latch onto a sensitive spot on your neck as she pushes her leg up and into you.

"Fuck," you gasp out, gripping her shoulders and arching further into her. The position gives her mouth easy access to your chest.

The fabric of your lace bra is easy for her to move to the side, baring your hardened nipple to her.

"You're so pretty," She groans beneath you, pressing her tongue to the sensitive bud.

Pleasure shoots through you and you suppress a moan at the feeling of her skilled mouth against you. She's pulling at your hips, guiding their movements as you rock into her. It's hard to remember where you are, how any of your coworkers can walk in if they want to. All you can think about is how muscular her leg is through her pants as it presses into your clit in just the right way, how strong her hands are as they grasp at your body like it's her lifeline.

It's almost embarrassing, how worked up this stranger has you. She's touching you like she knows your body, and you can feel your wetness soaking through your fabric. Truth be told, you'd been wet since she first spoke, voice smokey and addicting.

She sucks your tit into her mouth, tongue lashing at your nipple and you have to push her away before you get loud. She protests as you send her back to leaning against the couch, but ultimately keeps quiet when you bury your head in her neck to muffle your moans.

"That's it, just like that pretty girl," She whispers in your ear while you grind against her, leg rubbing your clit just right each time. "You sound so pretty."

Needy whines and sighs escape your throat, lips pressed to her neck while she pushes her thigh harder into you. She hums at the feeling, sound deep and rasped.

You would be disappointed in yourself for being so close this fast, and over the clothes no less, but you can't feel anything other than the pressure in your lower stomach building and building.

"It's so good," you admit breathily into her neck, nails digging into her upper back through the button up. You can feel the firm muscles there, and you can't help but picture them rippling as she fucks you.

"What's so good?" she asks like she already knows the answer.

Her voice sends you spiraling further, the almost taunting tone laced in her words. "The way you touch me."

She laughs lowly, "Oh? You close?" Her head turns as she presses a kiss to your cheek, you pull your head out of her neck and look her in the eyes.

"Use your hand," you order, grabbing her right wrist and dragging it towards where you want it.

The look that washes over her almost pushes you over the edge, the way she listens to your command and presses her fingertips to your clit.

The texture of the fabric rubbing against you feels overwhelmingly good, tension building in your body. You watch her with your eyes half open and your lips parted, watch as she drinks you in with her eyes.

Everything about her is skilled, the way she moves her hand in hard circles and pushes into you. Her free hand wraps around your neck gently and pushes you back a bit so that she can see more of you, your free nipple and the blush spreading across your chest. The action combined with the slight pressure on your neck makes your eyes roll back, a curse falling from your lips.

"Faster. Fuck, Sam," you tilt your head back and move with her hand, "I'm so close."

She listens so good, movements speeding up just how you asked. It feels so good, the warmth spreading throughout your body and coiling in your stomach. You're panting needily, orgasm rushing towards you, its presence overbearing.

"So bossy," She teases.

A slew of words grace your lips, body falling forward to mask the volume of your moans in the crook of her neck. She moves with precision, never once slowing down or faltering.

"Come on, baby," She urges, "cum on my hand."

It only takes a few more movements before you're doing just that, body tensing up and shuddering above her. The orgasm hits you like a bullet train and drags itself out, lasting longer than any other you'd ever had.

The feeling of her arm around your back, fingers still moving on your clit to guide you through makes it last longer. Her voice is in your head, grounding you as she whispers.

Her hand is gone from your clit and her neck is sweaty from the combined body heat by the time you pull back, shaking slightly. The reality of the situation doesn't hit you, just lingers in the back of your mind as you look at her.

"Hi," you say, hair sticking to your forehead slightly.

"Hi," She smiles sweetly back. "Sorry about the hickeys, I got a little carried away."

Your nipple hurts a little from the intensity with which she sucked at it, and you know your neck is riddled with marks.

"It's okay," you smile back, "but you'll have to be the one to let my boss know where they came from."

Her smile turns sheepish, though you can tell she doesn't regret leaving them. "Only if I can see you again," her arms tighten around your waist, lips brushing yours.

"Deal."

#sam carpenter #wlw #lesbian #melissa barrera #samantha carpenter x reader #scream #screamxi #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

A Couple Days In (I Call You Baby)

Modern!Steve Harrington x fem!reader [6.8K] 18+ the two night stand au no one asked for, or, the fic where you meet steve on a dating app and then a snowstorm ensures you can't sneak out the next morning. PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Being single was becoming boring.

Boring in the way that seeing your friends in love and having fun in a way that you weren’t was starting to hurt. A full ache, settling in your chest until it bore a hole there and stayed, taking up space where the heartbreak used to live.

You weren’t heartbroken. Not anymore. You were less sad, less angry. You were bored. And almost always perpetually turned on. You didn’t want love, you certainly didn’t want another relationship but you were at the stage of feeling that yearning pull when you watched a romcom on your sofa, slumped against your roommate with a frown on your lips.

“I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be touched,” you said mournfully, your gaze fixed in the way Patrick Swayze’s hand trailed down Jennifer Grey’s side.

“Babe, this is rated a fifteen,” Robin snorted in reply but she ran a hand over your hair anyway. “It’s that bad huh?” She grinned when you whined at the screen, watching with wide eyes as Johnny Castle took off Baby’s shirt.

You sat up, taking the blanket with you and Robin huffed, dragging her half back. There was an empty bottle of red wine on the table, Chinese takeout cartons and a mess of charging cables, your laptop, Robin’s cell phone.

“I just want some fun,” you grumbled. “Nothing serious, just— just someone to fool around with.”

“You want a fuck buddy?” Robin grinned salacious, the movie forgotten as she turned to face you, leaning against the arm of the couch. “Should I go through my Instagram? Give you the name of every boy I know?”

“You know like, seven boys,” you scoffed but Robin reached for her phone anyway. “And no, god, no fuck buddies. Even that’s too much commitment.”

She laughed and pressed a foot to your thigh, the touch familiar and friendly. “Shit, are you actually considering a hook up?”

You squirmed, too warm.

“You are!” Robin squealed, “wow. I never thought I’d see the day. Little miss relationship just wants a one night stand, a fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em kinda—”

“Robin,” you groaned, hands rubbing at your face because the idea of it was so out of your wheelhouse that it was comical. But then Patrick Swayze started crawling across the floor on your TV screen. You paused, frowning. “Fuck, is that bad? Is it bad if I want that?”

Robin scoffed, leaning over to grab the bowl of popcorn you’d both forgotten about. “What? Dude, no. Of course not!” Her voice turned softer, kinder. “You can do whatever you want to do. You deserve to have some fun.”

“I don’t know how to,” you whispered and your chest felt tight again, like that well of boredom was filing again, spilling over with sadness and heartache. You hated it.

“What, have fun?”

You frowned. “No - well, maybe - no, how to hook up with someone.” You chewed at your lip, confused and panicking despite the fact you were still firmly seated in yours and Robin’s apartment. “Do I just walk into a bar? Pick a guy and ask him if he wants to come home with me?”

Robin spluttered out a laugh, gasping into her wine glass and she looked at you over the rim of it, eyes filled with humour. “Jesus, if you do, can you make sure I’m there to watch it happen?”

You set her with a withering stare, pulling the blanket up to your chest and gazing back at the TV, wistful. You sighed, resigning yourself to the fact that you most definitely couldn’t march into a bar and claim a prize for the night, no matter how many glasses of wine you’d nursed. Robin seemed to understand this, because she nudged you again, a socked foot poking at your knee.

“You could always try online dating,” she told you mildly.

You scrunched your nose, not taking your eyes off of the way Johnny Castle was thrusting his hips. “Ew,” you replied, voice flat. “Like tinder? Nancy told me I’d never be desperate enough for tinder.”

Robin snorted at the mention of her prim and proper girlfriend but she shook her head anyway. “Nah, go old school with it. Try a website or something, one that doesn’t rely on a carousel of shirtless photos and men holding up either a fish or a puppy in their profile.”

You laughed, draining the last of your wine as you eyed your friend, liking the way the buzz lingered over your tongue, your head. "I bet this would be easier if I were gay,” you replied mournfully.

Robin cooed, making a soft noise that definitely wasn’t a protest and she grinned. “You’d definitely be Nance and I’s third,” she poked at your cheek, smirked when you bit at it and rolled your eyes.

