#if it's one of those things where he's wearing white just around his neck and philip-like sleeve gloves i'm

[scoutswritingcorner]

Headcanons

Father!Alastor & Child!GN!Reader

PURELY PLATONIC

TW:NONE!

A/N: I just have ideas for Papa Alastor and his little fawn gremlin child. To that Anon who came up with it! If you have any input don’t be afraid to reblog or shoot me an ask with your own (even if my askbox is closed just let me know it’s you).  I was listening to ‘No More Birthdays by Sophie May’.

Domestic fluff with Papa Alastor and his little fawn.

Second Part

So- I don’t know if sinners “age” or grow up in hell but let’s say for the sake of this little post that they do but it's really really slow or you're just a little child forever..WHO KNOWS.

Anyways…you’re like a carbon copy of Alastor only smaller and maybe brighter colors (Where as he has dark red hair you have maybe lighter red hair or a different light color) and little white spots in your hair or fur, maybe some freckles too. 

You are the only soul that is allowed to touch his cane without his permission or guidance, especially because he knows you like to wander off at times, not too far but when you both are walking down the street and he’s not feeling into physical contact he holds his cane out to you and that’s your cue to hold on. If he’s fine with physical contact? He’ll be holding your tiny hand into his, it’s something he got used to doing when he walked you to school those early mornings before he had to go to his radio station.

When he introduces you to Niffty and Husk? He’s not worried about Niffty, but he is glaring Husk down as you walk around the ex-overlord. You’re just curious. But once you get used to him you walk back over to your Papa and hold onto his cane, that’s his signal that you’re ready to go.

I’m a firm believer that sinners still feel the pain of whatever killed them in life when they get into hell as a reminder of why they are there. So speaking of that, Alastor gets hella bad migraines which he got used to easily but when he hears you coughing? He’s immediately by your side and holding a handkerchief to your mouth. He pulls you closer to him if it’s one of those bad coughs that make you wheeze really bad, he’s just a scared Papa and doesn’t know modern medicine well enough to get you the right treatment.

He dresses you in the fashion he’s used to, which is either a button down shirt with slacks or a dress. You’d wear a small little bowtie either around your neck or in your hair. 

Now when he arrives at the Hotel with you? You’re automatically being held because he knows you as his child and how curious you are but also he’s a paranoid deer dad. But after a while? He’s letting you down and gently patting your back to let you wander around, just please stay in his line of sight for now. He walks around the hotel with you so you can see all the sights as Charlie and Vaggie are with him explaining everything. 

Speaking of Charlie and Vaggie, they both terrified you and it almost sent Alastor into a frenzy. He doesn’t care if Vaggie points a spear at him but not at his little fawn. Charlie was just loud and that frightened you. 

Angel Dust wasn’t allowed around you for a while, but once he was, he was very sober and didn’t utter a word about anything your ears shouldn’t know lest he faces the wrath of your Papa. He also gets you treats and gives you head pats.

You do have your own room next to Alastor’s and he makes sure it looks like it did when you were alive, filled with your favorite toys and books lining the shelves. He got Rosie to make you a new teddy bear that resembled him once more and you absolutely adore that thing.

You and Niffty are gremlins together but she keeps her eye on you the whole time and makes sure you don’t get hurt or in trouble. She’s also very helpful when you start having a coughing fit but if it gets really bad? She gets Charlie or Husk to help. 

Alastor pulls Charlie aside one day whilst you are playing, “Charlie, you know I don’t believe in this silly little redemption thing as a whole but..if this does end up working, I want my little fawn to be up there. They don’t deserve to be down here with these disgusting and vile creatures. That’s all I care about.” He whispered glancing back at you as Charlie followed his gaze before smiling and nodding, “Of course, Alastor. How did..” She stopped herself as Alastor stood up tall. “They were sick ever since they were just a little baby..” He whispered out before clearing his throat and cleaning his monocle. He was done talking..reminiscing on his past mistakes.

When Mimzy comes around? He doesn’t let her near you, he knows what trouble she brings and he won’t stand for it if she dares harm a hair on your head. It’s not that he doesn’t trust her, it’s just he’d rather not feel the heartbreak he did all those years ago when he first lost you.

Some nights when you're fast asleep he holds you in his arms and sits on the floor. It grounds him when he feels you breathing, especially when memories of that night plague him and he can’t seem to catch a break. Even if he’s at his breaking point with physical affection, he will force himself to hold you just because those thoughts are plaguing him and he has to make sure you're breathing. His hands will rub circles on your back and he’ll let himself cry but it will be drowned out by soft jazz playing just in case someone walks by your bedroom door.

He also finds it soothing when he brushes and does your hair, even if you don’t have long hair he’ll brush it out for you in the mornings while he enjoys his coffee. He’s very careful around your tiny deer ears too. If you have trouble tying your bowtie or bow? Don’t worry, He is getting down on one knee and tying it for you while talking you through the steps.

100% you are his little sous chef/ taste tester. His love for spicy food is passed down to you and if it’s not spicy enough for you it’s definitely not spicy for him. While he himself doesn’t like to indulge in sweets, he’ll learn to make your favorite treat and surprise you with it. 

Omg when Lucifer comes to the hotel? Alastor gets protective because now the King of Hell is talking to you and not him but he’s not being mean about it…kinda. He’ll make an off joke about Alastor and you’ll stomp your hoof and puff your chest out and headbutting Lucifer. It’s even better if you have little nubs where your antlers (if you have them) are growing in. That’s what the King of Hell gets for bad talking your Papa in front of you! It doesn’t hurt Lucifer but he gets the gist (he doesn’t)

A/N: Once again if anyone has any headcannons of their own go wild. These are just I thought of!

Taglist: @littledolly2345, @aboyscriminalrecord (figured since you drew those masterpieces, I'd tag you in some more little headcanons)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #platonic #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor

[stuniolo-simp4life]

Tease- Matt Sturniolo 

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Paring- Matt Sturniolo and Y/n 

Description- y/n teases Matt all day until he decides to do something about it. 

Warnings- Teasing, Dom! Matt, orgasm denial, p in v, cursing, smut, fingering. 

NOT PROOF READ! 

Today was one of those days when you just felt bored as hell. You were sitting next to your boyfriend Matt, who’s gaze was currently on the movie playing in front of you. 

You were scrolling on your TikTok, until you came across a video.

It was one of those “got my nails done” TikTok's, where the girl was showing her nails on her boyfriend's sweatpants. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. 

“Hey Matt, there’s this TikTok I’ve been wanting to film with you.” He looked at you. “Yeah, sure babe,” he said a little confused. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  

Matt could feel his cock twitch with every move the back of your hand made against him.

And of course, he just had to wear grey sweatpants. He could feel his breathing increasing, he wished he could just flip you over fuck you senseless. 

You, on the other hand, were enjoying this. You could see him holding back, his face red, the bulge in his pants.

You smirked with satisfaction as you finished the video. “Thanks babe,” you said as you kissed his cheek. Then you walked off. 

Matt groaned with frustration as he went to the bathroom, to take care of his “problem.” 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ 

Later, you decided to clean up the kitchen, but with a twist. Matt was sitting at the island table, watching you wash dishes.

Here’s the thing: You were only in a T-shirt, and you weren’t wearing anything under it except for your white lace panties, which were Matt’s favorite. 

Once you were done with the dishes, you grabbed the broom and started sweeping the floor. You moved yourself and the gunk right into Matt’s view.

Once you collected all the dirt and dust, you bent yourself down to sweep all the stuff. 

Matt’s eyes widened as he saw you. Your ass was on display, and you were wearing his favorite lace panties. He knew you had to be doing this on purpose.

He felt his dick stiffen as he kept watching you. He slowly started palming himself, earning a small groan. 

“Matt? Are you okay?” He slowly opened his eyes to see you staring back at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”  

You gave him an innocent look, and then went ahead to put the dishes away.

When you opened the cupboard, you stood on your tiptoes to put the plates away, making your T-shirt rise. Once again, your ass was on display. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Matt mumbled as he got up. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ 

“Matt there’s popsicles!” you yelled from the kitchen. He was in the living room watching a movie. “Do you want one?” You heard the TV stop playing, and footsteps coming towards the kitchen. 

“Sure babe.” He grabbed one from the box and opened it. You did the same. You sat across from him and opened yours.

At first, you swirled your tongue around the top of the popsicle, then you put the whole thing into your mouth, sucking it in up and down motions. 

You were looking directly into his eyes while you did this. 

Matt was going crazy. This was the third time today that you had teased him. And he couldn’t take it anymore. “Damn it y/n.” 

He took the popsicle out of your hand and threw it away, then he picked you up and threw you over his shoulders. He stormed up to his room and slammed the door shut. 

He threw you on the bed, and practically ripped your panties off. Your thighs were drenched with your juices. “Such a slut,” he mumbled. “Look at you, so wet.”

He then pinned you to the bed and whispered in your ear. “You're going to be punished for what you did to me. Teasing me and then acting like nothing happened?”  

He kissed you roughly and left marks on your neck, making you moan. “F-Fuck Matt. I need you.”  

Matt smirked in satisfaction. “Arms up,” he commanded. You lifted your arms, and he removed your tank top, revealing your hardened nipples. He took one into his mouth, while one of his hands made it to the other.  

You moaned, enjoying the feeling of Matt sucking and nibbling your sensitive breast. “Mmm- fuck- s'good,” you moaned. 

Matt detached himself, and slid 2 fingers into you, causing you to let out a whimper. “M-Matt.” He started to pump his fingers in and out of you, making you tremble with pleasure.

“Fuck- more, please, more.” He suddenly curled his fingers, hitting a spot, that made stars burst into your vision. 

He repeatedly hit that spot, over and over, making your body tremble more. You let another loud moan as you clenched around his fingers. “You like it when I hit you there, hmm?” Matt whispered into your ear.  

You nodded your head. “I want you to answer me Princess.” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you felt yourself get closer and closer.

“Fuck Matt. Yes! I l-like it! Mmm- right there!” You felt the knot in your stomach getting close to breaking. 

“Mmm- Fuck I’m gonna cum-” Matt suddenly removed his fingers, your high immediately going back low. “W-what?” 

Matt smirked at you as he removed his sweatpants. “You're not going to cum just yet.” He pulled his boxers down, revealing his hard length. You could see the veins pulsing, and the flushed tip already leaking pre-cum. 

You felt yourself getting wetter at the thought of him pounding his cock into your pussy. 

He stroked himself a few times, then aligned himself with your aching hole, slowly pushing forward.

You let out a whimper, and he let out a groan, as he kept pushing himself in, until the both of you were connected. 

“Fuck, such a tight little pussy,” he groaned. He then slowly started thrusting himself in and out of you, until he found a good, quick pace. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you moaned, arching your back. 

He somehow pushed your body to the side, allowing his cock to reach deeper inside you.

He repeatedly hit your g-spot, fucking you dumb. “Oh my god, Matt, right there.” You let out more breathy, frequent moans as you felt your high returning. 

“Mmm- Matt, I’m gonna- shit- I-I'm gonna cum,” you moaned, the familiar feeling of a knot in your stomach returning. He grunted then said, “You're not going to cum until I say so.” Your eyes shot open. “Consider it as a punishment.” 

“You’ll be able to cum if you beg like a good girl.” You could feel the knot in your stomach tighten, begging to be undone. “Fuck Matt, please please, let me cum.” You could feel tears slipping down your cheeks. “Matt, please.”  

“Cum,” He commanded. You instantly let yourself release all over his cock, a long moan following. After a few more thrusts, Matt also followed you.  

He pulled out, collapsing right next to you, his breathing heavy. “Fuck. Are you alright baby?” he asked, planting a kiss on your forehead. You nodded, breathless. “Yeah, I'm fine.” 

He let out a low chuckle. “Next time, try not to tease me so much.” 

#sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you

[spiderlyla]

Miguel and reader gf about to go to bed but shes wearing baby blue boy shorts as underwear and he just cant stop staring at the print of her pussy so when they’re about to gts he randomly takes off the covers and stuffs his face in between her legs.

“Mhm dont even needa take em off amor just love this pussy”

female (afab) reader × miguel o'hara.

cw: cussing, NSFW (minors dni), biting, mention of fangs, miguel being pussy crazed.

miguel wasn't sure where you got those from.

you always wore one of two things when you went to bed, just the regular white pair you have dozens of or those skimpy lace ones that he-oh-so-loved to rip off of you.

but this was something new.

you wore baby blue shorts, too short and a size too small, curving around your figure, your poor thighs choked by them. you bend over to grab some candles from your bedside table and miguel couldn't help but watch how the fabric hugged your ass perfectly and jiggled when you moved. you seemed oblivious to what you were doing to him, acting all naturally, like you weren't edging him everytime you brushed past him or everytime you bend over to grab something.

they were a little sheer, so when you sat down, he could visibly see a wet print right between your thighs. the urge to bury his face between your legs only grew as he uncomfortably shifted on the chair opposite your bed. you laid on your stomach, lighting up those two candles you grabbed before you went back to laying on your back.

"mm, mig, won't you come to bed, honey?" the way you said his name hypnotised him, like a siren's call. "I'm reading, amor." he truly wasn't. the book was long discarded on the little table beside him, its been sitting there ever since he laid eyes in you in those shorts.

you spread your legs a little while checking your phone, oh, you have to be doing this on purpose now. " 'nough reading, please. come to bed." that little 'please' was enough to convince him. he got up and walked over towards you. as soon as he did you dropped your phone on the counter and spread your arms towards him. he chuckled and laid down, and immediately, you rested your head on his chest, with a hand around his tummy and a thigh on top of his leg.

you pulled the cover over the two of you and got cozy. hee could feel the wetness between your legs stain his own sweatpants, and each time you moved, your knee brushed against his hardened cock. this was unbearable. truly and utterly unbearable.

he tried to take his mind off of all those filthy thoughts he was having but with the way your breath fanned on his neck, and those little sleepy hums of yours he truly couldn't take it. as soon as you started feeling comfortable enough to slip into sleep, miguel moved.

fast.

"mig? what are you doing?" he kicked off the sheets and moved on top of you, quickly making himself comfortable between your legs. he left a kiss on the exposed skin of your inner thigh, fangs grazing against the plush skin. you let out a small moan, trying to move away. he wasn't in the mood for teasing, his calloused hands kept your legs in place as he continued to push himself in between your thighs. "where did you find these?" he mumbled, noticing how the print got bigger everytime he bumped his nose into your clit. you squirmed in place, "in—in my drawer—they're old but really comfortable—ah, mig.." his tounge licked a strip over the cloth, not bothering to take it off. "y-you can take it off—"

"no." he moved your legs over his shoulders, all while marking your thigh with bites. "no need. not right now." to relief himself a little, he grinded into the mattress, just the scent of you driving him wild. your hands had found his silky tufts of black hair and with every tug he felt himself getting dizzy. the tip of his nose kept brushing against your clothed, puffy clit. "we should sleep like this.." the vibrations of his baritone voice ran up your core, and you let out a moan that could be perfectly described as pornographic. "..love being between your legs, amor." His lips brushed against the wet spot—that has since quickly turned into a pool, soaking your shorts.

