#Adam is going to have a nice burn mark on his side

[chelseeebe]

come pick me up.

part one to do you think i have forgotten (about you)

summary: it had always been you and eddie. but one night and a whole lotta unexplored feelings leave you both reeling and you’re not sure if it ever really was you and eddie.

a/n: ermm this is so so long i’m so sorry already LOL i’ve had it in the drafts for so long but i reread it n rlly liked it so i wanna post hehe! side note: there are ZERO pictures of eddie not in that fuckin hellfire shirt D: i can’t have a grown man wearing that now …

loosely based off of the cook/freddie/effy storyline from skins uk if you’ve seen it you’ll know.,,, they’re like in their early twenties n it’s set sometime in the 90s ish tho it’s not rlly mentioned

no use of y/n! smut, 18+. this is more so stevexreader than eddie but they do have a relationship of sorts n it’s a lil’ complicated.

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the sound of a high pitched alarm screaming jolts you awake. still partially in last nights clothes, the grubby feel of makeup on your face. leg slung over eddie’s torso.

you groan, shoving his arm as he’s still very much asleep, ‘shut up,’ grimacing as the noise continues.

he mumbles something, wildly slapping his arm about to turn off the damn thing.

you run a hand over your face, remnants of your black eyeliner on your hand. that horrid taste in your mouth only found after a night of drinking. which seemed to be just about every night at the moment.

‘why’d you set an alarm, you freak?’ rolling over onto your stomach, perched on your elbows, watching as his eyes slowly open, obviously feeling as shit as you did.

‘i have- had class, you freak,’ he grumbles, looking up at you from the pillow, curly hair fanned out around him.

you scoff, ‘like you were gonna go,’ attempting to rub the rest of your mascara off, sure you looked similar to a wild raccoon.

he hums in response, shuffling under the covers to tangle his leg with your yours, ‘you gonna sort this out for me?’ referring to the obvious morning glory tenting the blanket.

‘you gonna ask nicely?’ you respond, snarling at his crudeness.

whatever he was about to say was interrupted with a knock at the door, ‘we’re coming in, you have five seconds to not be naked,’ robin’s voice echoes.

you look up as robin walks into the room, hand over her eyes until steve gives her a small nudge, indicating the coast is clear, ‘oh good-,’ she sniffs, ‘it smells like weed and sex in here, you’re fucking disgusting.’

‘thanks for reminding me,’ eddie leans over, retrieving the half-smoked spliff from last night and lighting the end.

steve’s eyes are firmly on yours, kinda sad and defeated. he had that same look on his face whenever you and eddie were together, which was often.

you’d sort of always had this.. thing with steve. encapsulated by his presence. there was always something unspoken between you and you were never sure if it was because he hated you or not. small glances and touches that seemed to linger just a bit too long.

you’d sorta taken his best friend from him at one point, coming between their friendship suddenly and with no warning.

steve was intrigued by you too. this mystical, unobtainable persona you presented to the world. something he couldn’t crack. just couldn’t quite understand it.

‘we’re getting breakfast, i was going to ask if you wanted to join but i assume that won’t be happening,’ she raises her eyebrows, noticing your severely hungover state.

they liked to party too, just clearly not as much as you and eddie. both of you had no understanding of when to call it a night, egging each other on til the point of no return.

‘i think we’ll give that a miss,’ eddie’s answers for the both of you. steve’s eyes immediately look down, suddenly interesting in the burn marks in eddie’s carpet.

you’d actually met steve first, on the first day of classes in freshmen year. you went over to a sheepish steve, who looked slightly scared, and obviously lost. offering him the directions to his room.

he’d smiled back, introducing himself to you on the way. appreciative of your kindness. you probably wouldn’t have helped if he didn’t look like that, but still, it was nice.

that’s when eddie had bounded over, all hair and denim. loudly taking over your conversation, introducing himself with a smirk, hand already creeping onto your lower back. that’s when steve had nodded towards him and informed you of their already established friendship.

you weren’t really sure when it became you and eddie. well, it wasn’t. not officially. god, you didn’t want official. he was fun to fuck and even better to party with. maybe the fact he dealt had been a factor in solidifying your strange relationship. maybe not.

robin rolls her eyes, ‘right, well you boring fucks can rot in bed all day, suit yourselves,’ ushering steve out of the door, slamming it behind her.

you blink, hating this awful, guilty feeling steve always left in your stomach. you’d tear a guy like him to shreds, maybe it was for the best.

whatever self-wallowing, steve-centric thoughts you had are interrupted when eddie’s arm snakes around your back, pulling you onto him.

‘i still need a little assistance here,’ he grins from beneath you, running his hand down your back, firmly grasping your exposed ass as you clamber on top properly.

you try your damn hardest to push the reflecting image of steve from your mind. though it doesn’t quite work until eddie’s calloused palm softly taps against your cheek, ‘anyone in there?’

you frown, returning the playful slap as you grind mindlessly against him, his fingers digging into the pliant skin of your ass.

‘you can do that again.’

-

eddie hadn’t shut up about his birthday for weeks. you’d all planned to go to the same bar you went to most weekends, except this time everyone had to go and he got to be centre of attention.

he’d been pissing you off all night. obviously far too drunk, jaw clenching from the copious amounts of shit he’d sniffed. hanging from your shoulder, speaking over you and splashing beer down your top as he slurred through his words.

‘i think we’re gonna head home,’ steve speaks up when you exit the bar, eddie already looking for the next place.

‘whaat? you’re fucking boring,’ he pokes a finger into steve’s chest, far too intoxicated, ‘you’re staying out, right?’ he looks over to jonathan, argyle and nancy who also shared an apartment not far from yours.

‘nah man.. it’s late, it’s been fun though,’ jonathan shrugs as nancy finds a taxi to take them home.

‘fuuuck you guys are really ditching me on my birthday? at least you won’t let me down,’ his arm hooks around your shoulder, yanking you into him.

you pull back, which wasn’t particularly hard in his state, ‘get off of me.. can i get a ride with you?’ looking over at steve, his hands cautiously poking out of his pockets.

he nods sheepishly as eddie practically erupts, ‘it’s my fucking birthday, and you fucking losers are going home?’ he’s screeching, throwing his arms around, making a royal scene in the middle of the street.

robin finds a cab willing to take the group of you home, calling you over to the yellow vehicle, ‘eddie let’s just go home, it’s late,’ attempting to coax him into going with you. you’d deal with his shit in the privacy of his bedroom.

he laughs, turning away from you and walking up the dimly lit street, ‘you.. you can get fucked,’ he slurs, disappearing into a nearby bar.

steve stands at the cab door, watching as you frown at eddie’s back. internally deciding whether to give in and follow him or to leave like you’d originally planned.

you let out an exasperated sigh, ‘he can go fuck himself,’ you spit as you slide into the back of the cab. steve follows, shutting the door behind him, flashing you a small cautious look as the cab pulls off.

-

you collapse onto the sofa the second you set foot in the apartment. completely at your wits end with eddie and his the way he spoke to you.

‘i’m going to bed,’ robin announces, slinking into her own room, leaving steve to awkwardly linger in the living room.

you didn’t want to worry about eddie. he was a grown man who could definitely handle his own. besides, why should you when he’d explicitly told you to fuck off?

steve clears his throat before taking the empty seat beside you, ‘he didn’t mean it.. it’s just drunk talking,’ he nods, attempting to reassure you.

it wasn’t as if you were really upset about it all. more so annoyed that you’d let him treat you that way. continually. over and over again.

whatever the fuck was going on between the two of you had started to wear thin. there were only so many times you could put up with his shit before it got tired.

eddie could be a horrible drunk. it wasn’t often but when that version of him came out you’d prefer to be far far from it. he was cruel with his words, venomous as they rolled off his tongue. then you’d get into a screaming match and then either end up hate-fucking or you’d just both never bring it up again.

‘no, he did,’ you sigh, kicking the shoes from your feet with a thud, ‘i don’t care.. really.’

‘right,’ he nods, not totally believing you, ‘y’wanna smoke?’

a small smile creeps onto your face as he reaches for the small black box eddie kept on the table, pulling out a small baggie of weed, something eddie definitely wouldn’t miss. he didn’t even need your reply, beginning to roll up.

-

perhaps you’d smoked a little too much, sputtering on the final toke of your second or third spliff before handing it back to steve. he sits on the other side, an awful lot closer than he’d been originally.

it was quiet, but comfortable. not awkward at all.

‘y’know..’ he speaks up, looking over at you, ‘actually.. nah,’ changing his mind almost immediately.

‘no.. what? what were you gonna say?’ you furrow your brows, vision hazy, the room full of grey smoke.

he sort of chuckles to himself, stubbing the end of the joint out in the glass ashtray before looking at you again, ‘it’s stupid,’ he warns.

‘even better.. tell me,’ you nod, encouraging him to go on.

he pauses for a moment, a tiny smile on his pink lips, ‘i always thought.. well, that you and me were gonna end up together, i thought you liked me for the longest time,’ shaking his head as he looks down.

your heart thuds. a mixture of your high and the unidentifiable emotion coursing through your veins. there was no questions to being with eddie. it was simple, sex and parties. no complicated feelings involved.

but within a second, steve had completely changed everything. a feeling you’d suppressed since your situationship with eddie had started. completely convinced that the odd relationship you had with steve was just because you were banging his best friend.

