#have one bubbly dork!

[pleuvoire]

"tme/tma terminology is just white feminism/doesn't apply to people of color/etc" just tells me you don't pay any attention to transfeminists of color or to black transfeminist theory

#is this really a discourse these dorks are having now. come on. #number one way to give away you live in a little internet bubble far away from any twoc!

[the-bi-space-ace]

Me with Rex: Hey, can I get another one of these blond bitches!?!

#tcw rex #star wars: the clone wars #Captain Rex #He is straight up adorable #I love him so much #he's such a dork #this man #excuse me while I give him hugs and kisses and love #I mean have you seen him????? #A straight up cutie #q t pie #More Rex love in this house #in this house we love and support Captain Rex #like the paris hilton quote with the bubbles ice cream #am I the only one who thought that single quote was a formative experience for my childhood #just me? #cool cool cool

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐒

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut (like very explicit), minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you and joel continue to see one another, no matter the distance. And finally, you two breach the subject of "what are we".

warnings: joel is still bi in this, minor angst in the beginning, live stream sex, piv, messy titjob, dirty talk, possesive!joel, squirting, a hint of jealous joel, good girl/sir, praise kink

a/n: this work was commissioned by the lovely @trauma-dol 💜 thank you so much for commissioning me, I appreciate it lots!

part two of ravish

There are a lot of things you don’t like. The smell of roasted chickpeas, for instance. While others might find it inviting, it's just an odd scent that doesn't sit right with you. Then there's that annoying feeling of needing to pee right after you've gotten all cozy in bed. The list just goes on. You can think of a million things that annoy the heck out of you. 

However, waiting for someone that you’ve been eager to see for months to arrive at your doorstep might be the thing you hate the most. 

Worry bubbles up within you, and you can't help but sigh as you reach for the phone. Joel was supposed to arrive a good thirty minutes ago. 

Excited to see him, you had spent time chopping up an assortment of fresh vegetables – plump tomatoes, vibrant bell peppers sliced into perfect rings, and red onions thinly shaved and ready to caramelize into sweet perfection.

Besides the cutting board, a bowl of freshly shredded mozzarella cheese sits in fluffy mounds, ready to meld and melt into gooey goodness. Fragrant basil leaves are waiting to be scattered over the final creation. The pizza dough had been carefully prepped and now resting. 

But alas, there’s still no sign of him. 

“Dammit Joel, where are you?” 

You knew you should’ve just picked him up from the airport. You should’ve just ignored his protests and gone. New York is a big city; he could’ve gotten himself lost. Or worse, someone might’ve tried to kidnap him, rob him—sure, he’s a big man, but this is New York City.

It had been a hectic month. After you moved back from your family home, the issue of whether or not the relationship should continue had been a hot topic of sorts. For a while, you both decided to embrace the idea of "not putting a label" and simply being together during your visits. However, that proved to be too complicated. Losing yourselves in each other during every visit didn’t really allow for anyone else to come in between.

Not that you were complaining. You really liked Joel and didn’t really have any desire to date anyone else. Joel had enamored you completely. It was hard to keep it casual when all you wanted was him. But clearly, Joel didn’t want anything serious. He was content with how things were. 

The thought made your heart sink painfully in your chest. 

You tried to visit each other once a month, although most of the time it ended up being once every two months. He still joined your live streams. And when your viewers realized you were more than happy to indulge in JMiller’s requests, they started to get suspicious, commenting and teasing relentlessly. That meant you had to ignore him for a bit, which you hated doing. 

You did enjoy the punishments that followed though. 

A sudden buzz pulls you away from memory lane. Looking down you see a text from Joel, prompting your smile. 

Almost there, honey. You weren’t kidding about the traffic. 

“Dork,” you grin. Your head falls back against the back of the couch. You’ve missed him and now that he’ll be here soon makes you all giddy. Dormant butterflies erupt in your chest. Just the thought of him is enough to excite you. For an entire week, Joel Miller is yours. You had planned out everything. Not a minute will be wasted. Not on your watch. 

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. You practically jump off the couch and run toward the sound. When you open it, you’re breathless, the tiny hairs at the back of your neck standing with attention. 

It’s him. 

He’s here. 

His eyes are tired, the crinkles you love to kiss deepening with his wide smile, “Hey there, sweetheart,” he says. “Miss me?” 

You jump towards him and wrap your arms around his neck. You hear the “oomf” that vibrates from his chest as you tug him impossibly close, forcing him to lean over you. Joel’s hands find the dip of your waist, squeezing tenderly, his nose bumps affectionally into the crook of your neck, and heat gathers under your skin. 

“God I missed you,” you say, voice trembling. Desperately you hold his face and bring him to your lips. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth, the movement dripping with a need for authority and control. You happily give it to him, opening wide. He sucks the air from your lungs and swallows your moans. Slick gathers between your legs, the fabric of your underwear clinging to your cunt and asking for the stretch of his cock. 

Joel guides the roll of your hips, chuckling darkly into your mouth when you desperately rub yourself against the denim. A shudder rolls up your spine. His cock firming under his jeans, “Honey,” he rasps. “Maybe we should close the door first?” 

“Why?” you say with a hitch of your breath. You drag your lips down his neck, nip at his racing pulse. “I know the neighbor wouldn’t mind. He watches my streams.” 

You’d said it without a second thought, which might’ve been a mistake on your part. His muscles grow rigid under your palms, the heat melting quickly like ice under the hot summer sun. “Is everything okay?” you ask, cupping his cheeks and forcing his gaze up. 

His gaze stays on you only for a moment before he drops his eyes to your lips. Your brows furrow at the reaction. His eyes are clear like a sky before a storm. Obviously, he has the question he wants to ask already locked and loaded but refusing to pull the trigger. He lifts his hands, the width of them blanketing yours as he pulls them down. 

“Just tired,” he sighs. He’s saved by the loud grumble of his stomach, the tension breaking. “And hungry,” he adds with a crooked smile. You force a smile and ignore the trembling of your bottom lip. Joel’s tone might be playful but it does little in calming your nerves. Moving away, the chill you feel on your skin is instant. 

“I prepared most of the ingredients,” you say. “I thought pizza and wine?” 

“We’re in the birthplace of the dollar pizza and you made it homemade?” 

You giggle at how comically wide his eyes are. “Well forgive me for not wanting to feed you the cheapest thing available,” Joel’s lips touch your temple, warmth blossoming where his mouth brushes against. “And I thought it would be fun.” 

“It will,” he murmurs. “I’m not used to bein’ pampered I guess. Only Sarah cares about what goes down my gullet.” 

“Hmm I don’t recall saying it was due to the consideration of your health,” you tease, fingers tiptoeing from his arm to his shoulder. He shivers at the touch. “Maybe, I just want to see what these strong hands can do with some dough.” 

His mere grin manages to send ripples of pleasure down your spine. Something dark and wicked crosses his face and you let out a shaky sigh. “Brat,” he teases. 

With a cat-like grin of your own, you close the door. 

Joel stands before the kitchen counter, the soft glow of the overhead light accentuating the contours of his figure. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms that glisten with a slight sheen of flour. The muscles beneath his sun-kissed skin ripple as he reaches for the dough, his biceps forming a subtle bulge with each purposeful movement.

With a focused expression, he takes the smooth, slightly elastic dough in his hands. The material yields to his touch, supple yet resilient. As his strong fingers sink into the dough's yielding embrace, you can't help but admire the way he handles it. His touch is both firm and gentle, his hands a testament to years of construction work that have endowed him with strength and dexterity.

The dough stretches and folds, responding to his guidance with grace. His hands move with an almost mesmerizing rhythm, kneading and pressing, coaxing the dough into a state of perfection. The occasional wisp of flour dances in the air as he works.

You watch, entranced, as Joel's fingers work their magic. The concentration etched on his face, the way his lips quirk up in a faint smile as he loses himself while doing so makes your heart race.

As he works, you find your own fingers involuntarily tracing the outline of your wine glass.

"Enjoyin' the view, honey?" Joel's voice rumbles, breaking through the silence. You quickly set the wine glass down and begin to babble something in response, your words stumbling over each other. But before you can complete your sentence, Joel grips your wrist, pulling you toward him. Your back is flush against his solid chest.

His scent of pine and undeniable masculinity, surrounds you, intoxicating your senses as effectively as the wine you had been sipping. The shift in the atmosphere is palpable, charged with an electricity that sends shivers down your spine.

Joel's hands find yours, and he guides them to rest above the dough, his touch sending a jolt of awareness through you. “I’m the guest why the hell am I doin’ all the work?” His fingers intertwine with yours, his calloused skin brushing against your more delicate touch. Your heart beats in sync with the rhythm of his kneading.

Kneading the dough together, you feel a growing pressure against your lower back. It takes a moment for you to realize – his erection, firm and unmistakable, pressing against you. The realization sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, and your breath catches in your throat.

His hand drops to your waist, guiding the grind of your hips. You feel him as the dress you’re wearing dips between your asscheeks, clothed cock parting the two gently. A soft growl rumbles in his chest, the tremble of it felt against your back. Your focus has shifted. The dough forgotten entirely. 

“You’re makin’ cookin’ really hard, sweetheart.” 

You manage a breathless chuckle, "Oh, and whose fault might that be, Mr. Master Dough Kneader?"

He snarls into your ear, hot breath causing goosebumps. “You really are bein’ a brat today. Is there a special occasion for that?” 

Honestly, being a brat really wasn’t your objective. It just. . . sorta came out. You reveled when Joel took control, be it face-to-face or during streams. There’s always something primal lingering under his touches, his words. You roll your hips, cutting his breath short, you feel the length of him being dragged down between the plump flesh of your ass. 

“I just want to make you happy,” you say surprisingly soft. When you attempt to rub against him once more, he stops you, both hands now on your waist, squeezing you in warning. 

“You do make me happy,” he breathes out. His voice is deep, slivering down your back. Heat pools between your legs and you lean into his warmth. “Why would you say that?” 

“Forget it,” You hadn’t expected him to take it so seriously. Worry begins to inflate your chest, heat rising to the tips of your ears and making you short of sight. You attempt to reach for the tomato sauce, making sure to drag the plumpness of your behind against the heft of his cock in order to eradicate the moment. You don’t want him to think too much about it. Or decide that what you have—whatever it is—isn’t worth it. 

The pads of your fingers brush against the smooth surface of the bowl but you can’t reach it. Not quite. Joel turns you over, hands between your waist and the sharp edge of the counter. Frustrated, you fill your cheeks with air and shoot him a glare. “Seriously, it’s nothing, Joel.” 

“No it ain’t,” he snaps silently. “Why would you stress about makin’ me happy?” 

He scoffs at your silence, “What? You think I’m just passin’ the time by comin’ here? That if it’s not worth my time I’ll just leave?” he asks, baffled. Your gaze drops to the granite floor, bottom lip sucked between your teeth. Joel’s eyes go wide, bushy eyebrows almost touching his hairline. “Wait you actually think that?” 

You remain silent. 

“Sweetheart. . .” he shakes his head and pinches your chin, pulling your gaze back up. He looks concerned. Remorseful. You try not to think about your pulse skyrocketing under your skin, try to ignore the skip of your heart. “You really think I’m that shallow?” 

“No,” you answer suddenly, the need to defend him to himself burrowing in your chest. “It’s not that. I just. . . I don’t know. I’m confused I guess.” 

“‘bout what?” 

His thumb draws slow circles on your cheek, you close your eyes, heart and chest suddenly light as air. You could float if you had the capability. You nuzzle his hand like a hurt animal, begging for more of his touch. 

“I really really like you, you know.” 

“I really like you too, honey,” you ignore the way his words and smile make your skin prickle with delight. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.” 

You sigh, you’re stuck between the constant worry and the comfort he’s providing. Despite being known as a chatterbox, you’re having trouble finding the words. 

“I know that me streaming isn’t. . . conventional but I’m not seeing anyone else. I don’t even do private streams anymore,” your eyes flit between his eyes, trying to get a read of whiskey-colored eyes. Fear coats your tongue upon noticing his lips are a thin line—definitely not a good sign. “And well. . . I don’t plan on seeing anyone else either because. . .” 

You melt in relief when his lips finally crack into a small smile, “Because you really really like me?” 

“Precisely,” you say a bit loud and excited. “And of course, I don’t want you to feel pressure but. . . are you seeing anyone?” you clear your throat. “B—Besides me, that is.” 

“Well. .  . sometimes I watch CammingBravo when he’s streamin’.” 

“Joel!” you huff out a laugh and playfully smack his chest. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Adoration dots over his face, the corner of his eyes wrinkling with his smile. You love it when he teases you. Love it even more when he just stares at you with blatant amusement. The expression doesn’t linger long though. Like a small flame under rain, it sizzles out, his demeanor changing suddenly. 

His brows furrow, a crease you so desperately want to kiss away forming between them. Joel’s jaw ticks, the muscle above it twitching. He inches closer until your foreheads are pressed together, snug. Your heart is beating with rapid thumps, your breath caught in your throat.  

“I’m not seein’ anyone else either,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not planin’ on seein’ anyone else either.” 

“R-Really?” 

He nods, “I want you, sweetheart. Completely. I don’t care what you do on your streams as long as you’re mine when the camera shuts off.” 

Your smile is instantaneous. It’s not like you planned on streaming for the rest of your life, arrangements could be made to make him more comfortable. And you had stopped collabing with Dieter ever since Joel came into the picture—though, now that you knew Joel watched the fallen-from-grace actor’s streams. . . you were getting ideas. 

Joel nudges you with the tip of his nose, smiling, yet still hesitant, “Say somethin’ will you?” 

“So, we both want to be exclusive?” you grin. “That’s what you’re saying?” 

“Reckon, I am,” he answers with a snort. He parts his lips to say more but you beat him to it, covering his mouth with your own. The kiss is long and sweet. It feels like a first kiss in a way, even though you have kissed Joel many many times before.

“Come on now, let’s get these ready and pop them into the oven,” his grin is wide as he pinches your ass, you jump with a yelp and he laughs. When you fix him a half-hearted glare, he only winks. The simple action makes your insides clench. “I’m starvin’.” 

The next day, you take Joel to your favorite coffee shop. They make the best bagel sandwiches and you’re eager for him to try them out. He gets the classic bacon, egg, and cheese, and you order the avocado BLT. You offer to pay, but Joel being Joel, he quickly distracts you by dragging his lips from your temple to your cheek, swiftly taking out his wallet.

You give him a look of pure betrayal. If you were wearing pearls, you’d be clutching them by now. “Joel Miller,” you say, aghast. “How dare you use your charm for evil?” 

His laughter fills the air as he hands his credit card to the barista, his broad chest rising and falling with each boisterous sound. Your lips twitch into a smile as he cups your waist, pulling you close. His lips touch your ear and heat warms your cheeks. “Sorry, honey. I can’t always use my powers for good.” 

All you can manage is a short nod. Your senses narrow on the way his breath ghosts your skin, warm and soft like a summer breeze. For a second you forget about the bagels and the coffee shop, all you can think of is him; his body, his voice, his scent—arousal pulses between your legs. If you were positive the two of you wouldn’t get arrested for public indecency, you’d let him take you against this very counter for everyone to see. 

“Come on now,” he teases, reading your expression easily. “I got the goods, let’s find ourselves a good table.” 

Alas, he really was holding a tray in his hands. You have no idea when the barista finished making your order. Either you’d been fantasizing for too long or you had one hell of a barista. 

The two of you stand awkwardly in the middle of the coffee shop and look around. You notice a couple of people staring you down, their gazes fixed on you, some of them even being bold enough to do the old-fashioned up-and-down. You quickly divert your gaze and point toward a table right next to the large windows. Frankly, you’re used to the staring. They rarely came up to you since no one wanted to be the one known for enjoying porn. Especially in public. Most of the time they’re harmless. 

Walking towards your table, you cheat a glance at Joel. If he did notice the looks, he didn't say anything. He made no indication of discomfort or anything of the sort. Relief sprinkles over you, maybe the looks weren’t as obvious as you initially had thought. 

Joel took a seat and you sat across from him, he shot you a look before reaching for his black coffee, “Everythin’ alright?” 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, trying to keep your nerves in check. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Just as he opens his mouth, you notice someone approaching in your peripheral. You hold your breath, eyes dropping to the bagels. The person, whoever it was, just stands at the end of the table. You feel the stranger’s eyes eating you up. Fuck, of all the times why now? 

“May we help you?” you hear Joel say, his tone the complete opposite of his words. When you look up at him from between your lashes, he’s staring at the stranger, the look dancing on the line of being a full-on glare. You take a slow breath and turn. 

It’s a young-ish man with blonde hair and brown eyes. Your first expression of him is that he seems kind. He doesn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence at all which you find impressive. Even across from him, you can feel the heat of his stare. 

“Hi,” the man says kindly. “S-Sorry to bother you but are you Honeysuckle? On Ravish?” 

Joel visibly bristles at that. And, despite your better judgment, it turns you on. 

“Yup, that’s me,” you let out an awkward chuckle. He extends a hand and you quickly take it, wanting this to be done as soon as possible. 

“I love your streams!” 

“Thank you,” you smile with tight lips. “I appreciate your support.” 

“Can I get a picture?” 

Briefly, your gaze flits to Joel, a shadow crosses his face, eyes dark in warning. Your breath hitches a bit, skin prickling, some part of you wishes the hardened gaze was directed at you instead. 

You turn back to the man, “Sorry I don’t do pictures,” he seems visibly heartbroken by that so you quickly add. “But I can give you an autograph if it’s all the same to you.” 

Oh god, you hate when you have to put it like that. It makes you sound so full of yourself. You’re not a movie star. 

His eyes sparkle, “Thank you!” he pulls out a small notebook and hands it to you. “Can you make it out for Alex?” 

“Sure.” you quickly sign your name—well, not your name name but your stream name; Honeysuckle. You add a little heart next to the name and return the notebook. 

“Thank you!” he repeats, his genuine glee spreading in the air and caressing your skin. Your stomach does a small somersault as he walks away, clutching the notebook close to his chest. 

“Well, at least he was nice about it,” Joel grunts, finally taking a sip of his coffee. You’re not sure what to take from his response, or expression for that matter. Is he mad? You don’t think he is. You nearly jump out of your skin when his focused gaze suddenly snaps to you. “You alright?” 

“U-Uh, yeah,” you wave your hand in dismissal. “This kinda stuff happens. Most of the time they don’t say hi though.”

“So they just stare at you like a piece of meat?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” your voice is uncaring. Honestly, you’re used to it by now. It’s not like you had the most respectable job, at least, not according to most people. You can only imagine the comments you would get if you had Instagram, or if Ravish didn’t have a tight-proof system that allowed you to ban people on sight. You reach for your sandwich and take a bite, you chew slowly. 

Joel snarls, “Assholes.” 

“I was hoping you didn’t notice,” you smile around your second bite. He seems almost offended by what you said, crossing his arms over the expanse of his chest. 

“Of course I did,” he huffed. “And why wouldn’t you want me to notice?” 

“I don’t know,” you truly didn’t. “I guess I didn’t want any hiccups to happen right after we decided to be. . . exclusive.” 

“Honey. . .” he gives you the tiniest smile, eyes full of care. “Don’t worry, people starin’ ain’t gonna get me packin’. Don’t you. . . don’t you know my feelings run deeper than that?” 

Joel's words hang in the air, his gaze searching your eyes for any sign of reassurance. The last thing you ever wanted was to make him feel like he was the source of your worry, the reason for your unease. Yet, here he was, looking like he believed he was to blame for your discomfort.

You lower your gaze to your sandwich, suddenly feeling a weight on your chest that has nothing to do with the bagel. It's not that you doubt his feelings for you, but you've carried the weight of your own insecurities for years, and it's hard to let go of them all at once.

Tears threaten to well up, and you quickly blink them away, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the middle of the coffee shop. You take another bite of your sandwich, chewing mechanically as you try to compose yourself. The flavors of avocado and bacon mix on your tongue, but they seem tasteless compared to the swirl of emotions within you.

Joel's hand finds yours on the table, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles. When you finally muster the courage to meet his gaze, you're met with eyes that hold a storm of emotions. Concern, understanding, and a vulnerability that mirrors your own.

"You're not alone in this, you know?" he murmurs. 

You let out a shaky breath. You're not used to showing this side of yourself, not after so many years of self-preservation and guarding your heart and yourself.

"I guess I’m still not used to this yet" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not your fault at all, it’s just been so long since I’ve been with anyone. . . emotionally. I'm sorry if I made you feel responsible."

He leans across the table, his warm hand cradling your cheek. His touch is gentle, his thumb caressing your skin. "I get it, sweetheart. And you don’t need to apologize. We’re the same in that aspect, I haven’t been with anyone for a long time either. Just. . .  know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll figure this out together."

You lean into his hand, you’re feeling lighter already. 

Joel's lips curve into a tender smile, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Besides," he mutters, sitting back. “I don’t run away from what’s mine.” 

Mine. 

One simple word. A noun of all things, is what makes you melt in your seat. It’s sobering. Waking you in a way that no amount of coffee ever could. Mine. He said that. You heard the possessive lilt laced with the word, almost daring you to object. You nearly do if you’re honest, shadows dance in his eyes, draw you in like a bunny rabbit sniffing a tempting trap. You want to take the bate. Sink your teeth into that carrot to see how he’ll react, the things he’ll do to prove just how true his words were. 

Instead, you clench your thighs together and propose something else instead. 

“Let me prove to you that I’m yours then,” you say. Eagerness caused Joel's eyes to widen, his jaw betraying his emotions with a subtle twitch. “In fact, let’s show the world.” 

No matter how vivid your imagination was, no matter how long you prepared and checked the equipment over and over again, nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for Joel walking through your bedroom door.

You had picked out a form-fitting black button-up shirt for him to wear. The fabric hugged his biceps, the seams barely holding on. The shirt stretched over the expanse of his chest, the buttons doing a better job compared to the seams in holding everything together. However, you were certain if he stretched even a little, the shirt would rip with a satisfying pop. 

That isn't all, though. Your eyes move up from the shirt, your gaze tracing the lines of his body until they land on the striking green mask he's wearing.

The mask is a deep shade of forest green, with intricate gold detailing that seems to dance in the light. Swirls and patterns weave across the surface, accentuating the gilded flakes in his eyes. 

His brown eyes peer out from behind the mask, a slight awkwardness to his gaze that seems to lessen with the hunger of your stare. The contrast between the vibrant green and the warmth of his gaze draws you in like a moth to a flame. The mask frames his face perfectly,  showcasing his strong jawline and the facial hair that clings to his skin.

"I feel dumb," he mutters, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “Isn’t there a way you can just make it so that my face is out of frame?” 

The mask had been his idea, he didn’t want to be recognized—rightfully so— and since he still wanted to stream. . . he bought himself a mask. 

Too bad he doesn’t realize the effect it has on you. Only if he could feel how wet you were for him, that’ll surely put him in a better mood. 

“Not really, we are going to be moving after all,” you answer. His gaze drops. “Joel, you look devastatingly hot right now.” 

His ears perk at that, eyes lifting to meet yours instantly. “Really?” 

"Come here," you manage to murmur, your voice laced with a mix of playfulness and longing. He obeys without hesitation, closing the distance between you in a matter of heartbeats. His hand reaches out, fingers curling beneath your chin as he tilts your head up. His eyes, those deep pools of honey, lock onto yours with an intensity that steals your breath away.

"Tell me," he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip. "What's on your mind?"

You swallow, your words catching in your throat for a moment before you manage to answer, your voice barely more than a breath. "You... the mask... everything. I can’t wait to feel you deep inside. Can’t wait for you to ruin me for everyone to see."

His lips curve into a smile, and he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he murmurs against your lips, "Oh, don’t worry. I don’t plan on leavin’ an inch of you not clingin’ with my come, darlin’.” 

Oh, fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Your lips part with a soft gasp and he slips his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue eagerly laps at his thumb, drawing circles, begging for him to press deeper. Heat radiates off of him, suffocating you in the best way possible. Your eyes drop to his crotch, the outline of his cock visible despite the dark blue denim.

Joel grins and shifts his hips closer, teasing you with a promise of more. You close your lips around his thumb and swallow. You’re in a trance. Body and soul bewitched by his presence. Your breasts feel full and heavy, nipples tingling. 

“Go and start the stream, honey.” 

Tingles. All you feel are tingles as you get up and desperately head toward your setup. Your legs are shaking. His eyes burning holes into your bare back. A second later his palm is on your ass, stroking the plump flesh and teasing the elastic of your panties. You sigh, the fabric sticking to your folds. 

With practiced efficiency, you start up the stream, the familiar hum of your equipment filling the room. Almost immediately, comments begin flooding in, your "hive" eagerly joining the live broadcast. The chat scrolls rapidly, filled with excited greetings and bee-themed emojis, a testament to the unique community you've cultivated.

"Hey there, my busy bees!" you greet, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "I hope you're all buzzing with excitement, because tonight we've got a special guest joining us."

You let a mischievous smile tug at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicker to the monitor. There he is, Joel, standing just behind you, his presence towering and captivating even though his head isn't visible on screen. The comments explode with excitement, the chat inundated with messages about how good he looks, how lucky you are, and playful exclamations about your "hunk of a guest” and how they can’t wait for him to “pump you full of his come”. A bit crass, but you can’t say you disagree. 

You continue, "But first, let's give a warm welcome to our newbies! Welcome to the hive, where we celebrate all things sweet and sticky." you wink at the camera and bend slightly over, wiggling your ass. Joel doesn’t waste any time moving directly behind you, hands on your waist as he pushes forward, making you feel the heft of his cock between your cheeks. A small moan escapes you, breasts swaying with his shallow grinds. 

“And now, without further ado,” you say breathless. “Let’s start the show. Our guest is an impatient one,” you hear Joel scoff behind you, the voice making your pussy bottom out. “Am I wrong, sir?” 

His nails bite into your flesh, showing you just how much he enjoys being called that. You smile as you stand up, giving one last look to the monitor to check everything is in place, you face Joel. You lean closer for a kiss, hoping that it’ll soothe his nerves. He must be nervous. 

But before you can close the distance, he grabs your chin and pushes you back, just proving how wrong you are. Your eyes widen, the pressure he applies to hallow your cheeks emptying the oxygen in your lungs. “Not so fast,” he grunts. “On your knees, honey. Only good girls get kisses.” 

Your insides pulse with a vicious throb. His voice takes on a tone you've never quite heard before. It's deep, a resonant rumble that seems to vibrate through the very core of your being. His voice, deep and resonant, like thunder during a storm and wraps around you like a velvet cloak, warming you. As you slowly sink to your knees, your pulse quickens in response. 

A desperate, hushed rustling fills the room as a zipper is lowered and briefly, you steal a quick glance at the streaming setup, ensuring that everything continues to run smoothly. Joel’s head is still out of view, which you regret because you want everyone to see how good he looks in his mask—

His touch is a sudden and deliberate pull, “Eyes on me,” he growls, the bulbous head of his cock pressing against your lips. His fingers are wrapped around his impressive length, and instead of notching the head between your lips, he smacks your parted lips with it. A drop of precome stains your bottom lip, a string of it following the tip as he holds it above your face. Your eyes are glued to the masked figure above you. Despite the tone and the roughness, they’re just pools of soft honey, internally searching your face for any discomfort. 

Joel begins to stroke himself and with a heavy gaze, you part your lips wider and stick your tongue out for him to use you however he pleases. 

His dark chuckle makes your skin prickle with need. You come closer, dragging your tongue between his balls, nuzzling him sweetly. Joel curses above you and grips your shoulder, holding you back. 

“Sir, please,” you gasp, attempting to get close but his hand keeps you at a small distance. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your pleas, “Push those pretty tits together, sweetheart.” 

Desperate and dripping, you press them together with your arms. His cock comes from under, the head piercing your tits as it pushes from between them. Joel hooks his thumb in your mouth and you obediently suck around the digit as he begins to thrust. Neither of you breaks eye contact. 

Joel pushes himself further into you, driving his hips forward. His cock slides between your tits, filling your already open mouth with vigor as he rocks in and out of your ample cleavage. You moan around his thumb, the warmth of his precum dripping over your tongue. 

Your body rocks with each stroke, the pleasure radiating through your chest with each thrust. Your nipples throb with arousal, hard like diamonds, as he slams his rigid cock into your tits. Sweat beads on his forehead and he grits his teeth, “Keep them together,” he grunts as he pulls out, with the head, he smears drops of himself over your heated skin. 

Your eyes roll back at how possessive it is, the fact that everyone is watching already forgotten. “Good,” he says, pleased. He pulls away his thumb and drags it over your bottom lip. “You’re already so dumb for my cock, aren’t you. Eager to show your viewers how badly you want to be good for me hmm?” 

God, the tremors in his voice, that southern drawl. He’s going to be the death of you. 

“Y-Yeah,” you pant, chest heaving. Ignoring the ache it causes in the back of your neck, you lean forward and manage to taste him on your skin. You moan as your eyes flutter closed, your own breath warm against you. “Want to be your good girl again, sir.” 

He pulls away from you completely, heading towards the bed. You stare at him blearily as he takes a seat, only coming to your senses when he hits his thigh, gesturing you to come over.  

Just as you’re about to sit, he stops you, clicking his tongue while lifting a hand. “First strip, darlin’. Turn to the camera,” you don’t miss the way he smiles as you turn on shaky legs, staring directly into the lens. “Have you already forgotten how to stream? My poor sweet dumb girl.” 

His words send you into a haze of submission. Needles stinging your back, you peel off your panties and bra, dropping them to the floor. “Good,” he hums. “Now sit on my lap, spread those legs so they can see how wet you got just from gettin’ her tits fucked.” 

Joel scoots further back and gives you space on the bed to place your feet. With heavy lids, you spread yourself for him—and the people who’re watching at home. Your front facing the camera. To expose yourself in such a way, it’s different compared to what you normally do. You have fun with Dieter but it’s never like this, never as intense. A shaky breath escapes you when Joel places a hand on the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs further apart. He’s staring at you through the monitor, jaw slack. Meanwhile, you’re just happy people can see his mask, those brown eyes. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mutters, his role forgotten. “Look at you. Fuck,” his lips touch your ear, whispering the rest of the words so it’s only you that can hear. “You never stopped bein’ my good girl. Just sayin’.” 

Your vision blurs with tears and you nod, his lips now on your cheek. He drags his mouth to your forehead and lays another kiss. “Now let’s give them a show.” 

Joel cups your ass as he helps you lift yourself, aligning himself against your sopping core, he slowly lowers you, filling you inch by inch. Your head falls back, mouth agape, you’ve forgotten how big he is, how satisfying it is to take him so slowly. His breath is hot on your nape. “That’s it,” he purrs. “Just like that, show them how good you take cock, honey.” 

 “‘S big,” you slur. “S–So big, sir.” 

He shushes you, lips moving over your cheek. “I know, honey I know,” he licks the salt off your skin. “But you’re my good girl, aren’t you? You can take it.” 

Joel rears up, slowly pushing himself into you. His hands guide your hips to the right angle to let him slide deeper, your soft cries echoing through the air. 

“I am,” you gasp, delirious, his cock completely sheathed inside. “I am. I–I’m your good girl.” 

You twist around, straddling Joel as he takes both your hands and draws you close. His lips crash against yours, and you moan into his mouth as you grind your hips against him. Heaven help you, how can you take him like this with an audience? Images of all the people watching on your live stream dance in your mind, but it makes it all the hotter.

Your body rocks up and down as you ride him, your inner walls clenching around him. You’re panting and moaning, your body shaking as you pump harder.  You feel Joel shift beneath you, his grip tightening as you take him even deeper, arching your back and pushing your breasts out. You can feel his eyes on you, as well as the eyes of the viewers watching you live stream. His cock glistens with your slick, every time you lift yourself, the light catches against it, everyone watching seeing how worked up Joel gets you. 

You can feel Joel's warmth radiating throughout your body as he slides back and forth, gaining momentum as he thrusts harder. You stifle a moan, your eyes fluttering as pleasure overcomes you, your head humming with pleasure. Your body starts to slow, your muscles aching and trembling. 

Suddenly Joel grips your waist, fingertips leaving dents in your flesh. He growls in your ear, drops of spit hitting your neck. “Who told you to slow down?” he pulls your body against him, forcing himself deeper into you. Every inch of you is shaking as Joel's hips slam against yours. His fingers find your clit, drawing gentle, quick circles around the sensitive nub. You cry out, clenching around him. “Look into the camera,” he groans. “Want them to see your fucked out gaze when I make you squirt.” 

Your hands find purchase above his knees, the coil in your stomach tight, it’s too much. Too fucking much. Your head is swimming in a lavender haze, and before you know it, your cunt is pulsing around him, gushing and slowing his thrusts. You hear the faint pitter patters of a rain-like sound. 

You barely register the liquid spraying from you, your body hot and burning while Joel’s fingers continue to move. Your drip down his length and down the inside of his thighs, and he rips another, albeit calmer, orgasm from you.  

“Shiiiiiit,” he drawls. “Shit shit, honey, fuck, don’t move—” he makes a choked-out sound and spears you down flush on his cock. The sounds you make are completely debauched. A series of sir’s dropping from your lips, tongue aching to moan his name. You feel him spilling inside, so much, you think, so much of it filling you up. He’s still throbbing when he pulls out, gripping himself and ringing the last of it over your glistening cunt, drowning it in come. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur as he pushes it back in with the head of his length, you shudder around him. “So full,” you say, eyes dropping where you two connect through the reflection in the monitor. 

“Not done,” he mutters and helps you lift yourself over him, cock slowly softening. “Push it out darlin’. Show them how much there is to keep you satisfied.” 

“F-Fuck,” you let out a whimper, eyelids fluttering as his seed trickles out of you and drips over his length. You feel faint of heart, this probably being one of the filthiest things you’ve done on camera. 

“Good girl,” he says, eyes glued to the camera. “My good girl,” he repeats, cupping your mound and slipping one finger inside with ease. 

Joel gently lays you down on the bed, your body too weak to do anything. He walks up to the stream set up, his eyes flashing toward the camera one last time. “See y’all next time.” he taunts before shutting the entire thing off. 

He throws the mask to the ground near your discarded clothes. 

You don’t know what to think when he climbs onto the bed, mattress dipping with his weight before he pulls you to his chest. He kisses you slowly, taking his time as he tastes you. “Sorry,” he whispers into your mouth. “I think I might’ve gone overboard.” 

“No,” you sigh dreamily, still in a haze. “That was perfect. I—I don’t think I can walk for a while.” 

You let out a low chuckle and he smiles, pressing his lips into your forehead. 

“Well, good thing I’m here then.”  