----------

Robin left the apartment the next night with her good boots on, a smudge of blush on her cheeks and sad eyes. She stood at the door with her coat on, fussing with her bag as she tried for the twentieth time to wheedle you into going out with her. Guilt laced the small apartment, something that made your chest ache, but you tried not to let it show on your face.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come out with us? It’s Saturday,” Robin coaxed, “we can all get dinner, some drinks, go dancing…”

“Robs, I’m not crashing your date night with your girlfriend,” you told her again. “Go. I’m fine.”

The girl frowned, checking her hair one last time in the mirror, ‘cause she’d tried to curl it and you’d heard her cursing from the bathroom. “You know my girlfriend,” she replied, as if that was enough of a reason for you to join them. “Nance won’t mind.”

You smiled, a little sad, although you tried hard to make your eyes match your lips. You gestured to the TV, the soft blanket you’d pulled from your bedroom, the new bottle of wine on the coffee table. “Go,” you repeated again, this time more sternly. “I’m good. I’m great, in fact. I’ve got all the good ones.” You pointed to the lineup of films on your Netflix list, each cover showing off a different type of Hollywood boy of the month.

“Top Gun?” Robin snorted, “that’s not even the new one, babe.”

You sniffed, mildly offended. “Young Tom Cruise has a certain je ne sai quois, alright?”

Robin held her hands up, giving in. She smiled and backed towards the door. “Whatever does it for you. I’ve got my keys, ‘kay? Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t,” you called back, already hitting play on the movie. “Have fun!”

It took two glasses of rosé before you grabbed your phone, face feeling flushed, lips chewed to bits after you sat through scene after scene of handsome men, your mind wandering, your fingers drawing absentminded circles over your stomach, hand underneath your t-shirt. You groaned under your breath as you typed some buzz words into Google, hoping for a website that didn’t sound too terrifying, one that didn’t conjure up images of finding the love of your life, or a husband, one that left out religious words, ones that sounded too cult-like.

You hit the fifth result and quickly made a profile, one eye screwed shut in fear as you uploaded a photo, entering all the details they tried to glean from you, making it as vague as you possibly could. You hit submit, stared wide eyed at the loading screen and then within a blink, your own picture was staring back at you, one Robin had taken last year when you had very much been in a relationship. You were alone in it, in some corner of a party, the lights low, the shadows showing off the way your eyeshadow glittered, your lips a little glossy, your skirt short.

You looked pretty, not too sweet, not too boring.

Immediately, requests flooded in. Anonymous looking profiles with no photographs, empty descriptions and usernames like: ‘pu$$yworshipper69’ and ‘callmedaddy1982’.

You wrinkled your nose in disappointment, hitting delete on the messages that spammed your inbox, requests for feet pics, men wondering if you had more photos of your tits, bots that wanted to know if you were looking for love and, could you send your social security number?

Defeat was bitter on your tongue and you sighed, exiting out of your inbox only to be greeted with a new page that displayed singles in your area. One photo caught your interest, a boy with wild hair, kind brown eyes and a smile that seemed genuine. He wore a red shirt over a white tee, tanned in the setting sun, sitting on a beach and looking pretty.

You clicked, the movie forgotten but the glass of wine lingering at your lips as you scrolled through his page, eyes flicking over details of his likes and dislikes, his age, his job. His name.

Steve Harrington. Living in Hawkins, Indiana. You swallowed, wine glass left on the coffee table as you curled into the sofa and brought your phone closer to your nose. He had more photos in his gallery, all seemingly taken by someone else instead of the usual topless selfies that had bombard you at first.

The boy and some other people - friends, you assumed - swimming in a lake in the sun, smiles brighter than the sky. Steve outside, sunglasses covering his eyes and dressed in an old faded band tee. He looked like he’d smell nice, like he’d give good hugs. Another, the last one, where the boy was shirtless. But someone else had taken it as he stood at the edge of a lake again, smiling like he’d been caught off guard.

You hit the button at the top of his profile, the one that said: “send a message.”

A new page popped up, a little chat box that was intimidatingly empty and you stilled, staring at it. What did you say? How did you begin?

‘Hey, I’ve looked at precisely five photos of you and I know you work at some video store and I think you’re hot. Wanna have sex?’

You cringed, eyes squeezing shut as you quickly deleted the words, groaning at the empty space once more. You remembered what Robin had said, about how wanting to hook up with someone was okay. Loads of people did it. It was fine.

It was fine.

@INDIANAGIRL: Hey, how’s it going?

The response took a minute or two, but the wait was agonising, time stretching too slow. A speech bubble appeared on the screen, a sign that pretty boy was replying.

@HARRINGTON98: hi.. i can't lie, it's going a lot better now. you're really pretty. you sure you clicked on the right profile?

You snorted, trying to remain unaffected by the harmless flirting. But a smile pulled at your lips and you pushed yourself further into the cushions, knees bent and phone resting close. You took a breath and typed back.

@INDIANAGIRL: Ooh, self deprecating and daddy issues? You’re lucky you’re cute.

You stilled, letting out a groan that you smothered with a pillow after you hit send, ‘cause you were never this forward and it made your insides curl around each other, your heart beat too fast for you to keep up with it.

There was a pause before his reply and you breathed out a sigh of relief at the little bubble of text.

@HARRINGTON98: haha, what can I say, I’m a catch. honoured to know that you actually took the time to read my profile though.

@HARRINGTON98: so, apart from your friends and the bottle of wine persuading you, what’re you doing on this on a saturday night?

You smiled, knowing he’d taken the time to read through your page too, as short as your answers were. You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, nails tapping on your phone screen as you tried to think of the best way to reply.

@INDIANAGIRL: Like you said, it’s a Saturday night. I’m definitely not here looking for love, if that answers your question. But I’m free, if you are?

You held your breath, waiting, eyes wide as the bubble appeared again, three dots dancing across your screen. It stopped, disappeared and started again.

@HARRINGTON98: cool. do you wanna get drinks or something?

@HARRINGTON98: it’s no pressure if you don’t. i’ve never done this before? can you tell? but we could hang out. if you wanted.

You smiled when the second message came through almost immediately after the first. The boy’s obvious nerves settled your own and there was a sense of familiarity in his words, his ramblings.

It made you feel bolder.

You typed quickly, as if tapping out the letters faster made it easier to send. You looked around your shared apartment, at Robin’s half open bedroom door. She’d be back in a few hours, maybe less, with Nancy in tow and they’d take up residence on the sofa, Netflix on and another bottle of wine opened.

@INDIANAGIRL: Neither have I but, we could skip the bar? Maybe hang at yours.

Oh my god, you thought to yourself. I’m going to get murdered. This is how people end up murdered. Karen and Georgia would be so disappointed. And then:

@HARRINGTON98: 82 rowan street, BLDG A, unit 26

@INDIANAGIRL: Wow, you’re eager.

@HARRINGTON98: like I said, you’re really fucking pretty

Your heart thundered.

@INDIANAGIRL: Wait!

@INDIANAGIRL: Can we FaceTime or something? Before?

@INDIANAGIRL: So I know you’re not a murderer. Or 80. Or both.

You panicked then, realising what was happening, eyes scanning over the address this Steve Harrington had sent. It wasn’t too far from you, a subway ride out of the city and maybe a ten minute walk at best. You chewed your lip, cheeks burning as you scanned back through his photos. Cute smile, kind eyes, hair you wanted to pull on.

Your phone buzzed and you swore. A cell number, a smiley face.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you chanted to yourself as you typed the digits into the FaceTime app, stopping with a curse when the front camera showed your wide eyes and couch mussed hair.

You flung the phone onto the cushions, jumping up so you could straighten out your sweater, smoothing down the flyaway strands that stuck to your forehead. You caught sight of one of Robin’s lip balms on the table, swiped some over your lips and you dabbed a little on your cheeks for good measure.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the phone again and hit the call button. Maybe the boy was panicking too, maybe he’d backed out, maybe he was standing in front of a mirror as well, swiping hand through his hair and checking his shirt for stains ‘cause it rang and rang and rang.

Then, he picked up. Fuck.

@Harrington98 wasn’t eighty years old. In fact, he looked exactly like his photos. He was really pretty. Really, really pretty. Jesus Christ.

Tanned skin, brown eyes, wild hair, freckles scattered across his cheeks and jawline, creeping down to disappear under his shirt. He had the nicest lips you’d seen on a boy, pink, soft looking, smiling at you.

“Uh, hey!” The boy greeted brightly, “I'm here for the murder test? Have I passed?”

You grinned, laughing a little nervously as you tucked your hair behind your ear and cleared your throat. “I mean, I haven’t seen your place yet. Any red string boards on the walls? Black and white photos of the same person? Jars of body parts in the fridge?”