‘i didn’t.. i didn’t know you felt like that..’ you manage to get out quietly, watching as he slowly stands up, he doesn’t look at you once. too ashamed, embarrassed that he’d just admitted everything to you so easily.

‘well, now you know,’ he says quietly before disappearing into his room.

you linger on the couch for a moment. unsure of what to think of anything he’d just said. whether you should knock on his door and tell him you’d felt the same or just go off to your own room and wait for eddie to crawl in.

it wasn’t as if you felt nothing at all for eddie. you did, of course. but you didn’t love him. not the way you maybe should’ve. not the way you felt about steve, his gentle nature and soft caramel tinted eyes.

you stand from the couch, feet taking control as you walk to his door. a small slither of orange light peaking from underneath. raising your fist to knock but stopping, arguing with yourself. this couldn’t be a good idea.

before you can even convince yourself to knock, the door opens. steve stands on the other side, his own chest heaving as your eyes meet.

‘i-,’ he croaks, but you cut him off with your lips, pulling back just as quickly as you’d moved forwards.

you stare at him for a few moments, swallowing all the courage you’d just worked up.

‘..now you know,’ giving him a meek smile before walking back to your room. you lean back against the door, heart beating a million miles an hour.

-

a repetitive banging sound forces you awake in the morning. hissing as the sounds of an extremely dramatic moan get louder. high-pitched and obviously put on.

it takes a moment for you to realise just where the noise is coming from. eddie’s room backs onto yours. the headboard colliding with the wall at an alarming pace.

you stumble out of bed, throwing on an old dirty sweater and groggily making your way into the living room.

steve sits slumped over the table, looking particularly miserable this morning. despite what had happened last night. you wondered if he’d told robin who sat scowling at the door. steam practically coming out of her ears.

her eyes widen as you appear in the doorway, rubbing the residual sleep from your eyes, eyes flitting between your frame and the wooden door.

‘well shit, i was about to cuss you out,’ she remarks, astonished that you were stood in front of her.

steve’s whole face brightens when he realises you’re stood in front of him and not in the room making those god-awful, oscar worthy noises.

‘if that’s not you.. who the fuck is in there?’ robin gasps, now utterly bemused by the entire situation.

you shrug, choosing the seat opposite steve, making brief eye contact and flashing him a small smile. would he bring up last night? or was it never to be spoken about again?

relief is written all over his face. obviously under the impression that you’d made up with eddie at some point in the night. not once checking that you were in your room.

‘jesus christ i’m gonna kill him,’ robin fumes, sipping on a mug of coffee. her eyes are narrowed, attempting to set the room ablaze with her mind.

‘it won’t last long,’ you add, reaching over to steal a slice of steve’s buttered toast. he lets you, obviously. letting out a soft snort at your joke.

‘nothing is that good,’ robin shakes her head.

the noises quieten, a shrill giggle coming from the hallway as a scantily clad blonde appears in the doorway, closely followed by eddie, sporting a pair of boxers that hid absolutely nothing.

‘that way,’ he groans, guiding the smiling woman away towards the bathroom. his eyes momentarily meeting yours, total venom behind his glare.

robin jumps up, splashing coffee over the floor, ‘don’t you dare think about fucking in my bathroom,’ she warns, chasing after the odd couple.

you can hear an altercation as presumably eddie slams the bathroom door on robin, her fists pounding against the wood, hollering about her new bath mat.

steve glances at you, searching your face for any type of reaction. he doesn't find anything, instead you smile softly as robin re-enters the room, cursing at the bastard freak. she grabs her bag, slinging it onto her shoulder before stomping over to the door.

'i'm going out, let me know when he's done with his weird exhibitionist routine,' slamming the door as she exits, the poorly built walls shaking as she does.

there's a faint sound of running water, obviously coming from the bathroom, closely followed by a series of questionable grunts and groans. you choose to try and block it out, though engaging in conversation with steve at this very moment seemed almost too awkward.

'did you tell robin?' you pipe up, playing with your fingernails as you just about meet his gaze.

'uh.. yeah,' he grimaces slightly, 'i-i just thought.. well i thought that was you this morning, i was.. confused,' apologetic for his blunder.

you nod, 'i don't care.. i just wanna prepare for the inevitable grilling i'm gonna get,' chuckling in an attempt to ease the tension. it works as his lips curl into a small, playing with the discarded crusts on his plate.

the god-awful noises from the bathroom worsen and your eyes are pulled from steve, looking towards the cause. perhaps this was eddie's way of making you jealous. revenge for choosing to go home and not put up with his drunken assholery.

-

you’re sat tracing patterns into the velvet fabric of the sofa, practically shaking as you wait for steve to get back from campus.

he was your friend for fuck sake. why was this so nerve wracking? ask him to hang out, if he says no then so be it. you’ll deal with the awkwardness of your shared kiss alongside eddie’s misguided anger.

he’s later than you’d expected. becoming far too engrossed in the random soap opera on the tv when he does eventually get back. almost forgetting about what you’d got yourself so worked up over.

‘hey,’ waving his fingers as he comes in.

christ, he almost seemed more nervous than you were.

‘hey,’ not wanting to jump down his throat the second he walked in the door, turning the tv off and running your palms down the sofa.

‘spoken to eddie?’ he asks curiously, slinging his bag from his shoulder and slumping down next to you on the couch.

‘nah.. he went out this morning and hasn’t been back,’ you shrug, wishing that he wouldn’t have just bought that prick up.

he nods, looking down at his jeans, finding a loose thread to play with.

‘would yo-,’

‘d’ya wanna-,’

you both start at the same time, stopping to let him continue except he’d done the same thing. sitting in the silence for a brief moment.

you chuckle nervously, ‘sorry, what were you saying?’

‘i was just gonna ask if you wanted to.. maybe do something tonight? if- if you’re not busy,’ shrugging it off, trying his hardest to play it cool.

‘oh,’ laughing softly, the pair of you were like nervy teenagers, comical, ‘i was gonna ask you the same thing.. yeah i’d love to.’

steve grins, transported back to freshman year of high school, trying to find the gall to ask tammy thompson to the fucking movies. it all seemed so childish, innocent, the way you melted around each other.

‘okay.. i’ll get changed, give me five,’ he nods, leaping from the sofa and speeding off to his room.

you bite down onto your bottom lip, trying to contain your smile. kicking yourself for the adolescent excitement it gave you.

-

the bar was packed for a wednesday night, steve shouldering his way through the crowd with you following closely behind. not brave enough to cling onto his hand, wrapping your fingers around his forearm instead.

‘jesus christ,’ he exclaims when he finds a spot just about big enough for you both to stand. you were close. closer than you’d ever been. at least in public.

you hold onto the glass bottle he’d passed you from the bar, ‘d’ya wanna go somewhere else?’

‘what?’ he shouts, the music too loud to hear you properly.

you lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear, the feeling makes your heart pound, ‘you wanna go somewhere else?’

placing his hand on your arm so he could shout back, the mixture of his cologne and beer filling your nose. it was intoxicating, making your head giddy.

‘i’m good if you are,’ wisps of his hair sweeping against your cheek.

you nod, beaming up at him as you take a swig of the harsh beer. the crowd seemingly disappearing from around you as his eyes focus on you, his own smile overcoming his face.

-

okay, perhaps you’d had a little too much to drink. but a little dutch confidence never hurt anyone.

you’re definitely not complaining when you grab his hand on the way out of the bar, quickly intertwining your fingers as he weaves his way to the door. still as packed as when you’d got there.

you giggle as he trips over the step coming into the bar, sending you flying into his back as he regains his balance.

his hand is quick to steady you, resting on your waist. the street light illuminating the gleam of his eyes, slightly glossy from the multiple beers he’d sunk inside.

a drunk student roars past you, snapping you out of the moment, steve’s hand still lingering on your waist. something that would’ve never happened if he were sober.

‘shall we go home?’ you ask, not breaking from his gaze.

he nods, moving his hand to offer it out for you to grab. leading you over to an empty cab, leaning through the front window to talk to the driver.

the drive home is heavy with tension. sitting in silence as steve makes polite conversation with the driver, fingers still wrapped around yours. heart thumping as you near your street.

the apartment dark and silent when you get in, the only light coming from the old fairy lights robin had hung around the room. there’s no hesitation, your hands grabbing his cheeks, smashing your lips to his the second the front door closes.

it takes a moment for him to realise what was happening, hands quickly finding solace on the small of your back when it clicks properly. it’s greedy and desperate, tongue sliding into his mouth, wanting to touch every inch of him.

hands sliding down his chest, grabbing at the fabric, his leg slotting between yours, guiding you backwards. straight into the coffee table with a bang.

you spring apart, eyeing eddie’s room cautiously, saying a silent prayer and hoping he didn’t come out.

steve’s eager to resume, eyes hungry as they flit between eddie’s door and your face.

you pull back completely, taking your lip between your teeth and hooking your finger around his pinky, leading the way to his bedroom. it was the furthest away from eddie’s and made the most sense.

he shuts the door gently, flicking the small bedside lamp on, illuminating the obvious tent in his jeans. your mouth falling open at the sight of it, rubbing your thighs together to try and satiate the growing throbbing.

you’re quick to resume the kiss, moving on him swiftly, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. he collapses backwards onto the bed, your body falling on top of his chest, hands caressing his cheeks.

the next moment you find yourself underneath steve, pressed into the mattress as he holds himself above you. eager hands finding the short hem of your skirt and sliding underneath on the soft skin of your thighs. you had never seen him move with such confidence before, normally a little shy in the way he carried himself.

his finger hooks into the waistband of your lacy panties, tugging them down to your thighs. his growing erection digging into your core with every movement. moaning into his mouth when his finger begins circling your sensitive clit. this had definitely killed any and all assumptions that he was a virgin.

it’s as if he had been waiting for this very moment for his entire life, sliding his fingers between your folds and into your already soaking hole, your mouth falling from his as your head rolls back onto the pillow.