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #webcam model!reader #joel miller au #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons I wrote instead of sleeping

Sometimes the boys forget that Nimona isn’t human 

Like they’re used to the shifting into animals aspect of Nimona because she does it as often as she breathes

But sometimes she’ll do some really creepy shit like make her arms longer to reach something when she’s too lazy to get up

One time they shifted just their neck to be like an owl so they could turn their head 180 degrees instead of just turning around cause that was “too boring” 

Or he’ll mimic people’s voices without realizing it 

Sometimes he’ll tell a story and suddenly he’s using Bal’s voice 

The first time she did this Bal searched the whole house cause he was convinced that Todd has snuck in

Or she’ll grow an extra arm to hold more shit and they take a moment to realize “oh yeah we adopted a little weirdo” 

They get used to it after a while and the arguments surrounding it are always funny because both the boys will complain and say “I don’t sound like that” and they have to be told “No love you do you really do” 

You know those videos of babies reacting to their parents shaving their facial hair or putting on glasses 

That’s Nimona's reaction every single time the boys change their appearance even the smallest bit they cant shave or wear their reading glasses because if they do he freaks out 

Talking some “help me Nemesis I heard bosses voice but I can’t find him” while Bal was standing right in front of them 

It was the first time he shaved his face in years and he’s never doing it again 

Mostly cause Ambrosius kept telling him he looked like a teenager and it was freaking him out 

I feel like Bal and Ambrosius are those kinds of people who will tell people about the little injuries but neglect the big ones 

Like Bal mentioned that he thinks he sprained his ankle during the fight at the institute but he won’t mention that he’s pretty sure he got a concussion 

(BECAUSE THIS MAN HEAD-BUTTED TWO PEOPLE WHEN HE HAS A METAL ARM) 

(I’m bout to wrap this man in bubble wrap and give him a helmet because wtf) 

Ambrosius will complain the whole day about the fact that he has a paper cut

But will completely neglect to inform his doctors “Oh yeah I can’t move my left arm higher than my waist without pain and I can’t see that well out of my left eye or hear that well out of my left ear do you think that’ll be a problem?” 

It isn’t until Nimona makes an off handed comment about how this super weird that the laser did basically nothing to him that he told both of them

They literally dragged him to the ER because “Who thinks those symptoms are normal Nemesis what is wrong in that pretty little head of yours!!” 

When Bal tells Nimona she’s being a bit of a hypocrite (cause who refers to an arrow as a splinter?) she turns to him and says “I know you’re not saying something Mr. Human battering ram” 

It took literally everything in Ambrosius not to break down laughing

After that she forces them to have frequent checkups with the doctor because these dorks wouldn’t go otherwise

Honestly I'm fully convinced that some people in the kingdom don't know who Nimona is and are constantly confused why they let this little weirdo follow them around 

And finally the curiosity will eat away at them and they’ll finally ask 

Sometimes the boys will give some “normal” answers like “Oh that’s Nimona” and they won’t elaborate at all

Sometimes they’ll give funnier answers like “Oh that’s a raccoon we found in the garage who turned into a person one day” “I don’t know they just showed up in our living room” and their personal best “You see her too?” 

And their favorite that they only started using a couple of years down the line “Oh that’s our kid”

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #I just know these accident-prone dorks don't go to the doctor #which i respect because neither do I #Ambrosius would rather memorize the eye chart than admit he needs glasses #and that is a hill I will die on #I feel like NImona freaks out at changes in appearance because it reminds her that things don't stay the same forever #she's immortal the boys arent #she forces them into frequent checkups because she doesn’t want to find out too late that something is wrong #she wants to know that they did everything in their power as soon as they could of something does come up #and best case scenario they live very long happy lives #but I like to believe that they get reincarnated and find each other in every life #because I'm sappy like that #excuse my sleep deprived rambling #I’ve found so many issues with this post

[bluecollarmcandtf]

My little brother wants to know what it’s like being older, he wants to experience life inside of my fathers body as well as our next door jock neighbor. I was wondering if you could help him out with that?

Be careful what you ask for! Your brother has a reputation for being an irresponsible troublemaker. Who knows what he'd get up to if he had those bodies at his disposal...

"Holy crap!" your brother shouts, seeing his body in the mirror. His jaw hangs open as he runs his fingers through unfamiliarly thick hair, "I'm him...I'm the hot neighbor!"

For as long as you can remember, your younger sibling has lusted after the guy next door. Charlie would spend most of his time peaking out of the window and into Diego's garage, giving him a front row seat to every one of the hot neighbor's workouts.

You always called Charlie a creep for staring at the neighbor, but you secretly understood why he did it. Diego was built like a god. His body was so lean that every vein was visible even from across the street! And now that body is standing in your brother's bedroom, eyes wide with so much disbelief it was comical.

"I'm Diego," Diego gasps softly, a tear of joy coming to his eye, "I don't know how. I was just thinking about him and then..."

"Charlie?"

Diego's head darts away from the mirror and stares at you with glee, "Yeah, it's me idiot! You think Diego would ever be shirtless in our house?"

Your brother turns his gaze back to his new body, licking his lips as he examines the thick round pecs hanging off his new chest. You watch as Charlie raises Diego's heavy arm and gives his muscle-tits a few squeezes. The real Diego would never grope his own body like that. In fact, the real Diego would probably kill Charlie for doing that with his body.

"I think you should give our hot neighbor some appreciation," Charlie purrs, flexing Diego's arms overhead, "I know you like his body just as much as I do big bro."

Your brother is right. Charlie might pull out the binoculars to watch the hot neighbor lift, but you aren't much better. Just last night you were wanking off to the memory of Diego giving you a casual wave as you got home.

"Charlie, this is insane," you try to stay calm, "We need to figure out what's going on."

"What's going on?" your brother uses Diego's sharp voice against you, "What's going on is I have the neighbor's hot body now, and you aren't appreciating it!"

"Please..." you ask your little brother to calm down, but it doesn't do any good. He's only getting more and more assertive with his new body, and it's messing with your head. You have to remind yourself that this is actually your dork of a younger brother and not the incredibly intimidating boy next door.

"Shut up," Charlie snaps, giving you a shove that throws you against the wall.

"Charlie!" you groan, "Don't push me ar-"

"Call me Diego."

Your younger brother swaggers over and sneers down at you. In Diego's body, you have to look up to meet his face, and he seems fed up. Already, he's got a muscled arm pinned against the wall over your shoulder, and already, you feel trapped under him.

"Char-"

"DIEGO!" he barks, slamming his other arm against the wall.

"Diego," your voice shakes, "Aren't you even just a little bit worried about the real Diego?"

"Oh, kiss my ass!" he snorts, "I just liked his body, and now it's right here for me to enjoy."

"But..."

"I told you to kiss my ass, big bro," Diego's intense glare tells you he's not joking.

Your legs feel weak. Somehow your little brother has gone from a loveable rascal to domineering bully! All it took was giving him Diego's shredded body and he's bossing you around like you're his bitch.

He doesn't wait for an answer. Charlie takes Diego's strong arms and pushes you to the floor. Before you know it, he's turned around, and you are face to face with your neighbor's tight bubble butt. You don't want to just give in to your baby bro, but Diego's assertiveness is impossible to ignore. Your face is drawn to that ass, and you lose yourself as you kiss the sculpted glutes beneath the mesh shorts.

"That's more like it," Charlie smirks, "Now that I'm inside Diego, I want some ass kissing from you everyday."

You don't respond. Your lost in the pleasure of the hot neighbor's body, his ass pinning your head against the wall. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad life, after all...

A sudden vibration jolts you out of it. The walls shake as the door to the garage is raised with a buzzing motor. Dad is home!

"Shit," Charlie says with Diego's mouth.

"I'm telling dad what's going on!" you cry, rising to your feet.

"What! No, I was just kidding about the ass stuff," Charlie panics, "Dad won't understand!"

"I don't care!" you shout and stomp out of the room. Your ego is slightly bruised by how quickly you folded for Charlie. It doesn't matter that he's wearing the bulky neighbor like a costume. He's your younger brother, and you just kissed his ass, literally!

Maybe your father can make sense of all this Freak Friday nonsense! He always has a calm decisive answer to everything.

"Hehe, beat you to him, bro!"

Your jaw drops when you see your father in the living room. The man just got home, but he's already waiting for you with his shirt ripped off. His entire beer gut is hanging out in the open, and he's shaking his torso around like he's trying to show it off.

You can't help but recoil from the sight. Your father hates taking his shirt off. The man wears shirts in the pool to keep people from seeing him like this! Yet, now here he is, without a self-conscious bone in his body.

"Dad, what are you-"

"Ooh I like it when you call me dad," his voice lowers, like he's trying to be playful.

"Wait, Charlie?" you gasp.

Your father throws his hands on his hips and smiles at you. He's the kind of guy who's only ever smiled when you scored in a sport or won a game. You can't help but feel like you've earned his approval when you see that grin. It really sucks that this isn't actually your dad.

"How did you even..?"

"I don't know, bro! I just really didn't want you to tell dad, and then I blinked, and then I was here: inside him!"

"Well get out!" you say firmly. Charlie wearing the neighbor's body was one thing, but this doesn't feel right. He shouldn't be playing around with your father like this.

"What, no!" he snorts, "Dad's even more fun to be. I feel so fat and hairy!"

"Dad's not that fat or hairy," you retort sternly.

"Oh come on," your father's voice purrs, "Look at the flab on this guy!" Charlie grabs the bloated stomach with Dad's arms and gives it a playful shake. Your real dad would be mortified if he saw how his body was acting!

"Charlie, don't do that to him."

"Shut up! I feel so big and manly in his body," he explains, "And he's still sore and sweaty from work too!"

You watch in disgust as your father raises his arm and takes a long whiff from his armpit. The real man would normally jump in the shower the second he got back from his day at the construction yard, but Charlie obviously enjoyed Dad's smell of hard work.

"I think I've had a long day of work, son," Charlie suddenly announces, lowering his voice in a cheap attempt at dad's typical monotone, "Grab your old man a beer."

"No," you pout, rolling your eyes.

"No?"

Suddenly your father pounces on you, locking you into a tight headlock with his meaty arms. You try to slip out. His bare skin is slick with sweat, but your little brother holds you there with an unyielding grip, laughing with dad's deep voice.

An hour later and you're washing dad's truck. Charlie released you from the headlock, but only after he'd told you how excited he was to manhandle you again. Apparently, he couldn't wait to use dad's body to keep you in your place.

You grabbed him his beer and massaged his shoulders like he told you, but you didn't do it happily. Your own father was now bullying you around because your stupid little brother somehow managed to hop in his body. He wants you to go upstairs and clean his bedroom next. It's getting late, but you don't want to make Charlie angry, especially now that he's put a few beers in dad's belly. Who knows what your power-drunk little brother will do when he's inebriated!

You just have to accept it. Charlie has your dad's body and you have to do what he says. This is your life now...

These amazing images were generated by @bodyhopper-files

#gay ai art #gay possession #bodyswapper #story

[luveline]

𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary steve harrington is your boyfriend now. your boyfriend. and having a boyfriend means doing lots of new things, like dinner dates and movies, cuddling on the couch and kissing — lots of kissing. but there’s one thing you guys haven’t done yet, and steve’s just asked you to spend the night. [17.3k words]

warnings SMUT 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff heavy, new established relationship, first time, an overload of intimacy and affection, p in v sex, pet names, steve being the most loving dork on the entire planet and r being equally infatuated, mentioned that r has stretch marks, proofread not perfect

this is a companion to have you seen her? you don’t have to read it to understand, but if you want to it’s here <3

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Inside a sea of flowers lies a girl. Her skin glows with colour, the reflection of pigments. Sunspots of darkest red buffeted by buttery orange, indigo stretching into magenta, whites; endless whites ranging from creamy ivory to the violet shine of snow in the nighttime.

It's as if the flowers themselves bloom over your skin. Steve blinks and everything settles, your skin returns to skin, the reflections fade from focus. You stretch your leg out absentmindedly and lean forward to follow the book resting against the top of your thigh, entirely distracted.

The room smells as bright and fresh as the florist's itself. The flowers he'd given you, more than he could ever name, permeate everything. Most remain in good condition two weeks later, where some wilt despite your dedicated care.

Your fingertips are pin-pricked by the thorns of a rose's stem, injuries sustained in the hours you've spent preening each bouquet. You bring one such fingertip to your lips and suck lightly for a moment like it'll draw the small pain from your skin.

He leans against the doorway and takes in your appearance indulgently. Plaid pyjama bottoms hug your thighs. Your socked feet wiggle along to the sounds of your Walkman, music loud enough that you've missed his entrance.

He doesn't want to scare you into flinching and ruin the content little bubble you're in but he's certainly not about to turn around and leave after waiting all day to see you, no matter how selfish it might be to disturb you. I'm only human, he thinks.

"Hey, beautiful," he says. You don't hear him.

Steve bends at the waist to unlace his shoes before stepping onto the plush carpeting of your room. He weaves between vases and skinny buckets, repurposed cookware and every mug you own, worried that one wrong move will domino your intricate arrangements and spill flowers everywhere.

You catch sight of him before he's made it to your side. You flinch as he suspected you would, only a small jump but a jump nonetheless.

Steve's face creases in sympathy as you pull off your headphones, orange foam padding around your neck. "I'm sorry," he says, expecting you to be at least a little peeved at his sneaking. "I knocked, I swear."

You abandon your book carelessly and are only slightly kinder to your Walkman as you tug the headphones from your neck.

"Steve," you say, smiling.

"That's me. Hey."

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, white sheets rumpled in your wake as you scramble to your feet. Steve doesn't know who does what first but he opens his arms and you've opened yours and you fit into the circle of his embrace like you were made to.

"Sorry to scare you," he says.

You're not as confident as he is. Where Steve throws his arms over your shoulders, quick to press his mouth to the skin of your forehead, your hands draw tentative lines up his back.

To be touched so carefully is numbing in the best way. Steve wonders how his affection for you can continue to grow, more when you laugh half-breathless into his chest and look up, pinning him with your bright gaze.

"That's okay," you say, your happiness to see him palpable. It makes his chest hurt.

Steve puts some space between you to hold you at arm's length, one hand clasping your shoulder and the other following the curve of your neck.

He feels almost too happy to speak, like the words won't come out right. You seem to feel similarly, smiling wide, your lips pressed together tightly.

"I missed you," he says finally. Your reaction emboldens him; your eyes crease with pleasure and he has to duck down for a kiss.

Just one, pressed chastely to the skin left of your cupid's bow. You lift your chin in reaction, your hands searching up towards his shoulder blades.

"I missed you too," you say.

He decides to push his luck and kiss you properly. Your lips are warm under his and your cheek is aflame under his hand as he cradles your face.

"Haven't been lying out in the sun again, have you?" he asks as he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open.

"Huh? No, I've been reading inside all day."

"Good. You'll get sick, you sunbathe so much," he chides with no real heat.

He squeezes your face mildly and you steal another quick kiss. Steve would let you steal as many as you want to no matter the duration, but you stick to just one.

"Are you hungry?" you ask. You don't wait for an answer, skirting around him.

His hands miss your skin as soon as you're out of reach. He follows you to the kitchen like a lost dog hungry for scraps – scraps of your voice in the shadow of your exhale, any small flash of your skin, the back of your wrist as you pull open the refrigerator door. Steve situates himself by the sink so he can see your face. Your arms quickly grow heavy with fresh vegetables and a precarious china dish, a familiar carafe slipping in your fingers.

"Here," he mutters, reaching for the glass carafe with both hands.

"Thank you," you say, giggling. "Thought I was gonna drop it."

You set everything down on the clean counter. The sun kisses your skin where it shines golden-orange through the window. A bouquet of tulips sits in the sill, thin petals translucent and bright like the bulbs are made up of sweet maraschino cherries.

"I would've caught it."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Super fast reflexes. LaRusso style," he says, putting down your carafe. Fruit slices and rose petals bob on the water's surface.

"The Karate Kid?" you ask, pushing up your sleeves.

He smiles as you walk towards him. "Exactly. You like that movie?"

You turn on the faucet and wash your hands without looking, your eyes drawn to his face. "I loved that movie. I've only seen it twice, though. Once at the movies, once with Dustin."

"You watched it with Dustin?" he asks.

Your eyes flit between the sink and his face as you turn off the faucet and shake your wet hands over the basin. "Yeah, and his mom. She's really nice, you know?"

"She's a real treasure. It's her kid I'm not too sure about."

You laugh and he loves it, less when you flick your still-wet hands at him and pattern him in tap water.

"Stop, idiot," he protests, leaning away from you.

"It's raining, babe. I don't control the weather."

"Sure."

You grin over your shoulder and flounce to the counter where your wooden chopping board resides. He's desperate to be close to you but doesn't want to look it.

It's too early to show her how much of a total loser I am, he thinks, turning to the sink and washing his hands so he can help you make dinner and steal some closeness.

"Did you have a crush on him?" he asks.

"Dustin?" you ask, horrified.

Steve laughs and rubs the slippery bar of soap between his palms. "No, weirdo, Daniel LaRusso. The Karate Kid."

"Nah, Mister Miyagi was more my type."

Steve drops the bar of soap into the basin and struggles to pick it back up, only pausing in his panic when he hears your self-satisfied giggling. It's infectious.

"That's so sick. Dude was ninety years old," he says, rinsing the suds off.

"I'm kidding!"

You're still laughing to yourself when he joins you. You've already chopped the inedible tops off of three long carrots and peeled them. You start to cut them into uniform batons, your quick peeling and knife work both impressive and daunting to Steve, who's only just weaned himself off of a steady high school diet of TV dinners and chips.

He shakes his hands at you. Flecks of water hit you and shine on your skin like the fine mist of morning dew, a dampened flower. You smell like one, though Steve supposes that's inevitable when you're sleeping surrounded by a crush of petals every night.

"Can I help?" he asks.

You blow a raspberry. "I should kick you out."

He flicks more water at you and you hide your face in your shoulder, the soft skin of your cheek pulled cruelly.

"Don't hide."

"Stop flicking me."

"It's raining, babe. I don't control the weather," he says dryly.

Finely spritzed, you open your eyes just enough to see him through your lashes, smiling like you wish you weren't. Steve holds his hands up in surrender, mostly because they're dry enough now that any flickage is negligent, and because you're much too pretty to be hiding away. The sun has begun to set, its descent marked by a gaussian blur spreading across the countertops and cabinets, your arms blanketed in a glow. Steve finds your face practically dietific to begin with – the light makes you something else entirely.

He wants to say something too heartfelt, say, Fuck, you're so pretty.

He's not that brave.

"You want a drink?" he asks.

"Yes please. You know where the cups are?"

He grabs two glass cups from the cabinet othweise pillaged for makeshift vases to your left and you cut the celery, a small lull in conversation filled only by the crisp crunch of your preparations and the slosh of Steve's pouring. The flower petals have bled their pigments into the carafe's cold water and turned it a transparent vermillion, something so quietly inordinate that he can't not mention it.

"The water's purple, babe," he says.

"Huh?" you ask. You hold the cutting board aloft, your knife guiding chopped vegetables into a shiny metal colander.

"The water," he says, punctuating his claim with a sharp click as he puts your glass down in front of you.

You discard your knife distractedly. "Oh. It must've been the rose petals."

"Can we still drink it?"

"Sure we can. Rosewater is really good for you. Though I'm not sure if this counts as rosewater, actually, I think you have to steep the petals in hot water first."

You shrug your shoulders and bring your glass to your mouth.

Steve frowns. "Are you sure?" he asks worriedly. He doesn't want you to get sick, especially from flowers he brought you.

You get a crease between your eyebrows, lips pursed quizzically. "I'm sure. You worry too much, Stevie," you say.

It's like being struck. You've never called him that before.

The nickname had sounded easy as breathing for you to say and had felt easier, felt right, like you'd used it a hundred times before.

He laughs, says, "Fine, but if you turn purple don't say I didn't warn you," and proceeds to work himself into a poorly contained frenzy.

He takes the colander to the sink and washes the carrot and celery sticks more thoroughly than he needs to whilst he composes himself. He listens with ears made keen by his racing heart as you turn on the stove. The fan hums. There's a loud crackling as you peel back the aluminum foil covering a medium sized casserole dish.

"I forgot to ask you, you like buffalo wings, right?"

He turns off the faucet and almost misses your question, too busy thinking So she called you Stevie, are you twelve? Get a hold of yourself, you-

"What?"

"I can make something else, if you don't."

Steve shakes the colander to drain any excess water as he reassures you. "No, that's okay. That's perfect. I love wings, and I'll love them double if you're the one making them." After all, you make a mean BLT.

The oven door swings open and he turns in time to watch you bend at the waist and insert the dish of chicken wings, your eyes narrowed. Adorable.

You straighten up and dust your hands off, bumping the door closed with your hip. "Awesome. Here, let me-" You take the colander from his hand like you're going to whiz away and then evidently change your mind, stuttering to a jolting stop. "Thank you," you tell him earnestly.

"You're welcome. You did all the hard work," he says, caught off guard.

"Super hard work, cutting up some carrot sticks," you say, mock-agreeably.

Steve reaches out to pinch your side. "Just because you made it look easy doesn't mean it is. It would've taken me double the time to make something, and it would've been, like, a grease fest," he says. "You already made the chicken, too, so that's more hard work you're not thinking about."

"The chicken marinades itself," you admonish lightly. You step on toes to kiss the high point of his cheek. "But thank you."

You turn to tip your veggie sticks into a bowl with a quarter inch of water at the bottom. Steve prods your kiss mark unthinkingly, the skin tingling from a combination of your gifted kiss and the affectionate tone you'd used.

"I got all kinds of dip. Hummus, artichoke and spinach, tahini, ranch. Do you like those?" you ask hopefully.

If he didn't he'd try and find a way. "Who doesn't like ranch?"

"I'll make fries too, okay?"

He really, really likes you.

-

Steve still looks kind of silly eating at your small kitchen table. You're in the seat that's crammed against the refrigerator and he's in the opposite. You're so close that your calves keep touching, often enough that you both forgo apologies in favour of sending the other a small smile. Less of an 'I'm sorry,' and more of a 'We touched again,' a confirmation that he's real and you're real and you're eating a home cooked meal that you made together.

He's so handsome, so ridiculously lovely, and the food is good but not good enough to keep your attention. Not when Steve takes a sip of water and his arm moves, the muscle beneath his skin shifts, pulls taut, and his shirt tightens around his bicep and you're just as hopeless as you were the very first time you'd invited him in.

He's saying something and it must be pretty funny because he's laughing, a chesty, giggling thing that sounds boyishly happy, like he just can't help it. You're not sure what he's laughing at but it's enough to set you off, infectious as it is.

"So Robin's in the back pretending to search for this movie that doesn't exist, and I'm thinking, shit, maybe I should call the police. Because he's got both hands in his pockets and, whaddya know, one pocket is like bulging out."

"Steve?" you ask, trying to sound forceful, befuddled that he's laughing at all. "Someone came into the store with a gun?"

His laugh peters off. "No," he says reassuringly. "Klondike bar."

He chews through a big mouthful of celery and you dissolve into giggles.

Cleaning up with Steve ends up being just as fun as cooking. He stands at your side with a hand towel wiping off dishes as you wash them, hip to hip.

"I can wash them," he says.

"That's okay."

You pass him a wet plate. He wipes it dry and sets it to the side. It could only be five minutes of this before you're done. Weirdly, you wish it had taken a little longer.

It's nice to spend time with him.

"I was thinking you could come over to my place tomorrow, if you wanted to."

Your heart flutters and you're hit with the realisation that you might get to do dishes with him tomorrow, and again, that today isn't a one off. That Steve likes you enough to kiss you and buy you flowers and invite you over.

"I've never been to your house," you say.

"I know. It's supposed to be really hot out tomorrow until seven. I thought you could sunbathe for an hour and I could keep an eye on you, you know. We can get takeout, listen to music," he continues, his voice soft, a melodic cadence to his suggestions.

Why is he trying to sell you on it? You hand him the last plate and twist, holding your dripping hands in the basin.

"I'd love to," you say, smiling. "Though I resent the idea that I need to be supervised."

"I just don't want all those brains to turn to mush." He puts the plate down on top of the others and reaches for your hands without saying anything, eyes on your face as he dries off your fingers gently. "Though you were super adorable when you had heat stroke. All clingy and giggly," he teases.

"Heat exhaustion," you correct. You feel like there's water in your ears.

"Mh-hm."

When your hands are to his satisfaction he swings the towel over his shoulder and takes them into his own, your fingers hooked gently over his. He rubs the fingernail of your index finger and then moves up, smoothing a path over your knuckles. He arrives at your pinky finger and wraps his index finger around it, massaging the length of it with the pad of his thumb.

"Are they still hurting?" he asks, hushed.

"A little bit. Not really, though. It's like after a splinter."

He holds your hand open, palm bared, his thumb pressed to the bottom of your last three fingers as he bends to look at your fingertips. Every touch, every detail, every movement he makes feels urgent to you, your heart racing fast as a mouse's.

"Poor girl," he mumbles to himself. He looks up and sees what must look similar to panic on your face. "Are you sure they're not hurting you? They look sore."

You're gonna say Yes, I'm sure, but he straightens up and brings your hand to his lips before you can muster the strength. He kisses your smattering of tiny injuries and grins when he's done, your entire body awash with a dizzying pleasure.

His hair is falling in his face. You take your kiss-warmed hand from his grip to tuck the longer strands behind his ear. Your heartbeat plays loud. You worry he can hear it.

You stall with your index finger shaking over his skin. Steve covers your hand with his, the look in his eyes unreadable, and you know he's going to kiss you.

You shut your eyes. His breath warms your lips as he closes in, his nose sliding against yours slowly. Your anticipation is a hand closing around your throat, at first a welcome touch and then dizzying breathlessness, an aching for the brush of his lips. He squeezes your hand where it cradles his cheek.

"Breathe," he whispers in bemusement. "Breathe, baby."

You suck in a breath and lift your chin as Steve knocks your nose with his and crosses the distance, his lips parted just slightly. Your head moves back under his kiss, your eyes screwed too tight. Steve takes your hand from his face and guides it over the slope of his shoulder until you're cupping his neck, his fingertips trailing down the length of your arm and moving under, palm to your shoulder blade. He pulls you in, makes the softest little sound against your lips that tickles madly and has a warmth like the setting sun filling your chest.

He kisses slow and sweet, his lips a softness against yours. You can feel as he starts to smile, as he takes your face into his hand, almost pulling at your skin in efforts to be impossibly nearer.

He laughs first, a huff that fans over your twin smile. You can't help but join in as you search up, ardent and excited, laughing into his open mouth until every kiss is a struggle.

"Y/N," he says. It doesn't even sound like your name. He could've said babe or baby or sweetheart and it would've burned the same.

"Do you have to go home?" you ask knowingly, reluctantly opening your eyes.

He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand.

It's getting late, a warm Thursday evening becoming night. The street lamps outside burn yellow-white in the darkening sky and the flowers on the sill have lost their shine. Steve is the brightest thing in the room.

He checks his watch and frowns. "I probably should."

"But I'll see you tomorrow?" you check.

"Did you wanna stay the night? I'm not working Saturday."

You have the first thought that most girls your age might have at a new love asking that question: sex. For a moment, a split second of a moment, Did you wanna stay the night? becomes Do you wanna have sex with me?

You give him a guilty smile and he mistakes it for something else. He says, "You don't have to, I can drive you home. And uh, you know, I would…" You bring your hand back to his face. "We wouldn't do anything you don't wanna do."

"I know," you say quickly. "Yeah, I wanna stay the night." Which is scary to admit. Scary to want.

Whether anything happens or it doesn't, you want to go.

You walk Steve out and he kisses you goodnight chastely. You watch him all the way to his car and wave as he drives away, standing in the doorway until his tail lights are a mere suggestion of white in the distance, small and bright as a pearly star.

-

Robin shrieks as her chair reclines back as far as it can. "Shit, why does it go back this far?"

Steve is more than tired from a full day of work and while he loves Robin to the point of dying for her, he can't handle stupid questions. His short fuse is further shortened by missing you, and he groans.

"You fucking reclined it all the way?"

Steve watches in the rear view as she raises her eyebrows and hugs herself with both arms. "It went down too easy, is all I'm saying."

"That's all?" he asks.

He knows exactly what she's implying and he refuses to feed into it, even when she hums to herself happily. Her happiness lasts for only a few seconds before she's springing up and giving herself whiplash.

"You haven't actually fucked in this seat, right?"

"Christ, Robin."

Her nose wrinkles. "Have you?"

"No! No, I haven't done anything in here… in a while. And me and Y/N haven't-" He bites his tongue.

"You haven't?" she asks. There's no teasing to be detected in her voice, only curiosity.

He keeps his eyes on the road but his thoughts travel elsewhere. You're so close he convinces himself for a second that he can smell your sweet floral scent, a hundred different flowers clinging to your skin. He lets himself sink further, imagining the feeling of your cheek under his hand and the softness of your skin and fine hairs, the shape of your eyes as he leans in.

"Loverboy?" Robin asks expectantly.

Steve clears his throat. "What?"

"Ew, you're being disgusting."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to," she says, and then laughs. "In deep, huh?"

"Shut up."

"I'm serious! I'm serious, you like her. And it's nice," she draws the word out hesitantly, "to see you happy. I guess. After I broke your heart, and all."

He doesn't blush like he might have before. Steve had liked Robin, a lot, and it was easy to understand why: she's the first real friend he's ever had. He's more than over his crush now, platonic (with a capital 'P') suits them well.

"Thanks, Robs," he mutters, rolling his eyes.

"You're welcome." She whistles. "So, you haven't fucked?"

Steve turns his face. "Don't you think that's, like, a private thing?"

"I'm your best friend."

"Y/N is an entire other person who isn't your best friend."

"I'm not gonna tell anybody."

Steve knows that. He sighs to himself, conflicted. He doesn't wanna kiss and tell but he does need advice. "She's staying over tonight."

"Ah, huzzah!" Robin cheers. Steve worries his eyes might get stuck inside his head from all the rolling. "And you're gonna…"

He chews his lip. "I don't think so. I think I scared the shit out of her when I asked her to spend the night."

"I doubt that, she still said yes. But, you know. Not all of us lose our V-card when we're in junior year."

He hadn't even thought about that. "Shit. Having a girlfriend is terrifying."

Robin laughs and throws the seat back up. "If she's scared, it might not even be about hooking up. You've been together for, what, a week?"

"Two weeks today."

Robin nods thoughtfully and then shrugs. "Forget about sex and everything and just have fun."

"I'm not a nympho." He isn't. He doesn't care if you want to hook up or not (though care might be indelicate – he won't lie and say he hasn't thought about it).

"I know. I'm just saying, there's no point worrying about if you will or won't."

He takes the turn onto Robin's street. Her house comes into view, and he suddenly realises, "I wasn't worried until you brought it up!"

"Then forget I said anything!" she shouts back, laughing.

Steve laughs too as he pulls up at the curb outside of Robin's house.

"It's fine," he says decidedly. He's still worrying about it because if you do want to hook up he's not exactly in practice right now, but underneath it is that building anticipation, an excitement. "Fuck, she's so fucking pretty, Robin."

"Sure is, idiot," Robin agrees, unbuckling and kicking open the door. "Wear a rubber or your kids will be pretty, too."

She closes the door with a smug smile.

"You're awful!" he calls at her retreating figure. She waves over her shoulder and doesn't look back.

Steve drops his head into the wheel and startles himself when it beeps.

By the time he's pulling up outside of his house he's forgotten all his sex-related nerves, any anxiety occluded by a want to see you. He rushes to clean up the huge mess he's made over the week in the kitchen and the smaller mess in the living room, soda cans and take out and all the gross things he'd rather die than have you see.

He throws open every window and heads out to the back yard to make sure the pool is actually swimmable. The sun is high but falling. The day's most punishing heat is over. Perfectly safe for sunbathing.

He doesn't have anything fancy but he fills a jug with water and tops it with badly cut orange slices to cool in the fridge while he waits for you.

Steve stretches, smells himself, realises he smells like sweat and checks his watch in alarm. Your visit is fast approaching but if he does it quickly he can shower before you get here.

He's not right. He's still in the shower when you knock the door. Steve almost kills himself as he scrambles over wet tiles. He's still basically soaking as he drags his clean clothes on, hair sopping and quickly saturating the neck of his shirt.

You smile when he opens the door, though your smile quickly fades. "I'm sorry, were you showering? I know I'm early, I just wanted to see you."

You look like you always do – pretty, so pretty, your hair a little messy, your shirt crinkled at the bottom, the slit in your skirt showing a tantalising stripe of your thigh. A breezy, thin outfit for the hot weather.

Steve couldn't say why but he needs to kiss you badly. He takes your shoulder into his hand to hold you in place and kisses the corner of your smile, your cheek, the small stripe under your earlobe. He lingers there for longer than the others, feeling the ever-present heat of your skin beneath his lips. He presses a second kiss over the first and then pulls away.

"Don't be sorry," he says. He pats your face. "I'm glad you're early. I wanted to see you more, I swear."

"You make everything a competition," you grumble, though your eyes evidence your bliss.

Steve leads you into the living room and you drop your backpack onto the couch. The sight of it makes him fawn, because you really are staying the night and you look cute and you'd wanted to see him. It's enough to make him ecstatic. It likely shows on his face.

You turn on your heels, taking it all in. "You have a really nice house, Steve."

"I'd say thank you, but it's all my parents'."

"Where are they?" you ask.

Where are they usually? He doesn't really know. "Chicago, I think? My dad's on business and mom always goes with him, so…"

You turn your eyes from the open patio door and back to Steve where he stands in the middle of the room towel drying his hair. "Lucky me, I get you all to myself," you murmur.

"Do you wanna take your shoes off?" he asks. "There's water in the fridge. Are you hungry?"

You peek up at home where you've bent down to unstrap your sandals and smile. "I'm good, Stevie," you say softly.

When you've stepped out of both sandals you hold them by the straps and they dangle from your hand, swaying with your steps as you walk towards him.

You look up at him and tilt your head to one side. Always charming, Steve's fondness for sky rockets.

"Are you okay?" you ask, a murmur, raising your hand to his bicep. Your fingers slip under his sleeve. "You seem frazzled. Long day?"

It felt endless, knowing that you'd be waiting for him.

"I'm fine. I'm good. I'm great, actually. Got a whole night with my girl."

"And tomorrow, too," you say, sounding as happy as he feels.

"What are we gonna do with it all?" he says teasingly.

Again, a flash of that nervous smile. He hadn't meant to insinuate anything at all. He's about to clarify when you bring your hand to his collar and kiss him.

Steve really likes your hands, he's fascinated by them, the way you move them and the way they feel, their tentative but tender touch as you feel along the ridge of his collar bone. You come to a stuttering pause as he kisses you harder, the wet of your tongue addictive as he opens you up.

He takes your face into both hands and pushes your face to one side so he can move in closer, thumbs careless where they press into your cheeks. You taste like something sweet and the sound you make is sweeter as he dedicates himself to your top lip, a quivering breath as he slows.

He tries not to feel smug at the lost glaze in your eyes when they blink open.

Your bottom lip shines. He wipes it clean with his thumb. "You wanna go sunbathe now?" he asks mildly.

You nod like he thought you would, slow, but then there's a sudden clarity on your face. "I brought you something."

You move out of his reach and he follows. You're only stepping towards the couch where your backpack rests, unzipping it and in no rush as you pull your pajamas out and lay them on the cushion. He tries very hard to pretend he hasn't noticed your underwear, a pair of pink lacy panties, but he thinks maybe you can tell as you turn to him with a tupperware of cookies in your hands.