He laughed, a nice sound, soft and throaty and warm. “Nah, nah,” the boy shook his head, his smile playful, brows furrowed. “Not in the fridge. The freezer, however…”

You watched the screen as he trailed off, smiling still, looking soft and too handsome in a plain, white T-shirt. “So. I’m Steve. S’nice to meet you.” He lifted a hand, endearing and only a little awkward, waving at you through the phone.

You waved back, fingers wiggling. “Hi,” you felt shy, nervous. Flustered. You told Steve your name, smiling when he repeated it, trying it out on his tongue and it sounded a lot nicer on his lips than yours.

“So, this is my place,” Steve announced, spinning his phone around to show you the apartment. It looked loved in, boyish, some old movie posters on the walls in frames, a clock that was showing the wrong time, exposed brick and a big leather couch. “There’s no bodies to be seen, but that’s ‘cause they’re under the floorboards. Obviously.” He turned the camera back to himself, eyes glittering, smile full of trouble.

“Obviously,” you agreed, grinning, ‘cause it was hard not to. Not when he looked like that. “So shall I, um, bring anything with me or?”

You didn’t know hookup etiquette. Did you bring beers? Condoms? Your own pillow? Would you stay? Would he want you to leave? What if you couldn’t get a train back into the city if he kicked you out at three am?

God, would he kick you out at three am?

Steve glanced down at his watch and smiled sheepishly. “Uh, well. It’s almost eleven at night so I’m gonna guess you’ve had dinner. But I have some buds in the fridge, if you like beer.”

He said it like a secret, like you were both still skirting around the edge of the truth. But he looked down the camera at you with the right amount of flirt and confidence that let you know that he knew what you both wanted out of tonight.

It wasn’t dinner. It wasn’t a date. It was just sex. And that was okay with the both of you.

You nodded, fingers skimming across your lip out of nerves, out of curiosity, staring at the boy’s own mouth and wondering if he’d be nice to kiss. He looked like he would. You’d not kissed someone new in so long.

Years.

Fuck.

“Okay, yeah, great!” You said it too brightly and you winced. “I’ll uh, I’ll probably be there in like, half an hour?”

Steve smiled and nodded, told you to call him if you needed directions but you waved him off, noncommittal, too busy wondering if you needed to shave your legs and I’d you’d be able to find your last good pair of black underwear.

This was the part of the bad rom com movie where an early 2000’s pop punk song would play over a montage of you tearing the apartment apart as you tried to get ready. But Blink 182 didn’t start playing and instead, you could only hear the sound of your heart thudding in your chest.

So when you hung up the phone, you launched it onto the table, almost sliding past the bathroom door as you ran to it, shedding off your comfy clothes as you went. You took the worlds fastest shower, ran your razor over all the parts you declared not smooth enough and drowned yourself in peach scented body wash.

Deciding what to wear was difficult, ‘cause dresses were easier to take off but it was below zero outside and you weren’t fucking around with tights and extra socks. So you stole a pair of Robin’s jeans, ankles tripping over the hem of them as you struggled to pull them on at the same time you yanked a brush through your hair. Some concealer, a smudge of blush, mascara, more lip balm and you grabbed your bag on the way to the door, keys and phone in hand as you texted the group chat.

‘82 rowan street, BLDG A, unit 26. I’m about to get dicked down. I think. Don’t wait up. But call the cops if I’m not home in the morning. Do I bring a gift to a hook up?’

Your phone pinged once, twice, three times.

#1 gay friend: ‘bitch, what the fuck?’

gay friend’s girlfriend: ‘Babe, no. No gifts. Be safe though. Do you know this guy? Do we know this guy? Share your location rn.’

eduardo: ‘GEDDIT’

You sighed but did as Nancy asked, not bothering with a real reply but sending the link to find your iPhone. Your hands shook as you swiped your metro card and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or nerves. Did you spray perfume? You couldn’t remember. But you were wearing your best bra, the one that made your tits sit up pretty but god, the wire was pressing into your ribs.

And when you got out into the streets, out of the city where it was quieter and the sky held more stars, you revelled in the cold and the silence of it all. The world seemed lighter, a little rosy, in that way that only snow in the night could mean but the roads were still clear and the threat of it seemed weak.

Still, you hurried, arms crossed to your chest, chin tucked into your coat as you followed the directions your phone gave you, Steve’s address a bright red pin on the map, a neon beacon, a big, fat booty call.

His building came into view after a walk through a quiet Main Street, past the line of spruce trees and locked up businesses, a sweet town hall, a trailer park that vibrated with the hum of generators. The roads led you away from the middle of Hawkins, the map telling you which left and which right until an apartment block rose up between the parks and cafes, new looking and with shiny buzzers at the front door.

You wondered if you should text him. You wondered if you should go home. You blew out a breath, a shaky one, watched how it lingered and froze in the air in front of you and before you could stop yourself, your finger was pressing the button for number twenty six.

--------

Steve Harrington’s apartment door had an alarm. It was loud and shrill and incessant - and it completely ruined your escape plan.

There was a quiet countdown as you wrestled with the front door lock, keys jingling, chain clinking and then a beepbeepbeep begun, counting down like a ticking time bomb until it blared through the rest of the apartment. You’d managed to make it back into the bed in time, just as Steve jerked awake, shirtless and messy haired.

“Wha—?” He grabbed a bat from the side of his bed and stumbled out the bedroom door, still half asleep. And when he seemed confident no one was breaking in, he dropped the bat and fell back into the bed with a soft thwack as his face hit the pillow. “Mornin’.”

You startled, still on edge, ‘cause the night before was… fine, but you hadn’t meant to stay the night. That wasn’t the plan, that wasn’t the idea. You were lying with your coat on, wide eyed with the duvet up to your chin and you yawned, all over exaggerated drama as you stretched out.

“Oh, good morning,” your voice was too quiet. You felt nervous all over again. “Did your alarm go off? Weird. Well, I guess I should head home.”

You were already out of bed before you’d finished talking and Steve sat up, eyebrow quirked as he took in the way you were already fully dressed, searching for your shoes.

“Did you sleep with your jacket on?”

“I got cold,” you lied.

He snorted, easing himself back into the sheets and he watched you with careful eyes. Steve was just as pretty in the morning as he was in the dark. “Right. Do you always leave your hookups this quick?”

You turned, frowning at the obvious amusement in his voice. “I told you last night,” you reminded him. “I haven’t done this before.” The reminder of your lack of experience made your skin itch, heat flushing over your chest.

The sex had been okay. Nice. It was good. Nothing mind blowing, but who was expecting that from a stranger they just met? And yeah, maybe you had to fake it, ‘cause you’d been on the edge of coming so many times that eventually it refused to return. Steve had spilled into a condom, tied it off and chucked in the trash and fallen asleep before you’d come back from peeing.

Maybe you just weren’t cut out for one night stands. Maybe that was the problem.

Steve laughed again and it wasn’t unkind, but it still set your teeth on edge. You shoved your foot into your boot and straightened up, staring at him. “What?” He laughed again, “c’mon, you’re fully dressed and tryin’ to sneak out my apartment before it’s even time to have breakfast. You have your escape plan down pat, I respect that.”

Again, you bristled. “Um, no, I clearly don’t,” you huffed out a laugh but there wasn’t any humour in it. You gestured to the front door down the hall, still closed and locked. “I told you. This is my first time doing— this.” You saved vaguely at him and the bed.

Steve sighed and got out of bed, a small smile playing on his lips that were still a little swollen and red from where you’d bit and kissed them the night before. He pulled on a shirt, shrugged and padded barefoot to the hallway.

“Listen, s’nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he drawled, leading you to the front door where he punched in the code to switch off the alarm. “Girls get horny too, everyone has needs. I, for one, have absolutely no problem with a girl that knows what she wants and if that’s all you’re after then—”

“Oh my god,” you scoffed at him, lips parted, eyes wide. Suddenly escaping the apartment wasn’t as high on your list of concerns as before. “You’re totally slut shaming me!”

Steve looked at you, bewildered, face scrunched up. “What? No I’m not!”

“You are!”

“No, I’m not!” He shot back. His hand left the chain on the door, your departure forgotten about. “I’m jus’ sayin’, that it’s totally okay for you to, you know, wanna get your rocks off.”

You spluttered, incredulous. “Okay, one: rocks off? What is this, 1986? And two, I know it’s okay for me to wanna have sex with a complete stranger! I don’t need a man to confirm that for me.”