‘oh my god,’ a breathy moan escaping from your lips as his fingers pump in and out, his other hand causing a dip in the pillow next to your head.

his fingers slip out of you and begin to unbuckle his belt, barely getting them down and around his legs before his cock springs up. bigger than you ever could’ve imagined, mouth hung open as your peer down between your bodies.

your shirt is pulled off over your head so quickly you weren’t sure if you had blinked, landing on the floor alongside his with a soft thunk.

you draw your eyes back up to meet his once more, ‘you’re sure?’ he reaffirms, pupils dilated, wetting his lips with his pink tongue.

‘so sure,’ nodding encouragingly underneath him, readjusting your legs to loosely wrap around his torso. you’d never been more sure of anything in your life.

he returns the nod, positioning himself at your sopping entrance and without breaking eye contact he slides in with a sharp intake of breath. you can’t contain the whimper that collects in your throat, the stretch of his cock taking you by surprise. the sting felt good, like he was always supposed to be there between your legs.

he’s still, waiting for your encouragement to move. you give it in the form of a squeeze on the back of his neck, clinging on to the skin as his hips move slowly. low, hungry grunts roll from his lips, the bed frame creaking in time with his thrusts.

‘fuck,’ you breathe out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth acutely aware that eddie was only a few doors away and could definitely hear the happenings in the room. even if you could manage to stifle yourself, the undeniable sounds of skin against skin would expose you.

‘is that- is that good?’ steve mumbles, moving slow but hitting deep, nudging against your soft spot, already hurtling you towards your orgasm.

‘jesus christ.. yes, yes,’ beginning to buck your hips back against him, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach. finger nails leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin as tears prick in your eyes.

steve groans as his heavy balls slap against the back of your thighs, pushing himself fully inside, ‘i’m not.. hmph.. not gonna last long,’ arm beginning to buckle with the weight of him.

you clench around him as your high topples over at his words, burying your face into the pillow next to you. unable to withhold the high pitched wail from leaving your mouth, barely managing to muffle the sound.

his rhythm falters, hips slamming into yours for the last few desperate pumps before he pulls himself out. thick ropes of cum spurting out and onto his hand. and the bed. and your thigh. crying out as his chest heaves above you.

‘holy shit,’ his arm gives way and he ends up next to you on the mattress, panting for air as he reaches for a dirty shirt on the floor, using the first thing he could find to clean off his hand.

you turn your head to face him, a lazy smile on your face as he offers the shirt out to you, mouthing a small sorry.

he throws it to the other side of the room, running a hand over his damp face, ‘i uh.. i last way longer normally,’ bashful and doubting his performance. it was only because it was you.

‘steve,’ you smile, grabbing his blanket to pull over your body, ‘don’t do that,’ seeing the shy boy from once before, you much preferred the steve from earlier.. confident and sure of himself.

‘yeah.. sorry,’ his lips curling into a soft smile, turning his body towards yours, arm snaking out to pull you closer, clammy palm resting on the small of your back.

you giggle quietly in response, settling in to your new position, sharing the blanket with him.

your eyes don’t leave each other’s as he begins to babble about something from the bar, clinging onto your skin as if you were somehow going to slip away.

-

you hadn’t even realised that you’d fallen asleep in steve’s room.

so when eddie comes in unannounced in the early morning, you thank your lucky stars that you’re facing the wall with steve’s body hiding yours. shoving your face into the pillow to hide yourself, hair sprawled around you, helping your case.

‘yo.. bro,’ he whispers, stepping into the room and over a pile of clothes, ‘good night?’ he cocks his eyebrow at steve as he turns around, glaring at the interruption.

‘uh.. yeah yeah,’ steve panics, realising what eddie had walked into and the chaos that’d ensue if he figured it out, his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

‘sounded like it,’ eddie chuckles, shaking his boot to rid it of the discarded shirt on the floor, ‘look, have you got ten bucks? i can give it back tomorrow,’ he bargains, smiling at steve.

‘yeah.. yeah, my wallet’s on the desk,’ steve nods towards the desk, adjusting himself to make sure he was covering you when eddie stomps over to the desk.

ten dollars was a worthy sacrifice to not have to deal with eddie’s temper tantrum in the morning. it wasn’t like he’d never find out. just not now.

‘thanks bro.. i’ll get it back to you tomorrow, hey,’ eddie rubs his stubbly face, ‘d’you know if dickhead’s in? i knocked but, uh.. no answer,’ quite obviously referring to you.

you have to resist the urge to sit up and cuss him out.

‘uhh.. no, no idea sorry,’ steve shakes his head apologetically, lying through his teeth.

‘alright well, have fun,’ wiggling his eyebrows as he exits, closing the door softly.

you exhale when the door clicks shut, though you stay in the same position, not entirely convinced he’s not stood outside the door listening.

‘don’t speak,’ you mouth to steve, who looks wearily at you until the front door closes and you fully turn to face him.

‘jesus christ,’ you breathe, ‘he doesn’t knock?’

‘usually he does.. i bet he wanted to see who was in here,’ his arm twitches, unsure of whether to keep clinging on to your waist or to remove it.

‘i mean,’ you shrug, ‘he’ll found out eventually, right?’ it was inevitable, especially as you were living together.

‘i s’pose.. you don’t care?’ taken aback by your nonchalance towards the situation.

‘not really.. i just don’t think he needs to know, not yet,’ you croak, he had literally just banged another chick practically right in front of you. any guilt you may have felt about the situation had disappeared.

‘yeah,’ he gives you a tired smile, nuzzling his head into the pillow, all soft and sweet.

‘i dunno about you but i’m going back to sleep, until at least lunch,’ your hand running along the curve of his bicep, mere inches away from each other.

he hums in response, his lingering arm pulling your waist closer, eyes drooping as sleep takes over.

-

you’re awoken again by the slam of the front door, robin leaving for work. letting steve know that everyone in the apartment could hear your late night activities.

steve grumbles, complaining about her heavy-handedness. you leer over at the alarm clock, wanting to get out of steve’s room before eddie gets back from work, making sure there were no possible chances of awkward questions this afternoon.

‘shit,’ you hiss, climbing over his still half-asleep body and grabbing whatever t-shirt you could find, pulling it on over your head, ‘eddie’s back in like five.. i’m gonna get out of here now, saves the aggro..,’ slipping into your discarded underwear.

‘right.. good idea,’ he mumbles, one arm folded underneath his pillow as he comes to fully.

you sprint out of there and into the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cereal when eddie strolls through the door, whistling some tune to himself. he glances at you before taking a seat at the cluttered dining table.

you don’t say a word, discarding your plan to sit at the table and instead tucking in to your cereal on the counter, pretending to read some flyer.

‘where were you last night?’ he asks, leaning back on the chair to get a full view of you, ‘i knocked on your door but..’ narrowing his eyes.

‘i was probably fuckin’ asleep,’ shoving another spoonful of cereal into your mouth, making brief eye contact with the man.

he squints, trying to figure out why that shirt was so fucking familiar. was it his? were you wearing his shirt in some weird goading way?

steve emerges from his room, shirtless and running a hand from his messy hair. eddie’s eyes flit between the shirt and steve. cogs slowly turning in his brain.

no. no the shirt wasn’t his.

it was the fucking shirt he’d kicked off of his foot when he’d stormed into steve’s room this morning. same boring design printed on the front.

on you.

from steve’s floor.

the night after steve had, very loudly, had a female friend over.

you’re oblivious, focussing on your bowl of soggy cornflakes as steve clatters around behind you. making his own bowl. neither of you looking at each other, making everything ten times more obvious.

‘you’re fuckin’ joking,’ he loudly proclaims, standing from the table, nearly sending the chair flying backwards.

your head shoots up, confused by what he had seemingly angered himself over now, ‘what?’ eyebrows knitted together as he storms over, mouth hung open in disbelief.

‘you fucked him?’ jabbing his finger at steve, ‘my best friend?’ arms flying around in anger.

you look to steve for some help, eddie positively fuming, his jaw clenched at your lack of an answer. in fact, your reaction, or lack thereof, had only solidified everything.