"More flower shortbread?" he asks happily. "You spoil me."

"I think you're someone who deserves to be spoiled."

Steve's mouth goes dry. He holds his hands out for the tupperware and hugs it to his chest, throwing a hand around your shoulders to tug you close. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you," he says.

"You're welcome."

He takes your hand and pulls you out into the backyard. You beam, your head tilting back to take in the warmth of the fading sun.

Steve drags two sun loungers close together and you waste no time in stretching out on one.

You bloom.

There's no other word for it. You unfurl like the petals on your beloved flowers. Your body relaxes completely. Steve reaches across the gap to take your hand again and they hang between your languid bodies.

You're smiling as you balance your red shiny Walkman across your chest and click play, adjusting the volume until the feminine scratch of Cyndi Lauper echoes over the concrete space of his backyard. You close your eyes soon after, and Steve knows he might not get as much conversation out of you as he craves but it's worth it to see you like this, to hold your hand.

He struggles to open your tupperware with one hand but doesn't consider letting you go, eyebrows furrowing at the stubborn lid.

When it clicks it's loud and he inhales fast, worried the entire thing is gonna topple off of his chest and your perfect shortbread biscuits will be destroyed. Flower petals adorn the top. Steve picks them off while you're not looking – they're beautiful, of course, and don't taste like much, but the texture is super weird.

"How was work?" you ask.

He takes a big bite of shortbread. "It was fine. I mean, it was fucking boring as hell. We watched Back to the Future again."

"I've never seen that movie."

"Never?"

"No. Is it good?"

He squeezes your fingers and pushes the rest of the shortbread into his mouth. It's not too sweet. You've dusted the tops with fine sugar that melts in his mouth and the crumbly texture is awesome, better than any store bought cookies he's ever tried.

He swallows and lets his head fall back, greedy enough to pick up a second one. "Wanna hear a story?"

You turn your head towards him and your eyes crack open. "A good one?"

"Depends on your politics."

You close your eyes. "Tell me."

"The first time I saw Back to the Future was at the Starcourt mall with Robin. We were high out of our minds, total whitey's. And I had a concussion, so I was… worse."

Your eyes open fast. Your one shoulder lifts, like you might have to protect him from something. "What?" you ask, frowning.

He pulls your hand towards him, a tug, not to come closer but more in an everything is okay, kind of way.

"It's fine. Anyways, we laughed our asses off and left before the end. The first time we watched it sober I thought it was the wrong movie."

"Why did you have a concussion?"

He shakes the tupperware at you until you take one. Only when you've bitten into it does he answer, though he's not entirely truthful, "It was like, you know how there was a fire?" he asks. You nod. "Well, everything in starcourt was fucking janky, and we went down this one elevator shaft and- concussion." He explains without explaining. He doesn't lie.

No way is he ready to tell you about all the weird shit he's had to deal with. Not yet. He doesn't wanna scare you off or scare you at all, and the upside down shit is fucking terrifying.

You take his explanation without any suspicion and he feels a little guilty.

"You should get workers comp," you say, brows pinched.

He chuckles and rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. Being cared about like this is so weird, he thinks. How mad and worried you are over something that happened before you knew him makes him feel hot, something electric and melting on top of his chest.

"You wanna be my lawyer?" he asks, grinning.

You reach for another shortbread. "I wouldn't know the first thing about it."

"You'd look cute in a suit, though."

"Shush," you mumble. You roll your thumb over your shortbread until the flower petals fall off. "They're so pretty but they feel so weird. Maybe I shouldn't put them on there."

He looks at the scattered flower petals on the floor to his left where you can't see them. "Nah, I like 'em."

You glow. "If you like them I guess I'll leave them on there."

"That's generous. You'd never be a good lawyer."

"Lawyers can be generous! They do stuff for free, right? Pro-bono. Like that one movie last year, with the guy who kills his wife, but he doesn't kill his wife, but he totally does, um…"

"Jagged Edge."

"Jagged Edge! Exactly."

"Was she pro bono?" he asks sceptically.

"Maybe not," you say, and laugh. "That movie sucked."

"Better than Back to the Future."

You choke on a laugh and pull your hand out of his to dust yourself off. He misses your touch but doesn't complain, clicking the lid back onto your tupperware and hiding them under the lounger from the heat. The sunshine is amazing, not too suffocating but definitely warm enough to melt him into jelly. He'd been a little worried about wearing shorts rather than jeans but you hadn't mentioned anything.

He combs his hair out of his face and wonders if it looks awful. It probably does. Only the strands closest to his neck feel chilly with damp, half dried by the sunshine.

"Steve," you say shyly.

He turns back to you and you're sitting up, one leg off the lounger.

"What?"

"Can I… you don't mind if I take off my shirt, do you?" you ask.

He's quick to assure you. "No way, beautiful. Throw it off."

You huff a laugh and cross your arms. Steve's fascinated by the way you take off your shirt, how you've dragged the front over your face where he would've grabbed the back and pulled indelicately. Your back arches and your chest moves up as it comes off.

You're wearing some sort of animal print bikini top underneath, a cheetah or a panther or something. Steve watches the curves of your breasts rise as you breathe in and then snaps his gaze to your face, guilty. You aren't looking at him, busy fiddling with the Walkman in your lap.

"Do you have anything you wanna listen to?" you ask him offhandedly. "I brought this and A Night at the Opera, but if there's something else you wanted to-"

"Night at the Opera?"

"Queen?" you ask.

"Like Hammer to Fall?" he asks.

You turn to face him entirely, skirt ruffled by a gentle breeze. "That's their new one. Night at The Opera is from, like, '76? '75? It has that really long one. And there was," you start giggling, your words all jumpy and honeyed, "there's one called 'I'm in Love with my Car.'"

"Sounds like an album for me. I'll go get it."

You spring up, something he can't read on your face. You look fucking insane shirtless, all soft and shiny, the lightest sheen of sweat illuminating the hills and dips, the slope of your shoulder, the lengths of your arms. "No, I'll do it. I'll get the water at the same time."

He watches you pass back into the house from over his shoulder. "It's in the fridge!" he calls.

"I guessed!"

He wonders for a second why you'd sounded nervous before remembering your underwear. His cheeks go a similar colour as he tries not to think about it, only he can't not think about it. They had not constituted a great deal of fabric, and then he's wondering how much the current ones are made up of and feeling guilty for that too.

She's my girlfriend, he thinks. I can think about these things. Not, like, obsessively. But in passing. God, she's fucking beautiful. He descends into a panicked reasoning.

Steve scrubs his face with his hand and looks out over the pool. It's been a while since they used it. He can't say he wants to use it after last time, and he definitely wouldn't consider any night time swimming but if you want to splash around in there in the daylight hours he's not gonna stop you.

You flounce back onto the patio with the cold jug in your hands and two glasses hugged to your chest, the cassette in the other. "Here, Stevie, can you-"

"Yeah." He stands up. He takes the cassette and jug from you and you manoeuvre the glasses into your hands. "Swap?" he asks.

You swap one glass for the cassette and the two of you sit down in tandem. Steve pours water for you both as you take Cyndi Lauper out, the cold a blessing. He holds his glass to his face and sighs.

"It's still hot even though it's late," you say knowingly.

"Endless Indiana summer." You're struggling with the cassette, your lips puckered in confusion. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I think I jammed it."

He watches you struggle with the lip that doesn't wanna open. "Pass it over?" he offers.

You pass it as soon as he asks, moving to sit by his side. He's very gentle with the small machine that you've once or twice affectionately monikered your 'baby'. He doesn't know a lot about tech and doesn't know why he offered. It had felt automatic. You had a problem and he just wanted to fix it.

The button that usually opens the door is pressed down, but the door is closed. He digs his fingernail under the button and pulls it up until it pops back into place and tests the play button.

The cassette starts to spin.

"Sticky button," he says easily.

Your thigh presses into his. "You're a genius, Harrington."

"That's Steve to you, babe."

You laugh and shift ever closer, until your arm is pressed to his arm, both perspiring lightly and too warm to really be touching like this. He should pull away, or you should. One of you should.

"Whatever you say…Harrington," you murmur through the corner of your mouth, smiling so nicely that he can't be bothered to argue.

He tucks his hand between your arm and your naked chest and pulls it toward him. You drop your head against his shoulder and turn the Walkman in your hand.

"How's your brain? Jello?" he asks lightly, flexing his fingers against the crook of your elbow and resting his head on top of yours carefully

"Jello pudding pops," you say wistfully. "You remember those? I haven't had one of those in years. Think they still make 'em?"

Your question is out of the blue. Enough to worry him some more.

He brings the arm furthest from you to your head and brushes his pinky finger up from your eyebrows to your hairline. "You feel warm."

"I'm perfectly fine, nelly."

"I'm allowed to be nervous. You were kind of out of it last time."

"We've barely been out here for thirty minutes," you argue with barely any heat.

His hand smooths down to your neck and then back up. He pulls your cheek back with his thumb and then drops his hand. "Just tell me if you feel sick, okay?"

"I promise I'm fine."

"Jeez," he groans, his lips barely parted. A fond annoyance. "Think a guy was asking the world."

You let your weight lean on him, the hand of the arm he's hugging moving around his back until you've found his side. You move it up and down sluggishly.

Like this, Steve has a perfect view of your lovely shoulder. One hidden behind, the other bared.

"You're beautiful," he says.

You tense up and he hates it, bringing his hand to your coveted shoulder. He rubs a line up the soft slope, the curve of your neck and then down again until you've relaxed.

"You… can't even see my face," you murmur. Your breath is a small hot patch into his sleeve.

"I don't need to see your face," he says, feigning a frustration he doesn't feel. "Think I haven't stared at you enough to know? And I was talking about your shoulders."

You laugh and drag your face up. "My shoulders?"

"Well I can only see one. But I assume the second is just as nice."

"You're weird," you say.

There's a certain weakness to it. He thinks maybe you need to hear him say it again. He doesn't hesitate.

"You have nice shoulders."

You shake your head almost imperceptibly. Steve takes the player from your lap and turns it down by half, putting it on the floor with the water jug.

Your legs poke into his as he encourages you towards him.

"Come on," he says, "I don't bite, babe. 'Less you ask me to."

"You'd like that, you sicko."

He laughs and really bundles you up, a too warm hug where your face presses to his shoulder and his hovers above yours. He squeezes and drags his hand down your arm, rough but not cruel.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Shh, I'm busy."

You've wrapped your arms around his waist loosely. Steve tugs your thigh over his until your legs are overlapped, as close as you can be while sitting side by side like this. He'd pull you completely into his lap if he thought you'd let him.

He can feel your smile.

His hand soothes a kinder path over your arm before he gives in. Shyly at first, Steve drops his mouth to your shoulder and leaves it there, barely a kiss.

Don't be a loser, he thinks.

Cautious but sincere kisses. He drops them in a uniform line down your arm, your sunned skin hot under his lips. Kisses not meant to be anything but kisses, little worships, a scattering of affection. Indiscriminately. His mouth passes over blemishes, beauty marks, the fine hairs at the top of your arm. You curl tighter around his waist.

He kisses back up the hill of your shoulder and his lips part. He sucks very, very gently, kissing the same spot until he's adorned your skin with shiny crescent moons. He doesn't know how long he kisses you for. He doesn't want to stop, or pause, or do anything but this.

His hands have moved to your back. One toys with the tie of your bikini top unthinkingly, the other rubbing your shoulder. You're limp in his arms.

He rubs his nose against your shoulder for long, quiet minutes. Perfumed by a thousand flowers and yet you still smell like yourself underneath it, your skin an indescribable scent and secret, something he selfishly doesn't ever want to share. Steve can't make himself move from you and you don't seem inclined either.

He groans. "Alright, you hungry?" he asks.

Your fingers stretch across his back. "Maybe."

"I'll call Mazzio's. What do you want?"

"Anything."

Steve pulls back to give you a fierce look. "Just tell me. I gotta know your favourite toppings. S'like, a boyfriend thing."

"A boyfriend thing?" you repeat, smiling wide.

You tell him what you like and he squeezes your shoulder, disappearing into the house to call the pizza place. When he returns you've laid out in his lounger, your eyes closed like you're sleeping. The worst of the heat has fallen away and cloud cover threatens to give you the chills.

"Come inside?" he asks from the doorway.

"No… come and give me another hug. It was nice."

"I bet it was," he mutters, a feigned irritation that's completely overturned by how quickly he does what you tell him to.

The lounger isn't big enough for both of you. Steve's already laughing as he climbs on top of you, careful but not really as he crushes the fabric of your skirt with his knees and thighs and wraps his arms tightly around your neck, rubbing your foreheads together roughly.

"This what you meant?" he asks through a grin.

"No."

-

Steve's bed smells of him unequivocally. You're trying to withhold from lying down and sniffing, wondering curiously if that's something you're 1) allowed to do, and 2) supposed to want to do. Is it odd to like the way he smells as much as you do? That familiar bergamot, the almost smokey undertone of lavender, cedar. It makes you feel doped up. Your happiness has you heavy-limbed.

"You head up, okay? I'm just gonna lock the door," he'd said.

So here you are, backpack at your feet. After greasy takeout and an entire movie holding hands you think you're probably as content as it's possible to be in this body and in this life.

You hear Steve's footsteps up the stairs and lie down flat against his pillows, turning your face to sniff indulgently, the fabric cold under your cheek.

He walks in and he's all rumpled clothes and smiles, his hair in total disarray like you've never seen. As soon as he's crossed the threshold he's pulling off his polo and you think Oh fuck, that was quicker than I imagined this happening. Your heart feels fit to explode but he's barely looking at you, his sights set on the huge oak dresser at the end of the room.

You watch his arms as he walks past, your heart a hummingbird as Steve says, "Did you pick a movie?"

You gawp at what you can see of his naked chest, the side of a pec. You've never seen him undressed like this. Your distraction leaves you quiet, and Steve turns to you with a soft looking t-shirt in hand.

"Baby?"

"I didn't," you say, your voice scratchy. "Uh, sorry. I just laid down and…forgot."

He bends forward a little before he puts the shirt on and his entire chest moves. You can't help but look at it. Steve has… Steve has pecs. Pillowy-

"Y/N?"

"Sorry," you say, blinking hard.

"Are you tired or something?" He turns back to the dresser and opens a different drawer and pulls out a pair of sweatpants. "Don't look," he says teasingly.

You avert your eyes.

"Do you wanna change?" he asks when he's done, leaning back against the dresser with his arms crossed.

You don't know what Steve wants, if he wants to hook up or if he doesn't, and you don't mind either way. (A bad lie – you really, really want to.) (But it's cool if he doesn't want to.)

You won't be upset if he doesn't make a move, but if he does you'd prefer to be less sweaty.

"Can I shower? Not to wash my hair, just…"

"Sure you can."

Steve holds out his hand and you take it, grabbing your backpack as he pulls you off of the bed and into the bathroom. He drops your hand as fast as he'd taken it to open the cabinet under the sink. "Listen, the shower doesn't work. Well, it does, but the hot water only gets lukewarm and I don't know how to fix it. But the bath works fine. Uh…" He pulls a basket of girly toiletries out. "You can use whatever you want, my stuff or my mom's, whatever."

You stand by the tub. "She won't mind?"

"It's fine. I'll have to get you stuff next time you stay over." He moves you to the side with his hand on your hip and you look up as he moves down, turning the faucet. He holds his hand under the stream and messes with the temperature until he's satisfied. "Sorry. I should've thought about all of this before I asked you to spend the night."

"It's okay," you say quietly. "I didn't think about any of that stuff either. It's like I said, I- I just wanted to see you. Wasn't thinking about shower gel."

You laugh awkwardly. It ebbs when he grabs your shoulder and gives you a little shake. "Half as much as I wanted to see you."

He ends the shake with a good rub of his thumb.

"Want me to get in with you?" he asks with a smirk.

You laugh and start shoving at his chest playfully. "Get out," you whine.

He puts his hands up in surrender and you close the door between you, unsurprised when his voice rings out against it. "You come here often?" he asks.

"Do you?" you ask. Your voice sounds loud.

You strip off your clothes and your bikini top and slip into the water.

"Every morning for the last twenty years."

"What do you recommend?"

"The three in one."

You gawp and giggle, horrified at his suggestion. You know he's lying, his hair's too nice to use something like that. There's a few seconds of silence where you shudder at the new heat and rub yourself down.

"Which shower gel is yours?" you ask, looking between bottles unsure.

"Just use whatever you want. What movie d'you wanna watch?"

"Can't you choose?" you ask, bringing each gel to your nose until you find the one that smells like him. You lather the soap between your palms and run it over your body.

"I picked the last one."

"And you're good at it!" You reason, laughing loudly at your own joke. Steve's reluctant chuckles echo from the other side of the door.

You go to ask, Why are you still standing there, dork? But you're afraid that asking will make him move, and you like him too much to want that to happen.

"You were half asleep, how do you know it was good?"

"You were rubbing my hand!" you argue.

"You liked that?" he asks. His tone is honest.

You cup water in both hands to wash off your shoulders. You don't want to answer and give yourself away. Of course you'd fucking liked it, is he kidding? Boys. No, you think, not boys. Steve.

And after the stunt he'd pulled in the back yard, too. The nerve.

Warm water laps at your naked stomach. You think about his lips running over your shoulder and how tenderly he'd held you. Suddenly the water feels scorching, and you climb out over the lip as Steve says, "How much longer?"

"Stop stalking me."

"You're taking forever."

It's barely been five minutes. You go dizzy with pleasure at the idea that he might miss you so badly, the implication that he likes you that much.

You wrap a towel around yourself and squat down to sort through the contents of your bag for your pajamas and underwear.

"I'm getting dressed," you inform him, putting your clothes on the counter so you can dry off.

"I've never been any good at that," he says.

You pull your underwear over damp thighs and laugh under your breath so he can't hear it and get spurred on. "At getting dressed?"

"Right. Just awful. You should see me in the mornings, it's like, what limb does this go on?"

You stop scrubbing the towel over yourself to ask, "Are you flirting with me?"

"I'm trying. You're dodging the punchline."

"Wouldn't you want me to teach you how to take them off, rather than on?"

"How presumptuous!" You can hear his smirk.

"What was the punchline?" you ask, eager to draw the attention back to his bad joke rather than your suggestion.

You pull your shirt over your head and step into your pyjamas pants, tying the strings into a neat bow.

"Well, because you're so ridiculously nice I thought you'd offer to teach me how to do it, and then I'd get to say something like, 'Baby, I'm a visual learner.'"

"That's awful," you mumble, bent at the waist as you hop into your socks.

He hears it anyways. "Say it to my face."

You look yourself over in the mirror. Fresh faced, shirt sticking to your damp chest, pajama trousers high on your hips. You tug your shirt over the waistband. An entirely normal outfit for a normal night.

You open the door and Steve falls onto his back into the bathroom, looking up as you look down. He must've been sitting with his legs hiked, too much weight on the door to fall in readily. You laugh guiltily.

"Are you okay?"

He blinks. His eyes look impossibly wide.

"Steve?" You tilt your head to the side.

"You look killer," he says.

You mime like a slasher over his prone body and try to do the sound effects. Steve giggles and you decide it's your new favourite sound. He covers his face with his hands, one shoulder lifting from the floor with the force of it. You've never heard him laugh like this, all high pitched and gasping.

You can't decide whether you want to kneel down and kiss him or kneel down and pretend to stab him to death. You think the latter will make him laugh some more and you'll do anything for that next hit, falling to your knees with a threatening hand poised above you.

When Steve laughs really hard his mouth opens in a big smile, all his top teeth on display and shining.

You drop your hand to his chest, having lost all steam. The need to tell him how handsome he is, pretty, lovely, beautiful, all of it, is maddeningly high. You don't want to ruin the moment and you won't, spreading your palm flat over his chest and leaning down.

"I'm gonna kill you," you murmur, lips barely parted as you look between both of his eyes, memorising their flush of dark lashes. You drag your hand down his torso. "Why are you laughing?"

"I mean, if I'm gonna die-" He blows a big puff of air up his face and his hair moves like sea grass. "I'm okay with it being you who kills me."

"You'd let me kill you, baby?" you ask, still quiet, bemused and endeared and on the precipice of something big.

"I'd let you do a lot worse," he says.

You brush the hair out of his face. "I don't wanna do any of that stuff."

"Good. I was getting nervous. Here, give me-" he lifts up off of the ground to kiss you once. A chaste peck that leaves you a smiling mess.

You climb off of him before he has to ask and put your hand out to help him up. He takes it but doesn't need it, surprisingly lithe as he stands and pushes you back into his room. You laugh when he encourages you none too gently into his bed again. He flips on the TV, swaps the VHS out for one you can't see and then joins you at the top, lying down with a suffering sigh.

He stretches and groans. You ogle him.

"What's the movie?"

"Don't laugh?" he asks.

"No, I won't."

He shifts so you're two halves of a heart curved towards each other. "Fast Times at Ridgemont High." You nibble the inside of your lip. "You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"Am I laughing, Steve?"

"Just about," he grumbles.

You don't know why but it feels more than natural to curl up towards him. Any insecurity is fixed quickly when he pulls you close, one arm behind your head and propping him up tall, the other coming over your waist loosely, his wrist to your hip but his fingers not touching you.

You have to turn your neck to see the TV across the room. After a few minutes it aches and you consider moving, then Steve manoeuvres to press his lips to your head and you forget all about it.

His shirt's ridden up. His stomach is soft from the way he's on his side, and you can see the dark trail of hair leading from his navel that disappears into the plaid of his pants.

You reach out to slip your fingers under the hem and wrap your arm around him, feeling the croft of silky hair at the small of his back. You trail up, your finger bumping over the smoothed ridges of horizontal stretch marks.

"Can you feel that?" you ask.

Steve slowly moves his elbow. His face level with yours, he asks, "Can you feel this?" He scratches his fingers lightly over your hip.

You giggle with your mouth closed. "Yeah, I guess it was a stupid question."

Steve moves back and you turn to look at him. You're very close. You're in bed.

"Wasn't stupid," he says quietly.

You raise your brows and incline your head to his until he's laughing.

"It was misguided," he allows.

"I don't know why- I mean, I have enough stretch marks. I know they're not-" you laugh, a bubble of sound that warms his lips, "not dead."

"Maybe yours are special," he teases.

"Wanna find out?"

He laughs and kisses you. Pressure that slowly builds, a chaste pressing of his lips to yours. It's miraculous how quickly your breathing syncs, how you're inhaling at every parting, how your mouths open at the same time. He takes in a big sigh that lights you up and pulls you in like it's nothing.

He dedicates himself to your top lip. There's urgency there that wasn't before, and you're feeling it too. His mouth a crescent of heat, he takes your lip between his and sucks gently. You gasp and your hand twists in his shirt.

"Shit, sorry," he says, "I haven't done this in-"

"It's okay. It's okay, I liked it."

"Yeah?"

You huff against his lips. He's smiling as he does it again. You shudder at the feeling of his teeth, his careless nipping, your hands searching for comfort.

Everything goes slow. He kisses slow, he touches slow. His hands move over your back, slip under your shirt and climb up. Not looking for anything, just looking.

Your hand climbs over his chest. You brush your fingers through the ends of his carefully before pushing up, weaving into the soft strands at the back of his neck. You rub his thumb over his skin in time with your kisses.

Steve encourages you onto your back. You feel a heat growing in your chest, somewhere lower, as he hovers over you, his lips pushing you down into a space that doesn't exist. Your fingers are busy learning the back of his head, fingertips moving over his scalp, scratching lightly as you trail back down to hold him in place.

You kiss up. Steve's hand knocks your shirt up your chest as he squeezes the skin just below your breasts, breathing hard.

He hesitates. His fingers pinch your shirt as if he's going to pull it back down.

"Steve," you murmur. "It's okay."

He kisses your cheek without looking at you, his eyes on your naked skin. "You sure?"

You bring your knees up until they brush his hip and push them away from him, petting the hair out of his face. "Yeah," you say, smiling.

More kissing. Steve ducks down and holds your face steady in one hand, giving you short-lived, wet kisses as his fingers approach your chest. He pauses, watching your face as his fingertips bump into the swell of your breast. "Okay?" he asks.

You lift your chin. "It's fine, Harrington."

"Steve," he corrects steadily, the pads of his fingers ghosting under your nipple to caress the side. His thumb rubs a quarter circle just underneath and you feel the soft skin perk up.

"Steve," you utter.

From there you endure some of the worst kisses of your life – worst as in, life changing, as in sticky, as in everything you've ever wondered about and more. You know you're hopeless. You feel yourself melt into nothing as he massages your peaking nipple, laughing into his mouth when he squeezes and hitching when he squeezes harder.

He pushes the small nub between his index and middle finger and his teasing stutters. He holds you like this and kisses you and you don't know how much time passes. With him, time feels implausible. Like a guideline you ignore.

When you think you might be more him than yourself he pulls away, leaving your lips hot and bruising.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, pulling the hem of your shirt over his finger. His eyes are so brown. You can't believe how brown they are.

"Please."

"Don't- You don't have to say please with me. Not with this, okay?" He rubs his hand over your breast and presses it deep into your heart. "Not with anything."

"You'll regret that," you say, heat like nothing you've ever felt in your chest and the tips of your ears.

"I don't think I will."

He kisses you again like he just can't help it and sits up enough to work your t-shirt from under your back. The excitement gets mixed up with enough insecurity then to make you nauseous.

Steve drops your shirt onto the floor and plants his hands on either side of you. "Oh, you're fucking pretty."

His eyes take you in. It surprises you when he spends half the time staring at your face, entirely too much of it at your eyes. "You know how pretty you are?"

"You tell me enough, Stevie," you mumble, aflame.

"Wanna hear it again?"

You don't say anything. His eyes bore into yours. His lashes kiss.

His grin is practically dietific as his lips curve up. "You're beautiful. 'So fine and pretty,'" he says, almost but not quite singing.

"You're just as handsome," you say, bringing your hands to his defined cheeks. You smooth your hands over his face and ears and hair, holding it all away from him. "You're…" You drop your hands to the curve of his neck and follow over his trap muscle. "You're amazing."

"Stop," he says. You take it for 'keep going'.

"Handsome sounds too formal," you mutter, almost to yourself, "but it's true. You're handsome. More than handsome, you're- you're funny and kind and-" You shake your head. "I think you're the first person I've ever wanted like this."

You don't mean to get emotional. 'This' comes out so rough it burns, and you swallow it all down, blinking fast.

"Like 'this'?" he asks.

He brings a hand to your face, holding your cheek like you're made of solid silver, like you might bend under his touch.

"Like this," you say again. "If you want to."

"I want to," he says, nodding happily. "Of course I do."

You laugh and he laughs. There's a gap where you're both thinking, Oh, we're doing this.

And then Steve's in motion.

He pulls his shirt over the back of his head and you're starstruck. His hair's a dark mess, the ends cast light by the TV. You reach up to smooth them down and it's too late, Steve's ducking down for a smattering of heavy kisses across your lips, one corner to the other. His nose taps into yours and you turn your face to accommodate him, his tongue a wet heat as he pushes it into yours. You reciprocate as best you can, eyes closed tight and hands all over the place. You start at his collar. One hand runs over the twisting of chest hair over his pecs and the other holds his face to yours. He curls his fingers around your wrist, the other paying some much needed attention to your neglected breast. He plays until both nipples are aching and then some.

He spreads your legs and your heart skips as he puts his knee between your thighs, lips starting a ruinous journey downward. He sets kisses like tiny sparks of heat against your jaw and under it, nose dragging down your neck as he turns. You cup the back of his head as his lips part, as he takes your flesh between his teeth and sucks tenderly.

"You smell like flowers," he says, kissing his half-hearted hickey.

"Some idiot bought me a florists," you tease.

His hand slides under your back. His knee presses to the bump of your cunt. "Best decision that idiot ever made," he says, words soaking into your neck, smothered.

You roll your hips shyly against his knee, a negligible friction as he rubs your back and scandalises your neck.

You lift your hips high and he gets the idea very quickly, fingers pinching at fabric until your thighs are out. He tries to move away and you hold him there, dazed by his ravenous attentions.

He laughs and strokes your arm. "I'm gonna take them off, okay?"

You drop your hands from his hair sheepishly and he moves back onto his knees.

"Pretty panties," he says. You don't think he's teasing.

"I thought you might like them," you tell him honestly.

"I do. They're dainty," he says, sliding your pajama pants off of your ankles. "Almost don't wanna take 'em off."

You feel a little bit nervous and decide to direct your attention to his own pants. There's a noticeable bulge at the seat of them. Your cunt twinges at the sight.

Steve's hands worship at your ankles. "Is everything okay?" he asks.

"This is the first time you're seeing me like this. I'm just nervous."

He pulls your foot onto his thighs and fiddles with the elastic of your sock. "If you could see what I'm seeing, I don't think you would be."

You try to imagine yourself as he sees you. Mostly naked and kiss mussed after a day of sun and fun and his affection, the dopey, slightly shy smile, with one arm crossed under your breasts and the other picking nervously at the lace of your underwear.

"You're fucking killer." He mimes a stabbing motion and you giggle. "I don't have to let you kill me, seeing you like this might just do it."

You let him keep your ankle in his lap but bring the other leg up, folding it across your thigh to hide your cunt from view. His eyes dip to the twin globes of your ass and he groans. Your ears strain to hear it.

"Are you gonna take them off?" you ask, eyes on the curve of his dick, eyebrows raised cheekily.

"You don't wanna take them off for me?" he asks. Your startled expression makes him giggle as he slides off of the bed and hooks his thumbs in the waistband.

He kicks them off, his boxers tighter than you'd pictured. You hike up on your elbows and bring your knees together, biting the inside of your lip as his hand drops to his cock. He readjusts the sizable length and a hiss of breath escapes him as he does.

"Fuck," he groans. "Shit, you're fucking- you're fucking everything."

You rub your thighs together coquettishly. "Come back and kiss me?" you ask. He takes a step forward. You tilt your head towards your shoulder. "Are you gonna take those off too?"

You had your suspicions, but the real thing makes your heart stop.

Steve kicks out of his boxers and holds his hands out. You spread your legs and he climbs on top of you, hands braced above your shoulders until he's negotiated himself into the gap. You feel the curve of his cock press into your stomach as he kisses you.

You try your best to be casual and let him kiss you, but you're curious and excited and you can't not think about it now that it's happening.

You stroke your hands down his back and leave them loose at his waist. "Steve," you whisper, breaking the kiss early.

"You wanna touch me?"

"Please?" you whisper.

"What did I say about please?" he murmurs. He doesn't sound very scolding.

"That I don't have to say it."

He leans back on his haunches. "So don't."

You sit up, hands between your laps and wringing. "Uh," you reach out. "Tell me if I do something wrong?"

He softens. "Sure, baby."

You lean in and Steve pulls you closer by the calves. Your hand trembles as you take his cock into your hands. He's thick. Fat. Girthier than you'd thought he would be and twice as hairy, though trimmed neatly at the outskirts, you slide your hand down to the underside of his shaft and pause.

When you align your hand, bottom of your palm to the very start of his shaft, the tip of your index finger misses the tip by two whole inches. You encircle him curiously.

"Spit in your hand," he says gently.

"Oh."

You spit into your hand and press it back into his cock, spreading it with loose strokes over veined ridges. The curls of his pubes brush your hand as you reach the bottom. The entire length of him jumps.

You're honestly dazzled. You laugh out of the corner of his mouth and look up at him with a happy smile. "You're packing a lot of heat here, Harrington."

He looks relieved. "Do you know how fucking scary it is when your girl has your dick in her hand and gets the giggles? I started second-guessing everything I thought about myself."

"I can see why you're popular with the ladies," you murmur, eyes bright with mirth as you dip down and kiss the tip where a dot of precum wells.

"Oh, don't, baby."

"Huh?" You sit up tall. "Do you wanna stop?"

"The opposite. I don't know how long I'll last, especially," he pulls you by the chin to his lips, "in this pretty mouth."

More giggles. He swallows them in their entirety, hand wrapped around your wrist to pull your fingers from his length. Your hands go limp, languid under his gentle kisses and featherlight touching.

You pull away from each other but fight to kiss anyways, cheeks aching with a smile as he steals one, another, a handful of sweet, catching pecks.

You pout as he pulls away.

"D'you wanna lie back?" he asks, hand behind his neck. He rakes his fingers through his hair.

You lie down with his pillows under your head.

Steve smooths his thumbs against the waistband of your panties.

"It's okay," you say, wiggling your hips from left to right encouragingly.

He drags them down. Over the slopes of your thighs and the hills of your knees, he slides them down to your calves. He pulls them off one ankle and they hang off of the other. You lift your leg and let the dampened pink fabric fall onto his rumpled sheets.

He crawls forward, hands hooking under your knee. "Lemme see you, babe."

You bring your legs up and spread your thighs, feet between his knees.

He takes his cock into his hand and tugs. "Fuck," he says, eyes heavy, "fuck, are you wet?"

"You've been kissing me for hours," you say bashfully.

"I'd kiss you longer if you're gonna let me. Can I touch you?"

You push your palm down to your cunt and spread yourself just slightly, more to get used to it than to tease him. "Yes, please."

Steve crawls until you're close and you settle your legs either side of him. He does as you'd done, pushing his thumb to the small well of slick at your entrance and spreading you open with his fingers. "Fuck," he says again. "Shit, baby. Look at you…"

He pushes his slick-wet thumb into the waiting bead of your clit. "There?" he asks.

You remember to breathe. "Yeah," you say, eyes drifting closed as he familiarises himself. You drop your head into his pillows, neck aching. "Right there."

"Aww," he says sympathetically, free hand pressed flat to the inside of your thigh, holding you open. "You have the cutest fucking pussy ever. Shit, i'so wet, you must have such a crush on me."

You smile to yourself and hide your face in a pillow that smells like him. "A huge one. It's kind of embarrassing."

"I bet it is."

His fingers probe your clit. It pulses under his touch, swollen and sensitive to every brush of skin.

"Can you come kiss me some more?"

He looks like he wants to argue.

"Please, Stevie."

Steve reaches over your chest and pulls open his nightstand, procuring a new box of rubbers. You flick his chest. "Is that a new box?"

"Maybe."

You kiss his shoulder and he rips one open with his teeth. "How many's in there?"

"Enough, you minx." He rolls it on.

Kissing. His weight pressed over you, his cock against your mess of slick. You whine as he grinds down into you hard, his tangle of dark curls a blessed friction.

His hips jerk back and the tip of his dick hits into your clit.

"Are you gonna tease me all night?" you ask.

"Hmm," he pretends to think about it, dropping his head next to yours, his arm wrapping around your neck. You turn your face to his. His eyes are closed and his smile is nearly peaceful, though the crinkle between his brows speaks to his growing desperation. It's as casual as any cuddle with him before. "I could."

"But you won't."

"No, I won't."

Steve gives you one last kiss and situates himself between your legs at full height, pushing your legs back until the tops of your thighs kiss the bump of your stomach. He takes his cock into his hand and guides the tip down the length of your crease. His head bumps your entrance.