The boy stared, lips parted and a look of genuine confusion overtaking his pretty features. He grimaced and then waved a hand at you, an unfortunately dismissive gesture that had your back up even further. You set your shoulders.

“No, no, look,” he explained. “You’re taking this the totally wrong way.”

“Oh I am?” You grinned, sharklike, edging closer for a fight. He still smelled like last night's cologne, like your perfume and sex. “Want to tell me how I should be taking it? Wanna explain it to me?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, lips lifting, a sardonic kind of smile that made your heart race too fast. “That feels like a trap.”

“Wow, ten points for the smart guy,” you snarked. “If only you were as patient as you were clever.” You jostled around him, a hand on the door.

“What does that mean?” Steve snapped, the door clicking shut as he leaned his weight onto it, too close to you, staring down as you gazed up, chin lifted, still defiant. “Patient about what?”

You laughed, humourless and mean, ‘cause you just wanted to go home. You raised your brows, still giving the handle a jiggle despite the way Steve blocked your exit, frowning. “Yeah, okay jackhammer,” you grinned, “maybe give a girl some time to try and come before you seal the deal and pass out.”

Steve gaped at you, offended and full of shock, and you felt a little bit guilty. Sure, you hadn’t come, but only ‘cause of a timing issue, not a skill issue. But still—

“Yeah? You wanna play it like that?” Steve shot back, pushing off of the door so he could stomp into the kitchen. He rattled in his cupboards, pulling out a coffee mug that he slammed on the worktop. “What about you? Huh? Lights off, shedding all your clothes like a damn snake person and like, what’s with the whole—” he made a lewd motion with his fingers, mimicking rubbing at the air. “Way to make a guy feel benched, sweetheart. Got me fumblin’ around in the dark like a damn blind pig.”

You scoffed, eyes narrowing to slits, the door forgotten - again.

“Yeah, well, points for enthusiasm pig boy, maybe next time you’ll find some truffles.”

“Oh, fuck you, man.”

“Fuck you too!” You said it cheerily, despite the anger that made your throat and cheeks feel too hot, the sneer that was on your lips. “It was so nice to meet you Harrington98!” And with that, you left, door slamming shut so hard your hand vibrated, and something on Steve’s kitchen wall fell to the floor.

You heard him swear and you smiled, the most satisfied you’d felt.

The stairwell was freezing as you stomped down it, more frigid than the night before. All you could think about was your own bed, that didn’t smell like a pretty boy with a bad attitude, where your sheets were softer and you could watch reruns of Schitt’s Creek until you forgot Steve Harrington’s name. You were never doing this again. In fact, you were deleting the damn app.

You scowled, rooting around your handbag for your phone, huffing when your screen stayed back, no matter how many times you tapped angrily at it. You could only imagine the texts and missed calls that would be waiting on it for you, the shrieks that would greet you when you finally got home. You hoped Nancy had made waffles. Or pancakes - Nancy made good pancakes.

And as you were trapped in a daydream about strawberries mixed in sugar, maple syrup and cream, you shoved your shoulder mindlessly against the front door of the apartment block, wincing when it didn’t give under your weight. You frowned, trying again, both hands shoving at the wood. It budged, just a little, leaving enough of a gap for you to see the whiteout that was on the other side of it.

You made a sound of indignation, shock making your mouth fall open and you peered out through the gap.

No. No, no, no, no.

Snow crept up the door like an icy landslide, covering almost half of it, the rest of the parking lot covered in what you deemed to be a couple of feet of snow. Cars were half hidden and the sky was white, blending into the ground, a blank landscape that was just barely broken up by the still falling snow. The flakes were thick and heavy, dropping down over the town with an urgency rhat told you this wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

Fuck.

“—dude, I’m telling you, it was like falling asleep next to a princess and waking up to a raging dragon. She was like stupid hot and all, but then she started yelling at me? And I don’t know what I’d apparently done but… Jonathan, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

Steve stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking handsome and awfully guilty as he pulled his phone from his ear and ended the call he was on. He cleared his throat and tried to avoid the narrow eyed stare you were sending him, clutching the basket of dirty clothes he was seemingly talking to the laundry room.

“You’re still here,” he noted and his voice was overly casual. “Interesting.”

“I can’t leave,” you replied, sounding as frosty as the weather outside. “Snowstorm. Can’t get the door open.”

“What?” Steve scoffed and shoved the basket into your hands. You tutted, moving out of his way when he jostled into your space. “You’re just not doing it right.”

You made a face, disgruntled and tried not to stare at the way the boy’s arms flexed with muscle when he strained at the door. You huffed out a laugh, smug, when it still didn’t move.

“What was that?” You smirked, more haughty that you would like to admit. “You’re not doing it right, Steve.”

The boy smiled sarcastically, narrowed eyes and annoyance on his features. He took his basket from you and tutted. “Well. Good luck.” And then he walked away.

“You’re kidding me?!” You were almost yelling, the sound making the boy stop and turn. “You’re not just gonna leave me here, it’s like the North Pole out there, I could be here for days.”

“That seems dramatic.” Steve walked back to you, too close, his laundry basket pressed between you. He made a show of thinking it over, lips twisted, humming. “So, what? You wanna come back to mine, is that it?”

You glared at him. “Unless you want me to sit in the freezing cold hall, I don’t have any other choice.”

“You called me pig boy,” he reminded you. He was smiling. He was enjoying this. “Among other names. You’re mean, sweetheart. Why should I help you?”

You resisted the urge to smack at his shoulder, bringing your hands to your lips in a prayer position as you took a deep breath and counted to three. Smiling - albeit tightly - you took your time to also remind him: “you were literally inside of me six hours ago.”

So you found yourself back in Steve’s apartment, grudgingly, and with nowhere else to go. You rolled your eyes when he brushed past you as you stood by the door, aimless and wishing you could be anywhere else. You showed him your phone with it’s blank screen.

“You got a charger?”

Steve pointed to a cable that was plugged in by the couch and he ignored you as you moved through the living room. He clicked on the TV, groaning when he landed on the news and saw live footage of the city, the streets covered in marshmallow soft looking snow, untouched, ‘cause nobody could get out of their damn home. The train lines were empty, the streets deserted, and the local weatherman Richard Raines was standing in a blizzard, yelling at the camera.

“Well, folks, I hope you’ve got enough food and someone to keep you warm at night, because this snowstorm isn’t done yet!”

Steve groaned at the same time you did.

“We’ve got more arctic winds pushing in from the east and we’re expecting more snow over the coming days. Stay home, stay safe and keep warm! We’ll do our best to update you as more news comes in from across the State. I’m Richard Raines, live from Indi—”

The TV screen blinked and blacked out as Steve chucked the remote on the couch, letting himself slump down after it. Still, you stood, coat and shoes still on, bag still over your shoulder like you had somewhere to be.

“Make yourself at home, I guess,” Steve muttered, waving a hand at the armchair across from him. “Fuck knows when you’ll get to go your own.”

Hell. You were in hell.

“Okay. Right. I guess… shit.” You fell down onto the armchair, head in your hands and bag clattering to the floor by your feet. Your phone was still dead, charging slowly. “I need to tell my friend where I am. She’ll be worried.” You chewed at your lip and imagined Robin, pacing the apartment, calling your cell and yelling at the voicemail.

“About the possibility of you being murdered? Or will she be devastated to know her bestie had bad sex?”

You scowled at the boy’s surly tone, hating that he still looked good as he said it. Sprawled out on his sofa, legs spread, cotton sweats low, his T-shirt covering broad shoulders and strong arms. His hair was still a riot, deliciously so and now that he’d opened his blinds, you could see the faint purple mark you must’ve sucked onto his neck. You flushed.

“I didn’t say it was bad,” you grumbled. “Just— shut up. If we’re going to be trapped in here, can we at least agree to pretend we didn’t sleep together? For sanity’s sake?”

Steve sighed, his expression unreadable, and he stood. Chucking his phone into your lap, you watched his face soften, if only just. “Sure we can, sweetheart. Call your friend, tell her you're safe.” And then he walked into the kitchen.

The next few hours went by in relative silence, the buzz of the TV, the whirr of Steve’s coffee machine, the two of you sitting on either end of his sofa. You’d given in and taken off your shoes and jacket after calling Robin, the girl only quietening down after she yelled about how she’d planned your funeral, her words cutting off into a hush when she realised you were still at your hook-ups house.

“Is he hot? Was the sex mind blowing? Oh my god, this is like, insane! Are you gonna have sex all day?”