"so wet for me, didn't do anything yet." his fingers found the waistband underneath your oversized shirt, and he slowly peeled the shorts off, leaving you completely and utterly exposed. your slick dampening your wine coloured sheets.

miguel looked up at you, his irsis swirling with something you recognised all too well, pure and utter desire. he leaned in silently, his mouth mere inches from you.

"all for me.." his tounge ran across your cunt, you could see his eyes blow wide as soon as he tasted you. he glanced up at you with a grin, saying only one sentence before he went back to the matter between your legs.

"wear these fucking shorts all the time."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #astv #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara #spider man atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel o' hara #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel o #hara smut

[tired-biscuit]

farmer boy!kiri driving me insane as per usua

he’s everyone in town’s favorite guy!! big and dependable and so funny!! local housewives make it a point to wear their prettiest dresses to go and visit his stand at the local market.. but he doesn’t fall for it..

doesn’t fall for anyone until you move into town.. you work at the local bakery and sometimes visit him when the bakery needs an expedited egg delivery..

he’s so smitten with you, you’re pretty, smart and he can’t take his eyes off of you.. makes it a point to lift the heaviest things when you’re around in an effort to impress you..

little does he know how smitten you are with him.. how you purposely promote custards and egg tarts just so that your bakery needs more eggs and milk.. and you have an excuse to go see him again <3

all these meet-cutes until he finally works up the courage to ask you on a picnic.. where he lets you feel his muscles like you’ve been dying to from the start.. where he lets you take off his overalls and lifts up your skirt..

where the sun warms his and yours’ skin and where only the flowers know what happened next :3

(he ate you out and bred u <3)

18+ / fem!reader

you’ve been dying to touch and feel his biceps for the longest time now because you’ve seen the way they tighten and turn exceptionally prominent whenever he picks up and tosses those big sacks of flour that you keep ordering for your bakery from him and him only.

he always greets you in the friendliest way possible whenever he swings by to deliver you the goods; a polite nod of his head and a warm “hey there, darlin’” never fail to make you weak in the knees. the combination of it, that’s sometimes even accompanied by a rather playful wink, turns your brain to goddamn mush. goodness, you’re so into him that it’s getting kind of absurd!

but to be fair, how couldn’t you be? he’s pure eye candy, with his sharp facial features, fiery eyes and messy hair of the exact same shade that he keeps tied back with the help of a single elastic, and that exposes the sides of his neck, as well as the nape, in the most delicious of ways.

his skin is tan and sun-kissed from many days spent working outside under the blazing sun, and his back is broad; he carries any kind of weight with seemingly no trouble at all. the faded, well worn jeans that he usually throws on whenever he drives to town make his ass and thighs look absolutely divine as they hang off his hips.

the sight of them makes you feel like a sleaze from the way they coax you to ogle at him so openly again and again. stealing glances as he moves around your little storage room where you keep all your ingredients, all you can see is his tight physique, his big hands, how appealingly thick his fingers are; coated with a thin layer of white powder coming from the flour.

he’s a working man, oftentimes dirty with sweat and grime whenever you just happen to be passing by his land and spot him coming back from the fields, but surprisingly enough, he keeps his nails clean whenever he comes to see you.

and it doesn’t stop just at the nails. even his face lacks the sheen of sweat his line of work usually tends to induce, because unbeknownst to you, he doesn’t leave the house before he scrubs it clean. his signature white t-shirts — each one usually adorned with a logo of his favourite sports team — are crisp and constantly smell of pleasant laundry detergent; like they’ve been freshly washed every single time. and if his hair just happens to be a mess that day — stubborn strands, bedhead and whatnot — he makes sure to hide it underneath his trusty baseball cap just so you don’t have to see it.

altogether, it shows that he’s trying to impress you. that he’s putting in the effort.

and that effort is almost enough to make an already smitten girl like yourself admit defeat and fold right then and there; in the storage room of your little bakery. to make you rest the flat of your palms against one of the shelves, and bend right over at the middle.

until the fat of your ass is peeking from underneath your pretty sundress, no panties in sight, and he’s got drool nearly dripping from his mouth at the discovery. until his fat cock is nice and snug, sheathed inside your soft cunt, and his heavy balls are tightening from the way you’re invitingly wiggling your hips against him and hurrying to make him all sticky and wet with your arousal so that he can slide in even further, even deeper.

just by looking at him, you know he’d fuck you nice and slow, and so deep that it’d make hearts form in your eyes right before they’d cross. quiet grunts would fill your ear, his breathing ragged as it tickles the side of your neck and cheek. his calloused hands would be warm against your hips; dusting flour over your dress and skin, and providing a steady weight that you could lean on and rest your tired body against any time you’d wish.

there’d be constant pressure in your lower belly — overhelming but the good kind nevertheless. the slapping of skin against skin, the stretch, the sweat coating both of your brows. the pounding, the pleasure, the passion that’d be so intense that you’d end up feeling it in the goddamn marrow of your bones even.

and then, the climax. the white noise and bliss as every nerve end buzzes with electricity that’s powerful but mellow at the same time. the feeling of warm cum eventually leaking from your poor little pussy, down your thighs, dripping onto the floor; causing a mess you both chuckle at whilst cleaning afterwards.

his forehead pressing against your spine as he hunches his back because of the prominent height difference and waits for his cock to slowly soften whilst it’s still inside of you, still stretching your velvety walls. your clothes sticking to your salt-riddled bodies as you attempt to catch your breaths and not say anything too brash or embarrassing to each other.

you want him to rail you and fuck your brains out in this tiny storage room so bad. he’s just such a… man. bulky and strong, simple and endlessly kind. his heart is as big as his tits are, and much like the rest of him, you can’t help but leer at them, too as the mixture of the summer heat and your baked delights turns too much for him to bare in that exact moment and he swiftly loses the crisp white t-shirt just so that he can survive it.

watching him as he throws it over his shoulder and keeps it there, you start to think that you could take such good care of him. that he could take such good care of you. you can already see it; a cozy house, a couple of kids. hard work, animals and endless love. fresh lemonade and cookies. creaky wooden furniture and movie nights on the world’s comfiest couch. domestic bliss.

he’s the type to kiss you goodbye and hello again whenever he walks through the front door.

your daydreams end abruptly when he tosses the last sack of flour onto the neat little pile and turns around to look at you with a face that’s all of a sudden vividly red like a tomato; from his neck to his forehead, from one ear to the other.

you’re still blinking, sweetly batting your eyelashes up at him by the time he finally gathers enough courage to ask you a question you’d thought you’d never get the chance to hear from him.

he wants to take you out on a date, huh?

#he’s so sweet oml #i’m meltingggg!!! #kirishima eijirou smut #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima smut #biscuit drabbles

[angelltheninth]

could you do smut prompt 22 w/Neuvillette where he's the one getting walked in on?

I have just the thing for you Anon! I wrote this very fast, it inspired me!

Pairing: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, walking in, size kink, handjob, praise, fingering, tail use, biting

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: Things like this are what get's rid of writing block.

22. "Don’t you know how to knock?!”

Despite being his lover Neuvillette rarely slept in the same room as you when ever you were at an inn. You chocked it up to him being too much of a gentleman to ask you to sleep with him, afraid of how it would sound. The only time you've seen him in any state of undress was for bathing and the rare occasion where you slept in the same bed. You wanted tonight to be one of those rare nights.

It was your mistake that you didn't knock. In your defense you were so used to seeing him in his judge uniform that you never thought you'd walk in on him changing, fully naked still, right in the middle of pulling his pants up. "Don't you know how to knock?!" His turn wasn't fast enough to hide his big cock and neither were his hands going to cover it. The red tips of his ears peaked past his long white hair, telling you that he was just as flustered as you, if not more because he was the one being walked in on.

"Sorry! I just... wanted to sleep with you tonight. Would... that be okay?" He didn't turn to face you but you heard him hum in agreement. He was quick to get into his bed, hiding his face away from yours in embarrassment. Without saying a word you joined him. Anything you did say would only embarrass him more, you knew he didn't like showing himself much.

Minutes seemed like hours with the amount of tension in the room. You'd seen each other naked before but you'd never done anything sexual past grinding. Neuvillette always stopped it before it went too far, even if that meant that he had to leave with a quite embarrassing cum stain on the front of his pants.

"I... don't mean to be rude but your cock is kind of... poking against me." Such hardness and size was getting hard to ignore, wetness pooling between your own legs now too.

"Yes, this is what happens why you sleep next to me, it's why I usually wear armor. It helps hide it a bit more." You tried to turn around but his arms tightened against you, "Please don't look."

For some reason you felt rather brave tonight, "I won't look, but can I touch?" You moaned when his cock twitched against your ass in response. Silence hung in the air, you thought you messed up and that he'd tell you to leave, but instead Neuvillette took your hand and wrapped it around his cock. "It's so warm, and so hard in my hand."

"I want to touch you too." He nibbled on your ear, sharp teeth making you wetter, his hand pulling your nightgown up and pushing two fingers into your panties, spreading your slick pussy juices around, "Are you this wet from feeling me? Or was this... I thought I smelled something sweet upon your arrival. So it was your arousal."

You tightened your grip on his cock, your fingers shy of touching now that you had him in your hand. Unsure how he liked it best you started with small strokes, down and up, rolling his cum over your palm and his tip and pushing it down to his balls. Neuvillette sighed against your neck, his hair falling over his cheek, tickling your body. Slowly his fingers spread your pussy open and slid inside you, no resistance at all. That's how wet you were for him.

"Don't squeeze me so much, you'll make a mess. More then you already have." Neuvillette's hand cupped over your pussy, the warm palm pressed against your clit and grinding up and down with the in and out motion of his fingers.

Warm cum spread across your fingers, it made it so much easier to move your hand how you wanted, "You're one to talk." You gasped when his hand pressed you against him, you could feel the length of his cock and his cum against your back, "Hold on, I can do it like this." But he could still finger you, he didn't want to stop now, not with your cunt so tight around his digits.

"Let's fix that shall we?" He pressed a kiss below your ear, then his lips were on your mouth as you found yourself on your back. He was still on his side, looking from his hand to yours, the way your legs opened up further now that you were on your back, "Better now isn't it?"

You didn't trust your voice but that was fine, your lips on his would convey your feelings just fine. And your hand on his hard cock even more. The two of you finally found a nice pace that worked for you both, yours faltering every time he curled his long fingers inside you and pressed against your front wall. Neither of you could keep your hips still, his pumping his cock into your hand, yours riding his fingers for all they were worth. All the noises you made for each other made you want to come so bad.

"I love looking at you. I never would have imagine anyone could look so heavenly, much less that you'd be so wonderfully receptive and... lewd." A third finger started circling your opening, "I want to see you stretched to your limit. You need to be able to take all of me, think of this a practice okay? So I don't hurt you in the future."

The soft whispers made it easier for you to relax enough to be able to take a third, but not without slight pain. Looking at his cock though, this kind of practice is necessary. Now all three of his fingers were curling, hitting your spot perfectly, making it hard for you to focus on your task at hand.

Neuvillette knew you were close by not just by the tightness of your pussy but by your scent too, so potent he could almost taste it on his tongue. "Need to come. Will you do it with me love? I know you're close as well. I'm sorry if it's fast but your scent drives me insane, I'm barely able to stop myself from mounting and breeding you." His hand sped up, filling the room with squelching sounds, one bleeding into the other.

"O-Okay, just let me do something first." You changed your position again, this time facing him, his cock facing your pussy and stomach, "I want your cum all over me." The prospect of marking you sent him over the edge. Moments later he shoot his load over you, sticky and hot strings of white all over your front, on both your hands. Neuvillette pulled you close with his soft tail, cradling your back as he felt you come on his fingers, body shaking, but you knew you were safe, no matter how much you felt like you were falling and moaning and screaming out to him. "Pull me closer." All to happy to oblige his free hand rested on the top of your head.

Your cum covered hand fell over his wrist when he tried to pull out, "I can stay inside if you want. The pulsing warmth feels quite nice." A deep rumble vibrated inside his chest, you felt it so clearly, but chose not to say anything, for if you have he might turn away again to be safe from your teasing. There will be time for teasing in the morning.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette headcanons #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fanfic #neuvillette fanfic #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #neuvillette smut #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact #neuvillette

[angelfoxx]

I just know Keegan looks so god damn hot in his casual clothing, going to bed in loose grey boxers and an old band shirt that rides up his stomach when he lies down, AND GOOD GOD his happy traillll😫I feel like he’s one of those guys with really bushy happy trails, doesn’t even know how sexy you find it. He’s lying in bed, one of his big arms around your shoulders while reading an old book. Raises an eyebrow when your hand starts wandering up his thigh, fingertips dipping under the waistband of his boxers..

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ NEED SOMETHING? ❞

…in which keegan entertains your perversions.

FEATURING: keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: keegan being a sexy motherfucker. also me giving him a tatted sleeve because it’s sexy and who the hell is gonna tell me no. also me drooling over his happy trail bc HAPPY TRAILS HAPPY TRAILS LOOOOOOOORD

NOTE/S: oh my god

It’s not your fault, really. Feeling like this. It’s not your fault.

It’s his.

He’s not ignoring you. His arm, slung up on your shoulders, is just a heavy, toned reminder that he’s with you. His attention is just elsewhere.

You aren’t totally sure what book he’s reading. Probably something of Stephen King’s. Last week, it had been Christine. The week prior, It. You hadn’t bothered checking; if it was a low-stress week, he’d tell you all about it once he finished it, true book-critic style. In any case, he’s got the thing casually in his lap, spread open by a splayed hand. He’s got a simple silver band on his middle finger, gnarled and twisted like barbed wire — every now and then, he taps it, just an occasional beat of sound as if to remind you that he’s right there.

You’re ogling his hand, now. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Your eyes travel upward. He’s got a pretty sleeve of black-and-white tattoos; churning ocean waves, storm-battered whitecaps, tossing ships. He’d explained it the first time you’d seen it; something about how he found peace in the chaos of an ocean storm. Just standing in a place where there was no resistance that he could give. Surrendering to the fury of nature. Something like that. It’s…um, attractive. Yeah. You swallow and resist the sudden urge to squeeze your legs together.

The top of that sleeve — thick, billowing clouds — vanishes under the edge of his tee. Charcoal-gray, emblazoned with the title of an old rock band that you’d never really heard of prior to meeting him. He’s still wearing his dog-tag, hanging on a silver chain around his neck and rising on his chest every time he breathes.

Christ, you should stop staring.

His shirt’s ridden up on his stomach, and god, you really shouldn’t look because then you won’t be able to look away. But you do look, because what are you if not a swooning idiot for the sniper sitting beside you?