‘no,’ you eventually croak, ‘i- we-, that wasn’t me,’ stuttering for some excuse, though you know he didn’t buy a word of it.

eddie’s face twists up in a mix of anger and hurt, eyes glossing over as his lips tremble, ‘eddie-,’ steve begins, cut off as eddie storms out of the tiny kitchen, grabbing his wallet from the table and pausing when he opens the front door.

‘you deserve each other,’ he snarls before disappearing, shaking the walls with his violent slam of the door.

you stare at steve in silent disbelief, dropping the spoon into your discarded bowl. you’d predicted his reaction to go something along the lines of that, just not expecting it so soon. hoping to have prepared a solid speech in the meantime.

‘shit.’

‘it’s okay.. h-he was gonna find out eventually.. he’ll calm down,’ steve tries to soothe you, well aware that eddie held onto his anger, let it simmered until it all bubbled over and some poor soul got the brunt of months of rage.

you want to feel bad, feel guilty but when steve’s hand sits on top of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, it vanishes. his chestnut eyes providing a sense of comfort you’d never felt before.

-

you were used to eddie being out. missing in action for days on end. but by the fourth day of him not coming back to the apartment, the pit in your stomach starts to worsen.

the guilt had caught up to you, as if you were the one who had shoved him out of the door. you had, in a metaphorical sense.

the first few days were, nice. though you felt worse for even feeling that. but, you’d been hanging out with steve more. it was different to before, getting to know his personal quirks, the things that made him tick. something you would’ve brushed off before.

you were friends, sure. you hadn’t really had the opportunity to get to know him like this before. it would’ve felt like some sort of betrayal to eddie. even though in some ways the way it had come about now was much worse.

on the fifth day, you’re sat on the couch with steve. picking the hangnail from your finger, wincing as it started to bleed.

‘d’you think he might’ve gone home?’ you ask, looking up at steve who was spaced out next to you.

they were from the same small town, had started out sharing classes in high school and had since been friends. admittedly growing apart when you’d come into the picture. you’d heard stories from the others about how close they used to be, never apart, according to jonathan.

‘i dunno.. he hates hawkins,’ steve shrugs, seeing the worry spread across your face, ‘but i could call his uncle? see if he’s there?’

you nod, thumb in your mouth trying to pull off more of the sore skin. he gets up to grab his phone, already dialling the number when he comes back into the room.

‘hey! wayne.. it’s steve- yeah yeah, i’m good man.. i was just wondering if eddie was there? oh no, uh- well.. we haven’t heard from him in a few days, y’know what he’s like… sure, thanks man,’ clicking the button and ending the call.

he looks over at you, a pitying look on his face as he shakes his head no.

‘i’m sure he’s alright.. he’s dramatic, you know that,’ he collapses onto the couch, this time closer than before, nudging your elbow with a weak smile.

you were well versed with eddie’s dramatic personality. having dealt with his temper tantrums and storm outs for years now. though, it had never seemed this bad before.

realistically, you knew he was probably crashing on a friend’s sofa. overstaying his welcome and partying too much. he was likely coming down from some insane party as you sat thinking about him.

‘i just.. feel bad,’ you whisper, leaning into steve’s side. his arm reaches around to your shoulder, rubbing softly against your arm.

‘i know..i do too,’ he admits, you and eddie hadn’t been a romantic thing. not even really a thing, if you were being honest. it was sex and partying, getting completely trashed and using each other in an attempt to fill the void inside of you both.

but steve and eddie had been friends for years now. they’d argued over the stupidest shit but never something like a girl. steve had had to genuinely weigh up whether his friendship with eddie was worth losing.

if eddie couldn’t get over it, would steve be able to repress his feelings for you? or would he be fine with losing eddie if it meant that you were together?

when robin gets back from work, she narrows her eyes at the two of you curled up against each other, ‘is this gonna be a regular thing?’

‘would you have a problem with it if it was?’ you ask, watching as she dumps her back and slumps on the empty seat.

‘oh no, i’m just thinking about how much peace and quiet i’ll get if you and eddie aren’t screaming at each other every day,’ kicking her doc martens from her feet and leaning into the cushions.

‘if he comes back,’ you remind her.

she hadn’t really seemed too fazed when he’d stormed out. thankful for no more early morning wake up calls from his wooden bed frame. but you can tell that even she was beginning to feel at least a tiny bit worried.

‘he still not called?’

you shake your head, ‘no one’s seen him, he’s not home.. i guess we’ve just gotta wait til he’s calmed down,’ shrugging, more so trying to convince yourself rather than her.

no matter what, eddie had a special place in your heart. even if it wasn’t love in the romantic sense, there was too much there to disregard that. he was your best friend at one point, how could you?

it’s another five days of fretting and concern before you hear a word from him. your phone rings in the middle of the night and you sit up, feeling along the nightstand for the buzzing plastic. an unrecognised number.

‘hello?’ you speak into the receiver.

steve stirs, waking up at the sound of your voice. admittedly, you’d been sleeping in his bed. sharing kisses and late-night chats about just about everything. it all felt very quick, but just right. like now that’d you’d both realised that you could have this, that anything other than this felt wrong.

‘hi,’ eddie’s voice rings out, recognisable even through the phone.

‘eddie? you’re okay? where are you?’ you babble, steve sits up at the mention of his name.

‘i’m uh- with my dad, i just, listen.. i need you to bring me some shit.. we’re going away and i’ve got nothing with me,’ his voice crackles and you can hear him shift around in the payphone box.

‘what? you’re going where? where are you?’ baffled, unsure if you were still asleep and not understanding him.

‘away, i’m staying in porter.. look, can you do it?’

‘eddie that’s-,’ but you stop yourself, ‘yeah, sure.. when?’

‘tomorrow, i just need some clothes, my watch and my savings.. they’re under my mattress.. tiny box, you’ll see it,’ he rushes, running out of minutes.

‘o-okay, where shall i meet you? i don’t know it well,’ you garble, nodding at steve when he mouths a confused porters?

‘little bar called sam’s.. i’ll be in there, i’ve gotta go, this thing’s running out,’ he sighs, muttering a small, ‘thank you,’ before the line goes dead.

‘he’s at the fucking beach.. wants me to drop some shit for him.. he said he’s with his dad? i-i thought his dad left..?’

‘he did,’ steve looks puzzled, taking the phone from your clutch and looking at the withheld number, trying to figure out if he could call it back, ‘he left years ago..’

-

eddie’s smile falters when he notices that you’d bought steve and robin along. steve dropping your hand the second his eyes meet eddie’s.

‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ the chair scraping the wooden floor as he stands abruptly.

the man you can only assume is his dad looks over, gripping onto the beer bottle, eyes flitting between his son and your trio.

‘eddie.. i asked them to, we wanted to know if you were okay,’ your voice shakes, frowning when he scowls at you. you’ve pissed him off, again.

‘i called you because i trusted you, not him,’ he spits, walking over to where you were stood by the door, ‘where’s my shit?’

‘it’s in the car,’ quickly coming up with a lie, trying to keep him talking for as long as possible, ‘i need to talk to you.. before you.. leave,’ you pout, trying to get him away from his dad.

‘about?’ he hits back harshly, still upset that you’d even dared to bring steve along.

‘about.. everything,’ you exhale shakily, ‘give me five minutes, please.’

he looks back at his dad who checks his watch before shrugging. he couldn’t give a less of a shit as long he got this promised money.

‘fine,’ he says through gritted teeth, storming past a gormless steve and robin and exiting the restaurant.

you glance at steve before following him out, not sure how much longer you could convince him you’d bought everything he’d asked for.

he’s already lighting up a cigarette when you reach the street, perched against the windowsill in days-old clothes. he looked a mess. even worse than his usual gritty self. eye-bags and a sunken face to match.

you breathe out, how do you even start a conversation like this? sorry i fucked your best friend but i actually really like him was probably not the best way to go about it.

‘i’m sorry,’ seemed like the best place to start, ‘it wasn’t fair to you.. what i- we did.. i can’t tell you how shit it makes me feel.. to know that i hurt you.’

he blows the smoke out of his mouth, expressionless, ‘okay.’

is that it? after his great big performance that was all he could say?

‘what?’

‘i said, okay.. what d’you expect me to do? start crying and begging you to love me?’ scoffing as he takes a long draw of the cigarette. his eyes cold, merciless as he glares at you.

‘you ran away.. made everyone worried sick about you.. and all you can say is okay?’

he shrugs, ‘i’m over it.. you’re welcome to each other,’ stubbing the cigarette out on the brick wall, stepping closer to you.

your mouth opens and shuts, flabbergasted by his stinking attitude, ‘shout at me, scream.. fuck- hit me if you want to.. stop pretending like you don’t care.. because i know you eddie munson and i know you do.’

his eyes narrow, intimidating as he towers above, ‘i don’t give a shit, you’re only upset because you want me to.. that’s too bad,’ his adam’s apple bobs, a tell-tale sign that he was lying.

your eyes search his for anything. a glimmer of weakness.

but his eyes are stern, emotionless as his brows thread together.

the door to the bar creaks open and his dad stomps out, muttering to himself, ‘c’mon son, let’s get the fuck out of here,’ replacing eddie’s spot on the windowless ledge and lighting his own cigarette.

he doesn’t break eye contact, ‘i’m gonna take a leak and then i want my shit,’ jaw tense as he barges through the door.

you squeeze your eyes shut, biting onto your bottom lip before cricking your neck. that hadn’t gone exactly to plan. now what the fuck were you gonna do when he realised you hadn’t brought the one thing he’d asked for.