You cut off her rambling with a noise of desperation, wary of Steve nearby. You promised you’d text her when your phone came to life, that you’d fill her in on the details when you got yourself home.

By noon, Steve asked if you were hungry, his voice a little hoarse from pointedly not speaking to you and you nodded, feeling awkward when he went to the kitchen and started clattering around. So you sheepishly followed, taking up residence on a stool at the breakfast bar. He opened his fridge and you both cringed at the lack of contents inside.

“D’you like ramen?” He asked instead, closing the door and heading for the cupboards instead. Steve pulled out two packets of instant noodles and shook them enticingly.

“I do,” you answered, sounding way too polite and proper, but you were starting to feel increasingly guilty about your anxiety led argument that morning. “Thank you,” you added.

He smiled and it seemed less forced than before. “S’not like I’m gonna let you starve.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did,” you replied quietly, and you met his gaze a little reluctantly. “I was kind of a bitch.”

Steve snorted but it wasn’t as mean as his laughter earlier. He dumped the noodles in a pot and winced when the hot water bubbles angrily at him. “Kind of?”

“I was a bitch,” you confirmed, nodding with pursed lips. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Look, I wasn’t exactly nice either,” Steve waved off whatever words you were going to say next. “I’m grumpy as fuck in the morning. And stupid, like, most of the time. I didn’t mean to imply that you were—”

He gestured vaguely, the words dying on his lips, ‘cause he was more awake now to know not to say it again.

“Slutty?” You said for him and Steve groaned before he realised you were grinning.

“No! No, yeah, well, fuck,” he laughed, self depreciating and low. “You’re not a slut. But if you are, good for you! You know? And I guess that would make me a slut too… so, shit, cheers to that.” He slid your bowl of noodles, hot and spicy smelling and he grinned when you clicked the offered chopsticks against his own.

“Cheers to that,” you agreed and it felt a little like a truce.

————

Five hours later the snow was still falling and the sky had turned back into that dark pink-red that could only mean more to come. Steve had played through too many levels of Crash Bandicoot to count, laughing and throwing half hearted tips at you, because you were clearly a lost cause when it came to video games.

Switching from his Xbox back to the TV, you were both unsurprised to find Richard Raines back in front of Indianapolis City Hall, red nosed and standing in a flurry of white.

“Bunker down folks! This storm is here for the night! With another sixteen inches expected by eleven o’clock, we can all—”

The TV blanked out, Richard Raines cut off once again mid speech and Steve let his head fall back onto the couch cushions. There wasn’t much room between you both now, not nearly as much as there had been early in the afternoon and as you looked over at him, you were reminded of why you hooked up with him in the first place.

God, he was stupidly pretty.

He huffed out a tired sigh and pushed the gaming controller to the side, blinking before turning to look over at you, cheek pressed to the couch cushions. Steve was all floppy hair and honeyed eyes, five o’clock shadow and sharp cheekbones, a sharper jaw.

You regretted not kissing him more when you had the chance.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Wanna get high?”

....

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot

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causewayguy · 1 year

Text

Pics courtesy of a fellow follower

************************

You folks know how Chinese parents like to have sons instead of daughters? They will always go 'Son good', 'Son carries our family name', 'Son is better'. But there is always one very special reason most fathers want a son for, and for me, her name is Charlotte.

Charlotte is my son’s latest girlfriend. They have been together for close to 1 year now and Charlotte has recently begun to stay over. Since my wife passed many years back, having another woman in the house was super exciting - FBTs, tank-tops, thin shirts, pokies, nip slips, etc. And all these from a hot piece of ass! Charlotte was becoming my main masturbation material.

One Saturday, I was home alone while my son and Charlotte went on their date. While scrolling through Insta, I came across Charlotte’s IG story; a selfie in my son’s bedroom and a side profile picture, with her jeans showing off her juicy ass. Suddenly, an evil thought came over me and I quickly went into their room, searching for something….viola! Charlotte’s lace panties. I started jerking off with her panties while eye-fucking her IG pictures. Before long, I cum all over her white panties. An eviller idea came to mind. I folded and placed her panties on the top of the pile, hoping my fantasy would come true tomorrow.

The next morning, I woke up at the first ring of my alarm and quickly went to the living room, as Charlotte always cooks breakfast for us. There she was. She smiled and greeted me then continued cooking her scrambled eggs. Not sure which Buddha answered my prayers as a piece of egg fell on the floor and Charlotte bends down to clean it up. My eyes widen in happiness, Charlotte was wearing the panties from last night, filled with my cum! I dashed back to my room to take care of the hardening boner, and came 3 times in just 15 minutes, thinking of what had happened and what can I do further in future.

Few weeks later, the 3 of us went on a family trip. I have been busy with work and had no time to masturbate so my balls are completely full. And Charlotte being on this trip certainly helped. At the pier we visited, I imagined the wind blowing her hair back as she sucks me off in her tight tank-top and jeans. I imagined fucking her against the wall of the art museum we visited, as though she was one of art pieces for everyone to enjoy. And finally, I imagined titty fucking her fantastic C-cuppers exposed through the gap of her black top and spray my cum all over Charlotte’s face as my son was in the shower. If the trip lasted longer than a week, I would have suffered dehydration from masturbating too much to Charlotte.

However, the best was yet to come. My son can never handle his alcohol well, so usually takes an Uber whenever he and Charlotte go drinking. One night, Charlotte ringed me well past midnight. It turned out my son was so wasted that no Uber was willing to take them home. I was fuming as I had to drive all the way down to Clarke Quay to pick them up. However, my heart melted as I saw Charlotte standing there, looking all defeated as my drunk son leaned his entire weight on her.

On our way home, Charlotte apologized over and over again to me but I just smiled at her, brushing it off. What I was actually doing was stealing glances at her deep cleavage from her wraparound white top. In her tipsy state, Charlotte began complaining about work, about friends, about my son drinking too much, about how he was not satisfying her enough. The more she complained, the more body movement she made and well, the more her boobs jiggle.

Hornnnnnnn! I was so mesmerized by her boobs that I did not notice a red light and the oncoming traffic horned. On instinct, I struck out an arm while hitting the brakes, trying to protect Charlotte from falling forward. But this meant that her front body fell onto my outstretched arm.

‘Uncle are you oka- Ahhhh…’ Charlotte moaned as she finally felt my hand on her boobs. I was high on adrenaline from the near miss, so when my hand was on the boobs of my masturbation fantasy, I just squeezed. When I realized what I have done, my cock also started to rise in my shorts. I tried to pull my hand away but Charlotte kept my hand there while she stuck her other hand between her legs. Her face was filled with CFM expression. ‘Please Uncle…don’t stop now…’

Without thinking, I sped home with one hand on the wheel and the other hand ‘servicing’ Charlotte. Alternating between both boobs, I managed to peel off Charlotte’s nipple stickers and started tuning her rock hard nipples. My car was filled with erotic female moans as well as the squishing sounds of something wet. My rock-hard boner was now like another gearstick that Charlotte groped at. I felt her pumping my cock to the rhythm of the squishing sounds between her legs, adding my moans to the already erotic surround sound in the car.

Within minutes, my car was safely parked in my garage, with me fucking Charlotte over the bonnet, pulling her golden long hair.

I could feel every inch of Charlotte’s pussy as I thrusted my cock into her. I could see her boobs bouncing out of that white top of hers. I quickly grabbed them and started to pump into her faster and harder. Charlotte’s face was filled with lust and her tongue hanging out, drooling and moaning.

I started becoming the devil again.

Me: ‘Who is bigger??’

Charlotte: ‘Uncle bigger~!’

Me: ‘Who is better??’

Charlotte: ‘Uncle better~!’

Me: ‘Who are you??’

Charlotte: ‘I am your slut, Uncle… Don’t stop!!!’

I could feel her pussy clamping on my cock as she cum but I couldn’t stop. Not yet. With my cock still inside her, I walked (dragged) her over to the back door and opened it. Still weak from her big orgasm, Charlotte leaned forward above my drunk son with her hair flowing down to my son's face. Now, I continued to fuck her harder, right above my son!

Me: ‘Who is the guy in front of you, you slut?’

Charlotte: ‘M….my boyfriend…’

Upon hearing her answer, I pulled out immediately, leaving my cock head barely touching her pussy.

Me: ‘Again, who is he??’