Every time he breathes, his stomach sinks in and you can see the outline of his abs. God. Fucking Christ. You can see the outline of his abs but not really the middle, because along the middle he’s proudly sporting a long line of short black curls.

You’re basically salivating.

He’s just got some loose gray boxers on, sitting dangerously low on his hips. He’s left the v-line of his hips exposed; your senses are on high alert, eyes catching on every little mole spotting his waist, every little white scar, the edge of the paw-print tattoos he has just below his stomach (it’s where Riley’s front feet go when the dog stands up on his hind legs, tail wagging and tongue lolling), and it’s such a cute little tattoo but your thoughts are anything but and—

“Don’t forget to blink.”

You flinch like you’ve been shot. Your mind goes blank, and your gaze shoots upward.

Tiny smirk caught in the corner of his mouth, Keegan looks down at you with lidded, quietly humored eyes. They seem brilliantly blue, moreso than usual — though maybe that’s just the lighting in here. His hair’s a mess; short and still damp from his earlier shower, undercut scrubbing against your arm as he turns his head, just a little, one eyebrow raised. There’s a little scar through his left one; the hair splits unevenly there. You’ve told him several times that you find it sexy.

He agrees.

“What?” Your mouth feels like it’s filled with a fat wad of cotton. You feel like your thoughts are visible in your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid.” His response is honey-smooth. “I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t say y…you were.” You swallow. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Mm.” Keegan narrows his eyes. “Mhm.”

And then he goes back to that book.

It’s kind of ridiculous, how hard you stare at his hand holding that book open. It’s almost pathetic, actually. You’re sure he’d say the same if he knew exactly what thoughts were running through your head right now. Pinkie finger on one page, index on the other, middle and ring both resting so lightly along the inseam of the spine.

Christ.

Trying to shake yourself out of your own head, you turn yourself inwards. Keegan needs no words; his arm tightens around you, hand sliding down to your hip and tugging it over so that you’re fully facing his side, head resting against his chest and body slung down along his leg. It’s comfortable like this; it goes without saying that he’s built like a motherfucker and so his pec is a comfortable resting-place for your head. He’s warm, too, deliciously so; his body heat seeps up through his tee, prickling against your skin. He’s comfy, so comfy; on other nights, you’d fallen asleep like this, cuddled up to his side with one of his arms wrapped around you. Those nights were sweet; when time started to slow and all of your senses started to bleed together, you always heard him call your name, so quiet you wouldn’t catch it if you were awake. When you didn’t answer, he’d laugh — and then you’d hear the rustle of sheets as he stooped over and pressed a little kiss to the top of your head.

You weren’t totally sure if he knew that you knew he did that.

Tonight, though, you can’t do that. You can’t fathom it, because your hand is just itching to move. It’s just casually resting against his thigh — god, his fucking thighs, hard and thick and oh, you have to stop ogling him. You have to stop thinking about how that muscle feels, flexing so slightly under your hand as it moves up.

Moves up?

Oh.

Oops.

Keegan doesn’t say anything when your hand cups the warm spot between his legs. He lets out a short breath — it almost sounds like a laugh. There’s a curve taking shape on his lips, and his eyes glint with humor as he shifts, purposefully pushing his pelvis so slightly up into your palm.

The weight of his dick pushes between your fingers and your legs instinctively snap together. Above you, Keegan’s breath cracks into a nearly-silent laugh.

He’s onto you.

You bite your lip, risking a glance up at him as you do. He isn’t looking at you; he’s still reading, hawkish blue eyes scanning from left to right, over and over again. The hand on your hip lightly squeezes a handful of your thigh.

His hips roll so slightly up again. He’s daring you to continue.

Cocky sonofabitch. You swallow as you move your hand up, up, over the slight angular swell of his abdomen and up past the elastic of his boxers. For a moment, you rake your fingers up his abs and you shudder in response to the way his stomach flexes and his breathing oh-so-slightly breaks.

No words. Just the sound of him turning the page.

Bitch. You bite your tongue as you shift your head around. You can hear his heart thumping beneath your ear, and — god fucking dammit — it’s not beating quicker at all. It’s like you can’t disturb him. Get under his skin like he gets under yours.

You pick at the elastic of his waistband. On one hand? You’re rubbing your legs together, biting your tongue, and there’s a million and one dirty images in your head. You can practically hear Keegan’s growl in your ear: too needy to sit still, princess?

But on the other hand, he’s being mean. He’s ignoring you and all of your signs. And you kind of want to just roll over and go to sleep and maybe, just maybe, he’d been hoping for you to go further.

But you won’t. So he’ll get frustrated, and then it’ll be him slowly reaching his hand under the elastic of your waistband, fingers curving over the shape of your body and feeling for wet warmth. He’ll breathe in your ear with that stupid rasp of his and he’ll ask, voice raw, if you were really planning on hanging me out to dry like that? and you’ll say maybe I was.

Or he’ll get frustrated, but he’ll reach into his own pants. He’ll leave you alone, but you’ll wake up to the quiet sound of his muted groans and his hand stroking back and forth under the thin material of his boxers and then maybe he’ll do that thing where he tips his head back, swallows, and his eyes flutter shut and he cursed, quiet and hoarse.

Or maybe—

“Cold feet?” There he is again, short phrases and little questions. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking at his book, tilting his head as he turns the page. He raises an eyebrow to you, tongue clasped between his teeth.

“What?”

No response this time. Keegan’s eyes shift over to you; he cocks his head in your direction, and under that messy black mop of hair and those thick black lashes that you’ve always been envious of, Keegan silently asks if you’re really going to play this fucking dumb.

You’ve arrived at a stalemate. You don’t move. He doesn’t speak. You two just stare at each other, blinking back-and-forth like a tennis volley until Keegan finally sighs and looks away. His eyes return to the book.

You’re about to snap, ready to rip the godforsaken thing out of his lap, when the hand on your hip shifts. His arm lifts off of your back; it pulls around your shoulders instead, crushing you into his armpit.

His fingers clasp around your wrist, and you catch the undeniable edge of a smirk on his face before he takes your hand and pulls it into his pants.

get fucking cliffhanger’d bitches

#cod smut #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan smut #cod keegan #LORDDDD

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 59 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With your wedding on the horizon, it wasn't the best time for you to question your place with Bradley. But he's always patient, and Noah is perfect, and it doesn't take you long to realize that your husband-to-be is always going to see you in a different way than you see yourself. 

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, blowjob smut, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Now that you were looking at your wedding dress all spread out on the bed, you were afraid to try it on. It looked too perfect. Pristine and white. It was exactly how you imagined it would be when Natasha convinced you to order it, and it looked like it would fit like a glove over your belly which was starting to grow. But right now, you were feeling so overwhelmed. 

With your reduced work hours, you were home alone until Bradley and Noah got back in another hour or so. You had the whole place to yourself to do as you pleased. Plenty of time to try this thing on and send some photos to Natasha for her opinion. Then you could unwind with a glass of juice and a nice shower. But today was starting to feel like one of those days where Bradley's perfect bungalow on the perfect street in Coronado wasn't really where you belonged.

When you felt like you were in control of things, this was your castle. You were Bradley's Princess. You were Noah's Mommy. But today you felt like a fraud. Part of you was missing your little rental house where you could feel small and insignificant. Where you only had to take care of yourself. Were you really going to marry a man over a decade older than you? Were you really capable of raising not just Noah but a baby as well?

Mortification and embarrassment flooded your body as the dress mocked you from its place on the bed. You would never be deserving of anything as perfect as this soft fabric. Or this perfect life. Why did Bradley even want you?

"Princess?"

You didn't hear him come in, but now you heard his heavy footfalls as his boots met the hallway floor. He was headed for the bedroom, and you were in tears, staring at the dress. You managed to throw the bedding and pillows on top of it as Bradley entered the room. 

"There you are. I was calling your name," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you from behind and letting his hands rest on your belly.

His touch was everything you always wanted, and he hadn't seen your tears yet. You tried to pull it together as you whispered, "Actually, you were calling my nickname."

"Same thing," he whispered, his nose pressed to your neck.

"You're home early," you said, wiping your eyes. "Did you pick Noah up?"

"Not yet," he said, trying to spin you around to face him. "I thought I'd pick you up first and see if you wanted to go out to dinner after we get him. And maybe we can hit the mall so you can help me choose something to wear for that minor, little occasion that's just around the corner also known as our wedding."

You tried to fight against his grasp on your shoulders, but he spun you easily in place. You'd been too slow to remove all traces of your tears and worry, and his face fell when he looked at you. "Sorry," you whispered. "I'm just having a weird day."

"What's wrong?" he demanded softly, his grip on your hips tightening as his eyes dipped down to your belly.

"We're fine," you whispered, wishing you could convince him that was true.

"Something's bothering you," he said, his brown eyes meeting yours. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Then you started crying as he collected you against his rough flight suit. "You didn't do anything wrong. I don't even know what's wrong! I just don't belong here."

You felt his body go rigid as he held you impossibly tighter. This time he did use your actual first name, and you had to force yourself to meet his eyes. He looked concerned as he asked, "You don't think you belong here? With me? I love you."

But you just shook as tears streamed down your face. You didn't know how to say what you were feeling, so you just started talking through your sobs. "It's perfect though. You know that, right?" you asked, gasping for air as he looked at you in silence. "Your house and your son, and all of it. Everything here is perfect, Bradley. And the wedding dress arrived," you sobbed, gesturing to where there was some white fabric peeking out from the bedding. "And even it's perfect, and I just feel like a fraud. Like I'm inserting myself where I don't even belong. And I don't know how to be a mom."

You had your face buried against his chest, and he let you cry. He didn't say a word, and you weren't sure if that was better or worse right now. He just rubbed his hands in slow circles along your back until you were able to swallow and take some deep breaths. Then he guided you back so you were sitting on the edge of the bed next to the messy bedding, and he knelt down in front of you. His big hand came up to your cheek, and he swiped away some of your tears as he spoke.

"If anything here seems perfect, I can assure you it's because you're here now. It feels perfect to me, too, but it didn't always."

You swallowed hard, letting him trace your bottom lip with his thumb as you whispered, "It didn't?"

Bradley shook his head, his brown eyes wide and sincere. "No. It never felt like this before I met you. You showed up and made everything better until it was perfect. It happened slowly, but I could feel something shift right from the start. Each day got better after Noah fell in love with having you here. And after I'd known you for just a few weeks, I never wanted you to leave."

"After just a few weeks?" you asked as his hands and voice soothed you.

"Yeah," he replied softly. "I knew it. I'm sorry you had to put up with so much shit before we got to the point where it felt perfect, but I knew I wanted you with us. And then I needed you with us. And now I need you to understand that you belong here as much as Noah and I do."

"And Skittles."

The pup popped out of her bed and ran over as soon as you said her name, but Bradley kept his eyes on your face. "Always Skittles. And I hate to break it to you, Princess, but you already are a mom. So stop lying and saying you don't know how to be one. You are Noah's mom, and he's happier than I've ever seen him."

You closed your eyes and let all of his words fade into you. "But the baby will be different," you whispered even as you understood that you did know what to do. You handled kids and babies all day long at work, and you did it with care even though they weren't your own. And you did love Noah like he was yours. "But I think I can do it."

When you slipped off the bed and into Bradley's arms, he cupped your face in those hands and examined you closely. "You're not gonna be doing anything alone, Princess. I'm right here."

You nodded and breathed him in, and you already felt better knowing that this house and Bradley and Noah weren't as perfect unless you were here with them. "Can we go pick Noah up and just come back here for the night? I think I feel better, but I just want to relax."

"Anything you want," Bradley promised, and you let your arms go around his neck so he could help you to your feet. "We can come right back here, where everything feels perfect thanks to you."

------------------------

Bradley wasn't sure exactly what upset you so much earlier, but after you took a shower and ate dinner, he sent you and Noah to the couch to watch Mickey Mouse cartoons. When you paused in the doorway, you reached for him, and he went right to you with a soft kiss. You were wearing his sweatpants and an old tee shirt, and you belonged here. He didn't know how else to make you see that. But you seemed to understand it deep down where it mattered.

"I feel better," you whispered as he kissed your cheek. "My hormones are all over the place, and I'm always tired, but I do feel better. Thank you for being patient."

He was about to tell you that you didn't have to thank him for that when Noah called out. "Mommy? Are you coming?" 

A beautiful smile found your lips as Bradley said, "You belong here."

You nodded and turned toward the living room, leaving him in the kitchen to clean up. But he didn't want to have it any other way. He promised you he'd take care of everything around here, and that included wedding planning and decorating for Christmas. One problem was the fact that he barely had any decorations, because he barely had time to do anything before you. The other problem was that you were clearly worn out this week after Disneyland, but he needed your input for the rest of the planning.

After loading the dishwasher, Bradley paused and decided to make you some decaffeinated coffee in his Aviators Look Down on Others mug with an extra dollop of French vanilla creamer. He let it cool on the counter for a few minutes while he wiped down the table, and then he took a sip for himself before heading into the living room. Noah was curled up on your lap, and your fingers were gliding gently in his hair as the two of you watched your show together. 

"This is where you belong," he whispered, and you turned to look at him. 

"I know," you said with a soft smile.

Bradley snuggled in carefully next to you and handed you the mug, and soon Noah started to fall asleep. When your head came to rest on his shoulder, Bradley said, "How do you feel about me asking Amelia if she can babysit Noah on Saturday so I can take you on a date?"

"A date?" you asked softly. 

"Mmmm," he hummed. "Maybe go old school and do dinner and a movie. Something other than pizza and an animated classic. Actually leave the house and stay out past eight o'clock."

You laughed softly as Bradley pushed Noah's soft curls back from his forehead. "You do like to go old school, Daddy."

He rolled his eyes but smiled. "So is that a yes?"

"That's a hell yes," you replied. "A date with my hot baby dad sounds nice. And thanks for letting me have a freak out earlier." You looked up at him with his mug in your hands and his son sprawled halfway across your lap. "I love you, too. And I'm totally ready to get married." 

He let your words settle in his mind. There was so much to do. The extra bedroom still needed some work if it was to become the nursery. There were still a few things to finalize for the wedding. But he wanted to do all of it, and that included enjoying every moment with you. 

"Well that's good, because I'm totally ready to get married to you, Baby." He kissed your forehead and said, "I'll carry Noah to bed, and then I'll text Amelia and Penny."

When he stood with Noah curled up against his chest, you got to your feet as well, and Bradley's heart leapt as you told him, "I think I feel like trying on my wedding dress now."

"Yeah? You need any help with that?"

You shook your head and stretched, and the soft swell of all your curves was accentuated by your bump. You kissed him softly like he wasn't completely entranced by you. Like he wasn't aching to tuck Noah in and follow you to the bedroom.

"I think I'll keep it a surprise. You can see it on me in a few weeks," you said with a little smirk as he started following you toward the bedrooms.