‘i know what women like you do,’ his dad speaks up, taking a long drag on the cigarette, ‘you don’t get to fuck up his life and then happily move on.’

eyes springing open when you realise he’s talking to you, ‘what the fuck did you just say?’

he laughs, a deep belly-laugh, ‘you heard.’

you’d love to smash the smug look from his dirty face. knock his head into the brick wall and drag eddie kicking and screaming back to steve’s cat whether he liked it or not.

‘women like me? the only person who cares enough to drive all the way out to this shithole to save your son? is that what you meant?’ stepping up towards him, as if you were even capable of doing anything.

‘you came to rub it in.. flaunting in with pretty boy there,’ his lips snarl, ‘pathetic really, shouldn’t have bothered.’

eddie comes back out, robin and steve trailing behind, trying to converse with him but being completely blanked, ‘where’s my shit then?’

‘uh.. steve’s car,’ beckoning to where you’d parked somewhere in the distance.

steve flashes you a worried look knowing damn well there was nothing eddie could want in his car. luckily eddie doesn’t pick up on it and instead starts walking in the direction you’d motioned, expecting you all to follow.

‘why’re you in such a hurry?’ you call out from behind, trying desperately to bide time. he was certain to flip his shit the second you reached the car and he figured you’d lied to him.

‘because i want to get the fuck out of here,’ he snaps back, charging on ahead.

you walk in silence to steve’s car, nervously glancing over at steve as eddie and his disgusting pig of a father walk on ahead. steve reaches over and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze though it doesn’t really do much.

eddie’s spots the car first, striding over and peering into the windows, ‘where’s my shit then?’ turning to glare at you with a disgusted look on his face.

your mouth opens and closes, no viable excuse coming to mind, ‘eddie.. i didn’t bring anything-,’ swallowing as you gain some slight confidence, ‘i’m not letting you go with him.’

his dad completely flips, turning to his son, ‘you’re fucking useless, you know that? how the fuck d’you manage to mess this one up?’ practically foaming at the mouth.

‘dad i told her! this isn’t my fault.. we can still go.. i’ll find the cash somewhere,’ his eyes pleading with the estranged man, he had shrunk back into a scared little boy right before your eyes.

his father shoves him away, snarling at his son, ‘you think i actually want to go anywhere with you? my colossal fuck up of a son? you’re dreaming,’ positively fuming.

‘but.. dad,’ he’s almost begging now, regressing back to the night he watched his father walk out on his mom, feeling the heartache all over again.

steve steps up, getting closer to the pair, ‘you should go,’ placing his hand on the man’s arm.

he jerks his arm from steve’s grip, scoffing at you all, ‘don’t bother trying to find me again.. i don’t wanna know,’ poking his sausage finger into eddie’s chest before pulling himself away and trundling off back to the bar you’d met in.

your eyes immediately turn to eddie who was watching the man leave for the second time, tears pricking in his eyes. your chest pangs with hurt, you’d never meant for it to happen like this.

eddie speeds off in the opposite direction and you have to pull on steve’s arm to stop him from going after the boy, ‘he’ll come.. just.. give him a few minutes,’ nodding reassuringly.

steve sighs before turning to face you, ‘okay, you should go anyway.’

‘yeah.’

deciding that it had probably been enough time, you follow eddie’s path and eventually find him perched on a crumbling stoke wall, aggressively wiping his cheeks when he spots you walking over.

you sit in the empty spot next to him, staring down at the grey concrete. not wanting to break the silence and potentially piss him off more.

‘fuck,’ eddie finally breathes, sniffing and wiping his nose on his filthy sleeve. he clearly hadn’t showered in days and you wonder what on earth they could’ve possibly been doing.

‘i’m sorry,’ you croak. you weren’t just sorry for not allowing him to run off with that wretched man but for the fact that you and steve had quite obviously betrayed him.

you hear him swallow and then a rustling from his pocket. looking up to find him with a cigarette hanging onto his lip. he offers the box out to you, as he usually would.

delicately taking one from the pack and placing it in your mouth, waiting patiently for the lighter.

you sit smoking your cigarettes in the calming silence for a few minutes. gazing out at the horizon, the sky awash with all sorts of moody greys. fitting.

‘are you coming home?’ you ask quietly, standing from the wall with your hands shoved in your pockets.

eddie exhales, his eyes closing briefly before he stands, ‘yeah.. yeah let’s go,’ admitting defeat as he lets go of his dad forever, ready to put an end to his reckless escapade.

robin and steve are leaning against his car when you walk back. there had been a silent agreement to not mention it. just get in the car and go.

you sat in the back with eddie, watching as he stares out of the window, pressing his forehead against the cold glass. you move over into the middle seat, resting your head against his shoulder.

things would be alright.

-

things had been actually sorta alright. eddie had seemingly come to terms with you and steve becoming a thing. at least, if he hadn’t, he’d been keeping it to himself.

you tried to keep things respectable of course, jumping apart when he’d enter the room or going off to your own room and creeping into steve’s when eddie had gone to bed. but he wasn’t stupid. and you knew he wasn’t stupid. it just seemed better than rubbing it in his face.

things were completely different with steve and you’d felt a sense of pressure that hadn’t been present with eddie. steve was soft and kind but you couldn’t be so laidback about everything with him.

when you’d disappear at parties to split a bag with someone, he’d want to know. or when you were upset and stressed out, he’d want to know why, how he could help.

which was fair enough, obviously. it was just different. before, eddie would offer some generic advice and a spliff and be done with it. now, you were expected to actually address your issues head-on, not just bury them with sex and drink.

finals week had been harsh on all of you. the apartment in disarray as you were all working overtime to save your grade and not get kicked out of college.

you’d, perhaps a bit unfairly, taken your stress out on steve. arguing with him about menial shit that you didn’t really care about, just finding any excuse to shout and push him away.

he’d sit there and take it, offering sensible solutions and trying to resolve whatever bullshit you’d made up that day. a stark difference to eddie who would’ve screamed straight back at you.

come friday night, you’d all finished exams, sitting around the table when eddie swanned in, flapping some flyer for a party, going on about how you should all go.

‘we’re finished, free,’ he argued, pleading his case to the three of you.

robin flat-out refused, said she needed to sleep for a solid week and then she’d be ready to party. steve umm’d and ahh’d, settling on staying in but he was down to go out tomorrow.

‘i’ll go,’ you speak up, eyeing eddie from across the table, you hadn’t hung out alone yet. this would be a new feat.

‘alright,’ he shrugs, looking at steve for his permission or straight up denial of you two going alone.

steve just nods, ‘alright, call me if you need anything,’ glancing at you with an assured smile.

he wasn’t worried. not really. you’d shown him plenty of times that you loved him even despite your incessant attempts to push him away. even in the bad arguments, he’d kept his cool and waited for you to come to him, keeping everything on your terms.

you’re nervous though. you and eddie partying together had never been a good idea, egging each other on, getting utterly trashed just because he’d dare you to.

not tonight. you swore to yourself before leaving. pressing a tender kiss on steve’s lips, leaving traces of your sticky lipgloss behind.

-

eddie’s pov

it’s a little after midnight when steve gets a phone call from eddie, asking him to come and pick you up. still waking up as he walks across campus, passing countless drunk students as he finds the thumping party.

you’re incoherent on the couch, steve’s eyebrows raising expectedly as he walks into the room. eddie stood to the side watching as your arms instinctively wrap around steve’s neck. even in your drunken stupor you went straight to steve.

it fucking stings.

he looks on worriedly as steve hoists you from the couch, ‘hey man.. uh, she said some pretty weird things tonight, i dunno.. i don’t think she’s okay,’ recalling your earlier slurred words.

you hadn’t meant to, but you’d spilled everything to eddie. a tequila fuelled rant about how steve was so perfect and how bad you felt that you just weren’t. how you didn’t know how to stop pushing him away, even when you didn’t want to.

steve nods, it wasn’t like he didn’t already know you were on this self-destructive warpath. he just wasn’t sure how to tell you that you didn’t need to do this without sounding like a dick.

your arms lazily flop around his neck, laying your head against his chest as he carried you bridal style through the party and right across campus back to your apartment. eddie trailing behind in silence.

‘thanks.. for calling me,’ steve smiles as he nudges his bedroom door open just as eddie was about to disappear into his own room.