Charlotte: ‘Nnooo, he’s nobody! Don’t stop plea-uuuhhhhhhh’

Charlotte whimpered loudly as I thrusted my full length into her without warning. Watching her moaned right at her boyfriend’s face while his father’s cock penetrating her from the back was too much for me. I emptied my weeks’ worth of cum into her pussy raw, triggering Charlotte’s second big orgasm. Charlotte was so fucked that she fell onto my son, panting and shaking.

We rested for a bit (and me taking a mental picture of this scene) and I carried Charlotte up to my bedroom where we made some more loving before finally dozing off in exhaustion.

One year later…

Buzz, buzzz

I received a photo from Charlotte with the caption:

‘Dear, your son passed out from drinking again. 😊 Managed to get him drunk every night of our honeymoon. But now I am super horny le… Lucky I brought the bra with your cum stain with me. Sniffed it while I masturbated last night 😉. Will wear to on the flight back to SG later too. See you soon! xoxo Charlotte’

Thank you, Son, for the world’s best daughter-in-law.

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big-tiddy-bi · 1 year

Text

This is part 2 of the Danny yelling at the justice league fic. It was going to be a one shot but @phoenixdemonqueen called one of the lines I wrote cool, and I started squealing, flapping my arms and jumping around my kitchen so I had to write more <3 also hydrate or diedrate

Tw for body horror, idk if it counts but better safe than sorry <3

——————

Greek mythology has many myths on of which is Theseus and Pirithous. Pirithous full of hubris decided, with the help of Theseus to kidnap the goddess Kore and try to forcefully marry her. Before they can enact this honestly genius plan, that was sarcasm by the way, her husband traps them in chairs with snakes and leaves them there for the furies to torture.

Most stories have a lesson And the lesson of this one is very important. Don’t Be Stupid, Stupid.

Currently John Constantine was trying and failing to tell the justice league. “Are you fucking stupid” and deadman told them “to fight someone from the infinite realms is suicidal”.

After Danny’s stunt most of the non-magical justice league wanted to hunt him down to “set the record straight”, when they said that John and deadman left the room.

On the day the justice league stated in the email, they stood at a sign stating “welcome to Amity, the most haunted place in America”.

One of the most loved groups of people, the justice league walked through the city like ghosts. They were used to stairs and whispers, but usually of worship and maybe small insults but not like this. Could feel the distain in the air, like the city itself was trying to strangle them.

A tall blonde teen in a varsity jacket screamed at them to leave, that they weren’t wanted, but with much more explicit language.

Flash tried to make a joke, and the resulting glare from the rest of the league could have killed him on the spot, and several of the residents through things at him after they heard him.

They walked up to the building that held mayor’s office. Batman’s face was unreadable, unlike Superman’s whose expression told all his feelings of worry.

In the building they heard several voices, on of which matched phantom, ridiculing the mayor. Who just kept sighing in utter annoyance.

Wonder Woman opened the door to the office to be met with a comedic scene. Phantom floating in one corner of the room flipping of the mayor, who was also flipping him off in return. A goth girl with vine tattoos trailing from her wrist up her arms was slipping some papers onto the table, with the title mandatory vegan in bold letters while the mayor was distracted. two boys one with a tattoo around his eye similar to the eye of Ra, the other had on a shirt that said “I know all your secret identities, don’t test me” both sitting on beanbags playing a video game that was projected on of the walls of the office. one girl with beautiful curly hair was coming through the window arms filled with take out bags, a couple from a Chinese restaurant and the others a fast food place. A woman with red hair was helping her in, holding a tray full of drinks.

All of them turned their heads in unison, phantom and the two tattooed individuals eyes glowing green. the mayor and the redheaded woman’s glowed green.

The window person finished coming through, and set the bags down on the mayor’s desk next to the drinks. The pulled a toxic green knife from behind her back, the redhead woman got into a defensive position her cheeks torn open so she could her hundreds of teeth, razor sharp. The mayor leaned forward in his chair, placing a hand on his desk, mouth turned up in a grin, showing of his sharp canines.

The red headed boy quickly moved to the back of the room, while his video game partner stood up, holes appearing on his body, one of his eyes rolling back into his head leaving another hole, all dripping with sand. The goth woman slowly grew liken and moss in her shoulders, it slowly crawled up one side of her face, she opened her mouth and vines sprung from it, wrapping around her head ripping her skin a flower came out replacing her face.

Phantom was the worst, he grew into a vaguely human shape thousands of mouths opened up on his body, some in other places around the room.

Phantom asked in a distorted voice “ were our warnings not enough for you?”

Batman spoke up “we came here to” but he was interrupted.

The sand being spoke this time. Angerly “ to gravel at our feet for forgiveness, to beg in a futile attempt to win back fame?”

Batman responded again “no, we are here” but he was interrupted again this time by the flower woman

“Without our permission, without the permission of the public, you governed by none.” The flower petals began to pulse “ you who could be saving people, come here to plead like dogs praying for table scraps” she yelled.

“We are here to talk” Batman finally got to say.

The redheaded boy responded this time. “ Bruce Wayne, these actions are unbecoming of you”

The entire justice league was taken aback. “Don’t be surprised” the redheaded woman said “you and your kin’s bodies may be living, but you belong to death the same as us”

“Let’s hear them out” the mayor said “after that you can end them in anyway you wish” he was bluffing of course, none of the heroes on team phantom would ever kill someone, but the justice league didn’t need to know that.

The curly haired woman spoke “ so, if you want to talk then talk”

Superman answered this time “ we never got your messages, we only found them while cleaning out the servers”

What sounded like every voice ever heard replied “what do you mean” the voice, voices? Sounded surprised.

“Exactly that” Wonder Woman answered.

“Someone hacked into our system and deliberately hid all communications from amity” the flash continued

Phantom appeared behind Batman. Intangible hand going into his throat and wrapping around his trachea “if you are lying, I will destroy each of your families”

Phantom floated through Batman to get back in front. In the blink of an eye everyone was back to normal.

“Tell us about this breach” the mayor said crossing his arms. “ so we can take care of it”

————————-

Tell me what you think <3 this is my first part two

@skulld3mort-1fan @mynameisnotlaura @justwannabecat @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @thegatorsgoose @yjfk @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @iglowinggemma28 @bleuyellow93 @aconitewolfsbane @fox-sama97 @catmeowbored @stargirl1331

#fanfic #danny fenton #danny phantom #sorry for spelling mistakes #dc x dp #dp x dc #part 2 #I thought making vlad more annoying and less murder your father vibes would be fun #they we’re having a we have/going to get ghost powers club meeting #Eldridge Danny phantom

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inkdrinkerworld · 11 months

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Dont we ALL need a beefy James to take care od us at all times? I just want him to hold me and stroke my hair while telling me everything is going to be fine

changed this up quite a bit hehe i hope you still like it! high!reader, mentions of food, beefy rugby!jamie to cuddle and take care of you.

James hardly ever smokes with you when your cousins are over.

He says it’s because he knows it’s ‘a cousin’s thing,’ but realistically, it’s because James likes to take care of a high you especially.

Your cousins and you had tapped out after three blunts, your eyes hazy and low as you lean into your boyfriend.

Your head rests on his bicep and James drops a hand to your thigh making you giggle.

“Jamie, y’can’t,” you try for whispers, not wanting to catch your family’s attention- you don’t exactly manage.

“Can’t what, angel?”

James pretends to be confused, but you grab his larger hand in your own and wiggle his fingers.

“Can’t be touching me while they’re here.” you say it like it’s an unbreakable rule, but your cousins roll their eyes, well adjusted to your high conversations with your boyfriend.

“Oh I’m sorry, pretty girl.” James moves to pull his hand away from you and you snatch it back to your chest.

He grins, letting you wiggle his fingers as your cousins busy themselves with the chinese you’d ordered before smoking.

A few seconds pass and you’re climbing into James’ lap.

James stifles a chuckle, letting his hands fall to your thighs again- this time you just hazard a glance to your company and settle into his hold even more.

“You feeling okay?” he asks, stroking your thigh as he awaits your answer.

You stumble over your answer, “Mhm, m’okay Jamie. M’great.”

Your cousin pipes up from her seat, “You want me to save you any dumplings or are you all filled up on affection?”

Your other cousins snicker, so does James and you huff, a little embarrassed to be caught loving on your boyfriend.

“You better pass them over! You can’t have them all.”

She passes them over with a pair of chopsticks and suppresses a smile as you struggle to use them.

“Damn it,” you grumble, resigning yourself to shoving your fingers into the box to get them out and into your mouth.

You let out a pleased groan, “They taste so much better when I’m high! So smooth and delicious.”

James shakes his head, taking the box from you as you lick your fingers.