Every mention of the wedding left him throbbing for you. When you started to close the bedroom door behind you, Bradley said, "As soon as you're undressed again and in bed, you let me know, and I'll be right in."

"Yes, Daddy."

----------------------------------

As Bradley pulled the Bronco out of the driveway, you waved to Noah and Amelia on the porch. Bradley let you pick the spot for dinner, but he said he was in charge of the movie. Then he mentioned something special that he wanted to get on the way there.

"What's the special surprise?" you asked several times as he drove. "You're just teasing me at this point."

He gave you side eye and reached for your hand. "Thought you liked that sort of thing."

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing and encouraging him. "I like it when you do it in bed a lot more."

He hummed like he was mulling over your words. "Then consider this some quality foreplay: you'll learn what the special surprise is when we get there, and not a moment before."

You moaned like you were in pleasure, and you felt the Bronco jerk a little to the right as Bradley's hand tightened around your fingers. You burst out laughing and looked over at him. "I love it when you talk Daddy to me. Oops, I mean talk dirty."

"You keep moaning like that, and I'll drive off the damn road," he muttered, checking the mirrors and changing lanes.

When he turned right and drove a block, you saw Sweet Dreams Bakery. "Oh, wait," you said, pointing out the window. "That's where you got the princess crown donuts!"

Bradley pulled past and found a spot where he could parallel park. "Yeah, and we can stop later after we buy the special items."

"Oh, we're shopping now?" you asked, happy you brought your credit card along to keep teasing him.

"We are," he confirmed, and when he helped you down from the Bronco, you realized he parked right outside a jewelry store. He led you inside and said, "Shopping for our wedding bands."

You wrapped your arms around his waist, and bounced up and down a bit. You had been making yourself giddy over the idea of Bradley wearing a ring. He was literally letting you stake your claim with something visible, and if your moan in the Bronco was intended to wind him up, the one that just escaped you was one hundred percent authentic.

"Daddy."

His dark eyes were locked onto your lips as he whispered, "Behave." 

A sales clerk with a bright smile was headed your way, and Bradley squeezed your hip in warning when she said, "Hi, Mr. Bradshaw."

You looked at Bradley with raised brows. How many times had he been here that they remembered him. "Are you here to pickup your special order?"

"Special order?" you asked as Bradley's cheeks grew pink.

"Uh, we're here to pick out weddings bands," he said, avoiding your eyes.

"Perfect," said the sales clerk, and she was immediately leading the way over to a display case. You were ready to dig your feet in and demand more information about Bradley's special order and why they knew him by name here, but he took you by the hand and tugged you gently along.

You pressed your lips together to keep quiet as you remembered that Casey lived in this neighborhood; you were really starting to dislike the idea of Bradley hanging around here when your eyes settled on a tray of men's wedding rings. "Oh," you said softly.

Bradley kissed your temple and whispered, "Tell me which ones you want me to try on for you, Princess." 

You pointed to the plain band right in the middle, and you knew before he even put it on that it was going to be perfect. He picked it up with his right hand and slid it onto his left ring finger. It was a little thicker than a traditional band, and once he had it on, he held his hand up for your inspection. 

"It's perfect," you told him, your voice a little breathless. 

"You want me to try on any others?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips. 

You kissed the edge of his mustache, letting your body clench at the rough feel of it. "No."

"You sure?" he whispered.

"Yes."

He removed the ring and handed it to the woman who worked there. "This one," he told her while he kept his eyes on you. "It's perfect."

When it was your turn to try some on, Bradley stood behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder. You started to reach for the plain bands that would match with your enormous diamond ring, but Bradley said, "What about one like that? With the little diamonds that go all the way around?"

It was gorgeous. You should have known he'd point out something spectacular looking when you considered how pretty your engagement ring was. "Bradley, it probably costs ten times more than the plain one. Besides, the plain one kind of looks like yours."

When you glanced at him over your shoulder, you were met with those Bradshaw brown eyes that you couldn't seem to say no to. "Humor me?"

So you slid it on with a soft sigh, because it was incredible. "I do like it," you told him, trying to take it off again, but he stopped you with both of his hands. 

"Then we should get it."

You tore your gaze away from him and asked the woman, "What's the price difference?"

"Please don't tell her that." You turned back to Bradley to glare at him, but of course you didn't get an answer about the price. He had the upper hand in this store. "If the price didn't matter, would you want this one?" he asked you, tapping the ring where it was still sitting on your finger.

"Maybe," you whispered. "But the plain one is just as-"

"You're not plain. You're a Princess."

The kiss you gave him was a little indecent, but you didn't really care. He slid the ring from your finger as you tasted his mouth, and you assumed he gave it to the saleswoman so he could buy it for you. You just didn't want to let go of him as his big hands moved down your sides to your belly, and then he broke the kids.

"I would get you anything you want," he whispered, his lips ghosting along yours. "Same goes for both of my kids. Now let's get dinner before we miss the movie."

You tried to pay with your credit card, but this time he shook his head and told you to put it away. The woman was discreet when she ran his card, and then she handed Bradley a bag way bigger than was necessary for two, small rings.

"Is there something for me in the bag besides the wedding band?" you asked, trying to grab it when he led you back outside.

"Maybe," he muttered. "How about you stop asking about it, and I'll buy you some donuts."

Your stomach growled pleasantly at the thought. "Great idea. We can have dessert before dinner and the movie."

Bradley smirked. "And then after the movie, we can have another round of dessert."

-------------------------------

Bradley couldn't get enough of watching you eat your dinner with your hand occasionally pressed to your belly as you chatted away. He wasn't too concerned about the way you'd been overwhelmed to the point of tears a few days ago. You were tired and pregnant and working and busy being a Mom to Noah. Your hormones were changing again after the progesterone shots ended, and he knew it was a lot. Honestly, it was a lot for him to process, too.

But tonight you looked like you always did. Young and perfect and vibrant as you told him a story about something that happened at work. You ate and ate, picking up another piece of garlic bread after you told him you were getting full.

"If you're still hungry, we can always skip the movie," he mused, and you paused as you ran the last bit of bread through the sauce on your plate.

"Oh my goodness," you said, eyes wide. "I didn't know I was basically inhaling my food."

He just shrugged as he said, "Well, you are gaining weight."

A smile found your lips, and then they were twitching before you started laughing. "Wow, Bradley. You got all the smooth lines. It's a wonder none of your app dates were successful."

He hooked your feet with his under the table as you tried to stop laughing. "That was entirely your fault. It had nothing to do with my lines, because I wasn't trying very hard. And you're supposed to be gaining weight."

You were still grinning as you said, "Once again, coming in hot with the seduction."

You were still teasing him when he signed the credit card receipt and stood. He helped you to your feet and said, "Maybe I was just saving all my worst lines to use on you. Make sure you really love me. You ever think of that, Princess?" 

"It worked," you told him. "I actually do love you. And I especially can't wait for you to start wearing your wedding band." You gasped as he held the restaurant door open for you. "What are we going to do for music for the wedding? We don't have a wedding band."

"Oh," he said with a laugh. "I made a playlist." 

 "You made a playlist?"

"Yeah, you wanna hear it while I drive to the movie theater?"

He handed you his phone and let you start up the playlist. The first song was okay. So was the second one. You skipped along a few more songs, and then you looked at him while he drove and said, "It's all your old people music."

"Damn. Who's being rude now?" he laughed. 

"It's just that it's all from the '80s!"

"So am I."

"Bradley! Be so serious!"

"What? You know how old I am."

"I'm adding some things to the playlist, and if I find the Electric Slide in here, I'm deleting it."

Bradley ran his palm across his mouth and said, "There's my little brat."

You sat up straighter in your seat, clearly proud of yourself as you tapped away on his phone screen. It was so hard to surprise you; the way you reasoned through things was exquisite. He should have known you'd call him out on the extra item from the jewelry store, and now you were glancing out the window as he pulled past the movie theater.

"Throwback '80s night?" you said, reading the marquee out loud. "Bradley Bradshaw!"

"Okay, fine," he said, parking and killing the engine. "I'm old, and I like old shit. But really, the movie selection was just for you, Princess."

You turned and looked at the marquee again as it changed to show the retro film of the night. "Adventures in Babysitting!"

-----------------------------

Bradley pulled some of the cash from the spot behind the TV and gave it to Amelia as she collected her belongings. She and Noah made some art projects together which she said were drying on the kitchen table, and once again, she offered to watch him anytime.

"He's the sweetest little guy," she promised as her eyes dipped down to your belly. "But you'll have to pay me more to watch two."

"We can negotiate your rate when the time comes," Bradley said with a laugh while he opened the front door.

"Deal." 

She walked along the path to her parked car, and Bradley made sure it started up before he shut the door. He was turning the lock as he asked, "Did you like the movie?" But then his hand froze when he realized where your fingers were.

"I did," you promised, pulling his jeans zipper down over his considerable bulge. He wasn't even hard yet, but you were already so turned on. "Wanna go on your own adventure? With your former babysitter?"

You weren't subtle as you looked up at him and licked your lips, tugging him gently toward the couch. "If I ever say no to you, then there's something seriously wrong with me," he groaned, letting you pull his jeans and underwear down so his soft length hung out from beneath his shirt. 

When he dropped down onto the cushion, you dragged his jeans down to his calves so he could spread his legs open a little wider. You kissed his tip and he made a soft sound at the back of his throat as he started to get hard. You dragged your hands up and back down his full length, keeping your eyes locked on his. "Hi, Daddy," you whispered before dragging your tongue along the pretty bead of his precum, enjoying the way he throbbed.

"Hi, Princess," he managed as you smiled up at him. His voice sounded strained as you moved slowly and meticulously, stroking him until he was rock hard.

Right before you took him between your lips, you said, "We're getting married." You smiled around his length as he whined your name, and you let him thrust until he tapped the back of your throat. Then you sucked along his length, inch by inch, until he popped free from your lips, and you whispered, "And we're having a baby."

His fingers found your cheek, his skin a little rough against your face as you rested your head on his thigh. Bradley's eyes were glued to yours, watching you with wide pupils as you lazily kitten licked his cock and stroked his balls with your thumb. "You look so pretty like this," he rasped, and you kissed him before continuing with your little licks. "You're gorgeous when you're driving me out of my mind."

You giggled softly, and his cock throbbed against your lips. "I like teasing you."

Bradley grunted, his fingers tipping your chin up as he said, "I can fucking tell. And you can tease me all you want as long as you suck me off in the living room for the rest of my life."

You licked his length and whispered, "I'll put it in my wedding vows." Then he guided your parted lips around his cock again, and he moaned in satisfaction as you took him deep. 

His stamina was commendable like always. You gagged yourself on him over and over until your saliva was dripping down your chin and his balls. You gripped at his thighs as he thrust up to meet you with his fingers gentle on your face. And all the while, he words were sweet in comparison to the rough hairs rubbing your lip and the tears burning your eyes. 

"You're perfect, Baby. Can't get enough. Gonna marry you... my beautiful Princess."

When he finally came, you were sputtering and practically in tears before scrambling up onto his lap as he told you he loved you. Bradley's hands found your belly as you kissed him. 

"I love you too, Daddy," you whispered before he dipped his tongue between your lips to taste himself. Soon you and he would be married. You were pregnant and exhausted and letting him do most of the planning, but it would be great. No matter what happened on your wedding day, it would be perfect. You'd have Bradley and Noah as your family. The baby was healthy. You didn't want to overthink how you belonged here and fit with them. You knew that you did, even when it was hard to see yourself the way Bradley always seemed to. You snuggled against him and said, "I think you're perfect, too."

-------------------------

I love this family. The next chapter was originally going to be their wedding, but I got some asks about Bradley's bachelor party, and well now I'm intrigued. So there may be one more chapter than I anticipated! If you have DILF Bradley bachelor party thoughts, please let me know. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #roosterforme #the younger kind

[luvelve]

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

[sweet-honey-fruit]

An Even Happier Valentine’s Day ❤️

Surprising Genshin Men with a lingerie on Valentine’s Day.

Star Rail version here 🫶

w/: Dottore, Neuvillette, Zhongli, afab!reader

Warnings: p in v (Dottore), rough sex (Dottore), pinned down (Dottore), degradation/praise (Dottore), choking (Dottore), reader is a masochist for Dottore, biting (Dottore), unprotected sex (Dottore) clothed pussy rubbing cock (Neuvillette), dry humping (Neuvillette), oral sex (Zhongli), fingering (Zhongli), sacrilegious undertones (Zhongli), marking (Zhongli)

Masterlist: xxx

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Dottore ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - How cute that you think you could ever surprise him with such a thing. He's observant. He sees the lace just lightly showing from under your outfit. He sees the way you've been anticipating getting through dinner to be alone with him. He sees how a desperate, bubble disaster you are at the mere thought of 'surprising' him with an intimate gift. How foolish of you. That only meant he had time to think about what he wanted to do to you when you got home.

The moment you two got home, he ripped your outfit off to reveal the pretty set you bought just for him on this special occasion. He'll make sure this opportunity doesn't go to waste.

His thrusts were rough, deep and harsh with the words he muttered against your ear being so much harsher, "My little slut had this all planned from the beginning, hm? You wanted to be fucked like this," He chuckled deeply next to your ear, pressing a sloppy kiss on your jaw. His chest pressed against your back, easily pinning your hands behind your back with one of his own. The strain on your arms burned, but it burned in a way that had you seeing stars.

His free hand snaked up your chest till he was able to wrap it around your neck. The pressure he added cut off your moans, breathing turned ragged. The lack of air made you dizzy; it was all so overwhelming yet you couldn't help but want more.

His teeth dug into your shoulder. You could feel the sly smirk he had when he felt your pulse quicken from where his thumb pressed against it.

"You love it when I make you my plaything," He kisses the bite mark he left, a stark contrast to his rough thrusts. His dick slides in and out of your slick hole with ease, your wetness dripping onto the sheets below. He's fucking you so good that you feel weak, your body succumbing to his and wanting nothing more but to be filled.

"There you go, take it. You're doing such an amazing job. Sshh, it's alright-" A low brown cuts him off as he feels your walls clamp down around his cock, "Oh fuck! Yeah, just like that."

He lets go of your throat, although your moment to finally being allowed to breath is cut off once more when his hand entangles in your hair, pushing your face down into the mattress. His hips snap against yours desperately, and you can tell by the way his moans become more frequent that he's close. You go limp, eyes rolling back as each thrust sends electricity through your body. With a muffled yell of his name, white hot pleasure courses through you. Your mind goes blank, the only thought being of the man buried deep inside you.

As your walls flutter, Dottore's hips stutter He stills, grunting out your name with fucked-out bliss. His hot cum fills up your needy hole, leaving you to grind up against him to feel all of it, all of him, and all that he has to offer.

His body leans down to cover yours, panting up against your ear. You can hear the smile on his face while his cum drips out of your still needy pussy.