You let one leg fall to the side, arm crossed under your rising chest, looking at Steve with bright, adoring eyes. He's beautiful above you, pumping his cock with one hand. The other plays at your weeping hole, fingertips dipping inside two at a time.

You clench around his fingers as they ease in.

"Shit, you're tight. You okay?"

You nod voraciously.

He spreads his fingers wide, his eyes rolling back showfully. "Fuck, babe… Gonna spread you wide open, yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Want you inside."

"Yeah?" His eyebrows are furrowed, a certain stress to his voice.

"Are you gonna make me say please?"

He takes your thighs into both hands and lines up. His grin is both salacious and adorable, a familiar mischief adorning his pretty features. "Never."

The stretch is a lot but he takes it slow. Really slow, his hands on your skin and constantly measuring your reaction. Which must be a super ego trip for him, because your face goes slack with pleasure and you have to focus a lot of energy on smiling rather than frowning; there's somethingwonderful about being this close to him. His cock pushes into you and you gasp with every gentle intrusion, every half inch of space he takes until he's halfway inside and staying there.

He bends over you and takes your face into his hand. You hadn't realised before you met Steve how often your face could be held by someone, and how safe it could make you feel. How the brush of someone's fingertips over your cheek could tickle and somehow you never want to move away. He pulls his hips back, rolls in, and your eyes crease with pleasure, lashes touching as you squint.

He smells like everything you're used to. He must be thinking the same thing as you, because he smiles, and says, "You might as well be a flower for how much you smell like one."

Bergamot. He touches something sensitive, gummy walls stretched around him. You whine under your breath.

Lavender. "Make that sound again?" he asks.

Cedarwood. The murmur of the TV fades away entirely. The only things you can hear are you and Steve. You; your panting, the high warping of every breath as his thick cock works you open. Steve; a panting all his own, a scratchy roughness. You try not to make too much noise in efforts to hear him.

The slightest hint of citrus. An impression. Maybe his breath, something lingering from the orange-infused water you'd sipped on earlier. His breath fans out over your collar as he bottoms out, a sound like a hiccup ripped from him.

You wrap your hands around his back. "Oh my god, Stevie."

"How's that feel? That okay?" He stays very still. "Pretty baby, taking all of me right now." He starts to move his hips in leisurely circles.

You pull him down for a kiss, a world away from being able to answer intelligibly. You're so full it aches, so full – the blunt tip of his cock pushes into your sweet spot and you have to break the kiss to gasp for air.

"Feels so good," you whisper, rubbing his back unhurried.

A shiver courses down your spine as he pulls out to push in again. The sound is filthy, an erotic slapping as his thighs hit into yours and he moans. He fucking moans.

"Fuck, Steve. Can you go faster?"

Steve forces his forearms under your shoulder blades and his forehead presses to your collar, lips sluggish as they kiss your chest. He pulls your nipple into his mouth as he starts to thrust into you rhythmically, sucking and nibbling and twisting, his ministrations sending little bolts of pleasure down to your throbbing cunt.

He kisses hickey after hickey into your chest. You're too busy getting fucked out to notice, lavished by his mouth and numbed by his cock. Every thrust starts to hit deep, and every thrust pulls an unintelligible sound from you. Panting turns to moaning, moans turn to mewls.

"Hear how wet you are? Do you hear that?" Steve asks as he pulls away. He flicks at your bruising nipples and pouts when you jump. "Sorry, I'm sorry. Not my fault you have the cutest rack ever."

"Steve!" you cry, flushing with an embarrassed heat.

"What? It's fucking true." He takes your hips into his hands and hits in hard, cock prodding your spongey g-spot unapologetically. "Cutest pussy, too."

He brings his hand down to your cunt and slows his pace, thrusts shallow and eyes wide as he spreads you open. You can feel your hole shaping around him, the stretch as he opens you up. His thick fingers press into the bead of your clit and he starts to draw, tight messy circles in time with his thrusts.

"Taking me so well, babygirl."

You cup your aching tits and feel them sway with every thrust, every hit of his thighs into yours. A sticky mess grows between you that leaves your clit wet with slick. Steve fights to find purchase as he spreads your lips, thumb coming up to pinch at it.

He moans and looks up at the ceiling, his throat bared as he rolls his hips and pulls you onto his cock. "Fuck…" he groans, beggy and out of breath.

You stare at him, unabashed in your rabid attraction.

"Fuck, Steve," you say between hitching breaths, "I'm lucky you're mine."

His gaze jumps to yours. He snaps his hips and you squeal happily. "Say that again."

"I'm lucky you're mine," you say without missing a beat. It's true.

He holds your hips in an iron grip and ruts into you, deep-seated and unrelenting. He's barely a half-inch back when he's rubbing back in, moulding you to the shape of his cock. Dark curls press into your clit as he leans forward.

"You wouldn't believe how perfect you look on my dick." He grinds down, pulls out and thuds back in.

Your face screws up.

"You like that, baby? You want me to do it again?"

You nod and open your arms. Steve falls into them, letting you wrap him up in a grip so tight you can feel the suggestion of his ribs, his chest hair scratching your chest as he repeats the motion. You squeeze your eyes closed and whimper into the top of his head, hands pulling at his back as he rocks in again and again and again.

"Y'making such a mess on me."

You're not surprised. Every thrust into your sopping heat sounds loud in the quiet of his room, and your slick is everywhere. Wetting the thatch of pubes around his cock, the insides of your soft thighs.

"Steve, can you- can you-"

He presses his fingers back to your clit. "This? Sorry, you're just gripping me tight, I had to hold onto something," he apologises, sounding a short fall from reverential. "I got you."

Your sticky thighs start to shake as he fucks into you, the quick rub of his fingers against your clit tightening the coil inside you until it's snapping hard. You can't even warn him, chasing the circles he's making with your hips as you force your face into his pillow and fall apart.

You want to hate the sound that you make. It's an embarrassing combination of a squeal and a breathless gasp, only partially muffled by the fabric under your lips. You find yourself unable when Steve chokes on his words, stuttering, "F-fuck, oh fuck, sweetheart, you sound like- like heaven. You fucking feel like it, clamping down on me."

Steve fucks into that extra snugness and you can see on his face that he's close.

You blink out of the haze of your climax and cover Steve's hand where it teases your overstimulated clit, pulling it up and around your neck. You slide your arms around him and scratch up his back lightly, his hips staggering into yours as you say, "You gonna cum too, baby? Please?"

"Fuck," he groans through gritted teeth.

You clench your walls down around him and the drag is insane, better when he gets his final burst of energy and fucks into you with big, rough thrusts, your knees clamped around his hips. His teeth close around your shoulder and he bites you, maybe harder than he means to, a white hot pain that lasts a split-second, his hitching breaths hot in your skin. His hips slow and his entire weight falls into your tummy, wrought with post-orgasm aching.

You rub his back, damp with perspiration.

He kisses an apology over his cruel hickey.

"Fuck," he whispers.

His kisses move up and he moves too. You both hiss – disturbed, sweaty, blood still pumping fast. He's only adjusting for the height advantage, his mouth at your ear.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." You have a lot more to say, but you need a second.

Steve makes a humming sound at the back of his throat. "Can I go get a towel? I'll be right back."

"Yeah, Stevie. Whatever you wanna do," you say lightly, rubbing his back and hoping each pass of your palm implies the depth of your fondness.

Steve is cautious as he climbs off of you. You close your eyes and bring your hands to your sweaty face, fingers over your eyes before pushing them to either side of your forehead to stare at his ceiling, entirely blissed and in disbelief.

Steve climbs over you with a towel in hand. You can feel the warmth coming off of its wet corner.

He drops it onto your stomach and you go to pick it up. He grabs your hands in both of his and holds them, joined, against your shoulders. "I'll do it, but just-" He ducks his face to yours. "Let me kiss you."

You smile happily and close your eyes, fingers flexing in his grip as he brushes his lips against yours, at first gently and then with an enthusiastic pressure. You're worn out from everything and can't respond how you want to, but if Steve minds he doesn't say anything, hands squeezing your hands and his lips all lazy and curled up against yours.

Your chest hurts.

Steve keeps a hold of one hand as he breaks the kiss in favour of cleaning you up though quickly drops it to take your shaky thigh into his hand. Spread wide, he wipes every trace of slick he can find, especially kind to your centre.

He's already discarded the condom and wiped himself down. You reach out to stroke the start of his damp snail trail as he throws the towel on the floor next to your discarded clothes. Pulling the sheets where they'd fallen to the bottom of the bed over your naked bodies, Steve slouches onto his side.

"Come here," he says, pulling you into his chest with infinite tenderness.

You turn into his hold and ram your face into his skin, hand searching for the tempting curve of his bicep.

He drops a kiss into your temple and then another. You feel surprisingly awake, his body a hot and heavy thing beside you.

"Do you feel like talking?" he asks softly.

"Yeah," you say, giggling. "Yeah, sorry. God, Steve."

He bends at the waist to cuddle you like he's shielding you. "I know."

You lie there in his embrace and you can't stop thinking about it. That was perfect. That was fucking perfect. Right? You want to ask him. You'd never felt that pretty or pleased before in your life.

"God, that was fucking perfect," Steve says.

You rub your nose against his chest and giggle, an overabundance of joy bubbling messy at the surface. "I was just thinking that."

"Yeah?"

"Oh my god."

"I'm kind of pissed off. Like, if that's the standard, how am I gonna live up to this every time?"

Every time, you think.

"Maybe we just got really lucky. We're never gonna have sex that good ever again," you theorise.

He starts laughing, big, contagious chuckles that boom from the centre of his chest and catch you by surprise. He sounds as happy as you feel.

"Don't jinx it." He rubs his hand over your shoulder blades.

You kiss his chest lazily and he slinks down under the sheets with you, dragging you up until your face is eye-level with his. His eyes are closed and you close your own, moaning as he crushes you to his chest and starts to pat your back.

It's an immense domestic pleasure. You couldn't explain why, but the continuous, steady rhythm of his firm patting makes it easier to calm your racing heart.

"You look really beautiful," he says.

"Your eyes are closed."

"So? You looked beautiful when I closed them. I just want you to know. And your sounds… God, I'm gonna be touching you all the time if that's what you sound like."

"I love how you sounded too." You rub his chest with your knuckle. "I love that you sounded like that for me."

"Because of you."

"I meant what I said. I'm really lucky."

Steve pushes his hand behind your ear and draws your face from his. You open your eyes and find him already looking at you, eyebrows raised. "Thanks for telling me?"

"Shut up! You know what I mean. I'm lucky to have you."

"If you're lucky I'm fucking blessed."

"I've never heard you swear that much."

"And it's entirely your fault," he jokes.

You're okay with that.

You tuck yourself into Steve's neck and trace the lines of his body. The small roundness of his Adam's apple and the ridges of his collarbones, the small dip between his chest muscles and the line underneath his pec. You go to just below his ribs before needing your hand between his torso and his arm, hugging him like he's hugging you.

The hickey he'd given you on your shoulder twinges, reminding you of his maltreatment. You place your lips against his throat and mouth lazy kisses until he sighs in content. When you know you've lulled him into a false sense of security, you take his skin between your teeth and nip.

"What's that for?" he asks in bemusement.

"You tried to take a chunk of me."

"Shit," he says.

You kitten lick the tiny welt you've bitten into his pale skin and he tenses. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, wondering if he likes that, and deign to give him a smattering of wet, sloppy hickeys to find out.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, fingers brushing over the small embeddings of his teeth in your shoulder.

"Not really," you say, mouthing up until your nose is to his cheek. You close your eyes as he turns his head. You can feel his breath against your lips. "No, I like it, anyway."

Your arms slide over his back as he pulls back to take you in. You stare at each other, not sure how to say anything that hasn't already been said or anything that hasn't been felt. He looks pretty and ragged, perfect hair mussed and dainty brown lashes in damp triangles. The dim lighting shadows his face, the lightest brightness under the well of his eye.

"I wish I was one of the old masters."

He smiles. "What's that?"

"Like, the great artists. Painters, masters of their craft. Like the guy who painted The Girl with a Pearl Earring."

Steve starts to shift onto his back. You lay your arm across his chest and hold your weight off of him. He doesn't like that very much, pulling you in with one arm crossed over the small of your back, the other held high but loose. He brushes your cheek with the back of his hand, fingernails sliding over your skin. "Is painting something you like to do?"

Your heart melts at his genuine interest and his willingness to listen to something seemingly tangential. "I wish I could paint like they could. I would paint you."

"Yeah?" he asks, clarity brightening his face. His eyes are lined with pleasure.

"I would. The," you raise your hand to his face and start to trace each feature as you go, "bridge of your nose. The slopes here," his brow, the dip underneath, careful of his eye, "your cheekbones. Your lips. This line here, and this one. This one, too."

"Are you trying to tell me I have wrinkles?" he jokes.

"Only this one." You smooth the pad of your thumb between his eyebrows. "Though I think it's inevitable."

"Oh you do, do you?" he asks, abruptly loud. You're startled into giggling, dropping your hand over one of his eyes in your shock. He kisses your palm.

You fall silent. You take your hand to his jaw and press the invisible remains of his kiss to his cheek as you lean in.

"I think… I think I'd want to paint you. Just so people know," you murmur, touching your forehead to his, "that you were this handsome."

You wait for him to laugh and he doesn't. Like the trepidation of a sneeze that doesn't come, you feel off-kilter.

"Steve?"

He shushes you and kisses you for the hundredth time tonight. You could happily take another hundred, eyebrows pinching up at his silence.

He kisses you until you forget what you'd been saying, until the aching in your abdomen can't be ignored.

"I need to go to the bathroom," you announce regretfully.

"Yeah, okay. Want me to come with you?"

You laugh and climb off of him. His hand reaches for you as you go, his fingers catching yours until you pull away. You grab the damp towel and your sleep shirt off of the floor, slipping it on as you walk away. Steve acts like he's been grievously injured.

In the bathroom you clean up properly and pull on the spare underwear you'd had the foresight to bring. You stretch until you moan.

"You okay?" Steve calls.

"Stop listening to me in the bathroom, perv."

You can hear him stand. His footsteps in the bedroom. You shiver in the cool bathroom and smile at yourself really hard in the mirror.

When you return he's done the same as you, changed into new boxers. You stare at his thighs unabashed as he steps into his pyjama bottoms, yours rescued and folded on the end of the bed. Steve holds his hands out at your approach and tugs you towards him, not hugging but close. He pushes your shirt up to your ribs and you struggle to see what he's doing, craning your neck.

"What?" you ask.

He follows the impression of a stretch mark down your skin. "Did you feel that?" he asks genuinely.

You'd more than felt it. He pulls up the waistband of your panties thoughtlessly and traces another stretch mark. "You're pretty," he murmurs.

You hug him hard enough that he has to take a step back to avoid falling over. His hands stop their studying, braced at your waist and walking you backwards toward the bed. He pushes you down and you fall onto your back, clinging to him as he tries to pull away.

"Come on," he says, laughing, "I'm gonna get you something to drink. Let go."

"Whatever," you grumble.

Steve disappears downstairs and you sit up, eyes bright like you're seeing his room for the first time all over again. Fast Times at Ridgemont High looks to be nearing its end. You switch off the TV with a triumphant smile and move your attention to his dresser, where the cassette player you'd 'loaned' him sits. You're half hoping Van Halen II will be inside but it must still be in his car. Your disappointment ebbs quickly when you see what's really inside.

Steve has the good graces to blush when he returns. You've clicked play and sit with the tape deck in your lap, beaming. "American Pie?" you ask knowingly.

"It's a good album."

He presses a cold glass of water into your hands and you sip feverishly, best pleased when he sits beside you, thigh to your naked thigh.

"Softie."

He dips his fingers into his glass and flicks you. It feels good and you move back encouragingly. He indulges you, flicking cold water over your face and neck until you're finely misted as a flower in the morning dew.

The best part of American Pie starts to play. You gasp as Steve pulls the glass from your hand and sets them heavily on the dresser, hands wet with condensation as he sews your fingers together and pulls you up.

"What are you doing?" you ask curiously.

His shoulders move back. "Dancing?"

"You wanna dance?" you ask. Your legs are tired – his must be double.

"You're old enough," he says, encouraging your hands from side to side.

You were gonna give him what he wanted anyways, but that small smile toying over his pretty pink mouth spurs you on. You jump on toes and follow his lead.

-

Steve digs a short fingernail into the deep orange skin of what he thinks is a tangerine and watches as citrus spritzes into the air. It leaps from the fruit with every slice of rind he pulls away, and his hands quickly smell of it.

You lay in the grass with his sunglasses perched over your nose. Steve worries you might be sleeping, your smile demure and your arms still where they've crossed over your chest. Your cotton dress blankets the grass around your thighs, the hem waved as the thin edge of a peony petal.

"You better not be sleeping, Y/N," he warns.

You'd definitely been dozing. You hide it well, your hand hardly trembling as you stretch it across the grass towards him. "I wasn't."

"You know what happened last time."

"You're here to protect me."

He can't argue with that. Orange juice stains his fingers as he splits the segments apart, pulling white pith from the flesh until each slice is clean. He drops two into your hand. "For you."

"Thank you," you say, sounding genuinely excited. You sit up slow and your dress falls down enough to expose the top of your breast where Steve had hickied at a risk of excess the night before.

He moves across the grass until your knees knock together and presses his hand to your forehead. You're definitely hotter than you should be but not about to burst into flames. Steve ushers more tangerine into your hand and reaches for the grocery bag to grab your drink and put it in your lap. You gasp at the sudden cold and gasp again when he pulls the strap of your dress up your shoulder. There’s no hiding the worst one at the meeting of your neck and shoulder. Every time he looks at it, he blushes.

"Was I flashing?" you ask worriedly through a mouthful of fruit.

"Not really? But, uh, you know. Hickey."

"Ohhh," you say knowingly. "Well, that's your fault."

"Did I say otherwise? Have some water. We're gonna have to go soon, it's too hot."

"Steve."

"I'm serious."

"Let's just go buy one of those little hand crank fans."

"So I can crank it all day? No way."

"You'll dictate-"

"Dictate!"

"-my sunbathing but won't crank a little fan for me? What kind of relationship even is this?"

"Stop it," he says concisely.

Your lips pull into a self satisfied smile and you drink your drink like he'd asked you to. "What are we gonna do after?"

You'd woken Steve up early, before the sun had really come out, a vision and perfect and everything he'd known you would be in the mornings. Hands on his shoulders, you'd kissed him until he'd stirred, skipping kisses over his neck and chest.

"Ba-by," you'd whispered, dragging the last syllable, your voice croaky with tiredness, "let's go get breakfast."

Breakfast at a sticky diner that consisted of pancakes with too much syrup and whipped cream on strawberries. You'd dragged him into the fancy grocery store across the street and filled a basket with fancy drinks, pretzels, lip balm and a net of tangerines.

Now, hours later, sweaty from the outpour of ultra-hot sunlight and your company, Steve doesn't know what's left to do that could be any better than this.

He spread his legs and tucks a rogue lock of hair behind his ear. "What do you wanna do?"

You twist the cap back onto your drink and push onto your knees, grass crushed. "I don't know. Anything. I don't have anything to do tomorrow, so you can keep me as late as you want."

He doesn't feel bad when he says, "Could I keep your for the night again?"

You hesitate. He doubles down.

"I'll take you to your place and you can get some more clothes. And I'll make you something better than takeout, if you want," he promises, thinking of your home-cooked meals, the evident love poured into each one.

"No, it's not-" You smile at him, your eyes soft. "Of course you can keep me. But I'm not staying up to dance with you again." You yawn to drive the point home.

He breaks grass between his fingers. "Fine, no dancing."

You nod in agreement and take his shoulder into your hand, throwing your leg over his to straddle his thigh. You look comfortable despite the 'w' shape you're in, settling down with a harrumph of breath.

Steve tries not to think about the silk of your underwear against his leg, but of course he does. The pink colouring his cheeks isn't from the sun.

You look shy but happy as he grabs your hands, stroking your knuckles with his thumbs. "We can make something cool for the weather," you suggest lightly, the skirt of your dress ruffled by the breeze. "Sanwhiches. And something sweet for dessert 'cos we didn't have any yesterday."

"I don't know about you, but I think I had more than my fair share of dessert."

You drop the top of your head into his chest. "Sicko."

"A little. When it comes to you."

You start to fiddle with the bottom of his shirt, humming something very quietly. The Waterboys or something like that, your lips pressed together tightly. You lashes flutter and you rub your cheek with your shoulder.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm just really happy," you confess.

What's he supposed to do? Not kiss you silly? He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you in.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut

[thesassypadawan]

Broke The Internet...Again *part 1* (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: Just a silly, little drabble about the whole Empire photos being released. Just thought it would be fun to share.

Warnings: None, really. Just some playful banter and cuteness.

Notes: Hope you lovelies enjoy part 2! 😘

- “I’ll help dry in a minute. I’m checking something real quick.” You just finished with dinner and were finally able to look at your phone. It had been going off like crazy during the whole meal. Well, at least it did until you muted Lord Vader’s breathing.

- You hop up on the island, next to the sink. Thinking it was going to only be a bunch of spam emails or score updates for the hockey game or both.

- At first, you’re mildly surprised to see it was all notifications from your various social media apps. Then extremely surprised when you open one and begin to scroll. “Oh…ohh…OhHH?! What do we have here?!”

- “What is it, angel? Your team actually winning?” Hayden jokes; elbow deep in soapy water, a playful smirk on his face.

- “First off…rude,” you pout. Getting a hand full of the bubbles and throwing them at him. “Second…you remember that shoot you did for Empire? The one where you wore that really sexy black outfit I liked?”

- Returning the favor, he places a big glob on the tip of your nose. “I remember VERY well; we didn’t leave the bed for a whole day,” he says smugly, flashing you that damn panty dropping smiles. “So what about it?”

- You grin at him mischievously, legs swinging all giddily. “Weelll, apparently the pics were released today and…” You show him your screen. “Congrats, Hay, you went and broke the internet…again.”

- The look on his face as he sees all the posts, absolutely priceless. He’s always so cute and yummy when he’s embarrassed. “I…um…sorry?”

- “Don’t be! Proud of you, you big dork!” Leaning over, you place a kiss on his very red cheek and whisper in his ear. “In fact, why don’t you let me show you how much I am.”

- His eyes widen slightly, and he cocks an eyebrow at you. “Right now?”

- Biting your lip, you give him a small nod. “I’ll even put on my really sexy black outfit you like… You know, the lacey one.”

- That did it. Dropping the sponge into the water, he doesn’t even bother to dry his hands. Just scoops you up and starts to make a b-line for the bedroom.

- Letting out a small, excited squeak, you wrap your arms around his neck. “What about the dishes?”

- "They’ll still be there in the morning or afternoon,” Hay chuckles. “Or maybe even tomorrow night.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen fluff #anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfiction #anakin fluff #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars fluff #fluff #fluffy fanfic

[fatecantstopme]

From Past to Future

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After you and Bucky break up, you end up engaged to Steve. What happens when Bucky comes back into your life two years later?

Warnings: So much angst. Cheating, cursing, use of pet names. Some fluff. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), slight choking, metal arm kink (choking kink)

Two Years Ago

"Why are you always pushing me away?"

"It's better for you," he said calmly.

"Who are you to decide what's best for me?"

"I know myself better than anyone...I know my past. I know what kind of monster lives inside of me, so if anyone is equipped to decide you're better off without me, it's me."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"No."

Anger threatened to bubble over. "I can't live like this, James. I can't. I would do anything for you, but I can't make you see that I can handle everything about you, including your past. I'm not afraid of you, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose myself if I keep fighting you like this."

He nodded slowly. "It's better this way."

"How can you be so calm?" you yelled. "Do I really mean so little to you? Did the past year mean nothing?"

He had the decency to look ashamed. "You mean everything to me, that's why I have to let you go."

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of rage and pain clouding your features. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

He simply shrugged.

You hastily grabbed your jacket, keys, and purse before heading towards the door. You turned back to look at him one last time. "I hope you heal, Bucky, I really do. But I won't be around to see it."

You turned and left the apartment, shutting the door behind you. It felt final, as if you'd just shut the door on your old life. You'd left a piece of your soul in that apartment, a piece you prayed you could learn to live without.

**********

One Year Ago

"You are such a dork."

He grinned ear to ear with pride. "That could be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

You laughed warmly and rolled your eyes. "What are you talking about? I'm always nice to you."

He raised his eyebrow teasingly.

"Alright, alright. I'm mostly nice to you."

He chuckled and tugged you against his chest. "I'll take it."

You giggled as you leaned back against him, gaze wandering out towards the ocean and the beautiful sunset beyond it. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

"Every morning."

You looked up at him in confusion.

"I'm blessed to wake up beside the most beautiful woman in the world every day," he said almost reverently.

Your expression softened and you turned to face him, putting your back against the balcony railing. You reached up and caressed his face, eyes shining with emotion. "Steve..." you whispered.

He placed a single finger to your lips to silence whatever you were about to say. He ducked his head to kiss you and you sighed as you melted into him.

After a few moments, he took your hand and guided you back through the open door and into the bedroom.

"I love you," he murmured against your skin as he laid you down on the soft bed.

"I love you too," you said softly, before you got lost in each other for hours.

**********

Two Months Ago

"Seriously? The wedding is in three months!" you yelled into your phone.

Your best friend, Natasha, came into the room when she heard you yell. "What's wrong?" she mouthed at you.

"Well the dress is pretty damn important, don't you think?" you seethed.

Natasha's eyes widened. "What's wrong with the dress?" she asked aloud.

You pulled the phone away from your face. "The tailor lost it."

"What the hell do you mean they lost it?"

You put the phone on speaker so Nat could hear. The man on the other end of the phone was explaining some sort of snafu with the dress and the shop moving locations.

Nat took the phone from your hand. "Let me handle this, okay?"

You sighed and nodded, grateful that she was there to take care of at least some of the wedding issues. Steve had been traveling a lot for work, so the wedding planning had fallen almost exclusively on you. If it hadn't been for Natasha, you were pretty certain you would have lost your mind.

The doorbell rang, bringing you out of your thoughts. You weren't expecting anyone, but you'd been getting a lot of deliveries lately thanks to the upcoming wedding.

You opened the door without checking to see who it was and the moment your eyes focused on the person standing on the porch, you found yourself wishing you'd looked first.

"Hey, (Y/N)."

"What are you doing here?" You winced slightly, the sound of your voice a bit harsher than you'd intended.

"I deserve that," he admitted softly. "I, um...well I heard you were getting married."

You stared at him in shock. "I'm sorry...you heard I was getting married, so you decided it would be a good idea to pay me a visit?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well--umm, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound so good."

"You think?"

Once again, the harshness of your voice made you feel terrible. You knew exactly why you were being rude, but you couldn't bear to admit it to yourself. You hadn't expected to see him again, and certainly not like this. What was worse was you hadn't expected to feel like this when you did. Your palms were sweaty, your heart was racing, butterflies danced a merry jig in your stomach...you hated yourself for the emotions that washed over you at the mere sight of him. Hating him too made it that much easier.

"I just, I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing," he mumbled.

"I'm happy, thanks for asking. You can go now."

"(Y/N)..."

"No," you snapped. "No. Don't say my name like that. Don't you dare."

He looked down at the ground and muttered, "I'm sorry."

When you didn't say anything, he looked back up at you.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). For all of it." His words began to come out in a rush, as if he was hoping you wouldn't have time to interrupt him. "You were right. You were right about all of it. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I wasn't...and you--you deserve an apology. Even if it's two years too late."

Your heart clenched in your chest and tears pricked at the backs of your eyes. You were struggling to find the words to say, to fight through the storm of emotions swirling around you, when Nat came to your rescue.

She appeared beside you, took one look at the man standing on your porch, and said, "I don't know what the hell you're doing here, James, but you need to leave. You have no place in her life anymore...not after all the pain you caused her."

Bucky's blue eyes darkened with sadness. "I know," he said softly. "I just wanted to apologize...and say goodbye."

He turned and began to walk down the stairs. You watched him make his way to his bike before you ran down the steps after him. "Bucky!"

He turned to look at you in surprise. You'd stopped at the bottom of the steps, but he could see the emotion on your face as clearly as if you were an inch from him.

"I forgive you," you whispered so softly he almost missed it. If he hadn't been a super soldier, there was no way he would have heard you.

He nodded his acceptance--his gratefulness--before getting on his motorcycle and driving away.

"You okay?" Nat asked softly as she reached the bottom of the steps.

"Yeah," you lied.

She knew you well enough to recognize the lie, but she also knew better than to push you. When it came to Bucky, you'd always been vulnerable. You'd loved him with everything you had--a kind of fierceness she'd never seen before or since. She'd hoped Steve would change that...that loving him would help you forget Bucky, but when she looked at your face in that moment, she knew you'd never stop loving him.

**********

Present

"I'm getting married in a couple weeks," you said with a sigh. "Can you even believe it?"

"Yeah, babe, I can believe it," Natasha teased. "How excited are you?"

For the first time, you were grateful she wasn't there with you. "I can't wait," you lied. You hoped your voice conveyed excitement, even though your face did not.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Nat asked for the third time in your 20 minute conversation.

You groaned into the phone. "Nat, I'm fine. Now can you stop worrying about me and go enjoy your vacation?"

"It's not as fun without you here," she pouted.

You laughed. "I know, I know. I'm the life of the party."

She laughed too. "I miss you and I'll be home in a couple days."

"Miss you too. Give my love to Bruce."

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too."

You hung up the phone and leaned your head back against the sofa. You hadn't felt right in weeks...not since Bucky Barnes had shown up unannounced on your front porch.

You hated how he made you feel...hated that even after everything, you still loved him. You were engaged to be married to another man for God's sake, but here you were crying on your couch over a relationship that died two years prior.

You hadn't mentioned anything about Bucky's sudden appearance to Steve. You didn't want to upset him...or at least that's what you told yourself. Seeing him had brought back years of emotions you'd buried long before. You didn't think you could explain any of it to Steve without him realizing what you'd been denying for two years: you still loved Bucky.

You'd managed to convince yourself that it was okay to love two people at once...because you did love Steve. You really did. But you would be lying to yourself if you said you loved him more than Bucky. You were grateful you didn't have to choose between the two. You were marrying Steve and that's the way it needed to be. Steve loved you so much and he treated you like a queen. How could you want anything else?

A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts. At least this time you were expecting a delivery, so you didn't think twice as you opened the door.

"Bucky..." you whispered.

He was standing there, flowers in hand, blue eyes warm and gentle.

"What are you doing here?" you asked softly.

"I needed to see you."

"Bucky, you can't be here."

"Please, (Y/N). Can we just talk?"

"I'm getting married," you said, less firmly than you'd intended.

"I know, doll. That's why I need to talk to you."

Against your better judgment, you turned to the side, allowing him entry.

He stepped past you into the foyer and handed you the flowers. "Um, these are for you."

"Thank you," you said softly. "I'll just...get a vase."

He followed you into the kitchen. "Your home is beautiful."

"Thanks."

He stood awkwardly on the other side of your kitchen island, hands at his sides as if he wasn't sure what he should do with them.

"So...what did you wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"Bucky, we can't--"

"Just let me get this out," he begged. "If you hate what I have to say, you can throw me out...but just listen for a moment."

Tears welled in your eyes and every sensible part of you screamed at you to make him leave, but you couldn't force yourself to move--couldn't say a word.

He took your silence as permission to speak. "When we first met, I was a broken shell of the man I used to be. My past was still so fresh in my mind and I hated myself more passionately than any person should. When you came into my life, I desperately wanted to be the man I was before Hydra...but I couldn't. I was scared of hurting you, scared of what I was capable of and what I might do to you if I lost control. So I pushed you away...until you finally got tired of it. I don't think I'd ever had a broken heart before that day."

Tears streamed steadily down your face as you listened to him speak. You were still frozen in place, his words gluing your feet to the floor.

"It took me a while to realize I could never be that man again...that young, carefree, charming guy. I figured if I couldn't be him, then I was just the monster Hydra made me. All that was left was the Winter Soldier." He paused for a moment. "I didn't want to be him, but it wasn't until I was in Wakanda that things really changed...I changed."

"You were in Wakanda?" you asked softly.

He nodded. "For a while, yeah. I dealt with a lot of my issues and I don't have to fear the trigger words anymore...they have no effect on me. But it wasn't until I received my pardon that I started going to therapy. At first it was because I had to, but after a while, I wanted to go...it was helping me in ways I didn't know I needed. I'm not the person I was before Hydra, but I'm not the Winter Soldier either. I'm just a different version of me...but at the end of the day, I'm still Bucky."

"I'm glad you got the help you needed, Buck. I truly am," you said softly. "But what does any of this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that," he answered quickly. "Losing you hurt me infinitely more than I expected it to and at first I wanted to get help so maybe you would want me..." he trailed off for a moment. "I eventually realized I needed to change for myself, not for you. I'm by no means perfect, but I am comfortable with who I am now."

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Look, I know my timing is terrible, but I need to say this or I'm going to regret it for the rest of my unnaturally long life." He took a deep breath before continuing, "I fell in love with you the moment I met you. I loved you every day of our relationship and every day since--I've never stopped loving you. I don't think I can--and trust me, I've tried. You've held my heart in the palm of your hand since we first met..."

Bucky took a step towards you, then another, then another, until he was mere inches from you. "You are my heart, (Y/N), and I don't want it back."

"What do you want, Bucky?" you whispered.

"You," he said simply. "You're all I've ever wanted."

You should have pushed him away. You should have told him to leave. Hell, you should have left...but you didn't do any of those things. You didn't pull away when he reached out to wipe your tears from your cheeks. You didn't stop him when he cupped your face in his hands. And you didn't fight him when he pressed his lips against yours.

Instead, you pulled him closer to you as you returned the kiss--the feeling of his lips igniting a fire deep inside you that you'd never felt with anyone else.

What began as a loving kiss, quickly turned to pure desire, a passion so explosive it couldn't be contained. You practically tore each other's clothes off, leaving a trail of clothing from the kitchen to your bedroom.

A tiny voice in the back of your mind told you this was wrong...that you should stop...but you ignored it. Soon, all coherent thoughts slipped from your mind, replaced by overwhelming pleasure.

Sex with Bucky had always been incredible, but this was so far beyond every encounter you'd ever had before. He was comfortable, confident, and so sure of himself--it was the sexiest thing you'd ever seen.

"Bucky," you gasped as he finally entered you after relentlessly teasing you with his mouth, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body.

"Fuck," he grunted. "I forgot how good you felt."

"So big," you whispered.

He grinned. "Yeah? Well this pussy was made for me, baby. I could stay here forever."

You'd be lying if you said that didn't sound like heaven to you. He felt so incredible...every sensation felt heightened in a way you hadn't felt in years.

His cock brushed against your g-spot with each thrust, turning you into a moaning mess beneath him. "Shit, doll...you gotta stop squeezing me like that or I'm not gonna last."

You'd long since lost control of your body--it was acting entirely of its own volition by this point. All you could do was moan and gasp and dig your nails into his back as he plunged into you again.