“Here angel, let me help you.” Your cousin snaps a swift photo of James feeding you before turning back to her own food.

By the time you’re finished, you’re a bit more sluggish but also uncomfortable. James can tell because you keep pulling at your t-shirt and then at your pants.

“Angel, you wanna go change?” he asks and you look up at him, glassy eyes blinking owlishly.

“Want you sweater,” you mumble, not wanting your cousins to hear you being so clingy. “Wanna be close t’you.”

James nods, hands coming to your waist to help you off him when you shake your head.

“What?” he coos, and you sniff.

“Want this one Jamie.” you tug on the hem of his big red sweater, the monogram of his rugby team on the breast of it.

James rolls his eyes but makes to take off the sweater anyway, thankful that he’s got on a vest underneath.

“Here pretty girl, arms up,” you whip off your clothes, your cousins paying you no mind- it’s not nothing they’ve never seen before; you’re all a little too close with each other.

“Better?” James smoothes your hair back as your head comes up through the neck. You give him a sloppy nod and an even sloppier kiss to the middle of his chest before dropping back to his lap.

James shakes his head, cupping the back of yours as you twist and turn in his lap.

“Jamie, do we have any powdered sugar donuts? The ones that melt in your mouth.”

Your head is hanging off the arm of the chair as you ask, eyes looking up at him in what James can only describe as ‘doe eyes.’

“I think so, do you want one?”

You shake your head and say, glancing at your cousins who’re falling asleep on themselves.

“Want all of them,” you let out an evil little giggle and James chuckles, picking you up with him as he ventures into the kitchen for your treats.

#jamespotter #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #james potter drabble #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x black!reader #rugby!james

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incorrectbatfam · 6 months

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I think you missed one member of Rob's crew. Their friend Jason Todd who comes round every so often with pizza and is actually rich or something.

A new neighbor moved in across the hall.

Rob didn't think much of it. People came in and out all the time. Traveling workers, runaway kids, aimless drifters. Half the tenants were squatters at any given time yet here he was paying rent like a total sucker.

He spat into the sink and rinsed. In the chipped mirror cabinet, he inspected himself. His rust-colored stubble was coming in, but not so quickly that he needed to shave today. He shrugged and threw on a clean shirt.

In the living room—if he could call it that, since it practically overlapped the kitchen—Milo entertained the kids with a mobile game while Gene was reading an Edgar Allen Poe book falling apart at the spine. They were the only other permanent residents besides the Steeler family. The rest of the crew came in and out as they pleased.

Rob said, "Kids, did you eat breakfast yet?"

The two six-year-olds nodded. The fifteen-year-old gave an affirmative grunt, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"What'd you have?" Rob asked.

"Donuts!" answered Gunner.

He raised an eyebrow. "Donuts?"

"Jay from across the hall brought them," said Jackie. "He also gave us these special donut hats. Look!"

Paper crinkled as she unfolded a Krispy Kreme hat and put it on top of her frizzy hair.

"I see." He nodded.

"Don't worry, I tested it first," Gene said.

"Thanks."

As Rob poured his morning coffee, he glanced at the box of a dozen donuts. A few of them were missing, naturally, but there was still a wide range of flavors. Next to it was an unfinished thank you card from Jackie, presumably before she got distracted.

Normally, he wouldn't think twice about the neighbors. But this one—this Jay who wouldn't even tell them his last name—had been on Rob's mind since the first "anonymous" free pizza delivery a week ago. Of course, with online ordering there was always a digital footprint, which Mac tracked to the apartment across the hall. After that, there was the "anonymous" Chinese takeout.

Then, Jay started talking to them and it was the standard neighborly conversations down by the mail room. When he asked Rob what he did for a living, Rob answered vaguely that he was freelancing. Gene was unemployed and he could outright say it. Jay also asked the kids what they wanted for the upcoming holidays when the complex residents were setting up the Christmas tree. Jackie wanted a pony and Gunner wanted a monster truck, and for a moment it seemed like Jay was in serious consideration.

Still, Jay was a stranger. As the encounters continued, it became an unspoken rule that either Rob or Gene be with the kids when the young man was around. One could never be too cautious in Gotham.

Rob finished his coffee and debated taking a donut, but ultimately decided against it. He grabbed his jacket, keys, and pack of cigarettes, telling Milo and the kids (mostly Milo) not to make a mess in the ten minutes he would be gone.

He didn't like smoking on the balcony. It was too close to the children and he didn't want them to get sick. Worse, he didn't want them to pick up the same dirty habit that he only got hooked on because he was a dumb kid that didn't know any better.

He trekked four floors down only to find, lo and behold, he wasn't alone.

A cigarette hung from Jay's fingers as he leaned against the brick wall at the entryway. "'Sup."

Rob acknowledged him with a short nod before lighting his own.

Rob glanced at Jay. It wasn't his first time observing but he always liked to note the subtle changes. The young man—about a decade younger than Rob—sported only a red sweatshirt and grease-stained jeans despite the cold. Since last time, Jay had gained a bruise on his cheek and a cut on his forehead just under his white streak. Rob didn't know what his neighbor did for a living other than it left him with a different mottling of injuries every week.

Jay spoke. "Ever heard of third-hand smoke?"

Rob. "What's that?"

"Firsthand is what we're doing right now, basically inhaling these cancer sticks. Secondhand would be if someone was standing close to us while we do it. Thirdhand smoke is the smell left on you after you go back inside and it's potentially harmful," he said. "You have kids, right?"

"The hell kind of question is that? You've met then."

"I'm just saying, you might wanna consider stopping by the laundry before you go back up."

"Fantastic. Another way I'm a shit dad." Rob grunted and took a drag.

Jay flicked some ashes off. "I know a think or two about shit fathers and the fact that you're worried about being one means you're on the right track."

"How can I be a good dad when I can't even provide them breakfast?"

"I asked your older kid and he said it was fine."

"Milo isn't mine and he's not the one in charge. Next time, take it up with me."

"Duly noted."

Rob took another long drag and ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the past two days' worth of residue from not washing. It caked under his nails like week-old bacon grease on unwashed dishes. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. All of him.

The sleeping around. The accidental pregnancy with a woman he barely knew. The fights. Him throwing her out into a rainstorm. Becoming a widower before he turned thirty with two kids who will never remember her. The backbreaking jobs. Not being good enough to not be laid off. The sketchy investment and losing nearly everything. The sneaking, the breaking, the taking.

And the excuses. All the ways he convinced himself he was in the right.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jay asked.

"I doubt it's worth a even penny," Rob answered. "I've just been wondering lately what my kids will remember me as when they get older. The business I'm in doesn't have a good reputation and I don't want that to be the first thing that comes to mind when they think of me—someone who only takes. I dunno why I'm telling you all this."

"Hey, it's a valid concern. The work I do also leaves me with those types of questions."

"What do you do?" he asked.

"A little bit of everything," Jay replied vaguely. "But back to what I was saying: your kids aren't gonna remember your day job. But I know they'll remember you putting them on your shoulders to hang the tinsel last weekend."

"I admit, you got a point." Rob flattened the cigarette butt under his boot before tossing it in the nearly trash can. "Anyway, thanks for co-hosting my morning pity party, but I have some errands to run. Starting with laundry."

Jay smiled. "I'll see you around."

"Hopefully," he said, smiling back.

There was something familiar about his neighbor, but Rob couldn't put his finger on it.

Ah, well. At least this one came with free food. Rob would be an idiot if he didn't take a donut while the washing machine wrung the smoke out his clothes.

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sakurapika · 4 months

Text

How TWST characters would react to getting money for New Year

Author's note: I originally wrote this around January 1st and intended to post it at that time. However, I never had the chance to finish, as I was too busy actually celebrating New Year's Day with my family. Luckily, the Lunar New Year has rolled around, so I have another chance to post this!

🧧🎊Some fun facts about this tradition: 🎍🎉

New Year's Day, or お正月 ("oshogatsu") is the biggest holiday of the year in Japan. Since most Japanese children aren't given their own allowances, getting an envelope of money from your relatives is a big deal. This tradition is called お年玉 ("otoshidama"). At this time of year, there also tends to be a lot of sales, hence the New Year Sale event in the game. Of course, if your parents are like mine, your money goes towards your education instead of toys, lol.

I grew up in an area with a large Chinese population, so sometimes I would also get red envelopes on Lunar New Year from family friends. However, the typical money envelopes in Japan, which are called "pochibukuro" are usually white. They tend to feature patterns with images such as daruma dolls, ribbons, origami, popular childrens' characters, or the yearly Zodiac animal.