"What a good plaything you are. You did so, so well," It's cocky, it's patronizing with only a hint of genuineness.

And it makes you want to be fucked by him again.

Neuvillette ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - When you told him to lay down on the bed for a surprise, this isn't what he had in mind. He's not complaining though. It was something to see you wearing a lingerie that replicated his color scheme. Dark blue with lacy white accents. Seeing those particular colors, his colors, provoked a deep primal urge and had his cock straining against his pants.

Nothing though could prepare him for how your clothed pussy glided over his hardened, twitching cock. His hands rested on your hips, nails digging into your flesh so deliciously that it motivated you to go faster. He was in a trance, watching your wetness soak through the panties and coating his dick in your juices.

With each snap of your hips his cock presses up against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. Neuvillette looked majestic with the way his face was tinted pink, letting out groans whenever your pussy lips moved perfectly over the shape of him. His precum was dripping onto his abdomen, showing just how much he can't wait to be inside of you.

When you focus your attention at the tip of his cock, he lets out a desperate command to yes, keep doing that. His hands grip your hips and force your movements to keep at it. He was losing his composure, beads of sweat gliding down his chiseled chest. The sight made you light-headed, intoxicated by the pure beauty of the man under you.

Your clit throbs as the mixture of your soaked panties and his cock stimulate it in a way that pushes you over the edge immediately. Your legs quiver as your orgasm hits you hard, turning your vision blurry as it rakes over your entire body. His eyes train on your face, how your lips part to moan out his name, eyes glazed over because of him and how he made you feel with such a simple act.

Perhaps it was the added slick, or maybe the blissed out look on your face mixed with the plea of his name that made him cum without warning. The pearly white substance covers his sweaty chest. Despite that, you collapse onto his chest without a care in the world, trying to recover from the mind-numbing effect of your orgasm.

His arms wrap around your waist, a loving kiss pressed against your head. "I love you."

Zhongli ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - As an archon, he's had many people worship him over the years. Perhaps that's why it was truly ironic how he was the one doing the worshipping right now. He just couldn't help himself. How could he not when you came out of the bathroom looking so pretty? So enticing?

He couldn't help but to gently pick you up and place you on the bed like you were the most precious object known to man. He couldn't help but to kiss ever inch of you, touching all of you in a way that had you whispering his name like a prayer. Every touch translated to 'I love you', every kiss was a reminder of his devotion to you.

Even when his tongue lapped at your soaked pussy, circling your clit in a way that made you wither, he showed his dedication to you. It was intoxicating the way he his ring finger teased your throbbing hole. It felt so good that you swore he turned you delirious. All you could focus on was him and how his fingers curled up inside you, hitting pleasurable parts deep within your velvety walls with expertise.

He was mesmerized with how you gushed around him, slick dripping down his hand. He watched attentively as he bit into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, marking you as his. A constant reminder of him only for you to see.

Zhongli couldn't help but to wear a loving smile, thrusting his fingers faster, sucking on your clit harder just to watch your eyes roll to the back of your head. Such simplicity yet your legs were quivering, body shivering and moans reverberating off the bedroom walls. The taste of your love was so addicting that he didn't stop even when you squirted all over his hand. How could he stop when you were practically riding his fingers for another orgasm, hips grinding down with need.

#genshin men x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin men #genshin impact #dottore x reader #genshin men x reader smut #dottore x reader smut #neuvillette x reader smut #neuvillete x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut

[hyewka]

ⵌ. txt’s favorite places to mark you

totally based on an extensive and objective analysis.

➥ yeonjun | neck

something about yeonjun makes me think (believe) he’d be the type of person to transition a very heated kiss—having you grind on his lap, catching little breaths —to trailing his wet lips to your neck, vacant flesh all for his to color. gently sucking on your neck that you bare for him, older faded sore spots being his favorite to revisit. bringing the swell back up as his hands squeeze your ass, getting you so needy, a literal mess on his lap, dazed and lightheaded, only for him to just…end it there. like, literally… that’s it. because yeonjun loves marking you, especially where it’s extra visible and you have to fumble around to make an attempt of hiding them with your color corrector, the cutest furrow of your brows of concentration as you carefully dab concealer on all over your neck. he’s quiet when he notices you accidentally let one or two peek through, the light purple hue beating the rushed light cover of concealer spurs him on. like, going outside with those hickeys unknowingly showing with his fingers intertwined with yours— it’s basically screaming to the world that you’re his. and to yeonjun, that might just be the hottest thing in the world. he’d definitely get some sort of ego boost when seeing someone that was checking you out finally take notice of the marks and almost immediately averting their gaze. even those damn questioning raised brows and prying eyes gets him in the mood. his dick’s pathetically twitching in his pants to finally get you home and completely ruin you, while keeping in mind to make sure of occupying the naked space you have for him on your neck </3 (definitely loves to touch them once in a while, he’s seriously mesmerized)

( ;´꒳`;) other members under the cut!

➥ soobin | tits/chest

having soobin buried in your tits while you cockwarm him :/ … yeah, he’s going to be rough. dumbly just kissing all over your chest, drool trickling down as he makes a mess of spit all over your chest because the man just can’t control himself. head so cloudy as he struggles to crane his neck to suffocate himself further in your tits, not able to think clearly with the way you’re practically dripping on him, the warmth of your pussy doing nothing but make him rougher against your poor nipples, suckling onto them like life depended on it. your chest is almost always sore and entirely covered with hickeys when you’re done with soobin— there isn’t anything particular about hickeys that he enjoys, he just seemingly almost always finds his mouth attached to your tits when fucking.

➥ beomgyu | inner thighs

there is a possessive side to beomgyu similar to yeonjun— he loves to suck hickeys all over your neck and he also tries to convince you of showing them off (of which he fails) but he’s also a man made to eat pussy so his actual number one spot to give you love bites is somewhere near it. it’s when he’s teasing you endlessly, making show of his pink tongue slowly darting out to lick and then slightly suck, all while making eye contact— so so close to your heat but not quite there. other than relishing in the way you struggle before finally giving in and with a bratty whine asking him to finally fucking eat me out! he’s also just quite obsessed with your thighs. like, he’s obsessed. when you wear the flimsy white lacy thigh highs that ride up all the way to over your knees that god, he loves so much, he’s practically begging to have you wrap the soft flush around his head. beomgyu definitely likes the satisfaction of ripping them up only to see the faded purple splotches of messy hickeys from a few days ago, feeling the smirk on his lips as he kisses around them, fluttering his pretty lashes knowing they’d soon get wet with sparkling tears ^_^

➥ taehyun | collarbones, under ear

taehyun is possessive, but in other ways that don’t involve hickeys. he’s especially private about his sex life, to the point friends around him are convinced that he has the most boring sex known to mankind (probably the furthest from the truth). he just prefers to keep it under the covers. and under the covers does he keep it. having you lay facedown on the mattress, ass slightly raised with the help of his hands, god darn near blowing your back out. snapping his hips so deep into you, you’re gurgling and choking on your spit, some of it grossly seeping into the sheets, making so much mess as he mercilessly ruins you. leaning down to your ear to whisper the dirtiest shit ever, he’s so nasty with it i’m telling you!! but when you reach the too-fucked-dumb-to-even-process-what’s-going-on stage, he resorts to dipping his head to your shoulder’s, laying sweet feathery kisses…before he bites down, waking you right the fuck-up from your dazed state </3 he sucks, but he definitely does a lot more biting—teeth grazing your collarbones, just shy of the more-revealing option of going for your neck. but sometimes, if he’s feeling particularily threatened out in pure daylight, he’d pull you aside to somewhere slightly private for a quick session of having you stand there to get the swell under your earlobe to flair up again, little visible purple reddish splotch to show that you’re taken.

➥ hueningkai | tummy

body worship and hueningkai is honestly the realest, most sense making talk i’ve ever heard. he is a tummy lover to the core, have him quite literally splayed on top of you just on your bare stomach, and he’s whining. what can he do when it’s so squishy and stretchy perfectly to his liking? everything all too innocent as you absently play with strings of his hair— until, well, you feel something poking against your thigh. it’s honestly cute how random it is at times; hyuka’s boners. but the way he fucks is absolutely nowhere near ‘cute’, it’s damn near animalistic, unhinged crazy shit that you literally find yourself sore for an entire week, not in the state to have a cock inside you, rearranging your guts. huening’s understanding of when you’re not feeling it, the reason why he completely ignores the tent in his pants…that’s what you seem to believe until…yeah, not completely. it starts off with him suddenly raising his head, startling your hand out of his disheveled hair, and a mischievous smile creeping up. you basically have it all memorized— your boyfriend tickling you to absolute hell, getting both of you giggly and your eyes watering from laughter, then he starts playing with the ends of your shirt, before ‘accidentally’ riding it up and then ‘innocently’ laying ticklish pecks on your tummy, making you chuckle while you watch him with starry eyes. to his credit, it is mostly innocent, in the sense you don’t really do anything further unless you want to. sucking on your flesh, he’s gentle, darting his tongue to lick then suck before moving to another spot on your stomach, doing the same thing a few times until he gets too caught up into it, the exhales through his nose fanning against your skin as his dick starts leaking through his pants because yup, hueningkai’s definitely getting off of this. ‘so pretty’ he’d murmur when he pulls away, turning out to be the one most affected with his droopy lust filled eyes and blood rushing up to warm his cheeks as he stares at your tummy covered with his spit and pretty hickeys all over the expanse—he’s the first in line to blush and admire the work hes done on you.

#i love spouting bullshit but also not total bullshit #if you squint #guys this is very factual #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #soobin smut #yeonjun smut #hueningkai smut #taehyun smut #txt x reader #🌷. rana thoughts

[harrysmimi]

Cuddly Mood

Synopsis: One where Harry comes home from work to his girl being clingy. He ain't complaining.

More of my work

Harry had told his girl to not wait for him for dinner as he would be late, and that she should to go to bed. Basically not wait up for him as he got work.

He was working late at night on some new music. Not essentially planning to write a whole new album just yet, he just wanted to het these new out and into production and see how things go from there for him and his new future projects.

YN understood where he came from. She's an artist too after all. She sometimes want to spend all day and night, in her studio painting and work on this one piece of art which would not budge off her head until it was out. She's had those days and Harry's always been respectful and supportive of her.

But she wanted to be selfish today and hold him back and cuddle him all day. Well, she could barely bring herself to do that because he was so excited about this new song he had in his mind. Or melody? Or a rhythm? Or a beat? She doesn't quite know how music works.

This afternoon Harry got ready to leave for studio after he'd returned from gym, all showered up and dressed up. He wore a pair black washed jeans a simple white tshirt, which she likes to steal from him some times. He took a hoodie with him incase he's cold, which he always is at the studio.

He's been going to gym religiously now, so he's been more muscley and big, he's still his shy self which makes him like her giant human cuddle bear. Especially with his instincts of him wanting to hold her and make her feel safe. Oh boy, did that make her all mushy!

She just wanted cling on him all day and take a big fat nap. But she had to let him go for few hours.

But she still deserves his undivided attention, especially when he's back from a long tour and will be going back very soon.

She's a night owl, Harry knows it. So when he came back home to her place, he found her dusting her furniture around. She's like her cat, who likes to zoom around at three in the morning.

And it was three in the morning when he came back!

"Hi, angel!" He chirps as he locked the door behind him. "What are you doing up so late baby?" Dropping his stuff on the sofa he walked upto her, snaking his arms around her tummy he pulled her close to him, placing a chaste of kisses on her neck and back of her head. She melted in his embrace.

Exactly what she craved all day!

"I'm not sleepy." She mumbled.

"You need to fix that sleep schedule of yours, angel, it's not healthy." He expressed his concerns, "no coffee for you after three in the afternoon!"

"Hey!" She whined.

"Yes!" He argued back. "You wanna go to bed now?"

"Yeah," she agreed.

Harry was changing out of his clothes. He took off his hoodie and shirt, and got rid of his pants.

On rare nights his boxers and basketball shorts stayed on and today was one of them. His girl doesn't mind, there is nothing she haven't seen. He doesn't feel insecure around her anymore and does she, which is amazing!

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I have your hoodie?" She asked.

"Yeah, which one do you want baby?" He asked, changing into a different pair of boxers.

"The one you wore today?"

"Aren't you going to be hot, angel?" He enquired, because it was getting warmer and he doesn't want her to layer up.

"No, I'll just wear that and nothing underneath." She explained.

"You sure about that?" He asked, just to be sure.

"Mhmm."

"Alright strip down!" Harry smirked cheekily. He was all done dressing half decent, he took two strads towards where she was stood in the bathroom, applying her moisturiser.

Her sleep shirt caught onto her earrings as she was taking it off. "Ouch!"

"Be careful there!" He stepped in and carefully untangled the shirt from her earring. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" She nodded. Harry smiled and carefully pulled the neckhole of his hoodie (which is now both of theirs to share!) over her head, before his hands travelled behind her back to unhook her bra. He slipped his off but not before taking the opportunity to have a quick feel of her breasts, run his hands over her delicious tummy rolls towards her hips. "Stop it tickles!"

"Yeah?" He teased her, tickling her more under her breasts.

"Stop!" She laughed holding onto his wrists tightly. He stopped and helped her put her arms through the sleeves.

"My favourite!" He commented on her wearing her "cute set" of underwear, which were a pair of pastel green granny panties with french fries on them.

They're adorable okay!

"Stop tickling me, I've missed you enough all day!" She pouted feeling his hands wander down to her bum, trying his best to tickle her.

He gasped, "I need to make up for it, don't I?" With that he threw her over his shoulder as he brought her back out to their room and carefully placed her on their shared bed. "Why didn't you call me then if you missed me so much?"

"I did not felt like wanting to disturb you while you worked." She explained as he peppered her face with sloppy and wet kisses.

"You can never disturb me!" He exclaimed quietly, "could have worked on that song later. Next time just tell me, okay? I'd prefer to spend time with you!"

"Mhmm! I will." She agreed, "now kiss me?"

"Gladly!" With that he placed his mouth on hers, giving her a tender kiss. "I've missed you too today! Wrote a song about you and us."

"You did?" She was so surprised even though he tells her when a song is inspired by her. It still manages to surprise her, thinking she can be a muse to someone's art when it's always been the other way around for her. He always finds new things about to sing in his songs.

Where as he's always been muse of her art!

"Yeah, wrote about how much I love you, and how I wanna be with you for as long as you want me!"

"I want you forever!"

"Forever, yeah?" He rested his forehead on hers.

The next few minutes he spent talking about the song and loving on her until she fell asleep, snuggled close to his bare chest.

He'd never enjoyed being a big spoon in his life!