Back when you'd first started dating, you'd told Bucky you wanted him to choke you with his metal hand during sex, something he'd vehemently refused to do. He'd been terrified of hurting you, but now as he looked down at you, he found himself wanting to try it.

He gently placed his left hand against the column of your throat, putting only enough pressure for you to know what he was doing. Your eyes widened before rolling back, a moan of need breaking free from your lips.

"You like that, doll?" he whispered.

You nodded rapidly.

He smiled and gave the tiniest squeeze to your throat. You gasped loudly and your nails dug into the flesh of his right bicep. He continued to fuck you as fast and hard as he could, left hand never leaving your throat.

He could tell you were close, but he didn't want you to cum until he did, so he waited until the very last moment before giving your throat another small squeeze. You screamed his name as you came, your orgasm triggering his own. He called out your name as he filled you with his seed, hand slipping from your neck to caress your face.

Bucky's stamina was truly a thing to behold even now. He hovered over you, lips pressed against yours in a heated kiss. Somehow, his cock was still hard, despite having just had the best orgasm in years. Instead of pulling out of you, he began to move again, your shared releases mixing together to provide extra lubricant.

"Bucky," you moaned softly. "What--"

"You didn't really think I was done with you yet, did you doll?"

The sensations began as almost painful, the sensitivity making it hard to enjoy. Within moments though, those sensations turned to pleasure and the need began to pool in your belly again.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked teasingly.

"Don't you dare."

He chuckled darkly and sped up his movements, earning a pleased moan from you.

The two of you were so lost in passion and pleasure, neither of you heard the front door open. Even Bucky missed the telltale signs of someone walking through the house towards the bedroom door.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The sound of your fiancé's voice brought you suddenly back to reality. You wanted to sink into the floor and never come back out.

Bucky's first instinct was to protect you, but when he turned his head to look at the newcomer, he felt nothing but shame.

"Bucky?" Steve said in shock.

"I can explain..." Bucky began as he removed himself from the bed, grabbing a blanket to cover himself with.

You sat up, clutching the sheet to your chest, eyes wide as you stared at Steve. "Steve..."

"Don't," he snapped. "Don't you dare try to talk your way out of this, (Y/N)."

"It wasn't her fault--" Bucky tried.

"Save it. I know you were pissed at me for dating her after you broke up, so maybe I deserved the revenge," Steve said angrily. He turned his gaze back to you, hurt filling his beautiful blue eyes. "But you? I've done nothing but love you. I treated you the way you deserved to be treated...I did everything right."

"Steve, I'm so sorry," you whispered.

"That doesn't change anything." He turned to walk away and you jumped up to follow him, grabbing your robe on your way out.

"Steve, wait--"

"What do you think you could possibly say to fix this, (Y/N)?" he yelled.

You took a step back in shock. Steve never yelled. Ever. "I don't...I don't know..."

"Exactly." Tears pressed against the backs of his eyes and his voice was shaky. "It's over, (Y/N). I'm done."

You hadn't expected him to say anything differently, but it still hurt to hear it. You looked down at your left hand and saw the diamond ring he'd given you. You didn't cry as you slid it off your finger and handed it to him...nor did you cry as you watched him walk out the door and out of your life.

A few moments later, Bucky appeared behind you fully dressed. "(Y/N)..." he began.

You held up your hand to silence him. "Don't--just don't." You stared at the door your fiancé--ex-finacé--had just walked through. "I can't believe I ever thought I was a good person," you whispered.

"You are a good person," Bucky countered, taking a step towards you.

"Please just leave."

"(Y/N)..."

"Just go. I can't even bear to look at you right now."

Bucky knew better than to argue. He loved you more than anything, but he knew he'd made a mistake. He never intended to sleep with you...it just happened.

He shrugged his jacket on and walked out the door, leaving you on the other side of it. Your life had been shattered into pieces because of a choice you'd made...you and Bucky.

**********

"You did WHAT?!" Natasha yelled.

You'd called her a few minutes after Bucky had left to tell her what happened. "I slept with Bucky," you repeated.

"What in God's name were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," you whispered.

"Jesus, (Y/N/N)," she sighed. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. I managed to blow up my life in a single afternoon."

"It's not that bad, okay? We'll figure it out. Just...don't tell Steve."

"Too late."

"What?"

"He walked in on us."

"WHAT?"

You made the sound of an explosion, complete with hand movements she couldn't see.

"Okay, don't do anything crazy. I'll be home in a couple hours."

"Nat, don't cut your vacation short because of me."

"It's one day, (Y/N). Besides, you need me."

You wanted to deny it, but you really did need her. "Thanks," you whispered.

"You're welcome. I'll see you in a few hours."

**********

Two weeks had gone by since you'd slept with Bucky and broken up with Steve. Natasha had stayed with you for the first week...you were much too upset to be left alone.

You spent the second week by yourself...you needed the time alone to figure things out. Natasha had been helpful, but she'd also been upset with you for ruining things with Steve over Bucky. She'd always hated that he broke your heart.

As much as you loved Natasha, you knew you needed advice from someone else. You wanted to believe everything Bucky had told you, but you were too jaded to believe him without proof.

Steve was Bucky's best friend before the two of you had started dating and they really hadn't talked since. Bucky became closer to Sam Wilson over time and you knew they were best friends now. You decided Sam was the person you needed to talk to, so you called him up and asked him to meet you for lunch.

Sam hadn't been surprised when you'd called him...Bucky had told him everything that had happened. What did surprise him was that you wanted to meet up to talk.

He contemplated calling Bucky to tell him, but he decided it would probably be better to talk to you first. So he got himself together and went out to meet you for lunch.

You were already seated at a table in the back of the restaurant when Sam walked in. You waved him over and he took a seat across from you.

"Hey, (Y/N). How are you?" Sam asked as he sat down.

"Honestly, Sam, I've been better."

He was a little surprised by your candidness, and he wasn't sure if he should play dumb or admit Bucky had talked to him already. He opted for something in the middle of the two, "Bucky mentioned he went to see you a couple weeks ago."

"Did he say anything else?" you asked uncomfortably.

Sam knew better than to try and verbally lie to you, so he simply shook his head.

"He may have left some things out," you said softly. "Steve and I broke up."

Sam's eyes widened. He did his best to act surprised as he asked, "Why? What happened?"

"Bucky happened," you said honestly.

"What do you mean?"

You closed your eyes for a second...not quite ready to admit you'd done something terrible. "He shows up back in my life after two years and says a bunch of shit that I don't know what to do with. Who does he think he is? I was happy, Sam. I was getting married in a couple weeks!"

Sam sighed. "I know, (Y/N)...and I've known you for a long time, so I'm just going to say this: you were content with Steve. He never rocked the boat, never challenged you or upset you, never did anything to hurt you--but he also never made you laugh so hard you couldn't breathe, he never made you smile so wide your face hurt, and I know for a fact he never loved you the way Bucky does."

You stared at your friend in silence. You knew Bucky had loved you two years before and he'd professed his love to you mere weeks ago...what you'd spent two years denying to everyone including yourself, was how you felt about Bucky. You'd never loved anyone the way you loved him and as much as you cared for Steve, it never came close to how you felt about Bucky.

"It's okay to admit you still love him," Sam said gently.

"Is he different, Sam? I mean really, truly different? Because I can't--" you took a shaky breath. "I can't go through that again."

Sam shook his head. "He's not the same man he was before. You know how I felt about him when we first met...we didn't become friends just to fill some kind of void in our lives. I love the guy like a brother, but I would never lie to you (Y/N). You're family too."

You swallowed thickly. "Natasha says I should move on."

Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Natasha doesn't know Bucky like I do. She knew him before...she has no idea who he is now."

"I know," you whispered. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

Sam cocked his head to the side. "You wanted to know if Bucky had really changed."

You nodded.

"Because you still love him."

"I never stopped," you admitted.

Sam offered you a gentle smile. "You should tell him that."

Your eyes were teary as you looked up at your friend. "I know."

**********

Two days later, you were standing on the front steps of Bucky's apartment. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and you were quite certain you were moments away from throwing up. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt this anxious.

Your decision to come here had been spur of the moment and you suddenly regretted that decision. You'd hit the buzzer for Bucky's apartment, but no one responded. Like an idiot, you hadn't even bothered to check if he was home before coming all the way over there.

You turned around to leave, feeling like a fool, when you heard the door open behind you and a voice call your name. When you turned back around, Bucky was standing in the threshold, looking at you in surprise.

"Oh, I umm--I thought you weren't home."

He gestured to the call box. "The damn speaker is broken again, so you couldn't hear my response. I woulda buzzed you up, but that's also not working right..."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "So...what brings you by?"

You were one hundred percent certain he could hear your heart beating even without his super hearing and your breathing had become obviously shallow. You felt like an absolute moron standing on his front stoop, staring at him in silence. He was beautiful and it always took your breath away...even now.

"I thought we should talk," you blurted.

Bucky looked slightly surprised, but he nodded in agreement. "Why don't you come inside?" He turned to go back through the door.

When you made no move to follow him, he stopped and said, "Or we can just stand out here..."

You shook your head, partially in response to his statement and partially to clear your head. You didn't say anything, but you took a step towards him, so he turned to guide you up to his apartment.

"Sorry about all the stairs. I like being up higher."

"It's fine."

Once inside his apartment, he gestured for you to have a seat before heading into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? Maybe something to drink?"

You'd never felt so awkward in your entire life and you knew you weren't going to be able to say anything you wanted to like this. "Do you have whiskey?"

Bucky chuckled lightly. "Always. On the rocks?"

"Is there any other way?"

He laughed. "Touché."

He brought you the drink and sat down on the couch across from you with his own. "Please sit, (Y/N)."

You didn't want to be any weirder than you already were, so you took a seat on the chair beside you. You took a long drink from your glass, almost draining it.

"Should I have made it a double?" he teased lightly.

You looked down at your glass in embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm just--nervous, I guess."

"No need to apologize," he said gently. "And no need to be nervous."

You laughed breathily. "I think I'll have to disagree on that one." You downed the rest of your drink and sat the glass on the table in front of you.

"Would you like another one?"

"No--I uhh, I think one will be enough."

He nodded. "So...what did you wanna talk about?"

The speed with which you'd ingested the whiskey ensured you felt it almost immediately. You took a deep breath, allowing the liquor to calm your nerves. "I wanted to talk about what happened."

"When?"

Your eyes snapped up to his. "Seriously?"

"Ahh...so this is about the other day."

"Yeah, Bucky, it's about the other day. Ya know, when I cheated on my fiancé with you and broke his heart? That day."

"His heart? Not yours?"

You didn't appreciate the tone in his voice, so you snapped, "No, you managed to do that all on your own."

He sighed and sat his drink down. "That was two years ago, (Y/N)."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Hurting you was never what I wanted. But we needed to be apart and the only way that was going to happen was if I hurt you. You just wouldn't leave," he finished softly.

"Because I loved you, Bucky! Is that really so terrible?"

"No, of course not. But I never would have gotten the help I needed if you hadn't left me...if I didn't have a reason to get better."

"I wasn't reason enough?"

"You were my reason and that was the problem. I needed to do it for myself and I couldn't do that if you were there."

You were quiet for a moment. "Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did, James. I didn't think my heart would ever heal."

"How'd you think I felt when you got together with my best friend?"

You winced. "It just sort of...happened."

He sighed. "I wanted you to be happy and if Steve was the one who made you happy, then I had to accept that. But that's why I left, (Y/N). I couldn't stand to be in the same city as you two anymore. The possibility of running into you was too painful to risk."

"I'm really sorry, Buck. I didn't do it to hurt you."

He looked up at you with soft eyes. "I know that. It's not in your nature, nor is it in Steve's. You can't help who you fall in love with."

"I missed you...so much, and Steve--Steve understood how that felt. Better than anyone."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes."

"Were you really planning on spending the rest of your life with him?"

"Yes."

"If he hadn't caught us...would you still be marrying him?"

"I...I--I couldn't. I can't. It wouldn't be fair to him. Not when I feel--what I feel."

"And what do you feel?" Bucky asked softly.

"Bucky..."

"Please."

You sighed heavily. "When I first got together with Steve, I still loved you more than anything. Over time, I suppressed that love just enough that I could open myself up to loving someone else. After a while...it got easier and easier to pretend I felt nothing at all for you. And then you barged back into my life."

Bucky didn't say a word, too scared to stop the flow of emotions coming from you.

"You barged in and you brought all of those emotions back to the surface. You made me remember everything I'd ever felt for you--and I wanted to hate you for it. I wanted to hate you so badly, but I couldn't. I can't find it in me to hate the person I love the most. I never fell out of love with you, Bucky, I just hid it really well."

He wanted to speak, to say something to acknowledge what you just said, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he got up and came to stand directly in front of you, before kneeling down and grabbing your hands in his. "I think this is the moment where I'm supposed to say something deep and profound, but all I can think to say is, 'I love you too'."

Tears filled your eyes. "That's more than enough," you whispered.

He pulled himself up slightly so he could reach your face. He gently pulled you down towards him, kissing you with a loving intensity that set your soul aflame.

Loving Bucky Barnes just felt right, as if it was all you were ever meant to do. He was the love your life and being here with him in this moment reminded you of how good it felt to be in the arms of someone you loved with every part of you.

When you'd left Bucky two years ago, you'd left a piece of your soul with him, a piece you'd worried you wouldn't be able to live without. You'd learned how to, but it wasn't the same--you weren't the same.

For the first time in years, you felt whole--complete. If life was a giant puzzle, Bucky was your missing piece. And in the darkness of his bedroom, wrapped in his arms, you made a promise to love him forever--a promise he returned in kind.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #marvel smut

[stevethehairington]

Steve sits in his car, parked outside of the Hawkins High theater room as he waits for his begrudgingly favorite group of gremlins to come spilling out of the building and pile into his backseat (and argue about the front seat too) so he can drive them home after their Dorks & Doofuses, or whatever it's called, club.

It, technically, ends at six, but it usually takes them a while to pack up all their shit (and who knew a nerd game could have more equipment than most sports?). Plus they love to linger after to try and weasel hints about future sessions out of their Nerd King or whatever he's called and start strategizing for next time. Steve always tells them not to dawdle, they've got curfews and he's got parents to keep happy, but they never listen.

He glances down at his watch right as the little hands ticks past the three. Any minute now. At least that's what he hopes, anyways.

ABBA's playing through the tape deck, and Steve absentmindedly taps along as the opening bars of Gimme Gimme Gimme fill the car. He hums the tune through the first verse and turns it up just as it starts to gear up for the chorus.

And then, as if on cue, right as that chorus hits, right as Agnetha and Anni-Frid start to ask for their man after midnight, the doors of the theater room go flying open.

And out walks — nay, saunters — the prettiest boy that Steve has ever laid eyes on. Dressed in a tantalizing mix of leather and denim, he's got his head thrown back in a bright, beautiful laugh (loud enough to hear even over the music, and jesus, it sounds even better than the song), his long, wild curls fanning out around his face and shoulders, and the most gorgeous, easy smile pulling at his mouth and baring all of his teeth.

There's not a soul out there, ABBA sings, no one to hear my prayer.

But boy oh boy are they wrong. Steve didn't send out any prayers, but there sure as shit is a soul out there. Traipsing through the Hawkins High parking lot like he owns the place, throwing his arms and hands around in erratic, enthusiastic gestures, walking backwards towards a beat up old van in the back.

And Steve can't look away.

It's almost embarrassing how caught up he gets in staring at this boy, because he doesn't even register the kids trailing out behind him, or how they've finally made it to his car until the doors are wrenched open none too carefully and their raucous bickering bursts through the bubble.

Dustin slides into the front seat and slams the door behind him, and Steve's attention is momentarily stolen from the pretty boy as he slips into the familiar song and dance that is chastising Dustin for his lack of respect for Steve's things and volleying back at the snarky remarks he gets in return.

"Later dweebs!" Interrupts a smooth, lilting voice from outside and every pair of eyes in the car (including Steve's, especially Steve's) snap towards the source. The pretty boy stands in the open door of his van with a broad smirk and a hand stuck up in a sedentary wave.

The kids all chorus their goodbyes and wave back, and Steve — ingloriously, embarrassingly, mortifyingly — gives a wave of his own.

The pretty boy notices, because of course he does, and his grin sharpens. He adds an extra flutter of his fingertips as he meets Steve's eyes directly.

Steve flushes all the way up to his roots and immediately tears his gaze away, drops his hand to the wheel, and clears his throat. "Alright," he says, sounding a bit pinched. "Buckle up shitheads," he adds and hopes that none of the excruciatingly nosy children in his car noticed any of that.

He doesn't even know how to begin explaining any of that to the kids. He doesn't even know how to being explaining any of this to himself.

Steve waits for the sound of three distinct clicks, then shifts the car into drive and eases off of the break. As he heads towards the parking lot exit, Steve spares one last fleeting glance to the pretty boy getting smaller and smaller in his rear view mirror.

Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight, take me through the darkness to the break of the day.

The song — which Steve is absolutely going to have stuck in his head for days now, just like a certain boy that will absolutely be stuck in his head for days (and weeks, and months, and—) — fades to it's end, but this? This is only just the beginning.

This is the beginning of Steve Harrington's big huge crush on one Eddie Munson.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mack writes #listen one day i had the VERY DISTINCT image of eddie getting a Hot Girl Entrance to gimme gimme gimme by abba #while steve watches on and has his WHOLE ENTIRE BRAIN REWIRED AS A RESULT #and i just had to give it to him i just HAD to #call this Moments Before Big Bisexual Disaster™️ #macks ficlets

[bangtanintotheroom]

Spin You Like a Hit Record (M)

She seh she want come round a mi yard

Mi seh gyal turn round mek mi fuck you hard

Mek mi spin you like a hit record

Mi spin you like a hit record

• Pairing: Clubgoer!Bangchan x Clubgoer!(F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Smut, One Night Stand (?), Strangers to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 12.1k

• Summary: No one who’s ever stepped into this club can match your moves. No one dared to challenge you until a man with cheesy pick up lines and bulging muscles did. There’s no way this guy could impress you, right?

• Warnings/themes: swearing, dirty dancing, grinding, clubbing, Chan being a sexy dork, flirting, drinking, Y/N getting a bit angry, Felix being a cockblock and a chaotic roommate 💀, making out, all the teasing, dirty talk, breast play, praise, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), face-sitting, 69, hitting it from the back, a teensy tiny hint of dom!Chan, protected sex, mentions of drooling, mentions of exhibitionism, the morning after

• Playlist: 🎧

• Song Inspo: Come Roun - Mavado (Spotify | Soundcloud)

• Notes: IT’S FINALLY HEEEEEERE 🗣️ I did not think it’d take this long, that Chan brainrot is no joke lol A big fuck thank you to @minisugakoobies @minttangerines and @sugalaritae for pushing Mr. Bang Christopher Chan onto me in our group chat. It’s my first time writing a non-BTS fic since I started this blog, but I hope you guys will enjoy this regardless! 💕 and kisses for my sexy stack of pancakes Griddle who beta’d this for me on short notice!

• Taglist: @jimilter​ @joontied​ @minisugakoobies​ @minttangerines​ @sugalaritae​ @crisle19 @codeinebelle @kookprada @saweetspoiled @effielumiere @m1sss1mp​ @amaranth-writing​ @dvalitaes​

This was your favorite environment.

The one place where you could let loose and not give a flying fuck about what anyone else in the room would think. Then again, the usual mindset of every other person in this area was either one of the two categories; how can I dance like her or how can I dance with her. It brought you confidence that could remain for the rest of the night.

The club was a decent-sized place that was always so packed that it had the potential to become a fire hazard. Monday, Thursday, Saturday; it didn’t matter what day it was, people were there ready to dance and drink their hearts out.

The music was what really brought everyone in. A mix of R&B and hip hop, both old and new, inspiring club-goers to gyrate and belt out the lyrics into the neon air. But there was a specific genre that piqued your interest from the moment you first stepped into this establishment. Hearing the bouncy rhythm and background instruments originating from various Caribbean islands took over your soul (you couldn’t think of a less dramatic way to explain it). If you were feeling less-than-stellar when you entered the building, the music was quick to fix that. Knowing that over time, you would become one with the beats, gyrating to your heart’s content.

Nothing could kill your vibe.

Well, except for when strangers tried to creep into your personal bubble.

Now, you didn’t mind someone coming up to dance with you in the beginning. It took two to tango and it could be fun having another person to enjoy the music with. But it became clear after some time that not many of them could match your moves.

They were too slow.

They were off-beat.

They were too erratic in their moves.

Your patience dwindled with these people, which led to you turning them down the second you sensed trouble. Some backed off with little issue, finding another club dweller to put their moves on instead. Some didn’t like to take no for an answer and led to passive-aggressive jabs at your dancing before storming away.

Whatever.

Not your problem.

You had been here for over an hour now. About six people had approached you, varying energies, but with the same disappointing results. The last one was particularly grating, constantly trying to guide you to their awful rhythm. They must have missed your ass about three times before you gave them the typical look of disappointment. But they insisted on trying over and over until you had to take their hands off you and tell them to leave you alone. The look in their eyes screamed that they wanted to call you some name, but they chose wisely to walk away instead.

Good, you didn’t feel like cussing someone out tonight.

Now that you were free from lackluster dancers, your throat was getting parched. It was time to re-hydrate, especially before the fire songs came on.

You made a beeline over to the crowded bar, nabbing an empty spot as soon as it opened. You rested your arms on the sticky countertop, tapping your pointed nails as you waited for one of the bartenders to acknowledge you. While you were watching a particularly flamboyant and agile bartender toss and flip his shaker, you heard a voice call from your side.

“Hey, how you doin’?”

Oh jeez.

Your immediate reaction was to give whoever spoke a fake and dismissive smile, but something about the way they sounded intrigued you. Was that an accent? It was hard to tell with the volume of the music.

Taking a chance, you turned your head to the right.

Ooh. Okay then. Hottie in your vicinity.

Decent height. Short black hair. Very handsome with a unique nose and full lips.

A very real smile automatically took over your glossy lips.

“Hey. Couldn’t be any better.”

The good-looking stranger shot you a megawatt grin, complete with dimples and everything.

“That’s good. You looked like you were having fun out there.”

Your torso turned towards him a little more.

“You were watching me?”

“Kind of hard not to.”

This type of exchange had become familiar to you lately. Someone walked up and tried to hit on you by complimenting your dancing skills. Depending on the person, it had a 50/50 chance of working. But hearing this guy do it in his (what you quickly identified as) Aussie accent upped the probability.

Would he get any farther than this, though?

“Oh?”

“Yup. Made me think you might live here with the way you were moving to those songs.”

A giggle escaped you, to your surprise.

“What can I say? I’m one with the music.”

The man next to you repeated your laugh, eyes squinting in delight.

“Oh, I believe it. Oops, where’s my manners?”

He held a hand out towards you, causing your eyes to travel up his muscular arm in intrigue. Whoa. Look at those biceps. Bless this man for wearing a sleeveless shirt tonight.

“I’m Chan.”

Right. Pay attention, Y/N. Take his hand and speak!

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Chan.”

The mystery hottie named Chan gave you a handshake with enough pressure to wonder if he was holding back. With the muscle he was packing, surely he was hiding his strength.

“Likewise! You mind if I buy you a drink?”

You shrugged, lips quirked upwards.

“If you’re offering, sure.”

Chan grinned, taking your drink order before continuing to have a mild conversation with you. It seemed like it was going to take a while before the two of you were acknowledged. You didn’t mind, finding him to be pleasant to speak to. From his appearance alone, you assumed that he would be one of those cocky muscleheads who did the bare minimum when it came to chatting up women.

Oh, did he prove you wrong.

He was actually rather sweet in the way he spoke to you, asking if your night was going well so far. The man was particularly tickled in your retelling of some of the disastrous events from the dancefloor, letting out giggles that made him even more endearing in your eyes. You almost didn’t want the drinks to come; that’s how much you were enjoying his presence.

But after the first and even second drink, you were still talking to Chan, the both of you sitting on stools now.

This was odd. Your main goal was usually to come and dance up a storm at this club, not chat with a complete stranger. It was like Chan was a magnet. Pulling you in and keeping you by his side unless some opposing force came in and tugged you away.

You spoke too soon, it seemed. For the DJ made a familiar announcement that had your ears perking up.

“Alright y’all, I’m lovin’ this crowd tonight, the energy is beautiful up in here! But now I wanna turn it up a notch. In a few minutes, you’ll see what I mean!”

Damn. Your favorite part of the night was coming up.

How could you cut this interaction short, though? You weren’t quite ready to stop talking to Chan…

But…

You let out a sigh when his head was turned, not wanting him to think you were tired of his presence. Far from it.

“Hey Chan?”

He looked back at you, raising a dark brow.

“What’s up?”

“I hate to break up our little chat, but I’d like to get back to the floor.”

Chan seemed to be averse to your departure, full lips pouting in disappointment. Cute.

“That’s a shame, I was enjoying your company.”

You gave an apologetic smile, not really wanting to split yet either.

“The feeling’s mutual, trust me. But the DJ’s about to play some fire music and I don’t really want to miss it.”

He now raised his other brow in intrigue.

“Better than what’s already been playing?”

“Mhm! I mean, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I like it.”

Just as Chan was about to speak again, you heard a familiar tune float out of the speakers, your head whipping towards the dancefloor. A chorus of cheers and hollers erupted from the crowd, a few people running from their seats to join the wave of grinding bodies. Your fingers twitched around your glass.

You were dying to be out there.

And then you looked back at your companion.

But something was telling you leaving this man would be a mistake.

If he was really interested, maybe he wouldn’t mind waiting for you to finish your dance. And if he was the impatient kind, then tough shit.

“Chan—”

“Is this what you were waiting for?”

The interruption made you blink, nodding as you watched an inquisitive expression take over his handsome face. After a moment, he smirked.

“Dancehall, huh? Great taste.”

He appreciated this kind of music too? What else were you going to add onto the one-sided list of pros and cons?

“Thanks. I didn’t picture you as the type to know about this.”

Chan’s dark eyes widened, looking taken aback.

“Of course I do! I listen to almost anything. But this stuff right here, this is no joke. I don’t blame you for wanting to go.”

You couldn’t hold back a grin, no matter how hard you tried. Why couldn’t there be more people like him? You definitely had to catch up after you were finished.

Just as you were about to express your gratitude, Chan cocked his head and spoke, “Actually…”

The expectant look he gave was outright charming.

“Do you mind if I join?”

Uh oh.

Here we go. Damn, and it was all going so well too.

Not that you didn’t want to get the chance to grind up on this attractive man, but if he messed up out there, it just might change your overwhelmingly positive opinion on him.

You’d have to turn him down. It sucked, but it was for his own good.

Alright, just remember how this went the last time someone dared to ask you to dance.

Lowering your lids, you rested an elbow on the counter, clasping your hands together while your mouth flattened into a humorless line.

“You can’t keep up with me.”

This man wasn’t fazed by your dismissal. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the challenge, reflecting your position before a tongue came out to run over his straight teeth.

“Don’t count me out yet, baby.”

Your cold front cracked a mite at the nickname and the way Chan seemed so confident in himself. Was it real? Or was he just bullshitting until he got onto the floor with you and made a fool of himself?

The drinks you had must have been extra strong tonight as you found your resolve wavering faster than usual.

Well, only one way to answer your questions.

“Fine.”

Straightening up, you brushed some loose hairs out of your face before lifting your chin up a bit. You held a hand out towards your challenger.

“Let’s see if you can back up that mouth.”

You would think Chan had won the lottery with the dazzling grin he gave. He wasted no time in taking your palm in his, warm and heavy and leaving you wondering what it could be capable of. There was time for that later, if he played his cards right.

Now you were leading him onto the dancefloor, bobbing and weaving through the gyrating club-goers. You glanced back to see if there was any hesitation on his face as you pulled him into the middle.

Nothing.

If anything, he seemed even more excited.

Interesting.

Once you found a spot large enough for the two of you, you turned to face him, raising a brow.

“Last chance.”

Chan chuckled, shaking his head at your warning.

“Ready whenever you are.”

Lips quirking, you took a head start, quickly identifying what point of the song was playing right now. Your body began responding to the beats, hips popping side to side as you kept your eyes locked with his own. He was quick to follow you in succession, starting off with simple two-steps, albeit with a little more flourish than the other dancers.

You noticed how easily Chan seemed to catch the tempo on his own. His eyes never straying from yours to watch your movements in hopes to imitate them.

So far, so good.

But this was only the beginning.

Deciding to go up a level, you stepped closer to him. Leaving only a few inches between your bodies, you allowed your hips to come so close to brushing against his. Watching his face to see if he would flinch or back down, your curiosity was intrigued when he did neither.

In fact, Chan closed the gap before placing those strong hands of his on your waist. The touch made a jolt go up your spine, intensified by the smirk he shot down at you next.

“This alright?”

Either it was the music or the distraction from his warm palms that almost had you missing what he said.

“Yeah.”

From then on, you both remained silent, letting your bodies do the talking.

Your dance partner matched your moves with little second-guessing, even taking the lead at times. After a certain point, Chan took one of your hands to spin you around a few times, a laugh escaping your lips at the gesture. The sound stopped when you felt him pull your back flush against his front, gut twisting at the heat and firmness of his body. You almost missed your next step, but you were quick to collect yourself.

This gesture was a lot more intimate than before, the atmosphere taking a slight turn into something a bit sultry. It didn’t help that the man behind you took to resting his head next to yours, lowering the percentage of your body that wasn’t pressed against his. You could feel his breath occasionally washing over your cheek.

“Tired of me yet?”

Is he for real?

“Not at all. I’m liking what I’m seeing so far.”

Chan chuckled, lips vibrating against your ear. “Good.”

The two of you continued your dancing, the next couple of songs passing by swiftly. You were happy to see that he wasn’t full of shit when it came to his skills. You even challenged him by throwing a sudden move in at random moments, wanting to catch him off-guard. But he was quick on the draw, following any dips or grinds with ease.

The chance that you would spend more time with Chan later was growing by the second.

But then the DJ started transitioning into a tune that you knew all too well. You couldn’t help but wonder whether your companion could handle this kind of song or if it’d be a little too far out of his league.

“Oh shit! Haven’t heard this one in a while.”

What?

Chan couldn’t see your brows raising until you turned your head, surprised by the eager expression on his handsome face.

“This song?”

“Yup.” He cocked his head at the disbelief in your eyes. “What?”

“Sure you can handle this?”

Just like before, there was no caution to your question, his lips twisting into a secure smirk.

“Wait and see.”

You hoped he didn’t feel the tremble that ran through your body just now. Something about the sheer confidence of this man got to you with little effort.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, you faced forward once again, hips starting to roll to the familiar rhythm. You were slower and more deliberate in your movements this time, trying to take the lead. Chan seemed to have other plans, though, tightening his hold on you before pulling you back just as he was grinding forward.

Whoa.

There wasn’t an ounce of modesty in that move just now. Alright, don’t back down, Y/N.

You raised your arms in the air, starting to lower your body down. Chan followed suit until the two of you were nearly squatting, giving you a little more leverage to work with. You weren’t shy in winding your hips back, the fabrics of your pants providing friction every time the two of you made contact. A part of you was hoping he’d slip up a bit, just to know you were having an effect on him. It wouldn’t influence your currently high opinion of him at all.

But if he was getting worked up, it wasn’t showing in the way he closed whatever gap was between and grinded from the bottom of your ass all the way to the top.

Oh no.

Godammit, you could feel whatever he was hiding in those pants of his rubbing against every inch of your bottom. And now your stimulated brain was running with scenarios of just what could be in his pants.

You swallowed hard.

Were you actually getting turned on from dancing alone? This was a first.

Okay, focus.

Push back, Y/N, push back.

It didn’t do much, of course. Especially since he practically jerked his hips forward all of a sudden. If it wasn’t for his hands, you would’ve stumbled in shock.

Thank God he couldn’t see the flustered expression on your face right now.

“Mind if I try something, baby?”

Oh? Something else up his sleeve…well, lack of sleeve.

You shook your head, only to have Chan maneuver your body so you were bent over at the waist, much to your surprise.

What he did next almost had you keeling over in a stupor.

The man behind you took a firm hold of your hips before grinding against you with everything he had in his well-muscled body.

Oh. Shit. Fucking shit.

You know, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed Chan wouldn’t be up to par. Because if it wasn’t for your clothes, this man would be straight-up fucking you on the dancefloor right now.

No no no. This could not continue, not unless he wanted you to pounce on him in the middle of this crowd.

You had to take the reins and let him know that you weren’t backing down.

Straightening your body up, you took his hands and pulled them away before spinning around to face him.

Okay, this was your last resort. Surely he wouldn’t be able to handle this move.

Tickled at the confused expression on Chan’s handsome face, you went and hooked your leg around his waist, giving back just as much force as he did when he rolled from behind. Judging by the way he bit his lip, you must have caught him off-guard.

Alas, your victory lap was cut short when those same lips twisted into a wicked smirk. You realized how screwed you were when he took a firm hold of your waist and repeated the motion from earlier. This was a huge mistake!

There was no cushioning to protect you from the sensation of his clothed crotch grinding against yours.

Goddamn. You were wrong yet again.

Feeling Chan rub against you over and over again started a familiar heat between your legs that increased with each grind. You were quickly losing control over your body, having to grab onto his firm shoulders to steady yourself. Your eyes remained steady on his own, though, even if you wanted to close them while pleasure slowly crept up your spine.

You were looking for some sign on your dance partner’s face that he was being affected as well. Something. But there wasn’t much to work with. His smile was no longer present, but the rest of his expression remained impassive. Maybe he just had a really good poker face?

You managed to hold back on making any obscene sounds until a roll at a certain angle brushed right where your clit was. Oh fuck. Did you just moan out loud? At least the music covered it up…hopefully.

Just when you felt like you were about to pin this man and ride him like a prize horse, the song ended, music returning back into its usual genre. The bubble of lust around you and Chan burst with the shift. But the air still felt heavy. Especially with the way the two of you would just not stop staring at each other.

There was no way this would be the end of your interaction with the handsome stranger tonight.

Absolutely not.

You were pleased to see that you weren’t the only one who had broken a sweat, the edge of Chan’s hairline shining and dotted with light perspiration.

“How was that?”

What? That’s all he had to say? After the way he spun, writhed and bent you over, that’s what came out of his mouth?!

Alright. He wanted an answer? You would give him one.

With your eyes narrowing for a moment, you made a grab for his hand before beginning to drag him through the dancing bodies. You narrowly avoided having your foot stepped on until the two of you hit an open area. Spotting the hallway leading to the bathrooms, you kept pulling on Chan until you were deep enough to not be interrupted.

You swiftly turned around to have your back facing the wall. Chan’s mouth opened in what was sure to be a question until you grabbed his shoulders and tugged him down to attach your lips to his.

There was his damn answer.

He seemed to like it as you felt a groan rumble against you before those strong hands of his made a grab for your hips once more. You felt him tug until they were pressed to his.

Oh. Now you could tell that the grinding had some kind of effect on him.