Pochibukuro are usually given by adults to children to symbolize good luck and to thank them for their hard work over the past year. However, we're going to imagine a scenario in which you give the TWST boys money for fun.

If you also have special traditions on January 1st or Lunar New Year, whether in Japan, China, Vietnam, or another country, please let me know what they are! Also, if you'd like to buy some pochibukuro of your own, you can find them at shops such as Daiso or Kinokuniya.

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts: He would be surprised by the idea of receiving such a gift, and would thank you profusely. He would likely save the money for something in the future like medical school expenses or textbooks, but he would keep the envelope as a bookmark to remember your kindness.

*I like to headcanon that Riddle is of Japanese descent on one side of his family. At some point, maybe one of his relatives gave him something for New Year's, but his mother stored it away for "safekeeping." At NRC, when he meets you, he has a chance to hold onto his own money. Maybe he'd even indulge just a little, and buy himself a strawberry tart or two.

Ace Trappola: He'll shamelessly spend it all that day, but at least he'd buy something high-quality and useful, like some shoes or a new basketball.

Deuce Spade: Like in Chapter 6, Deuce would likely say something about how he'd like to give the money to his mother. "But this is for you," you would say. "Spend it on something you like." In that case, he'd buy a snack at the mall or a new shirt. He'd also buy you something small in exchange.

Trey Clover: It's hard to imagine what Trey would spend his money on...maybe a new hat, a fancy kitchen set, or a motorized toothbrush. He'd probably ask about where to get money envelopes so that he could get some for his younger siblings.

Cater Diamond: He would probably hug you if you gave him such a gift. I imagine that he has been looking forward to all the sales on New Year's Day and has been looking forward to buying trendy new clothes and accessories. Maybe he'd even bring you along.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar: Why are you giving money to a prince?! Leona has no need for this little herbivore tradition, but he'd at least thank you. He'd also misplace the envelope before he could spend it, but he probably wouldn't be bothered.

Ruggie Bucchi: Luckily, Ruggie would find Leona's missing otoshidama. Finder's keepers? There's about a million things Ruggie would like to buy, but he'd probably end up using the money for household things like laundry detergent and toilet paper. Leona would most likely keep his, in addition to the envelope that you give him.

Jack Howl: Jack may be surprised to get such a gift and have a hard time accepting it from you until he understands that it is tradition. Like Ace, he would make sure to spend it on something practical, such as workout clothes, but he'd also buy a few cacti--and maybe give you one as well.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto: A tradition...involving free money? Say no more. Like Jack, Azul would say he has a hard time accepting such a gift, but it is a clear façade. Deep down, he'd be delighted that you thought of him. He'd likely save the money for the Mostro Lounge's expenses, or he would treat himself to a new book or fancy skincare. He'd also try to take Floyd's and hold onto it before he spends it recklessly. Maybe he'd feel as if he'd owe you something as well, which is a feeling he hates.

Jade Leech: Jade would act like Azul, except he is better at hiding his delight. He might even scare you a little while asking whether he owes you money in return! As for what he spends it on...who knows? (My guess is a tea set, a fancy knife set for threatening people the Mostro Lounge, or some new hiking gear).

Floyd Leech: Giving Floyd money is like freeing every animal from the zoo and unleashing them at the mall. He'd most likely ransack the shoe stores first, but he'd also wreak havoc at the arcades and toy stores.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim: Again, why are you giving the richest people at NRC money?! Kalim would be intrigued and would want to adopt this tradition, giving his money to everyone, young and old. He’d probably be like Trey and try to get some envelopes for his siblings, too. Honestly, though, you’re better off giving the money to Jamil, because like Leona, Kalim is definitely going to misplace that envelope.

Jamil Viper: Hmmm, this one is difficult. He’d probably take it with hesitation, asking whether you’re trying to bribe him or if there’s something you’re asking from him. Once he realizes that you’re being sincere and that the money is actually for him, he’d likely save it in a secret bank account. I imagine that he has some money saved for if ever he has a chance to leave the Asim family, even if just temporarily. After all, money is power, and anything he can get would make a difference. Don’t worry Jamil—the world awaits you!

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit: Vil is a smart man—he has likely heard of these traditions before after working with actors from different countries and watching movies. Although he may be a bit baffled at being on the recieving end of an otoshidama, he’d instantly reciprocate by giving you traditional deserts, like a box of mochi wrapped in tasteful wrapping paper.

Rook Hunt: You wouldn’t even have a chance to speak, let alone actually show him what you have. The (one-sided) conversation would go something like this: “Trickster, arrête! What is that in your pocket, hmm? An envelope with my name on it? Judging by the weight, you’ve given me about one thousand madol* for New Year. C’est bon, merci! Alas, I know not what to do with it. I would purchase something beautiful to look at all year, but true beauty is something you behold, free in nature. I know! The true beauty is your thoughtfulness! Merci beaucoup!”

*I assumed that madol/thaumarks are equivalent to Japanese yen, so that’s about 1,000円, or roughly $10 USD. That's really not a lot of money, but hey, you're just a college student, and you have 22 classmates. I think the conversion rate depends on the translation, though, as the ENG version of the event implies that the currency is closer to USD/GBP/Euro instead.

Epel Felmier: Epel is the type of kid who has been raised around older folks, and not a lot of kids his own age. I like to imagine that he would visit his neighbor's farms and help them with chores, and they'd give him pocket money in exchange. If you gave him a money envelope, he would be reminded of his hometown and probably send some of the money to his grandmother (he's a good kid). Otherwise, I think the boy would benefit from getting some new athletic wear.

Ignihyde

Idia and Ortho Shroud: Like Vil, Idia has probably heard of this tradition from watching anime/donghua or reading about it somewhere, but he'd still be caught off-guard by receiving one, feeling every emotion from flustered to excited. While Idia would go on a full-speed rant about how he wants to spend his money on this and that, Ortho would thank you politely. The two brothers are very close, so I'd imagine that they'd combine their money to buy something that they would use together, like a two-player game, manga from a series that they both like, or merchandise of characters from their favorite gacha game.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia: Before giving him a money envelope, you greet Malleus with a "Happy Year of the Dragon!" Malleus proceeds to lecture you about the difference between dragons and longs (or 龍/"ryuu" in Japanese) again, but in a lighthearted way. Like Riddle, he is not used to receiving gifts. However, he is a very sentimental person, and would probably keep the pochibukuro in a special place, just to admire the shiny golden long on the envelope every once in a while. He wouldn't even realize that there's money inside until Lilia tells him about it.

*Yet another side note: I am once again begging the TWST developers to make a special Year of the Dragon card for Malleus (the next time they'll have this opportunity is in twelve years!!!). I know he'll eventually get a New Year's Sale card, and already had Qing Dynasty-style clothing for the Halloween event, but I really, really want to see him wearing hanfu.

Sebek Zigvolt: Sebek was secretly waiting for this day because he also knows that it is the Year of the Dragon, and is leaping at the chance to celebrate his liege again. In fact, I'm sure he has already gone all-out in decking the Diasomnia dorm in dragon/long/ryuu-themed decorations. He would still be genuinely excited to receive money envelopes, and tell you about how Lilia used to give them to him and Silver as children. He would then remark that although you're a human, you clearly know your stuff, and thus have the honor of being invited to the party he is throwing.

Silver (Vanrouge): Of course, Silver was dragged into planning the party with Sebek, but he's enjoying it as well. He'd accept your money envelope graciously and tell you about how it reminds him of his father doing the same thing when he and Sebek were children, as well as other stories he heard about his father's travels in The East. I like to imagine that you'd talk for a while with him while standing in the kitchen, preparing kagami mochi and soba, and desperately trying to keep Lilia out of the kitchen.

Lilia Vanrouge: Lilia has always been on the giving end and never on the receiving end of the money envelopes--after all, he is...quite elderly, and people usually give money envelopes to those younger than them. But who knows? I gave my grandmother a money envelope once, and it was fun. Knowing Lilia, he'd probably tease you, saying, "Yes, indeed, I am a very youthful boy!" Of course, Grandpa Lilia won't let you leave empty-handed. He'll give you your very own overfilled pochibukuro too, and won't let you go until you've had some of his special, homemade, traditional New Year's cooking! (Good luck.)

Do you have more ideas about how the cast of TWST would celebrate oshogatsu or the Lunar New Year? Please let me know!

To everyone reading this, happy New Year, and happy Year of the Dragon!

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