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @onlyangelrain @supersanelyromantic @tenaciousperfectionunknown @haarrrys @originalsoulcollector @harrysgirl-1d @lomlhstyles @im-an-overthinker @moonys-star @blackbookwhore @tenaciousperfectionunknown @stilesissaved @allthelovehes @novalunosising @sunshinemoonsposts @harryssky1 @dear-mylove @sofia-faustina

Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry smut #harry styles fic #harry styles abo #harry styles blurb #harry styles concept #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry blurb #boyfriendrry #boyfriend!harry #fiancerry #fiance!harry #husbandrry #husband!harry #fluff #harry concept #concept

[donatellawritings]

hiiii 💕 i need to see how rafe shows off his latina sweetheart ESPECIALLY when it comes to her being around other guys ty tella

one thing is for certain: rafe cameron has never been one to shy away from putting his girl on full display, nor was he afraid to publicly stake his claim on you in many different ways. rafe is a man of grandeur, and as much as he loved being the center of attention, but loved having you showered and adorned, even more. he knew the challenges that came with being with a girl like you - you were precocious, your swollen lips expanding into a dreamy that could make any man fall to his knees, your naive, yet aware cadence magnetized those around you, but rafe could not and would not allow just anyone to approach you. at the end of the day, you were his - his girl, the only one who could make his entire world crumble with a snap of your baby pink, acrylic-nail enforced finger.

rafe was quick to dress you in the finest jewelry, dainty white gold chains, bracelets, and rings adorning your limbs, his initials either dangling from or engraved into each individually crafted piece of jewelry. the young man couldn’t find the strength to ignore the swell of pride that came with seeing you wear his initials for the first time. it took everything in him, not to knock you up with his first child the moment he laid his eyes on you.

“how do i look, papi?” you asked sweetly, your swollen, glittery gloss covered lips expanding into a stupidly sweet smile as you joyously bit down into your bottom lip, eyes wide with anticipation as rafe approached you.

rafe carefully lifted the diamond-encrusted ‘R’ that dangled from the dainty chain, his hand lightly resting around the base of your throat, “y’look beautiful, baby, just don’t take that off, okay?” he instructed, his eyebrows raised with authority as you nodded furiously, before sliding your delicate hand up his tense chest.

“thank you, it’s so beautiful,” you beamed, bouncing on your heels as rafe brought his hand to your wrist, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, before taking a close look at your empty, for now, ring finger.

aside from outrageously expensive gifts, rafe made it a point to have you under his arm, at all times. there was a substantial height difference between the two of you, rafe making sure to use his staggering height and long arms as means for keeping you tucked close into his side. if it was a seated moment, you were prettily perched atop of his lap as rafe kept one of his arms loosely secured around you.

this, of course, came with rafe being obnoxiously public about his displays of affection towards you. quite frankly, rafe didn’t give a fuck who was around, if the mood struck, he’d have you held by the back of your neck as his lips swallowed yours in an erotic kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he put on a show for any guy who believed that they had even the slightest of chances of getting to you, let alone with you. there was even a time where rafe had felt as though, topper was looking a bit too closely in your direction, so he decided to up the ante.

“open your mouth, mama,” he rasped, his hand wrapped around you throat as your eyes widened with fear and exhilaration, maybe it was the coke that he’d painted on your gums a few minutes prior?

you complied with ease, your swollen lips parting as rafe pulled you in closer, by the base of your throat, his bright blue eyes locked on topper as he softly tilted your head back, before allowing a line of spit to roll off of his tongue and fall into your welcoming mouth. a low moan escaping your throat as you swallowed happily, before leaning back against rafe’s firm chest. rafe lightly slapped the side of your thigh, finally peeling his eyes away from a now dumbstruck topper, allowing his head to roll back against the couch as you licked and sucked at the taut skin on the side of his neck.

you see, this was only a taste of how sadistic rafe could be. sometimes, rafe would push the limits, even going as far as to stuffing his cock deep inside of your pretty little pussy, while his boys sat awkwardly in the next room.

the sound of rafe’s hips slamming into the plush fat of your ass, coupled by the squelch of your wet hole swallowing his length could be heard, echoing through the kitchen as you let out a throaty moan, your hand slapping onto the smooth surface of the counter as you ached to grab onto the nearest object you could find.

“fuck, baby - shit, uh top what the fuck were you trying to tell me about?” rafe smirked, his stomach tightened as his balls slapped against your ass, his arm sliding around your waist, in an effort to pull you straight up against his chest. a sharp exhale left rafe’s lips as he relished in the new angle, pressing his hand flush against your lower abdomen to feel the small bump whenever he fully thrusted into you.

topper stood in the main living area of tannyhill with his mouth slack open, his eyes blown with disbelief as he struggled to figure out just how he would be able to carry a conversation with rafe, “uh, s’nothing too crazy man, i just-”

“fuck, rafe, s’too much,” you moaned, looking up at him through your doll lashes as he continued to fuck into you with no change in his impressive stamina. you let out a high-pitched whine as rafe pressed you closer against him, his sharp teeth nipping at your jaw.

“i know, baby, just let me finish talkin’ to topper, a’ight?” he cooed, his rapid and hard thrust now decreasing into slow and deep rolls of his hips against your ass, your increased wetness resulting in louder and more frequent squelches coming from your pulsing pussy. a smile now played on rafe’s lips as you nodded weakly, his large hand now covering your mouth, “sorry man, what were you saying?” he called out.

topper ran his fingers through his hair with a forced laugh of embarrassment as he shrugged, “yeah, uh i don’t even know what i was saying man, i’m going to head to the back” topper gave up, the hum of your muffled moans and sopping pussy becoming all too much for rafe’s best friend to withstand as he rushed towards the backyard, eager to get away from the awkwardness that came with hearing rafe fuck your brains out.

and to top it all off, rafe cameron was not one to hesitate when it came to his impulsive behaviors, he’d rather deal with broken knuckles and cut cheekbones than have any man try to challenge him when it came to who you belonged to. rafe wasn’t new to fights, nor was he ever scared to get in one. sure, there was a new pang of guilt that ached in his chest as he heard your cries and attempts to get him to fall back, but rafe was a very proactive man, he had a reputation to protect and uphold, even if it was strained and volatile.

there was no way in hell that rafe would ever allow a man to walk away unscathed, especially if he had the balls to touch you. sure, rafe could do without the look of disappointment that glazed over your pretty eyes, but he had a job as a man, your man, to protect you, and he’d be damned if he felt ashamed for it. “stop looking at me like that, baby,” he scolded, nudging your chin with his free hand as he continued to hold onto the steering wheel.

you huffed, pulling your head away from rafe’s touch as you relaxed into the passenger seat. your threaded eyebrows furrowed with attitude while you remained silent and disobedient.

rafe scoffed, before turning to look at you, “knock it off, y’should not have even been that fuckin’ close to him,” rafe spat, his free hand now pointing a finger at you, before returning to the steering wheels, his bloodstained knuckles now strained from his tight grip, “hey, i’m serious, drop the attitude.”

you sighed, a pout now playing on your lips as you reached for rafe’s arm, bringing his hand to lay on your thigh as you leaned your face against his tight bicep, your eyes lowering to take in the sight of his swollen knuckles.

“i don’t like when you fight, you always get hurt, rafey,” you sighed, clinging to rafe’s arm as he rolled his eyes, carefully turning the steering wheel.

“yeah? well, if you stopped being so fuckin’ friendly, i wouldn’t have to do this, mama,” he sang, his tone teetering on being condescending as you pressed your cherry stained lips to the skin of his bicep, the glint of your gifted chain glinting against the streetlights.

as long as you wore that chain, as long as you were his, rafe wouldn’t stop until the entire world knew just who it was that you belonged to.

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #obx #rafe cameron #asks #sweetheart!reader

[luveline]

jadey would you please mind giving us more of kbd!steve this season? xxxx

kbd dad!steve and mom!reader fight over christmas pyjamas, 1.4k

“I don't know what you want me to say.” 

Steve frowns deeply at you. Another haircut, another day more handsome than before, he pulls off everything, but not… 

“Say you like them,” he demands, hooking his thumbs in his pyjama top and pulling it outwards to properly show you the front. 

Steve is wearing Christmas pyjamas. The Grinch from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas in all his scrooge glory grins at you evilly against a red background. The pants are white, patterned by red and green drawings of the Grinch holding a Christmas present. He looks much happier from your husband's thighs than the long sleeved shirt. 

“Babe, they have cuffs. We're gonna be warm all day,” he says. 

“They don't match,” you say, pointing to the Grinch on his leg, who holds a pink gift wrapped in yellow ribbon. “Maybe it's the pink and red throwing me off.” 

His frown turns to a pout, the almond shape of his warm brown eyes at a downturn as he says, “You really don't like them.” 

You crack like a weak walled chestnut over a flame. “I'm kidding! I'm just messing with you, baby, I love them. They're so Christmas-sy. Did you get some for me?” 

His relief is palpable. “I got some for everyone.” 

Steve got matching pyjamas for himself, you, the kids, and Robin. He shows you them from a bag on the kitchen table, where you ooh and aah reluctantly. You love him, love everything he does, but you're finally on your holidays vacation and you'd wanted to spend as much of it sitting down as possible. Not that sitting down is possible at home, but you digress. 

Steve senses your reluctance with a grumble pressed into the back of your neck, his arms grabbing you from behind. “Alright, I get it! You hate me and your kids and you hate Christmas most of all, whatever. I should've married Tammy Thompson.” 

You laugh and lean forward over his arms. “Tammy Thompson wouldn't have wanted a thing to do with you, H, on account of you being a cruel, know-it-all narcissist who forces his exhausted wife off of the couch at every opportunity he–” 

“Alright, that's enough.” 

Steve squeezes you until you're pleading with him to let you go, a riot of giggles forced from your lungs as he digs his hands into your sides, his fingers practically drilled into your ribs. You call for mercy and he ignores it, muttering about narcissism in your ear. He laughs as you laugh, can't keep up the act. 

“Beg for me to stop,” he says. 

“Stop!” you say, trying to pull his arms off of your stomach. “Steve, stop it!” 

“Say you'll wear the pyjamas.” 

“Steve! I'll wear them! Would you–” 

“Get off of her!” Bethie shouts, barrelling into the room to push at her dad's legs. 

It's so unlike Beth to shout that you both immediately stop fighting. For a split second, you think she's worried that Steve was actually hurting you, but then she laughs as she punches him in the thigh and sticks herself between your breathless bodies, two small arms extended to keep you apart. 

When she's sure Steve is done, she wraps her arms around you, looking up into your face with a big smile. “Saved you, mom.” 

“You saved me,” you agree, bending down to hug her, “thank you, sweetheart, thank you.” You drop tens of kisses into her hair and face, so many that Steve makes a show of huffing.

“Beth, she deserved it,” he says. “She doesn't wanna wear our matching jammies. Don't you wanna do that?” 

She looks at him with those big sorry eyes only young children can master. “Yeah, dad, but…” 

“But what?” 

“But she's my mom.” 

You pull one of the kitchen chairs out and sit down, patting your lap for her to climb up and sit with you. “But I'm her mom,” you sing-song, ever so slightly smug. 

“And I'm, what? Cat food?” 

“Don't listen to him, baby, he's just jealous.” 

Steve turns away from you both, showfully miffed. Bethie giggles and turns into your chest. “He's mad,” she laughs. 

“So mad.” You drop your nose into the side of her cheek. 

“Are we still having a treat tonight?” she asks. 

“Of course we are. It's Christmas! Mom's home, daddy's catching up on his sleep, we're all having cake and ice cream and chocolates until we can't eat anymore,” you promise. 

“Wish you were home all the time.” 

“Me too, baby,” you say, rubbing her cheek with the tip of your nose slowly. “I wish you could come to work with me. That would be so fun. But we have to make the most of our time away, yeah? Let's have lots and lots of fun.” 

“I saved you,” she says, “so maybe I can have extra cake.” 

“Beth. You can have as much as you want tonight, I promise.” 

“I love Christmas,” she decides. 

Steve rushes back into the kitchen with a child under each arm. Dove laughs, her eyes practically sparkling, not a care in the world though she's upside down, and Avery clings to Steve's waist, shouting, “Dad, put me down!” through nervous giggles. 

“Tell mom what I told you,” he says. 

“Dad, I'm slipping!” 

“Avery, you're not slipping. I'm frankly insulted that you think I would drop you. Now tell your mother what we said.” 

“Daddy's not a nar-pasit!” Dove says joyfully. “He's a sweetheart.” 

“He's a huge narcissist,” you correct in a similar tone. 

“He's dropping me!” Avery cries. 

Steve shakes her until she screams. “I am not! For Christ's sake, I can curl you like two pound weight, you delinquent! Now.” He takes a deep, fake breath, pulling the two girls higher into his armpits. “Like we rehearsed.” 

“I did my turn,” Dove says, reaching out for you, her smile hard to miss even if she is upside down..

“Dad didn't even want to marry that lady,” Avery says, her eyes squeezed closed. Steve chuckles and kisses her head, amused by her silly worry. “He's only ever wanted to be in love with you. And to drop me.” 

Steve chokes he laughs so hard, leaning forward and depositing the eldest girl onto two steady feet. “Perfect as always, Ave. And you!” He twists into a shape, Dove's head getting closer and closer to the floor. She couldn't be happier, giggling like she's been tickled the whole while. “You did perfect too, honey.” 

“I didn't even bring up that lady,” you say. 

Steve and Dove return back to the right way round after some careful manoeuvring. “My bad. Babe. Y/N. I'm sorry, okay? I'm a loser and–” He nudges Dove aside gently to take your hands, your knees, ignoring Beth where she's in the way to kneel in front of you. “I just need you to want to wear these pyjamas as bad as I want you to. So pull it together.” 

You put your lips to the shell of Beth's ear. “Should we forgive him?” 

“Mmm…” Beth points at Avery. “He has to say sorry for almost dropping Avey.” 

“Right.” You nod sagely. 

Steve turns to Avery with wide eyes, “You're not actually upset, are you?” he asks, putting out his hand to her. 

“My brains are like cranberry sauce,” she says. 

He raises his eyebrows, delighted. “Yeah? The thick one from the can?” 

Dove climbs under his arm. He pulls her in for a cuddle unthinkingly, but just as quickly she's ducking away from him to walk up to Avery, reaching for her face. Avery leans down obligingly. 

Dove pokes her forehead. 

“I'm not really jelly!” Avery says, giggling. 

“Well, I'm sorry if I scared you almost dropping you,” Steve says, holding his hands together, brown eyes like melting sugar in his pleading. “Can you please forgive me, so mommy will forgive me, and we can put on our new jammies?” 

Avery isn't stubborn. “Yeh, okay. I'll forgive you.” 

He smiles, turning to you now for the final verdict. 

“I already said I'd wear them, Steve,” you say with a grin. 

“Oh. Good. Alright.” He climbs to his feet, split from cheek to cheek. “I'm gonna go get the baby. Aw, shit, and the camera. Practise your poses until I come back, angels!”

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 25

part 1 | part 24 | ao3

cw: throwing up, recreational alcohol & drug use

“Well, thank fuck I didn’t wear the Reeboks,” Eddie laughs.