‘course,’ he nods, melancholy as he watches your fingers curl around steve’s jacket, pulling him down onto the bed with you, babbling a chorus of steve’s and love you’s as his door closes.

cursing himself for never being that soft with you. never providing that level of safety.

he lies awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. at some point he hears you tumble out of steve’s room, rushing to the bathroom and subsequently throwing up into the toilet. debating whether to hop out of his own bed and help.

but then the padding of steve’s feet make their way through the hallway, his soft voice helping you brush your teeth and get cleaned up. eddie’s assistance was unnecessary. damn, he wouldn’t have a clue what to even do.

on the occasions that you’d thrown up in the morning, eddie would’ve led in bed and laughed. called you a pussy and waited for you to crawl back to bed in a mood. he wasn’t gentle like steve. that shit came as a second nature to him but to eddie? not a touch of it.

he even hears the soft kiss he gives you on the way back to his room, your appreciative little murmur and the click of his door shutting again. 

and he wants to kick himself. scream and cry and throw a tantrum because in an ideal world, that would’ve been him.

but he can’t blame you, no matter how much he tried. it’s his fault he’s such a colossal fuck up. not yours. not steve’s. his.

he eventually gives up and moves to the couch, not getting much luck at sleeping in his bed. the suns rising when he hears snippets of your hushed conversation.

it didn’t sound angry. or even upset. just barely audible speaking’s about your feelings.

‘i know.. i don’t mean to,’ he can hear, a twinge of sadness in your tone.

‘you don’t need to.. not with me,’ steve mumbles and the blankets rustle, snapping him out of his trance.

he can hear small i love you’s and the sound of lips smacking. but then your muffled breathy moans start and the bile rises in his throat. undeniably he knew what was going on in there, everything being confirmed by the rhythmic creaking of the mattress.

and he knows what you look like. he can see it. feel it. hell, he lived for it at one point

pushes himself from the sofa and straight out of the door. not wanting to hear a second more.

-

you don’t feel as bad as expected in the morning, rough but not as bad as you should be feeling.

robin’s now ready to celebrate, steve agreeing and you almost want to hurl at the mention of going out. eddie sits in silence at the end of the table, he’d been pretty strange this morning and you’d wondered if you said something to upset him last night.

you could vaguely recall the self-pitying spiel you’d forced him to listen to. physically cringing at the fact you’d started crying and wailing about steve to him.

robin suggests having some people over, just a small thing with close friends. maybe if everyone was up for it you could all go out afterwards. that you could agree to.

she rounds the troops, calling the friend you all shared. who all agreed to get there at eight. something small and casual she repeats down the phone.

there’s a few tag-alongs, people you’d met briefly at parties or friends of friends who had been dragged along. so it wasn’t the small gathering you’d pictured with just the gang. but it was okay.

the speaker being turned to max and the living room full of people. everyone in high spirits because finals had finished and were relatively confident that they’d at least scraped a pass.

you edge through the crowd, waking over to steve who was splayed out on the couch, spliff hanging from his fingers. he grins when he sees you, opening his arms.

‘hey pretty girl,’ beckoning for you to climb onto his lap, arms snug around your waist as he passes the spliff to you, still giggling at his pet name.

eddie glowers from behind the couch, huffing before pushing himself up and storming into the kitchen. he hadn’t realised how much he’d already drank, liquor coursing through his veins.

‘watch it,’ someone exclaims when eddie barges into their arm, subsequently spilling his beer onto the boys shirt.

eddie sees red. turning to the boy and snarling as he shoves his chest, sending him to the floor.

‘what the fuck did you say?’ grabbing the boy by the collar before smashing his fist into the side of the poor boys face.

steve hears the commotion, leering over the sofa to see what the fuck was even going on. he shoves you off of his lap, running to go and grab eddie from on top of this boy.

you finally see what everyone had crowded around, watching as eddie’s fist pummels into his now bloody face. only easing when steve grabs onto his arms, gasping for breath as he’s thrown back into reality. realisation setting in about what he’d just down.

people rush to the unconscious boy, somebody screaming to call an ambulance. the music cuts out harshly, silence echoing around the room as you stare at eddie, wide-eyed. terrified.

you’d never seen him like this. so brutal, covered in someone else’s blood. his chest falls and rises, staring back at you with an equally as horrified expression. steve is saying something to him but it’s not registering. a ringing in his ears as the world crashed and burned around him.

the police turn up alongside the ambulance crew. taking statements from whoever hadn’t left and eventually cuffing eddie. muttering about crazy fucking kids and quite forcefully pulling him from the apartment.

his eyes lingering on yours as he’s guided out. steve’s arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. you’re still in disbelief, tears welling in your eyes as you remember how unforgiving and downright cruel he’d been.

‘you wanna go to bed?’ steve asks, chest vibrating with his low voice. fingers combing through your hair, in your own corner of the living room as robin and nancy attempt to clean the floor.

jonathan and argyle are picking up tiny shards of glass, not an ounce of conversation between them. all still reeling from eddie’s outburst. you were sure he was going to jail, there wasn’t any way he could possibly wriggle out of this one.

‘we should-,’ the words getting caught in your throat, ‘we need to help clean,’ pulling back to look at the state of the room, discarded cups and splatters of alcohol on the walls.

‘we’re nearly done.. you should go to bed,’ robin nods, wringing the cloth out into the sink.

even they had come to the conclusion that this was something to do with you. you and steve in particular. the way eddie’s eyes had locked onto you the second steve had pulled him off of the boy.

you knew it. he’d been frosty and unusual with you all morning. with everyone in fact.

-

eddie emerges from his room for the first time in days. looking worse for wear and feeling just as shit. the tag on his ankle restricting him from leaving the apartment freely.

he peers down at the blinking red light, mentally cursing the plastic as he drags his feet along the carpet. he can hear you and steve chatting quietly, not really able to make out what was being said.

not expecting you both to be sprawled out on the couch, your leg draped over his waist as your delicate fingers combed through his hair. the last few days had been so bleak, that he couldn’t really find it in himself to hate that you were sharing these moments with steve.

he sighs loudly, hoping to let you know he’d entered the room. not wanted to be involuntarily including in whatever may have happened next.

you sit up slightly, gazing at him stood behind the kitchen counter, ‘hey,’ it’s quiet, but he hears it. almost deciding to ignore until he remembers how much you’d doted on him and helped him recently.

‘hi,’ but he doesn’t look back, staring into the empty fridge, waiting for something to materialise. but it doesn’t.

‘when’s your court date?’

the words sear in his ear, an unwelcome subject.

‘next tuesday,’ deciding upon a swig of milk straight from the carton, not exactly the five-course meal he was hoping for.

‘okay well, we were.. we’re gonna come, y’know.. for support,’ your eyes are unrelenting, following him around the kitchen.

‘don’t bother, i’m pleading innocent,’ completely monotonous in his response.

he’d already argued with the state provided lawyer about this. a shoddy man who could not care less whether eddie went down or not, just wanting to cash his cheque at the end of it all.

the balding man had called him stupid, ‘there are multiple witnesses.. plead guilty and they’ll probably pity you n’ slap you with some community service or summit.. don’t be stupid son.’

you scoff, using steve’s chest as leverage as you sit up properly, ‘you’re joking? right?’

his eyes finally meet yours, thumping his fists on the marble counter, ‘i am innocent,’ no one could understand where he was coming from, not even the man who was being paid to at least pretend to care and understand.

‘you beat the shit out of him, eddie.. you broke his fucking jaw,’ your eyes are wide, looking at him like he’s an idiot- which he was, but not about this.

‘i was provoked, self defence,’ he says in all serious. he was frustrated, lashed out but at the end of it all, the guy had bashed him first.

‘wh- because he accidentally knocked into you? you really must be fucking stupid.. what are you thinking?’

eddie notices steve, or what he could see of him, tense up, obviously not wanting to anger the violent monster eddie had become in so many people’s eyes.

‘it’s my choice.. i was fucking provoked, saw some stupid shit.. that’s not my fault,’ relinquishing the blame to you.

in his eyes, if he hadn’t seen the disgusting display of affection, he probably wouldn’t have fucked up that boy. but he had, and that wasn’t his fault. so how was he guilty?

‘you’re ridiculous.. i actually can’t believe you,’ your eyes full of disappointment.

the way your face falls, eyes narrowed and sharp as knives makes his heart twist. genuine hurt flashed on your face. almost paralleling the horrified expression you’d held as he was cuffed and dragged away.

‘it’s my decision, i wouldn’t expect you to know a thing about what it’s like to be me,’ kicking the fridge door closed with a loud thump.

you disappear from his sight, flopping back down onto steve’s chest with an exasperated sigh. he rolls his eyes before stomping off into his bedroom. his mood probably wouldn’t be so terrible if he could just leave this godforsaken apartment.

actually, why shouldn’t he? if you were so certain that he was going to jail anyway, what harm was there in going out? fuck it.

so he gets dressed, pulling his denim jacket on and spritzing himself with aftershave. he’d worry about the tag later, surely one of his buddies would have something to hack it off with. hopefully with minimal damage to his leg.

you don’t even look up from steve’s eyes when he comes back out, having had enough of his idiotic attitude for the day.

‘woah, where are you go-,’ steve starts before being cut off with the front door shutting, he was gone, without so much of a look back.

jogging down the stairs and out of this suffocating hellhole.

-

it doesn’t take long for the police to show up, banging their fists on the door and red in the face with anger.

they grilled you and steve for what felt like hours. making sure you hadn’t helped in his escape. tearing his room apart for some sort of clue to where he’d gone.