Chan didn’t give you reprieve, snaking his tongue out to pry your mouth open. He was on a mission as he landed on your own appendage, tangling with controlled movements that had you feeling weaker than before. Between that and the nips to your lower lip he’d give occasionally, you would forget just where you guys were.

In a nightclub across the hall from restrooms with semi-questionable hygiene. Probably had a few drunks tossing their cookies in there too.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that this wasn’t an ideal spot. You wanted to get a taste of whether Chan’s moves were only designated to the dancefloor or not.

When he broke off to begin planting kisses on your neck, you mustered up the strength to air your intentions.

“I wanna get out of here.”

Another kiss. “With me?”

“No, by myself— Ah—”

The nibble underneath your jaw made your words catch, much to Chan’s humor, judging by his tone as he teased, “Aw, I thought we were having such a good time together, baby.”

Clicking your tongue, you reached up to give an earlobe a light tug. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Pissing me off.”

An unexpected giggle came out before he whispered in your ear, “But you’re so hot when you’re mad.”

This man.

“You’re gonna see me real mad if we don’t leave this damn club.”

Another laugh came from Chan as pulled his head back to look at you.

“Fine, fine. Where are we going?”

“Your place, my place, a hotel, I don’t fucking care.”

You probably sounded whiny, but at least he seemed to share the sentiment as he stepped back.

“Well, lucky for you, my place is a few blocks away. C’mon.”

He held a hand out that you immediately took, allowing Chan to escort you through the club and to the front doors, ready to continue the night away from wandering eyes.

Chan wasn’t joking when he said he only lived a few blocks down, but it felt like longer to you, thanks to how fucking horny you were.

It was so bad that you almost tugged him down an alleyway whenever the two of you had to wait at an intersection to cross. But oddly, having his thumb occasionally rub the back of your hand would ground you a bit. Well, that and the charming smile he’d shoot down.

It was almost like he could tell how restless you were.

Finally, he led you into an apartment building and straight to the elevator, the ride going up a few floors before you both got off.

Chan pulled a set of keys out of his pocket as the two of you headed down the hall to a door with a welcome mat that had a picture of a cat on it. The sight was unexpected and brought a tiny giggle out of you.

“It’s not mine, my roommate picked it out.”

“Chan, you don’t have to lie. I think it’s cute!”

He paused in unlocking the door to shoot a pout.

“I’m not!”

“Uh huh.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to change your mind, he rolled his eyes and got the door open, motioning you to step in first before locking it behind him. As soon as the two of you took your shoes off, he reached for your hand once again and began walking.

Guess you weren’t going to get a good look at his apartment right now.

Chan guided you down a hallway before stopping in front of one of the doors, presumably his bedroom. He grabbed the doorknob and turned it to push the door open, only for the smile on his face to drop.

You couldn’t see what the problem was until you peeked around his body, spotting a desk setup with a sizable computer monitor against one of the walls. And in the chair in front of it was a person, clearly immersed in the game they were playing.

“Get out, Felix.”

Chan’s concealed irritation caught the attention of the man named Felix, swiveling his chair around to shoot a bothered look. His appearance was the polar opposite of his roommate’s, slender with softer facial features and blond hair that draped over the back of his neck. In your eyes, he was, dare you say, quite a pretty man.

“But I’m almost done with this level, bro!”

Oh wow. Didn’t expect that voice to come out of that face.

Your lover for the night growled under his breath before addressing him once again with a little more attitude.

“Mate, get out of here! You’ve been in that chair since I left hours ago, go do something productive, for Chrissakes!”

Felix’s eyes narrowed at Chan, tsking before turning back around, clicking the mouse and keyboard harder than necessary. In a minute, the bright colors on the screen disappeared, leaving nothing but a basic desktop wallpaper illuminating the room. The leaner man pushed the chair back and stood up before heading towards the two of you.

“Asshole. This is me being productive.”

Clearly Chan wasn’t having it, dark eyes still boring a hole in the other as he gently moved both of your bodies aside so Felix could leave the room. But just before he hit the threshold, he stopped in his tracks, looking you up and down with thinly-veiled curiosity.

“Aren’t you at least going to introduce me to your new friend?”

Chan seemed ready to tell him off, yet reined it in at the last second, his broad shoulders lifting and lowering as he sighed with exasperation. He held out a free hand to gesture between you and Felix.

“Felix, Y/N. Y/N, Felix.”

The both of you waved to each other, Felix’s pretty face stretching into a cheeky smile.

“Hey Y/N. Hopefully Chan doesn’t drool on you while he’s on top.”

This seemed to be the last straw for the muscled man, letting out some colorful words before letting go of your hand. He placed both of his on Felix’s shoulders, turning him towards the hallway in order to push him out with more force than necessary. This didn’t seem to bother the other man, laughing at both of your reactions.

Just as Chan was grabbing the door, Felix seemed to have one last thing to say.

“Oh, and the back of his neck is his weak spot!”

Your brows lifted in intrigue just as the door was slammed in the other’s face, watching as the lock was turned with a loud click. You heard Chan mumbling under his breath, only able to hear the words ‘dick’ and ‘cunt’ and something about the electric bill, lips twitching in amusement until he turned towards you with a sigh. A hand came up to rub the back of his neck.

“’M sorry about that. My roommate can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

You giggled, stepping close to take said hand in yours, giving it a light squeeze.“No worries. Not the worst situation I’ve walked into.”

That adorable smile of his made a comeback, thanks to your reassurance.

“Good. Oh, and whatever he said was bullshit.”

Your head cocked to the side as you played with his fingers.

“What was?”

Chan huffed lightly at how you were playing games, placing his free hand on your hip to pull you flush against his firm body.

“How I drool.”

You looked off to the side, pretending to recollect what Felix had said before looking up at him once again.

“Oh yeah? Because I was more curious about the other thing he mentioned.”

You felt the hold on your hip move slowly towards your ass before cupping it.

“The neck thing?”

“Yes.”

Chan’s lips peeled back, flashing straight teeth. “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

Your smile matched his to a T, taking your other hand to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. It had been too long since his luscious lips were on yours.

The two of you picked up on where you had left off at the club, with less concern about who would see what was going on. It was just you and Chan in this lamp-lit room, tongues and teeth working .

Just when you were ready to take things up a notch, you felt his grip on both sides of your hips before he began guiding you to walk backwards. Your legs automatically moved in response, only stopping when he tightened his hold.

Chan broke the kiss, allowing you to realize that you were at the foot of his bed now. He didn’t give you time to think more on it, reaching for the hem of your top. With a quick glance at your face, he waited for your nod before starting to work the garment up and off. There was a bit of fumbling towards the end, thanks to the multiple straps, but he managed to divulge you of it.

The swear that left him at the sight of your bare breasts made your lips tilt and your ego stroked. You let him admire you for a little longer until the urge to see what was hiding under his shirt became too strong to delay.

Your hands reached for it, thankful that he lifted his arms up the second your fingers brushed the fabric. You removed it faster than your own top, eyes trained on every inch of skin that was revealed. Within no time, you were granted a full view of his exposed torso, jaw dropping at the sight.

“Oh shit…”

You had figured Chan was well-muscled, thanks to his exposed arms and the way he felt against your softer body, but this was insane.

A chiseled chest that rose and fell with heavy breaths. Rippling abs that tightened with each inhale. Just…straight-up muscle. How often did he go to the gym to be blessed with a body like this?

“Y/N.”

Chan’s amused voice cut into your foggy thoughts, making you blink in shock. Oops. Did you space out?

You heard a chuckle before a hand came up to carefully hold your chin, tipping your head back up, making sure your eyes were on his own and not his figure. Chan didn’t seem offended at all; if anything, the twinkle in his dark eyes expressed flattery.

“I don’t mind you staring, but I’d really like to get my hands on you now, babygirl.”

Oh. Well, you couldn’t say no to that at all.

You gave an eager nod, receiving one of his adorable giggles before his lips captured yours again. While you were occupied, you felt him begin to work on your pants, undoing them enough to be able to slide them down. The kiss broke once the waistband went over the curve of your ass, Chan crouching down to bring your bottoms down to your ankles.

Good thing you picked one of your best-looking (albeit somewhat uncomfortable) pairs of panties today; he was getting an eyeful at the moment.

“What the fuck, you’re so hot—”

If you weren’t careful, you were going to leave this place with a big head with the way he was throwing praise your way. Despite the way your cheeks were flaming, you played it cool, reaching down to tip Chan’s chin up now, directing his admiring gaze up to your face.

“You already got me in your room, no need to lay it on thick.”

Chan’s eyes creased in the corners as he grinned, another giggle escaping from his dimpled smile.

“Sorry. My mouth tends to beat my brain sometimes.”

How this man could go from confident to adorable in a split second was a mystery to you.

But you could try and solve it later; right now, you needed him back up here.

“It’s alright, baby—”

You motioned him to stand up, wrapping your arms around his taut waist before pressing your bare breasts against his torso.

“Never said I didn’t like compliments.”

Chan huffed in enjoyment, laying his hands on your hips.

“Good to know.”

A giggle escaped before he swooped down to cover your mouth with his own, making quick work of prying your lips apart with his tongue. You opened up with little resistance, but it widened when you felt a firm grip on your ass out of nowhere. The way Chan kneaded it had you melting into his touch, forgetting about any other part of your body that wasn’t squished against his right now.

Which was why you were surprised to find yourself falling backwards all of a sudden, body bouncing on top of his bed.

Chan chuckled at the bewilderment on your face before crawling on top of you, lust-filled eyes traveling over your sprawled figure.

“I almost didn’t approach you, y’know.”

The confession caught you off-guard, causing your brows to furrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

The man above you leaned in to begin pressing kisses over your jawline and neck, throwing in nips in between that made your breath hitch.

“I saw how you kept turning down all those poor bastards. Kept wondering if I should even bother taking a chance.”

A dig of Chan’s teeth into a hot spot right under your ear had you gasping, followed by a soft moan as he soothed the bite with his tongue.

“But you went ahead and did.”

A puff of air against your neck as he chuckled.

“Only after I had a drink.”

You matched his laugh, deciding to rest your idle hands on his back, savoring the expanse of muscle underneath.

“Nothing wrong with liquid courage. I’m glad you came over.”

Chan lifted his head after pressing his lips to your collarbone, eyes sparked with wonder.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

You felt a light tremble run through him when your nails dragged over his skin.

“You definitely proved yourself tonight. That was the most fun I’ve had in that club in ages.”

Thanks to the lamp, you could see the tips of Chan’s ears flushing, his cheeks lifting in bashfulness. To go from devouring your neck to flustering at your words in such a short span of time…what duality.

“Glad to hear it. Besides—”

Your hips jolted when you felt his own press down, the unmistakable feel of his erection making itself known.

“The fun’s only beginning, no?”

Shy Chan has officially left the building. Especially with the groan he gave when you rolled up into him.

“Yes, it is.”

Leaning up to grab more kisses, you were only granted the indulgence for a short while before he broke away. Motioning you to lay back again, he was quick to replace his mouth on your skin, traveling down until he reached your breasts. Chan gave attention to the sensitive area, alternating between feathery licks and thorough sucks.

You were eager to let him know how well he was doing with back arches and moans, nails still tracing patterns on his warm skin. Although the patterns were broken whenever a tug or scrape of his teeth occurred.

“Chan—”

A grunt vibrated against your nipple before he pulled off to rasp, “I’m trying to be patient here, baby, but you’re making it hard for me.”

You huffed and looked down to see an impatient expression aimed up at you.

“How do you think I feel? I was so close to doing you in that club.”

Chan’s eyes lidded at your reveal, tongue running over his swollen lips.

“Well, I could’ve fucked you in the middle of that dance floor.”

A shiver ran through your body. Just the thought of him possibly doing such a crude act had your pussy throbbing harder than before.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. Anyone tried to stop me, I would’ve decked the cunt.”

Fuck, why did that sound so hot?

He didn’t allow you to think on it any longer as he continued to trail kisses down your body, skimming over your stomach until he reached the top of your panties. His hands were quick to come up and lay on both of your inner thighs, pushing them further apart to improve his view of what laid between them.

With the way he was staring, you would have thought he was trying to see through the damn underwear itself.

Just as you were about to interject with something witty, Chan chose to make a move and latch his lips where your clit was, ripping a gasp out of you.

“Ah!”

The sudden shock melted into tingles of pleasure as he began with light sucks, sometimes pausing to lap his tongue over the damp fabric instead.

“Fuck, Chan…”

“Like that, baby?”

You huffed, “No, it’s not enough.”

An inquisitive hum sounded from below, Chan’s mouth pausing its actions (much to your dismay).

“Is that so?”

This guy.

“You know so. Just take them off.”

All you received was a giggle and a shake of the head. “Not yet.”

You groaned his name in annoyance, making him laugh harder, teeth on full display.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

To think you would get so flustered by him. It even made you giggle. “Thank you, but—”

You reached down and tapped his forehead.

“I’m starting to think you’re forcing yourself to do this.”

Chan gave you a look of mock offense.

“Of course not!”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

He rolled his eyes, hooking his finger under the elastic before letting it snap. “I’m serious, Y/N. This is me holding back right now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah—”

Chan brushed his lips against your clothed center and husked, “I’d do anything to taste this pussy of yours.”

A shiver traveled through you at his words.

“Anything?”

He kissed you again. “Mhm.”

A certain thought bloomed in your mind from the conversation. You might be pushing it by saying it out loud, but fuck it.

“Would you even let me sit on your face?”

A groan vibrated against your core. “Fuck yes, I would.”

A smirk came over your swollen lips. Hearing the near desperate way he spoke had you going further, toying with the idea before deciding to take a chance. You were feeling very lucky tonight, as it is.

“Well then?”

Chan looked up at you in surprise. He stared until he realized you were serious, mirroring your grin.

“If you insist.”

He sat up and motioned you to move aside so he could sit back and prepare for what was to come. Waiting until Chan got comfortable, you kept your eyes locked on his as you slowly removed your sodden underwear. You almost giggled at how he broke the staring contest, fixated on the now exposed area. Tossing the garment off to who knows where, you poked one of his pecs to catch his attention, letting the laugh escape at the sheepish expression he donned.

He was quick to apologize before laying flat on his back, head just below the pillows. He then pointed to his face, a cheeky grin pasted on now.

“Take a seat.”

You were quick to scoot up and follow his invitation until a thought came through at the last second. Just as you were about to straddle Chan’s head, you turned your body before climbing on, facing towards his lower body instead.

“Oy, what are you doing?”

You hummed before giving his firm stomach a pat. “Enjoying the view.”

A laugh rang from behind as you felt his warm hands cup the top of your ass.

“Cheeky.”

He didn’t give you a moment to reply as he pushed your hips down, ripping a sound out of you as you sat on his tongue now. With slow precision, Chan began lapping at your slick skin, electricity running up your spine before blooming into spreading heat. It didn’t take long before you began moaning at the contact, back arching in enjoyment.

Guess kissing wasn’t the only thing he was good at.

Chan continued to lick at you, dipping into each crevice with varying pressure. Just when you were about to whine when he was too light, he’d increase the strength, throwing you for a loop. There were a few times where you’d nearly lose your balance, tightening your core muscles to prevent yourself from falling over. But after a while, you couldn’t take it anymore, abdominals screaming for mercy.

You had to brace yourself somehow. Scrambling for somewhere to hold onto, your eyes landed on the rippled expanse below you.

Ah. Perfect.

Just as you felt a harsh suck to your folds, your palms landed on Chan’s abs.

Damn.

Did this guy have rocks under his skin or what?

Just as your fingers began exploring every ridge on his waist, you felt something clamp around your throbbing clit before giving a pull.

“Fuck!”

If it wasn’t for his strong hands, you would have bucked down into his face. The temptation grew the more he continued.

Okay, you couldn’t just sit still (well, as still as you could be with his mouth working you over). You needed to suck his dick. Now.

Collecting yourself as much as possible, you put some more weight on your lower body so you could reach for Chan’s pants. Your fingers fumbled a bit, but you managed to get the button and his fly undone. Parting the fabric, you got a better view of the thick outline pressing against his black underwear, sliding your hand under the elastic band to get a feel of it. The second your fingertips went underneath, you felt the body under you give a jolt. Only when your hand wrapped around his cock did he relax.

Damn. Whatever you were holding, you had to see it for yourself.

You pulled Chan’s length out of his underwear, jaw dropping at its appearance.

Nice and thick, perfect for stretching your needy walls out when the time came. But for now…

You lowered your torso to rest on Chan’s, mouth immediately getting to work once his dick was in proximity. The second your tongue touched the velvety skin, vibrations hummed against your pussy. They only increased in frequency the more you incorporated the muscle. Eventually, you chose to take him fully in your mouth, pulling back in enough time to avoid choking as his hips jerked.

Wrapping your fist around the base, your head began bobbing in your own rhythm, hearing and feeling the muffled grunts and groans from behind. You missed Chan’s lips on your cunt when he pulled away at one point, but it was remedied by the praise he gave.

“That’s it, baby…oh shit—”

You smiled around his dick, deciding to throw in a few hums of your own, savoring the way he dug his fingers into the curve of your ass.

“So glad you came up with this—“

A jiggle of one of your cheeks pulled a muffled moan out of you.

“I get to have a great view and feel that mouth.”

So he was an ass man, huh?

Your observation was solidified when you gave it a little shake that rewarded you with a curse. In no time, Chan returned to giving your most intimate area attention again, sending waves of bliss coursing up your spine again.

Between you and him, the room filled up with lewd sounds and noises. Slowly a knot began to form in your guy, encouraging you to up your movements. You provided more suction, receiving a buck of the hips that caught you off-guard. A light gag emitted as his tip hit the top of your throat.

Chan was quick to pull off, speaking in a huskier voice than before, “Shit, sorry. You alright?”

You let him out of your mouth, his wet cock bouncing back down onto his lap.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You didn’t even give him a chance to continue, leaning down to lick up the bead of precum on his flushed head. The moan he gave was absolutely worth it.

“What the fuck— Your mouth is too good.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss below his belly button.

“So I’ve heard.”

Another swear echoed from behind before you felt his hands pushing at your hips. Picking up what he was asking for, you swiftly climbed off, only to feel those same hands tugging at you again. Before you knew it, you ended up on your back with Chan perched over you, looking more fiery thanks to the dual act.

The blown-out pupils in his dark brown irises, combined with his sweat-covered brow, glistening mouth and chin made him look like a feral man, ready to devour every inch of you.

Good. So you were on equal grounds; you were ready to satiate his appetite too.

“You’re killin’ me, Y/N.”

A brow lifted. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Chan grunted before pressing his forehead onto yours, eyes zeroed in on your own.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, it is—”

Your pitch grew when you felt fingers skimming over your damp center, biting your lip when you felt one of them circle your clit.

“Hm, sure feels like it. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any wetter…”

A good portion of that was contributed to Chan working you up with his mouth. Hell, you could feel yourself pushing out a drop right now because of his touch.

“You must be feeling good about it—!”

Yet again, he caught you off-guard by prodding between your lower lips, teasing your twitching hole with his index finger.

“Damn right I am.”

He wouldn’t let you come up with another retort, applying pressure until the tip began sinking in, your breath hitching. The sudden intrusion gave way to a pleasant stretch as he pushed even further, up until you felt his knuckle brushing outside.

“Chan—”

Your lover merely hummed, starting to pump slowly as he continued to stare down at you.

“You feel like you’re ready for me, baby.”

Your hips bucked when he sped up for a moment before slowing down.

“I am.”

Chan’s teeth flashed, the impishness contrasting the actions of his hand.

“Nah, nevermind. You’re not ready.” 

Frustration began building inside as he continued teasing you, a huff escaping your swollen lips.

“You’re such an ass.”

One of your favorite giggles came out while he pressed his index finger against your entrance.

“Am I?”

Despite the mild burn from the stretch as he added the digit, your hand came up to swat one of his solid pecs.

“Yes! Working me up like this and then laughing—”

This man just loved to torture you, didn’t he? For he decided to go searching and quickly found that rough spot inside that made your back arch.

“Fuck!”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, you don’t sound very mad right now.”

You were about to swear at him again, but he gave a few solid presses that made a lewd sound emit, making your face burn and your hips jerk.

“Godammit Chan—!”

Chan continued to play dumb, peering down at you with a look of mock concern.

“What’s wrong? My fingers not enough for you, babygirl?”

“N-No— I need more!”

Hums and tilts his head, still thrusting his fingers.

“You sure?”

That’s it.

“Chan, you son of a bitch, if you don’t fuck me right now—”

One of his trademark giggles escaped at your attitude.

“Alright, alright, I hear ya.”

Pulling his fingers out with a squelch, you sighed in relief when he went to grab a condom from his nightstand.

“Thank you, baby.”

Chan gave a chuckle as he prepared himself, quick to climb back on once he was fully sheathed. Just as you figured he would get straight to business, he surprised you by stealing a kiss from you. One kiss long enough to distract you until you felt him poking your folds. With that, you couldn’t wait any longer.

Pulling your lips away a bit, you husked against his own, “Come on.”

For once, your lover didn’t have a quip, choosing to give you what you so desired. Either that or he was hiding his own needs well, for Chan began guiding himself inside, pulling an audible moan out of you. Okay, maybe having his fingers beforehand was a good thing; the stretch he was giving you was something else.

“Shit, Chan—“

He seemed to be affected by the way your walls practically swallowed his dick, a knit between sweat-covered brows and his teeth bared as he ground out, “This pussy is so fuckin’ tight— Worth the wait.”

A grunt came out as you involuntarily clamped down at the words, forcing his hips to pause on his trek. But as soon as you loosened, Chan continued to push forward until he bottomed out, leaving you full and yearning for more.

Thankfully, you two seemed to be on the same wavelength now, for he didn’t hesitate on starting up a rhythm, slow but steady.

You were quickly affected by the friction, wrapping your legs around his hard and built waist to keep him as close to you as possible. Soft pants escalated into thorough moans, the sparks deep in your gut beginning to light a fire that spread to every end of your body.

“Mm, that’s it…”

Chan chuckled at your encouragement, running a tongue over his reddened lips as he gazed down at you.

“Just what you wanted, eh?”

Yes. This was just what you wanted.

To have him moving inside of you, rolling those hips just like he was doing on the dancefloor. Every inch of his cock stroked all of your sweet spots and his pelvis grinded against your pulsating clit, leaving you an absolute mess underneath his muscled body. It didn’t help when he began whispering all sorts of praise and filth into your ear.

Eventually, you found your body craving more and dug your nails into the tight muscles on his back.

“Chan—”

“Mm?”

It took a little longer than expected to respond, but you managed.

“Fuck me harder, please—”

Did you mean to sound that whiny? Not at all.

But it seemed to be worth it as Chan’s demeanor changed a bit, some of the humor leaving his expression. From the way you felt him twitch inside, your begging hit a nerve.

A nerve that had him nodding before starting to practically pound into you. You didn’t know what to classify the sound that left your mouth as, but it was loud and it was sharp.

This man’s hips were too powerful. Every thrust inched you further up the bed, to the point where you had to plant your hands on the headboard for support. The last thing you wanted was a concussion.

Well, this was what you asked for and he was gladly giving it to you.

Chan himself was pleased with the change of pace, judging by the more frequent moans and groans leaving him.

“Goddamn, Y/N—”

Fuck, he sounded so good like this. Like a man unleashing secret desires after hiding them for so long. Maybe you should’ve encouraged him to go all out sooner.

His sense of rhythm was also strong in the bedroom, it seems. The way your skin clapped against his added to the pleasant melody that was both of your cries and words jumbling together in the musky room.

Among all of the carnal noises the both of you were releasing, you could have sworn you heard three thumps in succession. Almost like someone was banging on the wall.

Eh, probably your imagination.

Out of nowhere, Chan stilled his hips before beginning to slip out of you. An indignant cry left your swollen lips at the withdrawal, propping yourself up on your elbows to scowl up at your lover.

“What the fuck?!”

You weren’t surprised to see his mouth curl at your response. This guy and being amused by your anger was a combo that you were about to tire of.

Chan reached a hand out to give your hip a pat before scooting back a bit, husking out, “Turn that ass over, babygirl—”

Oh. That’s why.

His request made your brief irritation disappear in a second and you were swift in complying, forcing your body to react and reposition itself on hands and knees. You felt a palm rub over one of your ass cheeks before giving it a light grope, unable to hold back from doing a little wiggle in response. A groan sounded from behind, followed by the blunt head of Chan’s cock pressing against your entrance before sliding back in.

This position had you clutching the sheets, thanks to how his length stroked areas that he couldn’t reach before. Surely if he rolled his hips again, he’d render your limbs useless due to pleasure.

You didn’t have to wonder much longer as Chan continued his pace with little hesitation. The movement ripped a yelp out of you as you now found yourself supporting your weight on your torso, arms losing stability.

“Ch-Chan!”

You heard a laugh lingering with cockiness from behind before he said something else that tickled you.

“Okay, those pants weren’t doing your ass enough justice.”

The compliment made your lips twitch, the boost to your confidence making you give a solid push back.

“Oh yeah?”

Chan was quick to give a solid thrust, nearly knocking you off your knees.

“Fuck yeah.”

You were ready to give another reply until he continued with the solid thrusts; clearly, there was no more room for conversation. The two of you kept at it, the claps of your skin mixing with every little filth and praise spilling out of you and Chan’s mouths. You enjoyed each moment of it until you started feeling a coil building deep in your stomach, forcing you to get louder in your cries.

It must have tipped Chan off as you felt him lean over your drenched back to whisper in your ear, “You gonna come for me, babygirl?”

“Yes, yes!”

A curse left him before you felt him pull out yet again, but he didn’t give you a chance to cuss him out as he flipped you onto your back and guided his cock back in with little patience. He proceeded with pounding the shit out of you again, the flush in his cheeks doing little to tone down the wolfishness of his smirk.

“Good, wanna feel this sweet cunt squeezing me—“

Ugh. The absolute nerve of this man to give you that blinding grin while he was all up in your guts. And then to speak like that?

You weren’t given much more time to be irate before that pang in your gut increased, thanks to Chan returning to rolling his hips like before. Your poor clit received every ounce of stimulation, pushing you closer and closer to that edge. Needing to hold onto something for stability, you were about to grab for his shoulders before remembering Felix’s little hint from earlier.

Shooting your lover a smirk, you savored the curious look on his face before it was wiped off, thanks to the nails that dug into the back of his neck. You could feel whatever parts of him pressed against you stiffen for a moment, paired with the hitching of his breath.

“So it is true.”

Chan didn’t seem to be as amused as you were, brows furrowing at your teasing. He wouldn’t let you scratch his neck again, reaching behind for your wrists before pinning them down to the bed. The move made you gasp, being left at his mercy now.

“It is. Now be good and let me keep fucking you.”

You didn’t fight against his command one bit. As a reward, the tension in your belly expanded until you couldn’t take it anymore. After a particularly thorough hip roll, the rubber band snapped, forcing a sharp cry to escape your agape mouth filling the room.

Your legs shook next to his still-moving hips, pussy squeezing him on and off with no signs of stopping. After a moment, Chan paused, allowing you to ride out the harsh waves with ease. You could barely notice him watching you fall apart, only focusing when he said something that caught your attention.

“Shit, ‘m gonna come, baby—“

Wanting to make that a reality, you tugged one of your wrists free with some force before landing a hand on the back of his sweat-soaked neck again. He didn’t have a chance to scold you, mouth letting out an unmistakably shaky groan at the sensation of your nails running over the skin. Just a few more passes granted you with the lovely sound and sight of Chan reaching his limit as well.

You felt his cock pulsating between your still contracting walls as he spilled into the condom, hips pressed firmly against yours. Watching your lover’s face knit in sheer gratification was worth all the teasing you endured over the last couple of hours.

Once he was through his orgasm, Chan relaxed his lower half on top of yours, taking care to keep the upper half hovering above. You showed your appreciation with a pat of his back. As nice as his ripped body felt against you, the crushing weight wouldn’t have been ideal at the moment.

“Damn…”

His weak exhale brought a feeble giggle out of you.

“You alright, baby?”

Chan huffed, bringing a hand up to brush a rolling bead of sweat off your brow.

“Should be asking you that, sweetheart.”

You shrugged, hoping your knees would quit shaking soon.

“Still kicking and breathing.”

“Hmm.”

Now that your heart-rate was beginning to return to normal, you were growing aware of just how intense the session had gotten. Every inch of your skin was covered in sweat and the muscles in the lower part of your body were about to start screaming for mercy. And between your legs where Chan was still deeply nestled…

“Chan.”

“Mm?”

You tipped your head back, peering at a familiar package sitting on one of the headboard shelves.

“Mind passing one of those wipes?”

When your eyes opened, two questions went through your mind.

Where were you and what time was it?

In the dimly-lit room, you could tell that it wasn’t the decor you were familiar with. You also didn’t see your alarm clock on your nightstand to inform you of the current time. But after a minute, the fog in your brain began to clear and everything started to come back to you.

The thick arm laying on your waist also helped.

Turning your head, your mouth curled at the sleeping figure next to you. Chan was still dead to the world, plush mouth parted as he snored softly. You had to hold back a giggle at the trail of drool running out. At least it didn’t happen while he was on top.

Fighting the urge to grab a wipe and clean him up, you focused on sneaking out from his hold without waking him up. You managed to lay his arm back down carefully, Chan not even budging a mite. You started looking for your clothes, specifically your pants first. The garment laid at the foot of the bed still and you picked them up, reaching in the back pocket for your phone.

You clicked on the home screen .

8:53 AM.

Whoops. You definitely didn’t mean to stay that long.

Time to go.

You glanced back at Chan. You didn’t want to go without saying goodbye, after the night he gave you, but you weren’t sure if he’d appreciate the interruption to his sleep. Biting your lip, you mulled over it as you quietly redressed.

Once you got your top situated, you made your way to the door, hand resting on the knob as you peeked at him once again.

Should you really leave like this? He did make an impression on you, outside of the bedroom. You weren’t necessarily looking for a relationship with the guy, but you didn’t want this to be the last time you’d see him. Relying on the odds that you’d see him at the club again was risky, too.

Maybe you could find something to write on out there…

Giving Chan’s sleeping form a grateful smile, you carefully opened the door before stepping out into the hallway. Just as you shut it, you heard one opening further down. You looked up to see his roommate appearing, wrapped tight in a cozy blanket. It took him a few seconds to realize you were there, but he was quick to give you a sleepy wave.

“Morning.”

The yawn that followed his greeting made you chuckle, returning his wave.

“Good morning. Slept well?”

Felix shrugged, dark eyes bleary. “Well enough.” Said eyes looked you over before a brow raised. “Sneaking out?”

“Yeah, I think I overstayed my welcome.”

The blond hummed, slipping a hand out of his throw to fix his bedhead. “Understandable. Well, feel free to leave whenever you want, I’m going to go get a brownie to start my day off.”

Before you could make your exit, Felix regarded you for a second before tilting his head.

“Would you like one?”

You blinked, both in surprise and at the fact that this guy was eating a dessert for breakfast. Then again, free food.

“Oh? Um…sure?”

Felix chuckled, a grin forming.

“Don’t be shy, I can always make more. Come on.”

He gestured you to follow him, heading down the hall and towards the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a container of brownies on one of the counters. Your eyes bugged when Felix opened it, showing that it was filled to the brim. No wonder he said to not hold back.

You took two while he picked up three, grabbing some paper towels nearby to lay them on before standing by the island. Once you bit into the pastry, you realized that you were hungrier than you thought. That, and these brownies were fucking delicious.

You were quick to let Felix know, receiving an appreciative smile. Even though you had planned to head on home, you found yourself making small talk with him.

But then he threw out a statement that caught you off guard.

“You guys were pretty loud.”

A crumb almost lodged itself in your throat, cheeks flooding with heat.

“Ah…surprised you didn’t say anything.”

Felix lifted his slender shoulders, not really looking that bothered. “Well, I did bang on the wall a bit, but it didn’t do shit. Just put my headphones on and ended up falling asleep to a movie.”

Damn, were you and Chan that disruptive? Looks like that banging you heard wasn’t in your head, at all.

“Sorry, Felix.”

“Eh, no worries. Better that than him coming home alone and complaining to me how he couldn’t pick a girl up. Although, I do have to congratulate you—”

Felix grinned, eyes scrunching in mischief.

“Sounds like you found that spot on his neck.”

Good thing you swallowed your bite as you burst into laughter at his compliment.

“I should be thanking you for the hint! It definitely made him weak.”

“It always does! Did he drool on you?”

“Nope.”

The blond gave a thumbs up while biting into another brownie. As soon as he finished his bite, he regarded you with caution before leaning in. He motioned you to do the same, your curiosity increasing as you followed his gesture.

“You know—”

The way he whispered made it sound like he was about to tell you something scandalous.

“If he was shit in bed, you can tell me. I won’t say a word. It’s 2023 and I feel like girls need to stop faking it and just be blunt with these lazy cunts.”

You didn’t think you could laugh louder than before, but Felix proved you wrong. After it died down into giggles, you straightened up, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Thank you for the reassurance, but trust me, it was all real.”

Felix sat up and pouted. “Damn, was hoping I’d have something to hold against him.” He sighed, ”If you say so.”

“Sorry buddy, you’re not gonna get it from me today.”

He nodded, all seeming well as his pretty lips curled in humor. The break in conversation reminded you to check the time, exclaiming in surprise.

“Damn, I really should go.” You finished up your ‘breakfast’, brushing your hands clean. “Thanks again for the brownies, Felix.”

“No problem, Y/N. You want any for the road?”

Your eyes narrowed playfully.

“I feel like you’re trying to thicken me up.”

Felix smirked. “Well, someone has to play host while Chris is asleep. You ate those two pretty fast, so…”

There was no way he’d let you leave without one, was there? A sigh left you.

“Fine, if you’re offering.”

The pleased blond was quick to wrap up a few for you, leaving you waiting for a minute. Suddenly, a thought hit you. You didn’t have a way to keep in contact with Chan.

There was no way you could part ways with that wonderful man and be able to sleep peacefully.

“Hey Felix.”

“Hm?”

You grabbed a napkin and a nearby pen, jotting down the numbers from memory. Once Felix walked back over, you handed him the note.

“Mind giving this to Chan for me?”

He took it and looked it over, brows raising in intrigue before he nodded at you.

“Sure.”

You smiled and expressed your gratitude, taking the brownies before Felix led you out to the front door. With a wave and a ‘have a good day’, you headed down the hallway, a sway in your somewhat sore hips.

Who knew that last night would go the way it did? You just might have met your match. Someone who could keep up with your moves and handle you in the bedroom.

If Chan wanted to see more of what you could do, he better take your gift and use it wisely.

Chan couldn’t tell what time it was when he awoke, thanks to those new blinds he bought. All he knew was that there was someone else in his room. And judging by the familiar clacking of a keyboard, he knew exactly who it was.

Prying his bleary eyes open, he stretched, groaning quietly at the way his muscles protested at the action. He sat up in bed, automatically wiping off the semi-dried drool on his chin. The motion must have alerted the other person as they turned their head to look at him.