Steve groans 'Jesus,' because he doesn't know what else there is to say to that. Eddie came out of nowhere. Materialized like some kind of freaky wizard. And that would— that would be on brand, wouldn’t it?

Eddie the magician. Eddie the shapeshifter.

Maybe Eddie is Misty? Would explain why she left him all those dead rats when he first—

“Oh, fuck.” His stomach rolls at the thought, a hot-cold-nasty-sick shiver down his spine, and he bends forward to retch again. Hits the grass this time at least, right between Eddie’s boots; groans and spits drool into the dirt. Eddie smooths a hand between his shoulder blades, which is nice, even if everything else about this totally blows.

“Godddd,” he moans when the dry heaving stops. He lifts his head to apologize and nearly tips himself into the mess he just made.

“Whoa, whoa whoa, hey; easy,” Eddie shushes, steadying him with both hands. Warm palms against his biceps; firm grip.

“S’nice.”

“Yeah?” Eddie grins, private and soft. "Alright, arms up."

"Mmh?"

"Up! Come on, sweetheart, up you get." He loops Steve’s arms around his neck, wearing him like a cape. Steve giggles into his fluffy curls, nuzzles his nose into them because they're warm and Eddie smells nice, and time does that weird drunk thing where Steve slow blinks and suddenly they're a hundred yards away.

Edge of the creek, downstream from the falls where the water’s just a thin squiggle cut through smooth, mossy stone. Eddie's got Steve facedown across his lap, gathering up his hair and making a headband with his hands, and he's apologizing in advance for Steve-doesn't-know-what.

"Big breath," Eddie warns him, and then he dips Steve's face in the icy stream like he's battering fried chicken in a goddamn egg wash. Two quick dunks, the cold ripping through Steve's nerves; it's all finger-licking fucked.

"What the hell?!" Steve splutters when Eddie lifts him up, rolls him onto his back and smiles down at him.

"Mornin', sunshine!"

"Jesus Christ!"

Eddie's laughing at him hard. "Sorry, big boy. Had to wake you up somehow."

He brushes Steve's bangs off his face, and Steve pants up at him, wide awake now. Trembling. In the dark, Eddie's eyes look nearly black. Two inkpots full of moonlight.

“'M awake," Steve mumbles to distract himself from the sudden kick-throb behind his ribs. "Sorry I barfed on your shoes."

“Ah, comes with the territory.” Eddie kicks his legs out, rinsing the toes of his boots off in the stream. “Drug dealer, remember? Seen a lot worse than this at parties, sweetheart, I can promise you that."

Steve blinks at him. Still feels syrupy and slow like he's wading through mud. Sweetheart. The word's a fog machine in his mind. Hazy warmth; candy clouds. "If... If you're a drug dealer, then... should've woken me up with drugs."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. Jus' rude not to, really."

Eddie's lips quirk. His eyes are soft, his fingers combing through Steve's hair, and Steve's head is still in his lap, even though it probably shouldn't be. "If you want coke..." he murmurs, his voice a low, fond rumble, "you can just ask for it."

"Yeah?"

"Sure, Stevie."

Steve watches with rapt attention as Eddie reaches into his jacket, pulls out a little baggie and holds it up in question. Steve gulps; nods.

Fuck yeah. He hasn't had coke in forever.

Eddie pours the smallest amount onto the back of one hand, licks the thumb of his other and presses it into the pile, coating it in white powder. He brings it up to Steve's mouth and rests it right against his lip — barest hint of pressure; not hovering, not pushing in. "Well, go on," he smirks.

Steve makes a questioning sound that comes out like a whine, a high, nasal thing in the back of his throat. His cock stirs in his jeans.

"Ask me," Eddie whispers.

"Can I have it?" Steve asks. He can feel Eddie's thumb against his lips as he speaks; has to stop himself from flicking out his tongue to get a taste. "Please?"

"Fuck," Eddie hisses between his teeth. "Yeah, baby." He presses into the meat of Steve's bottom lip; drags it down, exposes skin that's wet and warm. Dances over it with the pad of his thumb — the inside of Steve's lip, his gums, his tongue.

There's no mistaking the sound Steve makes for anything but a moan, throaty and deep as he sucks Eddie's thumb deeper into his mouth; hollows his cheeks, makes Eddie gasp. Makes him twitch his hips up under Steve, and it's good, and Steve feels like there are live wires where his veins used to be, the rush of the coke and Eddie's hands and Eddie's noises in his good ear, and—

"Hey!" someone shouts across the field. Eddie moves like he's been shot at, flinching away from Steve entirely, a hand pressed over his lap as he turns to see who's coming.

Steve lifts his head to look. His mouth is buzzing, lips full and flushed like he's been kissing someone. Kissing Eddie. God, he wants to. Wants to hike him up the falls, shove him hard against a tree.

But he can't. Because Jason Carver's here now.

Great.

—

part 26

gonna do the tag lists in separate reblogs from now on (with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content), comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic #cw: alcohol #cw: drugs

[undercoverpena]

7. honey cream

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. anxious!reader. an: can i just say a massive thank you to all those who show up EVERY SINGLE WEEK. i adore you so much. thank you. if you're new to the ride, also welcome. even if i loved this story so much, i never expected people to love it even half as much as me, never mind the love i keep getting. so thank you.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Nice forearm in your story.

Thanks, It’s this guy I met in a hardware store? We’ve been kind of seeing one another.

Oh, tell him he has a nice watch.

I’ve been told to tell you that you have a nice watch.

You’re hilarious.

I try to be.

You can say no to this, but do you want me to call you later?

That’ll be nice. I’ll be working late so I'll take a break when you do.

Tomorrow, I just need to grab some bits from the store and then I’ll be with you.

Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me paint?

I was promised to see you in overalls, so yes.

They’re nice, but please lower your expectations.

I bet they look great on your ass.

Everything looks great on my ass.

Including my hand.

Yes, specifically when you slipped your fingers in my jeans pocket on the way to brunch.

I can’t wait to see you.

Drive safely, Butterscotch.

“I feel bad that your day off is spent painting.”

Flicking the lid off with a screwdriver, Frankie just smiles—eyes looking up at you from under his cap.

When he looks at you, you might as well be a fly irresistibly drawn to the brilliance of it, captivated by it.

He’d come in clothes that were long since paint-splattered. A set, you assume, he wears most times—an over-washed and over-loved flannel over a greying white tee, and a pair of cargos that have more pockets than you know what they could be used for.

It had been more natural when he’d arrived this time. A sweet kiss at the door, a long hug where he walks you in and his heel kicks your door shut. A muttering of 'you smell nice', into your neck—grinning over his shoulder because you’d sprayed far too much of your perfume.

“Don’t—I want to be here.”

“I think I’ll likely apologise another three times, at least, before we’re done.”

Standing, wearing a slightly twinged expression on his face, he steps over the clean trays and folded step ladders. His hand rises, turning the beak of his cap around, before he’s in front of you, staring at you before he kisses you.

Kisses you like he wishes to rid you of your worries and make your guilt wash away. Like he wants to empty your mind of things you’ve once been told, make you forget them, purge them. Fuck, his mouth almost does.

“So, rule of thumb—ceiling, walls and then kickboards, window sills.”

“Did you… Did you really just finish kissing me and immediately talk about painting?”

Grinning, he chuckles, bending down to grab a paintbrush. “Did you want me to linger on why you feel bad, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?"

You hesitate for a moment before taking the brush, fingers brushing over his. “I guess I’ll get dirty, since it’s with you.”

He seems to swallow, gaze holding yours as a soft smile tries to tug at his lips before flattening out to a line. Then, you just watch as he pours the off-white paint into the trays—its thick, glooping contents filling it quicker than you’d banked on, but he took it perfectly in his stride.

The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, forearms flexing as he tilts the larger tub until he appears content with the measurement in the tray.

You know a thumb covered in paint shouldn’t cause your throat to dry, but it does. Your mind thinking up all the places he can leave a stamp of it, a trail of it, turn you into a map showing where he’s been—over a thigh, collarbone, your —

“Race you to the end of the wall?”

Blinking, finding him already readying his roller on the blank, sun-stained wall.

Before you can respond, he's off. The roller glides smoothly across the wall, leaving a trail of fresh paint in its wake. You laugh, shaking your head at his competitive spirit before joining him, your own brush meeting the wall—cutting in.

In time, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of brushes against the wall, the occasional laughter, and gentle conversations. The room transformed over the hours, looking fresher, already a thousand times better than it had this morning with the patches off filled in holes and cracks.

Taking the brush from your hands, you step back to the middle, looking around, not initially aware of how he’s looking at you. Not until you spot a satisfied smile and a glint in his eye.

“We did good, didn't we?”

You shrug. “Think you could do better—put your back really into rolling next time.”

Shaking his head, he throws your brush into the used tray before he’s grasping, tugging, your body connecting with his in an oomph—his reflexes quicker, arms longer than you’d expected—as laughter escapes out as you slide your hand around the back of his neck.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

“Sure,” he whispers, cheek close to yours, fingers on your hip. “Have I told you how good you look in your overalls?”

Rolling your lips, you slowly turn in his hold—all set to turn his cap for him again. To whisper to him that they’re easy to remove too, that he could slide his fingers up, even slant your mouth back over his again.

But you hear his stomach. It rumbles—practically thunderous.

“I haven’t even offered you food,” you confess, words laced with guilt. “I should make you food.”

“You don’t have to…”

Fingers entwining with his, you pull him—finding him happily following, even as he mumbles about cleaning up, that the paint will dry in the tray. You don’t loosen your hold until the two of you are in the kitchen, a hand needed to open the fridge, both required to pull out some ingredients.

“You cooking for me?”

“I’m going to try, if that’s okay?”

He leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.

“I'd love that, baby,” he says, the affection in his voice making your heart flutter like it keeps doing.

Before you’ve even sliced the first vegetable, Frankie excuses himself—a kiss to your cheek, all domestic, normal. It not feeling weird even as he goes back to the “project room” and you hear him tidying.

Because it’s not odd in the slightest him being here.

A thing you turn over as you continue to prepare ingredients, cutting and marinating. By the time he’s returned, sporting an amused smile on his face, you’re about to begin frying things.

“Can I do anything?”

Shaking your head, you glance at him over your shoulder, finding he’s taken up his earlier spot. “Just keep me company.”

And he does. Asking you things, questions—some about your childhood, your family, friends. Every word spoken, he hangs onto. Staring like he’s making notes in his head, committing them to memory, somewhere inside that beautiful, amazing mind of his.

“Should I get used to you cooking if I come round and help you with your project?” he teases, taking a water from the fridge like you’d instructed.

“You better not get used to it,” you retort, throwing a small piece of bell pepper at him playfully. He ducks, laughing. “I batch cook most of the time—easier when you eat for one.”

His eyes follow as you move around the kitchen with a fondness in his eyes, you focusing on not burning anything. Stomach knotting itself when it comes to dishing it up, placing it down, and watching him slide into the stool.

When he takes the first bite, you swear you are frozen—unable to move, or think. Eyes just focused on his, watching, waiting, until you breathe a sigh of relief at the way his eyes light up. “This is really good, baby.”

You can't help but feel a little proud. “Thank you.”

He raises his water in a toast. “To more cooking then,” he proposes, and you laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly.

As you stick your own fork in, it's easy to find comfort in the shared silence, a contentment you continue to be amazed at. The atmosphere all at ease. There's no need for words as you both eat, side-by-side, a relatively normal thing for most, but not for you.

But, none of it feels weird, awkward. It never has—even if part of you continues to wait for it. If anything, it continues to be comfortable, right.

Even as the food effortlessly vanishes off both of your plates, it's not until you've reached your fill that you clear your throat.

“So, how often do you have Luca?”

Chewing his food, he puts down the remainder—wiping his fingers on the napkin. “It’s a weird rota. But it works? I’ll have him in the week for two nights and then overnight on a Saturday one week and then one night in the week the following and then Friday to Sunday, and then I’ll have him for three nights in the week the following. Sometimes, extra if I have time off or I want to take him to see family.”

Nodding, you take a sip of your drink.

“Does that… bother you?”

“No! No, of course not,” you grin. “He’s the most important, in all of this. It was just curiosity, I couldn’t… I couldn’t work out the pattern.”

Chewing his cheek he smiles. “You trying to work out when I’m free?”

Shrugging, you look away, aware of the heat warming your cheeks. “Well, someone did post about brunch on their Stories…”

“I remember someone else posting my forearm on theirs.”

Smiling, you plate your cutlery down. “It’s a very nice forearm.”

Shoulder nudging you, Frankie chuckles—cutlery lined up on his plate, your hand moving to take it. Sliding around the kitchen as he begins debating what part of him will appear next, a thigh, an ankle.

“I can include all of you next time, if you like?” Hand testing the hot, soapy water filling the bowl.

“Yeah?”

Licking your lips, you smile. “I don’t cook for anyone, Morales.”

Shifting to meet your gaze, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Is that right, Rainy? I must be pretty special then.”

“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper but the words carry an immense weight, one you suspect has snuck out, and embedded itself into him.

You're quick to turn your back to him, hide the heat and shyness, as you carefully rinse off the dishes. Only hearing the stool shift at the last moment, the sound of his sock-covered feet padding around until he's standing behind you.

His presence is unmistakable, more so when he places his hands on your hips. “I think I'm beginning to,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn to face him, the plates forgotten in the sink. Looking up into his eyes, seeing a reflection of things fluttering in them.

“You better,” you say, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “because I'm not planning on posting anyone else’s arm for a while.”

His grin widens at your words, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "Good, because I don't plan on trying brunch with anyone else."

And as he leans down to kiss you, he pauses, mouth hovering over yours. “Speaking of…”

Narrowing your eyes, you retract your head, soap suds sliding off your wrists.

“My friends… they want to meet you.”

His words catch you off guard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Meet...me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

As soon as he confirms with a simple nod, you feel a tightness in your chest. An explosion in your mind. A vortex of thoughts, all overwhelming, non-stop.

Each second you try to breathe, the knot in your chest tightens, sitting, carving a bigger hole where your happiness had just been—

“Yes,” he confirms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on your hips as though noticing your sudden tension. “I think, maybe, I’ve talked about you too much?”

Running your teeth over your lip, you feel a piece of skin. One sticking up, not as smooth as the rest. Lip balm would solve it, fix it—but you pick at it anyway, pick, pick, pick—

Running your teeth over your lip, you notice a stray piece of skin, protruding slightly, disrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Lip balm would fix it, effortlessly smooth it out—but despite knowing this, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to pick at it. Listening to him as he explains, hearing names, a day suggested. As you compulsively pick, pick, pick—

Until he says your name.

Soft. Gentle. So cautiously spoken it makes your heart do a double take as you taste copper on your tongue.

“Are you sure? I mean, I want to. I just… don’t want to intrude or anything,” you reply, and you know it’s left your mouth shaky, bathed in nerves.