‘we found the tag at a location not far from here.. could anyone be hiding him? he’s in serious trouble.. we need anything you’ve got,’ the officer pleads, frustrated with having to deal with this bullshit on a thursday night. you don’t blame him.

you shake your head, ‘no.. i-i mean, there’s a few bars down on main but our friends aren’t stupid enough to help him.’

any previous feelings of worry had disappeared, replaced with frustration. you weren’t prepared to spend your whole life trying to find eddie every time he decided to run away. he so obviously didn’t give a shit about what you thought, it was a waste of energy at this point.

the officer sighs, ‘right, well you let us know if he gets in contact or comes back here,’ rummaging in his pocket for a small bit of card, ‘that’s my personal number.. call me straight away.’

you nod, thumbing the glossy card and flopping back onto the couch. steve shows them out, closing the door softly after they leave. he gives you a look, full of pity. he doesn’t say a thing but you know what he’s thinking.

‘i’m done,’ holding your hands up, ‘he can get himself out of this one.. i don’t care anymore,’ surrendering completely.

he nods, looking as just as tired as you felt. sometimes you forget that this isn’t just between you and eddie, steve is right in the middle of it all too, staying quiet and holding back for eddie’s sake.

you’d tried to be courteous and thoughtful with eddie. pulling away from steve when he’d enter the room, trying not to be so overly affectionate in front of him. you felt like maybe you owed him that for how you’d gone about it, but why?

not once had he ever shown interest in being with you romantically, he was the one that’d explicitly said that you and him were friends with some added benefits. screw him.

‘you hungry? i wanna get out of here,’ pushing yourself from the couch and throwing your arms around steve’s waist, cheek squished against his chest.

‘i could eat,’ returning the hug, swaying slightly as his hands roam around your back.

-

eddie’s pov

eddie checks his phone for the umpteenth time.

no new notifications

he was anticipating at least something from you by now. hell, even a pathetic hi would’ve sufficed. the man wasn’t dumb, choosing to hole himself up in gareth’s basement with a six-pack rather than hitting the main spots.

he questions whether the dinghy, dark basement was any better than the confines of the room he’d escaped. supposing that you and steve weren’t next door, anything would be better.

he debates just calling you first. curious to know why you hadn’t called. maybe after the next beer. or maybe now. fuck it, it’s already dialling.

it rings and rings, becoming increasingly concerned with your well-being.

‘what?’ your voice rings out after the fifth or sixth ring.

he’s taken aback, ‘hello to you too,’ taking another swig of beer, his knees pulled up to his chest.

‘what d’you want?’

christ. you really weren’t falling for it this time.

‘nothin’.. just expected to hear from you by now, that’s all.’

he can hear the eye roll through the phone, your tiny almost inaudible little tut, ‘i’m not saving you this time.’

‘i didn’t ask you to.’

‘so why’d you call then? i’m busy.’

‘you with steve?’ he doesn’t even know why he asked, of course you were.

‘yeah, i am.. is that what you wanted to hear? or were you hoping i was out searching for you with the police?’

ouch. you’d called him out. figured out his silly game and threw it straight back in his face.

‘i didn’t- you just had to rub it in, didn’t you?’ anger rising in his throat, ‘you always do.’

‘you think i’m doing this to make you jealous? this isn’t about you anymore.. you need to get over yourself,’ you sigh, empathetic about the harsh words that’d just spilled out, ‘i love him, eddie.. you’re gonna have to deal with that.’

and with that the phone clicks. you’d hung up. you had hung up on him, no grovelling or pleading for him to come back home. that was it. the harsh truth and now he had to just sit with it.

his head falls back against the cold brick, staring up at the damp covered ceiling, weighing up his options. he knew he’d fucked up. best case scenario, he’d get a couple extra months on his sentence. worst case, they’d throw the book at him for wasting their time.. not to mention the already hefty sentence for the assault.

you had completely and utterly exhausted yourself trying to support him and even you had had enough. he only had himself to blame for that. maybe jail would be a good thing? he could get his head straight.. get over you, maybe even find some purpose in his life.

he pulls another beer from the pack, cracking it open and taking a long swig. exhaling as the bitter liquid seeps down his throat. there was only one way out of this fucked situation and he knew that.

-

eddie perks up when he hears your key in the door, sat on the couch for what seemed like hours waiting for you both to get back.

your face drops the instant you see him, gripping onto steve’s hand as you walk into the dimly lit living room.

eddie stands, holding up his hands, ‘i’m gonna hand myself in.. i just-,’ he exhales deeply, ‘i wanted to say goodbye,’ jaw tense as he looms between you and steve.

‘you are? do you want me to call the sheriff? i- he gave me his number..’

‘no, no.. i’m gonna go down there.. it’s easier,’ eddie motions towards the door, shaking his head.

you stand dumbfounded for a second before nodding slowly, chewing on the inside of your cheek, ‘it’s the right thing to do..’ the lump in your throat growing as you look back at the pathetic man in front of you.

steve gives him a weak smile, patting his hand on your arm. there’s a brief moment of silence. the three of you all staring back at one another in awe of the fucked up mess you’d wound up in.

‘c’mere,’ steve motions to eddie, walking over to the boy with arms outstretched. he pulls him into a bear hug, clapping his palm on eddie’s back.

from the look on eddie’s face squished against steve’s shoulder you can tell he needed it, ‘i’ll miss you man..’ he breathes into his best friend’s sweater.

‘we’ll come and visit.. you’re not getting rid of me that easy,’ his laugh is shaky as he pulls away, smiling proudly at his friend.

you stand slightly behind steve, watching on with tears brimming in your eyes. even though steve had tried to reassure you, you couldn’t help but feel so guilty that this had ultimately all happened because of you.

eddie walks over slowly, throwing his arms around your body, gripping his fingers into your arms knowing that this may very well be the last time he ever got to hold you like this.

your arms cling around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest, ‘i’m proud of you..’ was all you managed to croak out, tears wetting his dirty t-shirt.

he sniffs, swallowing the lump in his throat, ‘thank you.. for everything,’ because truly, you were the only person to never give up on him, even if he had made it incredibly difficult for you.

you lift your head off of his chest, staring up at him with sodden cheeks, bottom lip quivering as you let go of him. both physically and emotionally.

he puffs his cheeks out, wiping his face with the back of his hand before clearing his throat and nodding at the pair of you, ‘you take care of her..’ eyebrow raised.

‘aye aye captain,’ steve gives him a tight lipped smile and a half-assed salute, watching as the man he had grown up with walked out of the apartment, head held high and a newfound spring in his step.

the end of the beginning.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #steve harrington smut

[pedge-stuff]

it's not that kind of cold shower (pedro x gn/m!reader)

a/n: POLL RESULTS ARE IN... and this was the result! would y'all still be interested in a "pedro takes care of sick reader" fic, too?

(this story specifically comes at the request of two anons, who requested bathing/showering while sick, and emetophobia. I don't have much experience on the latter, so I apologize if it's incorrect??)

you knowwwwww it had to be the Dieter pic, tho.

as always, same vague universe as “marked.” drop a line if you have a sug.

summary: 2am on the bathroom floor.

——————————————————————————————————

You wake up alone.

This doesn’t register, at first. You roll over, running a hand over your face as you blearily open your eyes. You’ve gotten used to having a bed to yourself, with Pedro’s current production schedule. (Although the dogs always end up migrating from the foot of the bed in the middle of the night.)

Except, the bed beside you is still a little warm. Pedro is home— has been home, for two days now. He took a car straight from the Disney lot to LAX, and was on a flight to JFK about three hours after the voice work for Mando wrapped. Something about “needing to see his boy,” which he swore was Edgar, with a wink and a kiss blown over Facetime.

The room is dark, still, and quiet. But as you sit up, a sliver of light becomes noticeable under the crack of the bathroom door. You blink the last dredges of sleep away, waiting for him to finish his middle-of-the-night pee. It’s nice, having him here. Waking up beside him always kinda feels like a luxury; you savor it while you have it. His next job— some stupid commercial for a game on an app? He explained it twice but neither of you really understand it— doesn’t start until the end of the month. If you fall asleep before he finishes peeing, you’ll miss an opportunity to fall asleep wrapped around him. These are sacred in their scarcity, at the moment.

Except, the toilet never flushes. After a few long moments, you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

A quiet knock yields nothing. Frowning, you gently push the door open.

Knees to his chest, head propped backwards on the edge of the tub, Pedro is lying on the bathroom floor. His eyes are squeezed shut against the fluorescents.

“Baby,” you whisper, “Pedge, what’s going on?” You kneel down, rubbing a gentle thumb over his kneecap. He’s just in a t-shirt and boxers, the cold tile leaving his exposed calves littered with pinprick goosebumps.

Without opening his eyes, Pedro grimaces. “I dunno,” he says quietly, in a rasp that makes you wince. “Woke up feeling like this.”

“Nauseous?”

The muscle of his jaw twitches. “Hate throwing up.”

“I know, love, I’m sorry.” You bring your hand upwards, carding a few fingers through his hair before palming his forehead. Alarmed, you brush it with the back of your hand, as well. “You’re really burning up, Pedro, Jesus.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows reflexively, but says nothing. Then swallows again.