“Morning, bro.”

Chan grumbled at the chipper greeting as he rubbed his eyes.

“Felix, the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Picking up where I was so rudely interrupted last night.”

Not having the energy to fire back a quip, the older roommate rolled his eyes. But then he realized something. There should have been a third occupant in the bedroom…

He looked next to where he was laying, frowning when he saw nothing but rumpled sheets, rather than an equally nude body.

“Where is she?”

“Went home, mate.”

Felix’s flippant response made Chan swear under his breath. Fuck, he meant to get your number or something before you left. He figured that the two of you were on the same wavelength after last night’s events and honestly, he didn’t want this to be a one and done. Did you get tired of waiting for him to wake up or…

He fixed a glare at the back of Felix’s head. “Did you scare her away?”

All he heard was the sip of a drink before his roommate answered.

“Nope.”

The flippant response made Chan hop out of bed, storming over to spin the chair around hard, gripping the blond’s shoulders with force.

“Felix, you little cunt, if I find out that you kicked her out just so you could play fucking Fortnite, I’m beating your ass.”

He was clearly unbothered, removing Chan’s hands from his person with laziness.

“Chill, man. I ran into her in the hall just as she was leaving. I had to play host since you were clearly doing a bad job at it.”

Chan raised a brow, his irritation cooling a bit. “Really?”

“Yup, offered her some of my brownies too. Sure did love them, even took a few to go.”

Huh. Well, at least Felix didn’t shoo you away, but it still didn’t assuage his worries. He’d just have to hope that he would see you at the club again. This time, he wouldn’t let you get away without an exchange of contact information.

Chan was ready to back off until he noticed the younger’s mouth twisting into a feline grin.

“At least one of us gave her something to remember this place by.”

Never mind. The anger came back in full force.

“You fucking—!”

He made a grab for Felix, but he slipped out from underneath him and ran out into the hallway. Not caring that he was still in his birthday suit, he chased him until he was cornered. The older man was ready to maim, slowly approaching until the other held his hands up in surrender.

“Wait wait wait, Chris! Before you murder me, I’ve got something for you.”

Chan was about ready to lunge when Felix spoke up. Shooting a look that emitted ‘you’ve got one chance’, he paused as he watched the other reach into the pocket of his pajama pants. He slipped something white and thin out before holding it towards him. Taking it with a scowl, the dark-haired man read over the writing on what he realized was a napkin. Each letter and number made his face mold into one of pure shock.

For it was your name and number written down, complete with a cute heart at the end.

“This is…”

Felix held his hands out to the side, looking a lot more smug now. “You’re welcome, mate. Pretty sure my baking changed her mind, but who knows? You might’ve put in some work last night, too.”

Chan shook his head, smiling a little bit now.

“Dickhead. Thanks for this.”

His roommate nodded before folding his arms and raising his brows. “Now can I please get back to my game?”

The brunette waved his hand as he began turning around, still gazing at your neat handwriting.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go on, I’ve gotta go shower anyways.”

“Yeah, go do that, bro—”

Felix began walking past his enamored friend. “You smell like sweat and smegma.”

Chan didn’t miss the opportunity to smack him on the back of the head, smirking at the cry of pain he let out. He headed off to the bathroom, checking to make sure the counter was dry before setting the napkin down.

He still couldn’t believe it; you actually left your number!

Just when he thought he’d have to rely on a chance encounter, Felix came through with a beacon of hope. Maybe he’d treat the little shit to dinner tonight; he had been airing his grievances on how it’s been ages since they’ve had Thai food. But first, Chan had something very important to do after his shower.

He had to update his contacts and try his best not to text you too soon.

©bangtanintotheroom, 2023. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

#bang chan #bang chan fic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #skz #skz fic #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #spin you like a hit record

[luvrsux]

"Movie Night"

word count: 3.6k

summary: ace invited you to watch horror movies on halloween even though you’re terrified of horror movies. ace tries to relax you after being scared of noises coming from his home

cw: NSFW !! oral (receiving), fingering

“Hi baby!”

Ace’s enthusiastic voice hugged your body before he did. He pulled you into his chest with a warm, tight embrace. Of course, all you felt was bare skin since the man never heard of wearing shirts but it was fine—his body was a sight for sore eyes after all. You sprouted in giggles when Ace pulled you indoors with his toned arms like you hadn’t seen each other in eons.

Ace kissed your face until he left a long-lasting one on your lips. Your cheeks were on fire from how hard you were smiling. Ace was like a puppy waiting for his owner to get back home; his reaction once you did was priceless.

“Love, It’s only been a few weeks since we last saw each other” You reminded as soon as his clingy hands detached from you. You slid off your coat to hang it up with the family of coats on a coat rack.

“I know, and they were the most agonizing weeks of my life” Ace, now much calmer, wrapped his arms at the hook of your back to gently pull you to his chest. You smile sheepishly as his freckled face lowers to kiss your lips.

“How dramatic of you” You coo, receiving a hearty chuckle from your boyfriend. You two shared kisses until you finally broke the hold to get the date started.

Ace loved Halloween. He only loved it for one sole reason; to scare you. You were easily frightened by horror movies or games, but with a single promise, you gave in. Ace begged you to have a horror movie date since the last time you came over to his place. The thought gave you anxiety, but how could you resist a boy like him? When he heard you agree, his eyes glistened and he had a bright smile. He beamed like a dork and you even told him to put on one of his favorites.

Ace didn’t hesitate to prepare snacks and beverages for you. They were all set up and ready to be devoured all night long innocently on the table. You loved your sunshine of a boyfriend, but the anxiety of watching a horror movie was vastly more powerful. Considering this was one of Ace’s favorites, it could be gruesome. His touch, pulling you closer to his torso and wrapping a skull-patterned, fuzzy, throw blanket onto you made your anxiety vanish in an instant though.

“Marco is out, so we have the entire place to ourselves, hun” Ace smirked. That grin was speaking for itself. As bubbly and dorky as he is, he loves pleasing you in ways you can’t even fathom. It’s his specialty.

“Where is he?” You say, watching your boyfriend's arm switch his TV on to display the horrors of a movie to you. You pulled the plump bowl of popcorn towards you.

“Halloween party. He left ages ago, but I was asleep so I couldn’t say bye” Ace shrugged. His slumber might as well be a coma to Ace. No one could wake him up, aside from maybe the fresh scent of food.

“This’ll be a fun sleepover, I hope” You giggle, tugging the hem of your blanket to your face to snuggle. You heard a chuckle from Ace and felt his touch grow tenderly.

“You bet, baby” With that, Ace began the movie from the start. His smug grin was enough to say that he was excited to hear your shrieks of terror but comfort you after. You took in one deep breath and prepared to suffer for the next hour or so.

‘BAM’

A scene of a door slamming open to display a dead body was enough to make you jolt. You let out a sharp gasp while Ace seemed unfazed by the jump scare. He felt your body jump and it caused a snicker to erupt. The difference between you two was apparent, and you hated it. Ace, though, rubbed your shoulder comfortably, reassuring you that it’s just fiction.

“It’s okay, hun. ‘Just a movie” He said with a smile. While his words were genuine, he was still finding you humorous. That singular jumpscare had you shaking like a leaf under the warmth of the blanket.

You wished the movie would conclude. Not even halfway, another jumpscare nearly made your body pass out. You shrieked, causing a small fit of laughter to come from Ace. Your lungs hadn’t stopped grasping for air as your heart pumped out of your throat.

“Not funny, Ace! This movie is horrifying!” You punch his exposed chest playfully before he gives you a chaste kiss on your forehead. The kiss tranquillized your hyperventilating body and you grew much calmer.

“It’s okay, it’s all fake,” He says, while the most graphic scene of a girl getting her body chomped off by a creature that could say otherwise. You gave your boyfriend a side-eye in a way of saying ‘Yeah, right'

Just then, the creeping floorboards could be heard from above. Your heart began to sink, but to avoid your horror-loving boyfriend from making fun of you more, you stayed shut. That is until you heard rustling. As if someone, or something, was upstairs. You separate your eyes from the gruesome movie to the ceiling, which is arguably a better sight.

“Everything alright, hun?” Ace asked from beside you. The rumble of his voice startled you, which was becoming a frequent occurrence all night. You flicker your eyes from the ceiling to his freckled face that would always make everything better.

“I heard something. Upstairs” You murmur. Ace hummed and raised an eyebrow, opening an ear to hear what you heard. The movie was chattering nonsense you could care less about in front. Ace then shrugged nonchalantly.

“I hear nothin’. It’s probably your pussy-nerves” Ace chuckled, wriggling his fingers devilishly to tease you along with that menacing grin. You pushed his face with your palm to save yourself the embarrassment.

Ace tugged you into a warm embrace once again to finish the movie you dreaded. The noises would occur more frequently, you’d even hear slight chatter but it was so muffled and faint, that it was practically gibberish. Ace never commented on his house being cursed or haunted, and you’ve visited countless times before. Did someone break in? Your mind was spinning circles, ricocheting with possibilities that the movie didn’t make any better for you. You lost it when you heard a very audible thump.

“Okay, that’s it” You huff, breaking yourself free from Ace’s loving restraints. You nearly choke out the TV remote to pause the movie on a rather bloody scene. Ace sighed, wondering what your cowardly antics were up to now. “Did you not hear that?” Your finger pointed upward to the ceiling above.

“(F/N), it was probably an animal outside. You’re fine, baby” Ace sat up perfectly straight to face you, to stare deep in your eyes. He knew you were beyond petrified, so with a touch of his hand on yours, he knew his loving care could make you feel better.

“No, no. Ace, what if someone’s inside here?” You frantically say, your voice cracking. You tried to speak in a low tone so whatever that was upstairs lurking couldn’t hear you. You didn’t want to be the main character of a homemade horror movie.

“Oh, baby, c’mon. There’s no way” Ace chuckles. He shakes his head, looking the other way before facing you. He notices your genuinely scared expression, so his more humorous one softened.

“Look, I promise, if anyone were to be here. I’d be here to protect you” You felt his warm hand cup the side of your cheek. Your eyes, still filled with horror and anxiety, stared into his dark ones. He could feel your body jitter and tremble beneath his touch.

“Ace, I’m so fucking scared” You laugh nervously. That smile made one crack at his lips. You watched his face inch closer until his lips met yours. It was slow, but rich and tender. You two synced your lips together like it was muscle memory. His hand traveled from your cheek to the back of your head.

“Lemme help you relax, sugar” Ace murmurs in between your lips. As soon as your back was met with the couch and your boyfriend’s lips scavenged your neck, you mewled.

“But the… Movie” You whisper, having a hand rub his dark locks while he leaves marks of purples and pinks all over your neck. You saw his face rise from the nook of your neck to face you.

“Fuck the movie” He grins. You felt his lips peck your lips until they flowed down your face to your chest. You watched in awe, not even daring to object to the magical talents Ace had against you.

His warm hand snaked from under your shirt to crunch it up, too hasty to take the time to throw it off, not to mention the brisk temperature of the house. As soon as he was presented with your breasts, he felt like a kid on Christmas. You whimpered when his hands kneaded them with care. Ace would flicker his eyes from your chest to your flustered face, your mouth shaped as an ‘oh’ with furrowed eyebrows by his simple touch.

His lips planted loving kisses on the tops of your chest, his teeth slightly nibbling them out of excitement making you hitch your breath. He hooked one out of the grasp of your bra and didn’t hesitate to attach his mouth to your nub. You squirmed and stroked his hair, which he loved. Your body felt the vibrations of his small groan by your touch, only feeding you more pleasure. As his lips separated, he wiped his lips with his thumb. His dark eyes looked up at your submissive ones with half lids.

“Feel better, hm?” He hummed with that same grin that’d make your knees weak. After his buttery smooth words, his teeth hooked his bottom lip to tease you even more. This man could get you aroused with a single look.

“I think I’m still oh-so petrified” You giggle. You watch Ace creep up from below your chest to tower over your face. His toned, muscular arms barricaded you from side to side. It didn’t help that he was already half naked by not having a shirt on.

“Yeah?” He hummed. Once again, his teeth bit his lower lip while his hand moved like it had a mind of his own. You nodded accordingly while you felt his fingers glaze your exposed chest, your stomach, and the heat of your sex. You wore loose, Halloween-themed, pajama shorts, so access was more than easy enough. Ace maintained direct eye contact with you while his fingers caressed your lips through your shorts.

“Want me to help you s’more?”

You let out a soft, gentle moan while Ace’s fingers stroked up and down to feel you. At this rate, you’d think Ace could feel your sleek wetness through the clothing. Your arms wrapped around his neck to pull his face closer until your foreheads were touching. He could feel your hungry breath on his lips.

“Please, Ace… Feel me” You begged, which was more than enough for him to dig his hand into your clothes to finally feel your wetness, all while giving you a devilish grin. His thick fingers drew circles on your drenched clit that caused a fire to burn in your womb. Your moans became more audible but that wasn’t a problem. Ace’s roommate was gone after all—now you can fill the entire house with your lustful noises.

“That feel good?” He breathes, seemingly just as excited as you are. You gave a quick smile of euphoria, feeling the warmth and shockwaves coming from your clit. You buck your hips every now and then into his hands as if you were begging for more.

“Mhmmmph…” You whimper. Your noises were bliss to Ace’s ears. Despite him nearly bursting through his pants since the start, him making you feel so much better was a priority.

Finally, you feel Ace burry his middle and ring digit into your hole, causing you to slightly gasp. Ace gave a small chuckle while he felt your sleek walls wrap around his fingers tightly. One moan was enough for him to curl his fingers into jamming your g-spot lovingly. Your expressions; the sweet, lustful ones you’d make from his own hands made him hum and groan. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you while you had yours shut tight.

“Fuck, Ace…” You breathe. You heard him chuckle while your body delated as he exited his fingers out of your entrance. He presented the dewed digits in front of you only to slide them past his lips. Ace licked his fingers with a groan, loving each drop of your taste.

“Damn, you taste so fuckin’ good” He smiled. All you could do was sheepishly laugh at his compliment. You knew Ace couldn’t get enough of you and your body, especially how it tasted. He’d devour you like a full-course meal if he wanted.

“Take these off f’me” Ace wipes his lips, similarly to before, and tugs on your shorts. He departs his green god of a body away from yours to give you space to undress. Your clothing flew in a corner that only god knew while you spread your legs in front of your boyfriend, who’d gaze upon your entrance like it was a statue.

“God, you’re gorgeous” He ran his fingers through his locks, the strands of hair falling downward to go back to its previous shape. You giggle, loving his lovey side when he is trying to be sexy.

“Ya ready?” He asked. You had never happily nodded so fast in your life before but here you were. Ace bent downward to kiss your inner thighs, occasionally trailing his tongue across your skin. You watched in anticipation, waiting for his tongue to graze upon your cunt instead. You let out a small whimper.

Ace knew what he was doing. He’s been dating you this long to know, so with one smug smile and a wink, he slowly traveled his drenched tongue from the bottom of your cunt to the throbbing clit. You threw your head back to let out a confident moan. His lips latched onto your bud to lick it and give all his attention to it to have you squirming and moaning beneath him. Ace didn’t leave an inch of your cunt untouched. His tongue explored each crevice and made sure you were a mess by his mouth. As soon as he pushed his index and middle digit into your hole, you were gone. Your back arched and your hips bucked into his face to the point you’d be suffocating him. His tongue flicked as fast as it could on your bud while his fingers jammed into your sweet spot flawlessly.

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck~!” You cry, signaling your euphoric climax is about to rise. Your noises were uncontrollable, filling each room and wall with your lustful noises that the neighbors might as well faintly hear it. You didn’t care, though. Ace knew how to please you to the point you could see the cloud gates of heaven above.

“C‘mon, baby. You can do it” Ace mumbles on your cunt, not stopping for a second for you. The sheer pleasure caused your hand to move on its own to push him further into your cunt. Your fingers clamp his locks and tug on them. You felt the grumbling vibrations of his voice in return. "You taste so good..."

“Ace, baby, I’m gonna cum~!” You shriek. Ace stared at you with eyes completely washed with lust. Your back rose and your head was cocked back with a hearty scream.

“Fuck~!!”

You spurted your juices to glaze his face. Ace hissed in pleasure and savored every drop. Your chest heaved in your breathing and your eyes were clouded, Ace still riding your high out. He’d give your cunt a few kitten licks before crawling up to your worn-out face. His wrist cleansed his dewed lips.

“Now ya feel better?” He smiled like he just earned a gold star for doing such a great job. You cracked a weak smile before pressing your lips on his own, tasting a bit of yourself from his lips.

“Much better, baby… Thank you” You whisper. Ace chuckled and placed kisses alongside your cheek lovingly. You couldn’t help but giggle at his affectionate love. That is, until, he bit the lobe of your ear. You gasped.

“We’re not finished yet, though, doll” He whispered in your ear. You took a quick glance at the peeking wood sticking from his pants and you couldn’t agree more. He’d been restraining himself since he kissed you. You immediately sat up to tear off your shirt completely.

Ace cupped your face to clamp his lips on yours which caused excited groans and moans to emit from the both of you. By the looks of it, you two would rock each other's brains out for the entire night until dawn, knowing Ace’s endurance. That would be the case until footsteps, loud and hard, began to rumble towards the stairs. You two parted lips to stare at each other, all lust and arousal completely vanishing.

“Who is that?” You whisper ever so lowly. Ace stares back at you and you swear you’ve never seen the boy so horrified in his life. He’d usually make fun of you or laugh, but he looked like he meant business.

Footsteps crept toward the couch you two were sinfully “relaxing” on and your body felt stiff. You knew it, someone was upstairs. Now that “someone” was ready to attack you and your boyfriend on Halloween night. Your body began to tremble and Ace was ready to sock whoever intruded the house in the jaw. The steps finally reached the doorway of the living room and a blood-curdling scream was building a knot in your throat. Ace never glared at a doorway in his life until the lights flickered on. The brightness were darts to your eyes as well as Ace. You both unanimously winced and shielded your eyes.

“Can you guys fuck quieter”

The familiarity of the voice caused you to yelp and quickly cover your exposed body with the blanket you and Ace innocently cuddled with. The man wasn’t a creature, or an intruder, rather an unexpected roommate your boyfriend swore was gone. Your cheeks flushed in redness and you never felt more embarrassed in your life.

“Marco?” Ace squinted. Marco, the guy that was supposed to be away partying, stood at the doorway with a rather agitated expression. He wore casual, comfortable clothing as if he’d been here all day. If your heart wasn’t pounding drums into your ears, you’d scold both of them.

“Did you forget I’ve been your roommate for years now?” Marco asked, crossing his arms. In all honesty, you’d be upset too if you had to hear your best friend have sex with his partner at full volume. You couldn’t help but internally apologize profusely.

“I thought you went to Izou’s party, dude” Ace stood up straight, not even caring that his bare chest was out. He rubbed his eyes to adjust to the bright light considering he’d been in dark, pitch-black lighting for hours now.

“Party got canceled, man. I came back home while you were knocked out, dead asleep” Marco explained, which answered the biggest question in your head. As said before, Ace’s naps might as well be comas of how hard he sleeps. All the man did was chuckle.

“Oh, that makes sense. My bad, dude” He acts as if Marco hadn’t been violated from his ears. He blinked in disbelief and swore that if you hadn’t been there eating away at your own shame, he’d punch the freckled brunette in his mouth. You mouth ‘Sorry’ to the blonde to receive a reassuring smile in return.

“And you wonder why I hate you” Marco rolls his eyes back at Ace, exiting the living room to let you two continue where you had left off—not like you were even in the mood for it anyway.

“I’m gonna spend the night at Izou’s if (F/N) is staying the night so you two can have fun,” Marco says before trotting up back upstairs to hide away. You exhaled and rubbed your temple.

“That was so embarrassing, Ace…” You murmur. You felt hands tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear to grab your attention. Your eyes trailed to his face and you counted the freckles sprinkled alongside his cheeks.

“Yeah, well, at least we know now there aren’t any monsters” Ace smiled. His dorkiness was enough to make you snicker and laugh, forgetting all about your embarrassment.

“Yeah, yeah” You roll your eyes. You saw Ace flicker his eyes down to your lips from your eyes, anticipating whether or not he should go in to kiss you or not. You caught on almost immediately and took the first initiative. Ace pulled your body close, not daring to separate the connection you two created.

“What do you wanna do now?” You say in between pecks of kisses on each other's lips. The clicking of the front door echoed throughout the house, indicating that Marco gave you two the privacy you actually needed.

“Whatever you want, baby” Ace chuckled, forming a smile on your lips. You giggled and continued to sync your lips onto Ace’s with ease and collapsed on the couch.

A night that typically had screams of horror and bloodshed ultimately ended with screams of pleasure and lust from you. Ace didn’t stop until his body did, collapsing on top of your own in a deep slumber right before daybreak. It was now a new month, a month that wasn’t so terrifying and you didn’t thank time enough.

Happy Halloween

#one piece #op x reader #x reader #one piece x reader #ace x fem reader #portgas ace smut #portgas ace x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace #one piece ace #op x you #op ace #op

[yorshie]

A Day in the Lair

Bayverse turtles x femreader (No Y/N)

summary/warnings: SFW. A day in the lair for reader with her favorite turtles. Hm... is it just me or are they planning a surprise behind her back? A bit more on the nose with the relationships in this one. Set in 2023 (turtles 24-25)

Tags: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou

The lair was the best place to be on the weekends.

The music was already on when you entered, a sure sign that everyone was in a good mood. Dumping your bag in an empty chair, you took the moment alone to sway at the deep bass, wondering if Mikey or Donnie had chosen the shake remixes. 

A warm hand slid up your arm, a bulky body following to press up against your back as Mikey started to sway in time with your movements. “Sweetie Pie! There you are!” His free arm snaked around your waist, keeping you close as he moved you both through an impromptu series of steps, pulling a bubbly laugh out of you.

You smiled at the new nickname. Every few weeks it seemed like he was trying out a new one for you. He once said he liked the way your face lit up whenever he surprised you with a change, and bonus points if it made his brothers cringe noticeably. 

“You ready for some fun?” He asked, twirling you out before returning your back to his front, holding your arms aloft and shaking them side to side when the music switched to vocals. 

“Hm… did you guys have something planned? Donnie was being purposefully cryptic in his word choices when he called earlier.”

Mikey let out a little high pitched laugh, a sure sign that something was afoot and he had been sent out first to keep you distracted. Amused, you tilted your head to the side, raising a brow to give him a look that had him giving a short, whistled tune, practically hopping you both side to side, shell blocking you from seeing the rest of the room.

It made you laugh, these giant dorks, somehow saving the world more than twice, taking on terrorists and aliens, but unable to hide from you they were sneaking something literally behind your back.

But a new song came on, and you felt the shivered beat in your bones, and so you looped your elbows over Mikey’s, laid back against his chest, and let him lead you through movements just shy of being inappropriate. When you took a half step too far, his larger foot was there, thigh hard against the outside of your hip as he swayed you both to the side in a move you were sure you’d seen in the dojo.

“Ooo, you’re ok. Mikey’s got ya.” You could feel his smile against your ear, before his head turned again, likely checking to see if the coast was clear yet.

You snorted. “Something distracting you from the here and now, Angelo?”

One hand moved, wrapping around your waist as a slower, deeper song started. “What?” Two steps forward, your smaller feet practically on top of his own. “Nah, with you in my arms?” He lifted you up, arm coming up under your butt as he hopped the railing around the kitchen, taking you closer to the wall of boomboxes and away from the entrance. 

Now, he let you out of his hold briefly, twirling you around, grip firm when he slipped his arm low on your back to keep you from spilling over. “Oof. Little dizzy, baby?”

You hummed, let him use the excuse to reel you back in, your hand not trapped in his own looping up in the space between his neck and shell. “Maybe. But I don’t think my dance partner minds.”

Mikey’s dimples flashed at either corner of his wide smile. “Naw, the dizzier you are, the tighter you hold onto me.”

“Flirt." You accused, going along with his movements, delighting in the little shiver the deep hum in his chest caused. 

“Faster song’s comin’. Think you can keep up?”

At your nod, he let you have a little more room, legs offset, the hard edge of his plastron a line for you to lean against. You pressed a little kiss to the bicep next to your face just to hear Mikey coo, before you were following his lead through the steps, letting him take your weight when you became too dizzy. By the end of it you were practically held aloft, breathless and feeling butterflies tickling your stomach, though he didn’t seem anywhere close to complaining.

“Wow, you two’ve been practicing.” Donnie, standing stock still at the edge of your impromptu dance floor, wide smile plastered to his mouth. When you gave him your attention, amused, he jerked his head in a not subtle manner, and Mikey twirled you out of his arms and over to his brother. 

“Hey, baby, there’s something I gotta go do. Do you mind, uh, helping Donnie with-”

But you were already waving him on, knowing you’d be able to make him crack if you wanted, but there was something so sweet about what they were doing, and so funny about how badly they were going about it. 

“It’s fine, Mikey, are you kidding me? I get some Donnie time?” You shimmied over to stand in front of him, craning your head to watch his smile turn more natural, his eyes soften.

Michelangelo was already gone, but his tallest brother let you take his hand, let you pull him through a few swaying steps as he corralled you into his lab and further away from the others.

“So, Dee.” You sidled into his space, hearing the dull thud of his carapace nicking the edge of the table as he corrected his stance. You wrapped your arms around his middle, laid your upturn chin on his plastron, and batted your eyes. “What have you guys been up to?”

If it was possible, he turned into a steel beam in your arms, his muscles going from pliably relaxed to rigid under your grip. “What? Nothing- that is, we’ve been up to nothing.”

“Oh, you poor baby.” You grinned, planted a kiss to his chest, his arms finally coming up to hold you back. “I was hoping you’d give me a tour of all the experiments you’ve got going on right now, but since you’ve been up to nothing-” You let your lower lip tic out before drumming your fingers across his shell.

His eyes lit up, roved between you and the bits and bobs he had laid out across his main workstation, before the tone caught up with him, and he refocused on your upturn face, suspicion written in the wrinkle between his eyes. 

Your lips were pressed together, in an effort not to laugh at his adorableness. He pet the small of your back with even strokes, content to hold you for a moment before whatever thought crossed his mind pulled another smile.

He sighed dramatically and readjusted his grip, jostling you as he leaned back and hooked an ankle under his chair to pull it closer. “Alas, I hear the voice of Admiral Ackbar in the back of my head.”

“Oh do you?” You went along with his direction, sitting in his chair, one leg under you and the other bent so you could hug it. You let Donnie sway the chair back and forth with his foot, content to steal his spot as long as he kept that pleased expression on his face. “And what wisdom does the famous admiral have to impart?”

Donnie gave that cute, little chuckle, reaching over to the large red button beneath his monitors and giving it a hearty slap. A loud voice blared out ITS A TRAP and he picked it up, giving it a little twirl before he looked at you expectantly.

You held a hand to your chest, splayed it out wide in mock offense. “A trap?? I would never.”

Donnie gave that chuckle again, this time with a little snort, as he grabbed the sides of the chair and gave you a sharp spin for your lie. “All the pretty girls are traps, love.”

You mimicked the high pitched sound he often made when he was happy, making him huff in amusement before he hopped on the back of the chair, one leg pushing it in the direction he wanted as you both scooted around the lab. 

“I could show you how the underground garden is going, or we could look at the Tesla coil?”

“Hm, maybe the one that’s least likely to end with a trip to the emergency room.”

“Yea, I’d hate to die if Leo caught you over the safety line again.” He said in mock seriousness, and his foot clipped out, hooked around the leg of a table, and the chair turned for the growing room door.

Inside, the grow lights were set high above, on a Northern Hemisphere June cycle Donnie had once explained, and below in orderly rows, vegetables and fruit trees grew. As he led you through the aisles, explaining the different things he was growing, experimenting with, you reached up, threading your fingers with his. 

“Hm, wait a moment.” One hand slipped free, and he stopped the chair, leaning to the side towards a bush overhanging its bed. When he saw you sit up to help, he waved you back into your relaxed position. “No, no, let me. There’s thorns.” 

You restarted the tour with a lap full of blackberries, holding one up every now and then for Donnie to steal from your fingers. If he took advantage to nip your fingers, you were careful not to call him out for it.

Leo found you both in the citrus row, Donnie using your lap as a makeshift bowl for a few lemons he had decided look ripe enough to move to the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Leo,” Donnie swayed as he turned the heavy pots in quarter turns, making sure each tree had access to water while you watched bemused, hands full of fruit. “Is it time already?”

“Time to swap.” Leo answered, and you rolled your eyes in humor, standing and setting the lemons back in the warm divot of the seat. 

“Oh, no, not another sketchy human transfer.” You teased, wrapping your arms around Donnie in farewell. You could feel his grin in your hair, taking a moment to rub his snout against you before he let go.

“I shall miss you, be good for Leo.” He intoned, mock serious, his lips twitching when Leo only shook his head and touched your arm.

“Yes, Mom!” You told him, turning at the slight pressure, letting Leo lead you out of the garden and back through Donnie’s Lab.

“So,” You asked, clasping your hands behind your back, skipping to plant yourself in front of him. “Can I ask what’s going on?”

“No.” Leo said simply, shaking his head when you started walking backwards. His large hands came up automatically to nudge you away from obstacles. “I need your help with something, though.”

“Ri-ight.” You drew out the word, giving him a wink what earned you a fond huff and a dip of his head. You could tell he was leading you towards the back of the Lair, where the bedrooms are. He took your arm in a careful grip to traverse the stairs, urging you to turn so you would trip over the raised door frame when you entered his room.

Everything was clean, in its usual spot, but there was a small clutter of objects in the center of the floor. You sat down next to the project, folding your legs up under you to mirror Leo as he sank to the floor next to you. He somehow made the movement graceful while you were still pulling one of your feet up and under your thigh, waiting patiently until you were settled to hand you something.

It was a pressed flower, inky purple and still vibrant despite its crinkly nature, and you turned it slowly, letting the low light catch on the color. 

“Leo, where’d you get a hollyhock?” You asked, watching as he carefully set down a sheet of glass and nodded at the flower in your hand, letting you set it flat on the surface before answering.

“I  accidentally let a flower shop owner see me a little bit ago, and they’ve started setting out old flowers that didn’t sell for me to take.” He paused. “I think she thinks she’s feeding me.”

You snorted in laughter at the look on his face. “Ah, maybe she’s trying to woo you. Is she pretty?”

He gave you a look, deep blue peeking up from under his lowered head, and you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing at the ‘done with your shit’ expression. “One, she’s close to eighty. Secondly-” you cut him off, reaching for another flower, pressing your whole arm against him before letting your lips rest against the curve of his deltoid. 

“I’m teasing you, Leo.” You retreated, holding the much bigger flower up for inspection while he openly watched you. 

“Well… good.” You could tell you knocked him off his train of thought, so you only hummed an answer, moving to set the faded pink rose a little above the hollyhock.

He handed you the next one, another hollyhock, before he started shifting through the flowers, clearly looking for ones that fit in with the others. You waited patiently as he handed them out slowly, until you realized you had sprigs of apple blossom and fern in your hands, and he was pressing the delicate red petals of salvia on the glass so they stuck.

He looked up as you paused, a question in his eyes, but you only smiled, set the two bundles down before taking the vine of morning glory he handed out. “Did this come from the flower shop, too?”

“Uh, that one-” He preoccupied himself with the piles of dried flowers, which you could now see were parceled out in three even stacks. Your heart melted at the sight, but you only twirled the vine of pink flowers, waiting. 

He finally looked up at you, huffing at being caught. “That one I found.”

You hummed at him, before setting it down on the glass, starting to arrange the foliage so the little pops of color caught the eye. “Well- they’re pretty, you know?”

“I thought so too.” He was setting out another pane of glass on his floor, so you slid the completed one to the side, a little eager to see what he handed you this time.

Baby’s breath. He handed you two full blooms, another in his hand, and had the audacity to smile at you. “I thought we’d make a few, hang them up in the main room.” 

You tapped down the well of warmth in your chest, set the flowers down next to his own to make an arc. “I like that idea.” 

He handed you dill, coriander and thyme, the smell of the herbs stronger than the blooms, and you let out a little ‘few’ at the smell, pulling a chuckle from him as he pressed daisy flowers and white carnation into the greenery. He let you have full control on the third panel, only handing you the flowers, watching your face at you set them all out.

Ivy, faded hyacinth with just a hint of blue still left in the petals, cheery white clover, tiny forget-me-not, more salvia but blue this time, and yarrow in big, faded pink and yellow bunches. You were just tucking the flowers into the fern when a knock at the door sounded, and Raph stuck his head in.

“Ah, he’s got you playing with flowers, princess?”

You upticked your cheek, catching the look Leo threw his brother, and patted his knee in comfort. There was little doubt in your mind that Raph saw anything beyond the obvious fact that you two were pressing flowers.

He jerked his head back towards the lair, leaning on the doorframe and giving you that slow smirk. “Thought you might want to go for a walk, let Fearless here finish up his uh- well, finish up what he needs to do.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Smooth, Raph, smooth.”

“Smoother than you, jerk.” Raph puffed up, and you stood quickly, waving your hands to keep them from continuing the brewing argument. 

“Alright, alright, let’s go.” You let Leo squeeze your hand as you left with Raph, only pausing to watch him start to place glass over the arrangement’s before the red banded brother called to you in reminder:

“Let’s go, princess!” 

“Coming, coming!” You called, giving Leo a little wave when he looked up at the sound of your voice. You pretended not to see Donnie and Mikey with their backs to you in the doorway of the Lab, arms akimbo and whispering as they clearly struggled with something.

Raph led you out the back way, unlocking the circular door and leaving it propped open. “C’mere, sweetheart, we’re going for a bit of a jog.” 

He held open his arms, and you went readily, curling up against his shoulder and letting him hook your legs over the bend of his other elbow. 

He took you up to a larger tunnel with a waterway in the middle, steps slow and even once the path leveled out. 

“This is nice, that we can do stuff like this now, without the sewer smell.” You commented, leaning to watch the water flow on it’s way back from treatment. 

“Yea, we upgraded from sewer to water intake.” He joked, arms curling in tighter when you tapped his shoulder to be let down. “Let me hold you for just a little longer, princess. Everyone else got to have you close.”

“I thought I was just messing around with flowers with Leo, Red?”

Raph barked out a laugh. “He made the mistake of leaving that little book out. We all know exactly what he was up to.” 

“Shh.” You poked his side. “Just because Leo prefers to be romantic doesn’t mean you should make fun of him.”

“You mean Fearless likes to beat around the bush.” He snipped, clutching you tighter for a moment before throwing you up in retaliation for poking him. 

You had one moment of weightless breathlessness before his arms caught you again, and you laughed to realize you hadn’t even had time to yelp. 

“I’d rather just come out n’ say it.” He groused, and you interlaced your hands, set them on his shoulders and gave a practiced simper. 

“Hm?” He hummed, when he clocked the movement. “Oh, did you want something from me?” His muscles tensed, and this time you had a second to balk before you were up in the air again. This time, he threw you higher, and you had enough time to yelp in fright before you were once more in his arms.