Attempting to shake the suds from your hands, hoping to fling off the worries with it, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. Mind a flurry, a snowstorm of ifs, buts and maybes.

Because meeting his friends is a significant step—a thing you’re happy about, pleased he feels the same way. Yet, you're also terrified.

Digging your hip into the counter because of it, rooting yourself as you flex your fingers.

“Hey.” His fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him; eyes full of warmth and reassurance. "You wouldn't be intruding, baby. They're… they’re like my family and… I want them to meet the person I can’t stop thinking about.”

Shoulders sliding down from your ears, you move to rest your hands on his waist. “You really talk about me that much?”

Scrunching his nose, he smiles. “A bit.”

“Okay,” you agree, your voice sounding more confident than you feel. “I'll meet your friends.”

“Great,” he grins, his relief evident. He pulls you close, hugging you tightly. “Benny—the one who fights—that's who we'll be supporting.”

“When?”

He frowns, but vanishes it away as though realising you hadn't been listening. “Not this weekend, but next. They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“I hope so,” you whisper into his chest, your heart rate trying its best to slow down.

I need you to tell me what I need to do with the office room, if your friends happen to not like me. They’re going to like you. But if they don’t. Rainy, they will. Introducing you is more so they don’t think I’ve made you up. You have a habit of making up people? No. But apparently, the way I talk about you makes it seem like you’re made up. Why? Because you’re perfect. I am not. You are, but let’s have that battle another day. What are you worried about?

It sits there, in your fingers. The answer to his question.

Foot kicking out at your kitchen island, laptop light illuminating your face as you roll your tongue over your lips.

Foot kicking out nervously at the kitchen island, the harsh glow of the laptop casting an eerie light across your face, you roll your tongue over your lips.

A nervous tic. One you find yourself repeating—letting it trace over the same path again and again, desperately seeking a sense of calm that seems perpetually out of reach.

The question doing its rounds, spinning and swirling: What are you worried about? What are you worried about?

Like a bell has been wrung, it blares out. The answer.

It vibrates through your bones and comes back to you in an echo. Almost a chorus: That I’m not good enough.

A thing you’ve done well to ignore, to stuff down. But now, it's crawling up out of its boxes, the tape having barely kept it down, flapping about in the whirlwind of worries in your head.

As your phone screen dims, memories flood, recalling the evidence. The words flung at you, feelings you’ve wrestled with in bathrooms at loud parties and brutal quiet nights; arguments in places that don’t feel like home and tears against brick walls that cut shoulders.

Unlocking your phone, you tighten your jaw because he's not like them. He's good, kind. A sudden unwillingness to bend to insecurity roaring inside of you as you list every good thing about him; not willing to let a good thing be ruined by things that could never happen.

Sliding your fingers over the screen, you type words that seem easier, less difficult to confess:

Living up to the stories you’ve said. No stories, just a mention of your name and apparently a smile they’ve not seen in a while.

With a mouth-closed grin, you purse your lips.

Reading over the message again and again as your teeth sneak out to bite your lip, thumbs darting out over the phone’s keyboard.

Would it be okay to pick you up? You want to pick me up? I do. Yeah, sure. I was going to offer to pick you up. I think I’d like to pick you up, and if I don’t make a fool out of myself, would you like to stay over? I’ll pack your robe.

As soon as he throws his bag into the backseat and slips into your car, you feel at ease.

The drive over to grab him had been a combination of whispered mutterings about how it was going to be fine and a mind full of all the ways it wouldn’t be.

It’s further helped when his lips press to your cheek, allowing hands to loosen on the steering wheel, and when that low voice sweeps over you as he greets you—as other words hang there unspoken.

You almost say it on sight, I've missed you.

Because you have. A week and a half of messages and phone calls sufficing, but you’ve missed his presence, his face, the chance to brush your fingers over his cheek.

“You look nice.”

Eyes widening, he stares down at himself, palms brushing out over his thighs. “Me?”

“No, the ghost you brought with you—of course, you.”

Snorting, he fastens his seatbelt. “Says you, hermosa.”

“Smooth talker.”

The drive to the fight continues with similar, gentle teasing, all comfortable conversation filling the vehicle. He begins to fill you in on the new developments in the saga of Luca’s newfound love for blanket forts rendering the living room a disaster and you about the sign-off on the work you'd been worked up over.

As you navigate the roads, excitedly sharing about how you've picked a wallpaper you like, Frankie's warm hand finds a home on your thigh, his thumb idly tracing patterns over the fabric of your jeans as he continues talking.

No smirk, nothing. Just the usual smile, as if he'd done this before.

Yet, he hasn't. Unfamiliar sensations surge through your body, catching you off guard, body all ill-prepared for the way it warms you. It almost urges you to shuffle in your seat so his hand rises north; Electricity crackles along your veins, accompanied by a tightening in your abdomen that refuses to dissipate. And, it only worsens when he coughs and his hand grips you a little tighter.

As more of the cityscape flits past your windows, you steal glances at Frankie. His profile illuminated intermittently by the passing street lights, shadows highlighting the rugged contours of his face.

By the time you're pulling into the parking lot, you wish the drive had been longer. Momentarily, you press your thighs together, for reprieve. Only doing so when his hand moves to open the door, the liveliness and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as he comes around the vehicle to take your hand.

“So, where will your friends be?”

Frankie tightens his hand on yours, leading you, holding the door open. “They’ll be in the locker room. Will is Ben’s non-official trainer.”

Nodding, you smile, letting him lead until the two of you come to a stop at the bar—him asking you what you’d like, giving you a look that says please don’t fight me as he takes out his wallet.

“You not needed there?” Shaking his head, ordering drinks as he faces his head forward but his eyes slide down to you. “And what are you, what's your role?”

“His other non-official, less present trainer.”

“You slacker.”

Shrugging, he shakes his head, paying for the drinks. “I know, so much free time to do it too.”

Grinning, you follow him to a spot out of the line, sliding your arm around his back, curling into him—the ice cubes in your plastic cup colliding in the fizziness of your drink.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Because you missed me?”

His mouth opens, parts—the tip of his tongue peeking out as you feel his chest expand before relaxing. “Yeah. Nine days was too long.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide your hand under his jacket, it taking a moment, more awkward than full of ease before you can fan your fingers out against him.

“Technically, it was five—if you count me half-waving to you when I came in to get a screwy.”

Almost spluttering as he takes a sip, he clears his throat, staring down. “You can’t call it a screwy?”

Narrowing your eyes, smirking away. “And why not, Morales?”

“Because suena mal... dirty,” he argues, trying to suppress a laugh.

Your eyebrow raises in question, but before you can retort, his lips are on yours, effectively silencing you. The place around you is all of a sudden silent, muted—as if no one else is around at all. The ring, the lights, and all of the people blurring into nothing, not as your fingers tease over his chin, as your mouth reminds itself what his feels like.

Pulling back, mouth hovering close to his. “So, what do I need to know about your friends? Outside of the obvious.”

The obvious is that they all served together. Frankie had explained it one night as you cooked for yourself, him on a shelf—face filling the screen as you sliced and brewed on the stove.

It was clinically given, top-level you'd been sure. Just the need to know—the need to understand.

“Well, Ben is loud—but he’s gentle. Will is a bit protective, especially since we've all been through a lot together," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But they're good people. They're upfront and honest.”

“Does Harold like them?”

Tutting, he pauses as he lifts the plastic cup to his lips. “The only person Harry likes is you. And his own family.”

“I’ll be sure to drop that in conversation then. Show them I’m one stamp approved already.”

Tilting your chin up, he licks his lips—slowly, intently. “You have nothing to worry about, alright?” You nod, trying to take in his words. “I mean it.”

“Okay.”

Kissing the top of your head, Frankie keeps his arm around you. Even when Benny's name is shouted and the crowd goes wild.

I think they like me.

Are you texting me from the bathroom?

Maybe. But, I think it’s going well.

Baby, are you peeing and texting me?

No! I dried my hands and then messaged you.

So you’re leaning against a dirty wall texting me.

Are you grinning like an idiot at your phone?

Don’t answer I can see it.

Shut up.

If that’s the grin you wear when I message you, no wonder they wanted to meet me.

Basta!

You're cute when you're flustered. Can see the red climbing up your neck from here.

Come back and keep me company.

Grin a bit more and I might.

Rainy.

Fuck you're handsome, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while the meeting happens off-paper (haha wanted to say off-screen) all meetings won't appear like this 👀. we knew they'd love her, and in time we'll see how much. also, her texting him in the bathroom may be my fave thing she's done off her own accord (i am merely just a body and fingers when rainy begins talking to me)

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[in-my-feels-probably]

for your slytherin boys reacts, what about how they react when you dress up as them for halloween? :)

How the Slytherin Boys React to You Dressing Up as Them For Halloween

Request: for your slytherin boys reacts, what about how they react when you dress up as them for halloween? :)

Hi! Happy Halloween! I hope everyone is having a good day. I’m sorry to those of you who wanted more of the boys, but I only included Theo, Enzo, and Mattheo on this one. If you want to see some of the other boys in my future work, please let me know. These three are just who I’m focused on right now. Also, I wrote this with a fem reader in mind, I hope that’s ok. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this :)

(Warnings: nothing? idk, theo’s might be just a tiny bit suggestive. also vague descriptions of size differences. let me know if i missed anything)

—

Theodore Nott

Instead of wearing his clothes, you’d dress up in something inspired by him. But you’d still use a few things of his just so he’d get the point.

You wouldn’t even be able to walk in the door before he’d notice your costume and smirk.

He’d tease you about it, but he’d secretly think it was so attractive. You’re literally advertising that you're his girl with the costume and he isn’t about to complain about that. 

He’d just have to compromise somehow.

You thought your costume was pretty subtle. A white button down shirt and a black skirt with sheer tights (or slacks, whatever you’re more comfortable with.) You had a green tie loosely hanging around your neck, a few of Theo’s rings on your fingers. You stole a cigarette from his coat pocket earlier that day, and you had it tucked behind your ear where it could be seen.

You considered nicking his lighter too, but you knew he would have come looking for it immediately, and you wanted your costume to be a surprise.

You went up to his dorm right before the party since you wanted to go together. You barely made it through the door before you heard a chuckle, making you pause in the doorway.

“What?”

“Nothing, pretty girl,” he smiled, waltzing over to you. “You didn’t tell me you were going to the party as me.”

Your shoulders fell as you looked up at him. “How did you know?”

Theo grinned down at you, reaching to pluck the cigarette from behind your ear. He placed it back into his pocket, pulling you into his chest as your face soured. He swayed you back and forth, chuckling.

“You look beautiful, darling. It’s a good costume. I wish you would have told me, though. How are people going to know I’m yours if I have nothing of yours to show for it?”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. You let go to reach for your bag, pulling out a tube of lipstick Pansy had let you borrow. You smeared it on, tossing it back in your bag before grinning up at Theo. You hooked your finger under his chin, pulling him down to your level before dramatically peppering kisses across his cheek and jaw. When you pulled away, he had perfectly shaped stains across his face.

“Better? Can we go down now?”

“In a minute,” Theo grinned, pulling you closer. “I think you missed a spot. Pucker up, love.”

Mattheo Riddle

Dressing up as him was pretty much an excuse to wear his clothes.

But you made sure to pay attention to the details, fake blood and all. He’d know immediately the second he looked at you.

Secretly was excited about couples costumes, but he thinks this is way more funny. You’d promise to do one with him next year.

Would absolutely match your energy and dress up as you for the party.

You had stolen a few of Mattheo’s rings a week or two prior to the party, feigning innocence when he’d ask if you had seen any of them. You wore one of his long sleeve button down shirts and a black tie, one of his jackets over your shoulders. You let Pansy do your makeup, and she gave you fake bruising and a cut over the bridge of your nose, completed with a swipe of fake blood.

You’d come up to his dorm to surprise him before the party, excitedly standing in front of his bed to show him your costume.

He’d smirk as he stood, coming to stand in front of you. “You’re going to the party as me?”

“Clearly,” you mused, grinning when he raised a brow at your teasing. “How do I look?”

He hooked a finger under your jaw, tilting your chin up. “You look beautiful, darling. But don’t you think we’re missing something?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You don’t think you’re going down there like that alone, do you?” He asked, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “I want something of yours. It’s only fair, darling. Besides, I don’t have a costume.”

You chuckled, reaching for his hand. “Do I even have anything that would fit you? What, you want one of my dresses?”

“I’ve got the legs for it.”

You couldn’t help but grin, tugging him along in the direction of your dorm. “Yes, yes you do. Come on, let’s see if we can find you something.”

Mattheo ended up showing up to the party in some of your clothes looking even better than you did in them. Your friends had plenty to say, whistling and making eyes as he confidently strutted around. He probably would have even worn your heels if he could have fit into them. But he didn’t need them—you both could barely keep your eyes off of each other the whole night anyway, glued to each other's side. Heels would have just slowed you down. 

Lorenzo Berkshire

He wouldn’t even recognize you were dressed up as him.

He’d just think you looked cute in his clothes and forget all about how you were supposed to be in a costume. You’d have to actually point it out for him to realize what you were doing.

He’d think it was really sweet, but he’d feel a little left out. He’d ask for something of yours so he could be dressed as you, and he’d wear it proudly.

You met Enzo in the Common Room, setting down your cup as you spotted him. You smiled at his costume. He was a vampire again—he wore the same costume every year because he liked wearing the velvet cape, and it was, in his own words, cooler than a superhero with a cape.

You walked over, spinning him around. “Hi, love. You look nice…as always.”

Enzo could barely let out a chuckle before he realized you were wearing his favorite shirt, the cuffs rolled up around your wrists because they were hanging too low. You had popped a few of his rings on your fingers, charming them to fit you for the night instead. 

“Pretty girl,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you. “You look so cute. But I thought you were wearing a costume tonight?”

You nodded into his chest. “I am…I’m you.”

Enzo pulled away and placed his hands on your shoulders, holding you at arms length. He looked you over once more, a giddy smile on his face. But his smile slowly fell, making you raise a brow.

“What is it?”

“Nothing…I kinda just wish you told me,” he shrugged, trying to brush it off. 

You shook your head in confusion. “What? Why?”

“Well, I would’ve worn something of yours. Then we could’ve come as each other. I’ve always wanted to do a couples costume.”

You felt your heart warm at his words, taking his hand in yours. 

“And retire the vampire costume? I couldn’t do that to you,” you mused, tugging him in the direction of your dorm. “Come on, let’s go find you something of mine. I’ll jazz mine up a little bit so you can keep the cape on—we’ll just be each other, but vampires. Does that sound good?”

Enzo smiled, nodding as you led the way.

—

A/N - Hi! Happy Halloween! I know it’s late, but I made it before midnight! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. I’ve got a few more requests to fill, and I’ll have those up soon. See you soon :)

#harry potter #theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys react #slytherin boys