“Sides,” he continued, as if you weren’t red and flustered in his grip, “he ain’t the only one that’s romantic.” As if to back up this point, he stopped and dropped his snout into your personal space.

His snout touched your nose, and you went a little crosseyed as he rumbled, “you just gotta know how to get your girl going, that’s all.” 

Heat flared low, and you stuttered, not at all immune to the way he cooed at your silence.

“Hm, nothin’ to say? Thought you were lookin for something. But if not?” He gave an easy shrug to go along with his shit eating grin, and straightened back out.

You were left red faced, blinking repeatedly, before you visibly startled. Raph’s booming laugh echoed back from the walls when you pinched his arm and sulked.

“Alright, alright, c’mere.” He ducked back, and you squirmed, not buying it, so when he blew a raspberry on your cheek before kissing it you were prepared.

You were nearing the end of the tunnel when he spoke again. “You could beat around the bush a little less, too, ya know?” He gave you a side look from under his brow ridges, slightly goading.

“Oh?” You mirrored the look, knew you fell short compared to him. “You need a little more verbal confirmation, Raph?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a little more than verbal, princess.” He leered, and you openly rolled your eyes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He acted like he would toss you again for the cheek, causing you to scramble and hold tighter, before he chuckled. The sound carried through his chest and settled against your bones, comforting.

“I do, you know.” You said when you neared the door again, and he looked down at you in question. “Love you.”

He smiled, a little bashful, but touched foreheads with you all the same. “I know.”

He whisked you back inside before you could comment, let you slide down out of his grip and pad into the main room on your own volition. “Alright, alright, so what have you guys been sneaking around with?”

Silence, and you turned, looking for the suddenly missing red banded turtle. “Raph?” You spun around, hands on your hips, looking. “Guys?”

A tinkle off to the side, that you pinged as Mikey stifling a chuckle, and you pursed your lips, rounded in a sway to head towards the noise.

“SURPRISE!”

You knew it was coming, but still had to clap your hands to your chest to hold your heart in place. Streamers popped, confetti billowed out, and you laughed to see them all wearing party hats, Mikey supporting a layered cake. They laughed at your reaction before spilling forward towards you.

Donnie took the cake from Mikey, holding it up high above your heads so the youngest could sweep you up in a hug. “Happy anniversary, babycakes!”

That was not the word you were expecting. “Anniversary?”

“Yeah,” Raph tapped Mikey in a silent ‘share the hugs’ message, and took his turn, pressing you up against his side before Leo could cut in. “The day we met, remember?”

You laughed, holding onto his side, but when he stiffened at the sound you went to Leo, curling up under his arm to hug him as well before explaining. “I remember. I was expecting something else.”

“What were you expecting?” Donnie asked, passing the cake to Mikey as he took his turn, and you hummed, trying to buy time.

“Well, uh,” you stepped back, grinning at their waiting faces, “its- kinda - it’s my birthday, ya know?”

It’s a good thing they were ninjas, because Leo’s quick reflexes were the only thing that saved the cake when Mikey’s arms went limp with shock.

“It’s your birthday?” Mikey whispered, sounding betrayed, and you gave them all a sheepish look.

“Yea, I don’t know how that didn’t ever come up.”

They all made various noises of annoyance at that, Raphael’s deepening into something more tee’d at the little grin and shrug of shoulders you gave them.

“Surprise?” You asked, holding up your hands, but your declaration was met with stony silence.

“We’re gonna need more food.” Donnie suddenly turned about face, phone already out.

“Wait- don’t.” You started, but you were back in Raph’s arms before you could protest, only able to watch them scurry off from your high vantage. “Annnnd- they’re gone.”

“Leo’s gone to get candles for the cake.” Raph stated. “Mikey, probably to grab the pizza he planned for later. Donnie, eh, who knows.” He shrugged, and started walking with you to the living room area.

“But I’m fine with just cake!” You laughed, exasperated.

“Well, we’re not. Jesus, sweetheart, you didn’t think to tell us it was your birthday?”

“I don’t know, I thought you guys knew?” You shrugged in his grip, craning over his shoulder and shell in an effort to see where the others had gone. “I kinda thought that’s what you guys were up to- I just wanted to not spoil all the hard work.”

When you turned back to him, Raph had a put upon expression, and you knew he was corralling his emotions. So you gave him your sweetest smile, the one that always got you out of trouble. It succeeded in pulling a huff of air from him, which was as close to a laugh as you’d get in that moment. 

He dumped you on the couch with a very pointed finger jab that conveyed ‘sit, stay’ and you held up your hands in a show of surrender, leaning back and settling in to do just what he wanted. He stalked off, turning dramatically halfway across the Lair as though to catch you in the act of leaving your assigned seat.

You waved cheekily, and blew a kiss which earned an eye roll.

Mikey returned first, balancing a box of pizzas and what suspiciously looked like easter themed candy. He set the bags down on the ginormous metal door turned coffee table that Donnie had welded legs to, and bopped off again. You watched him dig through the bookshelves of DVDs in search of something, until Donnie reappearing captured your focus. 

He had bags of take out, the cheery logo on the side proclaiming your favorite diner, and without thinking you made grabby hands towards the bag. He snorted, swatting away your reaching hands to set it on the table, sliding it out of your reach when you scooted forward to peek. 

Donnie set a long finger against the middle of your forehead, pressing you back in the seat with a fond, amused look at your grumblings. “Wait at least until everyone gets back.” 

You flopped back dramatically, already smelling your favorite smells wafting from the containers, but he only chuckled, slouching down to set his shell into the giant bean bag beside the couch. 

Leo brought back the cake, a pack of candles in his other hand, and he eyed you before opening the package and frowning at them. You snorted at his hesitance, gesturing for him to pas the package over before handing him back the correct amount. 

“Oh I see you’ve turned 21 a few times there, love.” Donnie quipped from his beanbag, and you reacted on instinct, snapping a pillow into his face with deadly precision. He took it to the snout, hands rising up too late to do anything other than clutch the projectile.

Leo huffed a laugh, raising a finger and straightening to intone in a falsely wizened voice, “a ninja never comments on a lady’s age.” 

“That’s a gentleman, Leo. Ninja’s are ‘don’t let the lady catch you in her bedroom’,” came Donnie’s muffled answer.

“Who’s catching who in the bedroom?” Mikey asked, setting a small stack of DVDs down on the rapidly disappearing table as he squeezed in next to you, stealing another hug before wedging his shell against the arm of the couch.

You leaned back against Mikey, letting him wrap a bulky arm around you and pull you closer. You both watched as Leo painstakingly added the little candles to the cake, before Mikey made a small, regretful noise next to your ear.

“Man, we couldn’t get you presents-”

“What makes you think this isn’t a present?” You asked, amused, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I have all I’ll ever need, right in this room.”

“Mikey’d be a shitty present, he farts in his sleep.” Raph sassed, stepping into the living room area with what looked like his whole stash of soda and chocolate. 

“Hey!” Mikey protested, and when Raph went to sit on the couch next to you he lifted you up high, determined to keep you for himself. “Jokes on you now, you get no cuddles.”

“Oh, no, how will I ever-” he struck out, fast, belting the side of his closed fist against his brother’s plastron and catching you when Mikey let go reflexively with an oooofff and depositing you between them again. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Leo looked up from where he was finishing lighting candles, slid the cake over so it was right in front of you. “Alright, time to make a wish.”

“Can I wish for-”

Donnie made some rushed sound, cutting you off, and you all turned to him, confused for a beat before Mikey caught on. 

“Can’t tell us, babes, else it won’t come true.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, taking a moment to glance at each of them. Donnie had leaned forward, smooshed the bean bag down to create a faux back to balance on as he watched the sparkle of the little flames. You caught Raph sticking a finger out, stealing a bit of icing when he thought no one was paying attention and popping it into his mouth. Mikey had snuck his hand into yours again, fingers engulfing your own while smiling. Leo had leaned his elbows against the coffee table, opposite you, bright eyes trailing between your face and the cake.

You knew what your wish would be, and you leaned forward without hesitation, determined to extinguish every candle on the first try.

#tmnt fanfiction #bayverse tmnt fanfiction #leonardo tmnt #raphael tmnt #michelangelo tmnt #donatello tmnt #bayverse leo #bayverse raph #bayverse mikey #bayverse donnie #leonardo x reader #raphael x reader #michelangelo x reader #donatello x reader #turns out I'm bad at math and set in 2023 does not make the turtles 22-23 it makes them 24-25 #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse donatello

[randomperson3736]

Crush- Batman: wayne family adventures

Paring(s): batfam x child! Reader, Bruce wayne x daughter! reader, Duke Thomas x sister! Reader, damian wayne x sister! Reader, Dick Grayson x sister! Reader

Genre: fluff, funny, heartbreak

Warning(s): none

Word bank: Y/N- your name

Duke leaned against the wall of school building, staring at an attractive young girl reading on the stairs. Dick leaned in close behind him, scaring the infatuated young man. "Who you staring at?"

"GAH!" Duke held his arms close, blushing. "I'm not staring" Dick placed his hands in his pockets. "You like her, just ask her out"

"I'm not- that isn't- I mean, HYPOTHETICALLY, if I wanted to do that, how would I...?" He asked awkwardly. Dick smiled and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. " just ask her out for coffee or to see a movie or something. Worst thing she can say is no. Its really not that bad"

"Yes it is!" Duke stated terrified. The two walked to Dick's car as he gave advice. "Try and work in a pun. Ladies love puns" Duke lowed his head and sulked. "Jason's right. You do give the worst advice"

~timeskip~

His crush waved at him and smiled. "Hey Duke!"

"...hi..." he whispered before putting his hands ro his head in embarrassment.

~timeskip~

The two should to be lovebirds were partnered in science class. Duke was holding onto a blue beaker and Ana was writing down notes. "Ana? Um, I've been wondering..." Duke asked not paying attention to the chemicals he was holding. "Yes?" She responded, not looking up from her book. "I, um, I've been thinking about it and-" he started to pour the blue liquid into the beaker on the counter containing a green liquid.

"Don't do that" She stated worriedly. "Oh" Duke looked down disappointedly, thinking she was rejected him. "No, I mean don't do THAT!" In actuality, the blue liquid caused a chemical reaction with the green liquid, turning it into purple and it started bubbling.

"OH!"

BOOM! It exploded in their faces.

~timeskip~

"Hey!" Duke turned around to see Ana standing behind him. "I tried catching you after class, but you practically sprinted out of there. I wanted to give you something" She sat next to him and handed Duke a small piece of paper. "What is this?"

"It's my number. In case you ever wanted to study together. Or... to see a movie or something, that'd be cool too" She stood up awkwardly, thinking he might reject her. "Or not, I guess. Don't worry about it"

"Wait! I'd love to see a movie with you" Duke stood up and smiled. "Or study. Whatever you want"

"Then I guess it's a date!" She smiled and waved goodbye to him. Duke looked at the paper one more time and cheered. "YES!"

~timeskip~

Down in the batcave, Duke was smiling like a dork at his phone. Stephanie noticed this and leaned in closely ro take a peek. "Who are you texting? You've been smiling like a dork this whole time"

Duke turned his head and smiled awkwardly. "No one. It's nothing"

Stephanie snatched the phone out of his hands and immediately started to look at the chats. "Oh my God! Do you have a girlfriend? How long have you guys been dating? From these texts, I'm guessing the last couple of weeks!"

"Give it back!" Duke stretched his arm out to get his phone back.

Stephanie held his phone up high and told the others. "Look! Duke got a girlfriend!"

"Nice! Way to go!" Tim gave Duke a tumbs up while he picked up Y/N. "Ew. Gross" damian looked away with disgust. Duke's phone buzzed with a text from Ana. Stephanie held the phone with both hands, eyes twinkling at the screen. "You have date tonight???" Duke snatched his phone out of her hands. "None of your business. I'm going back up stairs"

As soon as he were out of sight, Stephanie leaned inor the two boys and little girl. "Tim, Damian, Y/N you thinking what I'm thinking?"

~timeskip~

Y/N tilted her head in confusion. "Why do you need costumes for steak?"

Damian sighed. "No, Y/N. A steak out of where you watch over someone in secret"

"But... do you get steak?"

Tim started putting on a large trench coat and hat. "While... we did get steak that one time..."

~timeskip~

Duke was waiting in front of the restaurant staring down at his watch, worrying why Ana wasn't there yet. "Duke! Over here!" He turned his head and smiled when he saw her. "Sorry I'm late"

"Your here, that's all that matters"

The two were sat outside with a small vase of pink roses in the middle. "This place is really nice!" Ana said as she admired her surroundings. "My brother Dick, recommended it..." he looked around and paused at a table holding his four disguised siblings. He frowned angrily. Stephanie quickly hid behind the menu. "Oh no. Do you think he saw us?" Tim peaked up from his menu to look at the couple. "He may have noticed"

"I told you these disguises were idiotic. Also the top head makes it easier to see Y/N"

"Leave her alone Damian. It makes her look fancy" Tim scolded his younger brother before turning his attention to the young couple. "Don't mind us!"

"Yea, Dami I look fancy" Y/N took a sip of her paper cup. While damian just rolled his eyes playfully. Stephanie waved at the couple and cheered. "You got this sweetie!" Duke hid his face in his hands in embarrassment. Ana smiled. "Is that your family?"

"Not after I murder them all" She held Duke's hand, making his cheeks git bright red. "I think it's kinda funny"

"So dates not ruined?" Duke asked smiling.

"No. And I'm not going anywhere"

"Awwww, look at them!" Stephanie cheered from the other table. "Bleh" Damain stuck he tongue out in disgust.

~timeskip~

Duke was on the rooftop with his knees to his chest. He reminisced on the memories with his time with Ana. Duke heard the tap of a shoe and turned his head to see cass climbing through the window. "Hey"

"Hey"

She sat down next to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Sorry" Duck crawled in through the window on the opposite side to Duke. "Got room for one more?" He sat beside Duke on the other side. "So everyone knows?"

"Yeah. Detective training and all that. You get used to it" Dick laughed. "Great" Duke said sarcastically. "I've got Damian and Y/N gurading your door. They'll hold off Bruce until your ready for the break up talk"

"Wanna talk about it?" Cass asked.

"No"

"Ok" She leaned her head on his shoulder.

Duke looked up at the sky with tears threatening to fall. "She wants to be friends. How am I supposed to go back to that after everything?"

"It's okay to need space. You've allowed to give yourself time to heal"

"It doesn't feel like It'll ever get better" Dule held his knees ro his chest and started ro cry.

"It will. I promise"

"We've got you Duke. We're all here"

Dick hugged Duke and cass leaned on his shoulder, comforting the poor heartbroken boy.

Damian and Y/N sat outside Duke's room guarding him from their father. Damian held his katana and Y/N held a childerns book. "Dami, why is Duke crying?"

"The girl Duke feel head over heels for broke up with him. He is facing what they call a heartbreak"

Y/N put her knees to her chest. "But aren't they suppose to live happily ever after?"

"Life isn't a fairy tale Y/N. Feelings always come to an end"

"Why don't they ever talk about break ups in the stories? They make love look so easy"

"Because people want to believe that they can have a happily ever after with rainbows and unicorns. They believe they can prevent them from getting hurt. It's foolish really, that's why I do not condone in such acts. It is better to just accept reality than prolong the impossible" Y/N looked at Damian in confusion, but she kinda got it. She looked down at her knees and opened her mouth before closing it. Unfortunately for her, Damain noticed. "Yes? Do u have any question?"

"Umm... what if they have kids?" She mumbled.

"What?"

Y/N had tears prickling in her eyes. "What if they had a kid, and fall out of love? What happens to the kid?" Damian mentally cursed himself for making her cry. "Usually it ends up in divorce and one of the parents takes the child"

"No... I mean... I..." she rubbed the tears from her eyes. "We were made out of love right Dami?" Damian dropped his katana and faced Y/N. "Y/N, where is this coming from?"

"I...I don't know. I mean, we have daddy but... but mommy... she... she..." Damian gripped her hand tightly making her fouce of him. "Y/N whatever that women told you was a lie"

"But she said she never wanted me and that she didn't love me..."

"Father made us with love. That's all that matters"

"So..." Y/N sniffed. "We were made out of love?"

"Of course we were" He hugged her tightly.

~timeskip~

Duke was staring at his phone at photos of him and Ana. While his siblings helped a little with the pain, he was still feeling upset. He saw little Y/N in the door frame holding some children's books. "Y/N? What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Um... well when Dickie told me what happened to you, I wanted to help" She showed her collection of books in her arms. "Whenever I feel sad, daddy or Dami read me bedtime stories and I thought maybe it could help you" Duke gave a small smile, "Alright. Let's try it out" He laid down awkwardly om his bed as Y/N tried to tuck him in. Y/N sat down on the side of the his bed and opened on of her books. "Once upon a time..."

It took a couple minutes before Y/N passed out. She did try to stay up but it was past her bedtime. Duke laid in his bed facing upwards at the ceiling. He was still awake and the stories didn't help, but he turned to the sleeping Y/N and smiled. "Thanks Y/N" Duke was still upset. His mind still racing from the question he kept asking himself 'what did he do wrong?' But the question started to become quieter. Maybe the stories did help. He yawned and tucked them both in and said "Goodnight" before difting off to a peacefull sleep.

~Bonus~

Y/N was in her car seat on her way to pick up Duke, Tim and Damian from school with Dick. Dick was humming to the music on the radio until he was interrupted by his youngest sister. "Dickie, what's a crush?"

"Hmm?" He looked her through the review mirror. "Well, a crush is someone who has romantic feelings for another person"

"...I don't get it"

"Well, it's understandable since your still young"

She looked down and played with her fingers. "I always thought crush was a drink though?"

"That's another type of crush"

"Can I have a crush?" She asked innocently.

Dick started sweating. "Uh... not right now, baby bird. If Bruce and Damian found out you liked someone and that I said it was fine, I'll be killed"

"....Dickie I meant the drink"

"Oh, then of course you can! Just don't tell Aflred, he'd definitely kill me"

#batfam #damian wayne #Bruce wayne #dick grayson #duke thomas #Bruce wayne x daughter reader #Damian wayne x sister reader #batfam x reader #x sister reader #x child reader #duke thomas x sister reader

[eddiesguitarskills]

It Can't All Be Bullshit

Read part 2 here

Eddie Munson x fem Reader x Steve Harrington (unfortunately no steddie in this)

Summary: pinning after your best friend can be hard, especially when he doesn’t seem to like you back. You were trying to get over a crush the last thing you needed was another.

AN: this and the next chapter have been in my drafts for far too long so I thought I'd post them (not the best piece of writing but I like the story) I have tried to prove read it but I have dyslexia so sorry for any mistakes

Warnings: Angst, use of Y/n, mention of break ups, miscommunication, drug and alcohol use, swearing

Word count: about 2000 words

Halloween night 1985

Of all the people you had to have a crush on, why did it have to be your annoying, oblivious dork of a best friend? You knew you needed to get over it, and even if there ever was a chance of being with him, you feared you’d lose him. You weren’t what Eddie wanted in a girl, and you knew that. You were surprised he kept you around now with how much you nagged at him. It’s not like it was all the time, but someone had to look out for that boy, especially if he wasn’t going to do it for himself.

Eddie interrupted your plans for a Halloween movie night, which you had planned out for a month, costumes included. If anyone were to look at you together, they would assume you were a couple; most people did. You were dressed as Jack and Wendy Torrance from the shinning. He even let you put makeup on him to give him the frostbite effect. So when he suddenly announced he had to go to Tina’s party to deal, you were annoyed. You tried not to nag, even though you hated the sound of your voice at this point. Plus, he promised it would only be an hour tops, and then you could get takeout with some of his earnings so that you couldn’t complain, especially when he looked at you with those eyes. You could never say no.

You weren’t the biggest fan of drugs or him dealing them; you knew he was better than that life. But you understood how hard things were on him and his uncle, so as long as it wasn’t forever, it wasn’t really bad drugs, you let it be. You never liked to be around when he dealt, though. Something about watching it made you feel weird. You could never explain why. Eddie was kind, though, and he never did anything in front of you. He didn’t even smoke weed, especially after that one time when he got super paranoid and scared you. You weren’t part of that life. You didn’t do drugs, you didn’t drink, and you didn’t party. It’s not that you were boring. It was just never you. Hey, maybe you were boring, but at least you didn't need drugs to enjoy yourself. You liked to be in control.

You are currently leaning against the countertop in the kitchen, sticking out like a sore thumb with a Coke in your hand. You look at the clock, he’s 30 minutes late. You were trying to turn a new leaf, so you were trying to be understanding, even if his time-wasting was cutting into your Halloween plans. You couldn’t take your eyes off the clock, not like there were other things to watch at this party: teenagers making out, getting too drunk or being sick. The clock seemed more appealing. When it hit the 2-hour mark, you started worrying, so you looked for him. What you didn’t expect to find was him in the garden with a blunt in his hand and his other hand on a blonde’s thigh.

The voice in your head telling you not to nag was now becoming quieter with how annoyed you were. He ditched you, and he was smoking, which showed he had no intention of continuing your plans. He just wanted to get high and laid. “Eddie!” you said loud and stern enough for him to hear you, but too high he was in his bubble with his girl for the night. “Edward Munson!” you said louder; he only ever hears that name when in trouble, so subconsciously, he straightened his back and tried to hide the blunt, failing miserably. He turned around to face you, he waved “Hi darling”. You glared at him. “Are you high, darling?” a mocking tone coming from your voice, using his usual pet name for you against him.

He pitched his fingers together “a little”. Eddie always thought you looked cute when you were mad; he usually tried to get you a little angry so he could see that face. Usually, though, he could hide his smile and keep a straight face since he was sober. But now, when he tried to keep a straight face, he couldn’t; even more irritating for you, he couldn't stop giggling, making the girl to his right giggle, too. “If you wanted to go party instead, you should have told me; you didn’t need to lie”. If Eddie were sober, he would see how hurt you were, but in his mind, this was a joke, “you don’t have to stay. You can go home and watch the films. Tell me what happens”. You freeze; this is why you hated High Eddie; he never realised how hurtful he came across. How selfish he became. And when he finally sobers up enough to realise you must forgive him because he ‘wasn’t in his right mind’. It’s a frustrating cycle, which is why he stopped smoking in front of you. Except for now, apparently. That’s probably why he ditched you so that you wouldn’t find out.

Hurtful words were on your tongue, but you were in your right mind, so you could never say them. You knew you wouldn’t mean them. You were just hurt, so you stormed off straight out the front door, but when you made it to the front porch, it was like you were stuck in glue. You couldn’t leave whether he was being a dick or not. He was still your best friend, and you need to ensure he was safe. He shouldn’t drive high, and knowing him, he would try. So you waited. You couldn’t go back into the hell hole that was Tina’s Halloween party, so you waited on a porch swing. The air was bitter tonight, so you were glad your costume provided a jumper, not that it looked like a costume anymore without a partner to go with it.

Your eyes were drifting shut with how tired and bored you were, that was until you heard a huge slam come from beside you, making you flinch. You weren’t the only one having a terrible time at this party; Steve was having an even worse one. “You got cigarettes?”. He didn’t look at you, so you didn’t realise he was talking to you. That was until you felt his glare burning into you. You knew that look wasn’t meant for you, but it still made you feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was due to the shots you could tell he had taken from the blue tint to his lips, or perhaps he had gotten into a fight. But this look wasn’t meant for you, but it didn't make it any less scary when you were in his firing line. “Huh?”. With the way he spoke to you next, you could have sworn you had done something to hurt his feelings. “Are you deaf I said do you have any smokes?” he spoke slowly like you were a dumb child. He tutted at you and turned away from you “bullshit”. He kept repeating like a madman.

Jesus, was he that addicted to nicotine, you thought. Even if he did make you feel a little uncomfortable, especially since you knew he was a jock, and even though they didn’t necessarily pick on you because, in their words, “you were a girl,” they bullied your friends so you knew how bad they could be. But even for a jock, this was dramatic “fucking hell, I’m sorry, I don’t have any” you said a little sarcastically. He stopped his repetition and looked over his shoulder at you. “What?” He said with anger still laced in his voice, like you did anything to deserve his rage. You didn’t know why you were wasting your breath on him, but Eddie had pissed you off, and you needed to get the annoyance out somehow. “Are you deaf? I said I’m sorry, I don’t have any”.

He thought he knew girls well, but after tonight, he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to figure out what was wrong with you either. He couldn’t be bothered by the grief. “Fuck off”. You couldn’t tell if his words were in reaction to what you said or if he meant it. That was until he repeated it, and you saw the look on his face, and the tears in his eyes that he didn’t realise were there. You didn’t know what was happening with him, but it was not your place to sort it. You were making it worse.

So you went back into the party, to look for two people, firstly Tommy Hagan everyone knew he was Harrington’s best friend, so even if you didn’t like Tommy you couldn’t leave someone when they were like that. It would only make you as bad as them. You found him around the beer pong table. You lightly tapped his shoulder as you couldn’t deal with another boy's wrath tonight. He turned around, looking you up and down, smirking. “What are you supposed to be a virgin?” You rolled your eyes. You knew you could think of a comeback and put him in his place, but now wasn’t the time; you needed to get him outside, and you didn’t want to announce that his friend, the king of Hawkin High, was crying on the lawn in front of everyone. You weren't cruel. “Can you just come outside with me?” The room erupted into “oh”, as if you were suggesting something sexual. “Wait, was I right about the virgin thing? Is the freak not giving you any? Do you want a real man instead?” He said, getting closer to you. He smelt of beer and body odour, but you let him closer so you could whisper in his ear. “Your boy is outside, and something’s happened. I’d go and sort it if I was you”. He looked at you confused and nodded. He walked out, but not before smacking you on the ass. “I’ll see you later, darling?”. God, he was the most enormous prick. You couldn’t hold your tongue anymore. “Is that with your girlfriend or alone?”.

Eddie came sauntering alone into the room after hearing your voice, “I hope you’re not starting fights”, he said, putting his arm around your shoulder out of comfort. You ignored his question, not wanting to get into it now. “You ready to go?” You looked at him and weakly smiled. Eddie couldn’t tell, though he was still high as a kite, just in the mellow stage, so all he could see was you smiling. You took the keys out of his pocket and led him to the van. On your way out, you walked past Tommy and Steve on the porch swing. Steve’s leg bounced. “She said we were bullshit”, he kept repeating; you were glad Eddie wasn’t sober enough to hear it. Otherwise, he would definitely use it against him. Everything about his mood towards you started to make sense. He and Nancy had clearly broken up. So you gave him a smile and a nod of acknowledgement as you left, which he only glared at. You didn't mind, though you were just glad he wasn’t alone, even if that meant being with Tommy.

You drove Eddie home, struggling to get his dead weight onto the bed and to get his shoes off. You were about to leave for your car outside when Eddie's hand grabbed for yours. “Stay”. This used to be one of the only things you liked about him being high, the cuddles and needing attention. However, right now, this was probably the worst thing for your heart when you were trying to get over him, but when you looked at his face, how could you say no if that made him happy, even if it would end up hurting you.

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the future

Masterlist here if you are interested

#eddie munson angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things angst

[ollieneedstherapy]

Porter HEADCANNONS (because I fucking forgot about him)

-He loves baths, he has so many bath bombs and bubble soaps

-back when he was alive, he loved bats but he kinda stop after his turning

-After the first time him and Treasure did it, he didn’t sleep afterwards so he could look at them

-He also couldn’t stand the smell or taste of blood when he turned like William

-His mother is from the same town in France as Will

-as a kid he used to have a plush bat, that’s why they were his favorite

-he’s heavily allergic to garlic, Treasure makes fun of this all the time

-he loved DnD, the amount of dice he owned is scary but he sold most of them (Vincent used to make fun of him for it, Vincent now plays it thanks to Lovely)

-He’s a huge fucking simp. HUGE

-Porter, the touch starved dork he is, leans into hugs, his favorite people to hug are Sam and Treasure

-He sees Sam as a shoulder to cry on a lot (he doesn’t actually cry just complains)

-He loves to flirt with the Shaw pack, anyone there, he has tried to get David’s number before and failed. But he does have Ash’s

-More then one person has thought he was an incubus

-He does not like the way he looks, too tall and too skinny (he’s fucking gorgeous)

#porter solaire #treasure redacted #william solaire redacted #redacted asmr #redacted headcanons #Sam Collins redacted #vincent solaire #david shaw #asher talbot

[luveline]

maybe one where steve or eddie are rough-housing with the reader and reader accidentally gets hurt during it so they immediately go all doctor mode, fix their wound if they have one, and comfort them after ❤️

Steve almost breaks your nose and is a loving dork!

1.3k words gn!reader tw blood / nosebleed

Steve is easily conquered. 

You take one look at him where he's bent over his clean laundry and know you can likely overpower him. And what use is being somebody's significant other if you can't wrestle? You creep up behind his unsuspecting figure as quietly as you can manage, watching the muscles and planes of his shoulder blades move under his shirt for a greedy moment, and then pounce. 

You throw your arms over his front and say, "Boo." You barely raise your voice but Steve is startled anyways by your sudden appearance, standing up tall as you give your weak approximation of a battle cry. 

Once he's overcome his fright he grabs your hands where they hang over his chest and turns his head to face you. He's laughing, a warm and chesty laugh that you love. It also has the power to make you nervous. 

"You creeper," he says mock-scathingly.

Your feet leave the floor as he bends forward again, attempting to dislodge you by tipping his body sideways. You start to giggle, arms crossing in front of his throat in efforts to hang on. 

"Oh, is this how it is?" he asks. 

"This is exactly how it is!" you declare. 

Steve throws the both of you towards his bed and you finally dislodge, landing on his mattress with an 'oomf'. Steve, grinning like a maniac, brown eyes flared with smugness, jumps on top of you, knocking the air from your lungs. 

You start to screech as his fingers find your sides. 

"Do you surrender?" 

"What? No!" 

He tickles harder, his short nails scratching over your skin. Peels of laughter bubble up and spill out, very loud and twice as unattractive. Steve must not think so; the mirth on his face only multiplies, his fingers sliding up into the dip of your armpits. 

"Steve! Don't! Get off of me!" 

"I thought you wanted to fight!" 

"No," you plead, laughing breathlessly as he stops. 

His pause is all you need, throwing your chest into his chest, knocking him down so his side is to the mattress as you climb on top of him, thighs spread over his abdomen. His shirt has ridden up and exposed his midriff, his dark, fine snail trail. 

"Don't stare," he says mildly, hands reaching for you. You take his wrists into your hands, which is an entirely new war, a battle of who's stronger.

The answer isn't you – as soon as you've pinned his wrists above his head he's flipping the both of you over, making your wrist pin entirely useless. 

"Steve," you say. Whine, maybe. Not that you would admit it, but being bested sucks. 

"What?" he asks, your faces very, very close.

"You cheated." 

"I didn't cheat, I'm just stronger." 

"You're stronger? That is so sexist, Harrington-"

"I'm not sexist, idiot-"

"Who are you calling an idiot, idiot?" 

"You!" Steve cries.

You scowl at him and go to push up as he goes to lean down, maybe for a pretend angry kiss that you like so much. It's a completely mistimed manoeuvre and your noses smash into each other with an unfortunate sound like wet stone and a worse feeling. 

You drop your head back into the sheets and Steve springs away, the two of you twins: a pained expression, a hand pressed to your nose. 

"Fuck," Steve says. "Fuck, that hurt. Ouch."

You go to reply but find yourself horrified by the warmth pooling under your hand. You sit up and Steve is quick to climb off of you. 

"Sorry, baby. Shit. That hurt so- Are you bleeding?" 

You pull the soft part of your hand where your fingers begin away from your nostril. It's a mistake. Hot blood drips down the curve of your lips and you slap your hand back to stem the flow. 

"Shit," Steve says again. 

"Eloquent," you say, though it comes out funny. 

He springs off of the bed and hurries to the bathroom. You'd find it endearing how quickly he made to get you tissue paper if you weren't in pain and bleeding badly. 

Steve returns and takes your wrist into his hand, pulling it away from your face to replace it with his own. White tissue quickly becomes red. 

You watch him as he does. He's suddenly serious, eyes pinched with worry and shapely brows creased as he holds the tissue steadfast to your face, like any slight movement could be fatal. 

He pulls it back periodically to check how fast it's going. Rogue tears crest your cheeks, reactive rather than upset. The face is a delicate system of sinuses and ducts. It's no surprise that you're crying. 

Still, Steve takes it for upset. He pouts at you sincerely and takes your bloody hand into his, massaging your fingers until they're warm. "Don't cry, Y/N, it's okay. It's okay."

You blink rapidly. Maybe the tears are a little bit upset, especially when he's taking care of you so nicely. 

"I'm okay," you say. 

He smiles fondly. "You're good." 

He pulls the tissue from your face, pleased when there's no more bleeding to be seen. "You have a clot," he says, relieved.

"It's done?" 

"It's done." 

You let yourself be pulled into the bathroom where he flushes the bloody tissue and quickly guides you to stand by the sink, wetting tissue to dab at your face. He's achingly careful. 

"There you go," he murmurs. "You almost look good as new." 

He presses his pinky finger to your nose, the rest of his fingers covered in blood. 

"Does that hurt?" he asks. 

"A bit," you confess. 

He drops his hand and the two of you turn to the sink basin. 

"It's gonna bruise," Steve says regretfully. "But it's not broken." 

He runs the warm faucet and squirts soap in your hands. You've never had somebody wash your hands for you. It's surprisingly nice. You feel buffeted by affection as his fingers work between yours, pink-orange foam running down the drain. Your nose barely hurts. 

He pats your hands dry and then frowns deeply. 

"I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to," he says. 

His concern melts you. "Stevie," you say, lightly chiding. "It was my fault." 

"It was not," he says. 

"It was! I started it." 

"And I almost broke your nose," he says, eyes on your hurting bridge. 

"Does it look bruised?" you ask. 

He shakes his head. "It's still perfect, babe." 

You step into his circle of space. Familiar, he presses a still damp hand to the curve of your neck. "Does it hurt badly? I can get you an ice pack."

"Would you?" you ask. 

He squeezes your neck. "Sure I will."

Steve moves to leave and you make a small sound to hold his attention. "Actually, can I ask for something first?" 

"Anything you want," he says, nodding. He really is pretty.

You try not to sound like a wounded victim but you're feeling sorry for yourself when you ask, "A kiss?" 

He grins, almost smirks as he meanders into your arms, bracing his hands at the nape of your neck. His kiss is cautious, a tiny press of the lips that you chase. He rewards your tenacity with a firmer, sweeter kiss the second time around, trailing from the centre of your mouth to the corner, then your cheek, the well of your eye. 

He avoids your nose. You're glad for it, though you miss his tip-of-the nose kisses. 

"How's your nose?" you ask when he pulls away, suddenly remembering that you'd mashed skulls, and were not the only involved party. 

"It kind of stings, to be honest," he admits, rubbing his face roughly.

You lean up and plant the hint of a kiss to the tip of his nose. "How's that, handsome?" 

"Feels better already," he says, winking. You giggle. 

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #x reader