You reach for the closed lid of the toilet, before returning to your feet. “If you need to throw up, throw up. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Busying yourself with filling a glass by the sink, you purposefully don’t look, attempting to give him some privacy. But he doesn’t move. Barely lifts his head up, when you offer the water. A sheen of sweat glistens on hollow of his throat, and the collar of his sleep shirt (yours, actually— some soft old 5k thing he always reaches for) is damp.  

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Thought I escaped the curse this time.”

The curse, of course, being your nickname for the way his body absolutely freaks out at the panic of having downtime. Without fail, every time he gets a break, he’s down with something— at best a cold, at worst, what was eventually dubbed the “shittiest Christmas present ever” last year. It’s like his immune system decides it’s on vacation, as well. You’ve started planning around it, blocking off the first few days he’s home just in case. After two days, though, it really seemed like he was in the clear.

Your train of thought is interrupted by the sounds of a grown man gagging. All you can do is kneel behind him, rubbing a hand softly down the length of his back. The muscles flex and tremble beneath as Pedro coughs and coughs. Any part of you that might have been grossed out, is eclipsed by concern. You can feel the heat of the fever through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

When he finishes, you flush without looking while he reassumes his position against the tub. “M’sorry,” he says, after a sip of water. “Go back to sleep, I’m good.”

“Don’t apologize, and don’t be dumb.” You press a kiss to his shoulder before resting your cheek there for a moment. “You gonna puke again?”

His jaw clenches again. “I don’t think so?”

Abruptly, Pedro sits up, and you tense in anticipation of another round of heaving. Instead he reaches back, grabbing the collar of his shirt to tug it over his head. Lacking his usual gusto, he tosses it towards the hamper in the opposite corner of the bathroom, and misses spectacularly.

“I won’t tell the Lakers,” you tease, “if they call to offer a job.”

Pedro huffs a quiet laugh. “Snitches get stitches.”

“Real tough threat from the man on the bathroom floor.”  

He pouts. “You have to nice to me, I puked. I could be on my death bed.”

You press another kiss to his shoulder; the skin is clammy. “America’s Peepaw Pedro Pascal Found Dead at 47, In Bathroom Like Elvis But Way Less Cool. Turn to A7 for story.”

“Now who sounds old! Who reads celebrity death announcements in tabloid magazines anymore?” The joking puts you at ease, a little. He is less green in the gills than he was when you found him, although the tops of his cheeks are still flushed with fever. It seems like he has to convince himself to reopen his eyes after every blink; his eyelids rest at half-mast.

“Mm. You got me there, I guess. Do you feel okay enough to go back to bed?”

Pedro runs a hand across his chest. “Think I might need to rinse off first.”

He braces himself on the edge of the tub, and you reach out a hand to steady him as he slowly rises to his feet. If his knees audibly crack, well, you didn’t hear anything.

Pulling off your own sleep shirt (his, also stolen; some old Fleetwood Mac shirt that hangs to your fingertips), you tuck it into the towel rack, and move to turn the shower on.

“What are you doing?” The invalid has paused changing with his boxers halfway down, in a way that would be so fucking funny if it wasn’t equally, achingly endearing.

“You are leaning on the counter to stand up right now. I’m not gonna let you slip and fall to your actual death in the shower.”

He looks down at his own hand in betrayal as you adjust the water to an acceptable lukewarm— not so cold as to be unbearable, but cool enough that it might take the edge off the fever. Pedro frowns mournfully as you step out of your own boxers.

You roll your eyes. “We will do this again when you can enjoy it.”

The shower is plenty big enough for the two of you, and you position yourself behind him, legs splayed, arms wrapped around his waist. Cheek smushed between his shoulder blades, close enough to let the warmth of his skin deflect the chill of the water.

It’s not really a shower for washing. Moreso a “stand under the water until you feel human again” type of rinse. But you twist anyways for the body wash Pedro likes, when you are sure he isn’t about to faint into the glass door. He sighs as you rub the gel across his shoulders, reaching around to wash the sweat from his chest and stomach. It does something to you, having him here— within arm’s reach, pliable, soft with sleep. Comfortable beside you.

You stay there awhile, letting the water wash over you, until you feel him sway, ever so slightly.

“Love,” you say softly.

“Mm?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

Pedro reaches blindly for the handle, twisting until the spray subsides. You place a kiss to the wet center of his back. Revel, one last time, in the feeling of his body against yours, before you hand him his towel.

There is a coordinated, albeit wearily measured, return to bed. Pedro foregoes a new shirt, choosing instead to fall face-first on top of the rumpled duvet. You track down some Tylenol PM, with fingers crossed that maybe this is just a 12-hour thing. But, just in case, the bathroom waste basket is also placed beside the bed.

Finally, you slip beneath the comforter, maneuvering your patient until he is at least partially covered as well. And then, in turn, allow him to manipulate you into precisely the position he wants to be held: your face tucks into the damp, curling hair at the base of his neck, arm wrapped snug around the middle of his torso, legs entangled.

In the morning, you’ll deal with the next hurdle. Hopefully not the next hurl. But for now, you sleep.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader

[bordysbae]

“you’re the only one who can calm him down” & “you cheated on me.” with mark estapa, maybe a misunderstanding happens?

“i’m all yours”

mark estapa x fem reader

warning: cussing, fighting, slight mention of blood

word count: 1.1k

you had been invited to your friend bella’s 21st birthday party. you guys met through multiple mutual friends, majority of which are the hockey boys. of course they got invited to this party too, and seeing how it’s a costume party you had asked mark to match costumes with you. but unfortunately, the guys decided to match, so you had to scratch the idea of a couples costume. you then decided to dress up as a sexy cowgirl, which ended up pissing mark off.

you’re currently wearing a very low cut white tank top, a pair of too tight jean shorts that slightly hug your ass, cowboy boots, and a cow-print cowboy hat. when mark saw your costume when he entered the party, he instantly told you how much he hated it and wanted you to change. you told him you couldn’t and that if he wanted to show you off as his, he would just have to stay by your side the entire night. mark being the petty guy he is, decided to give you silent treatment instead.

marks in the kitchen talking with mackie and nolan, and you’re talking to some of your friends holding a red solo cup in your hand. suddenly you hear someone call out your name from behind you. “y/n! oh my gosh you look so hot!” bella exclaims. “bella! happy birthday bitch! i haven’t seen you at all tonight!” you say pulling her into a big hug. you then notice the tall boy standing next to her, who appears to be around 5’11 or maybe 6ft. “oh i’m so rude! this is my friend ryan” bella says. “hi ryan, i’m y/n” “nice to meet you y/n” he smiles down at you.

you, ryan, and bella continue to talk for a few minutes until bella is pulled away by all of her other friends wishing her a happy birthday. you’re now standing awkwardly with ryan. you feel marks gaze burning into your cheek, so you turn your head slightly towards the kitchen, and you see mark glaring at you. mackie and nolan continue talking, assuming they still have marks attention. your gaze is snapped from mark back to ryan when he places his hand on your forearm. “so, how does a pretty girl like this you not have a boyfriend?” he asks you. before you can answer the question, someone else does for you. “she does.” mark says, slightly inching over ryan by 2-3 inches. “woah man chill, didn’t know she was taken. especially with how she’s dressed” ryan drunkenly chuckles. “oh that’s it, fuck you!” mark exclaims, before clocking ryan in the face with his fist. he continues to throw punches at ryan while he sloppily throws some back. quickly, nolan, mackie, and ethan appear pulling mark off of him, and drag mark into one of the bedrooms.

you’re stood there in shock, while everyone around you just stares at you or helps ryan. a few moments later, adam appears from behind you and places his hand on your shoulder. “y/n we need your help. please come try to calm him down, we’ve all tried to but he keeps threatening to punch us. you’re the only one who can calm him down.” “adam i’m the last person who he wants to talk to, there’s no way it’s gonna work right now.” “dude please, we gotta try. everyone’s tried to calm him down but it’s not working. he might need stitches but unless he calms down we can’t tell for sure.” “stitches?!” you cry out. “his lip is busted, please y/n!” after hearing about the possible need for stitches, you cave in, letting adam take you to mark.

you peak your head around the corner of the door, and see mark sitting on the edge of the bed. he notices your presence out of the corner of his eye and assumes you’re one of the boys. “just fucking go away!” he says looking up at you, his eyes going wide. “that’s no way to talk to your girlfriend huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “nah nah nah don’t try and sugarcoat this shit, you’re barely even my girlfriend after all the bullshit you’ve pulled tonight.” “mark what? what are you even talking about? what ‘bullshit’ have i pulled tonight.” “you dress up in revealing clothes, knowing that it’s gonna piss me off that i cant show you off as mine in the way i want to, and then you go and start letting these guys flirt with you? you’re basically cheating on me” he scoffs. your mouth falls agape. “not my fault you decided to dress up with your friends! if you would’ve just let them call you a simp and dress up as a cowboy with me this entire thing would’ve been avoided! i don’t understand why you’re angry about a costume! and no mark, i’m not fucking cheating on you! you think i chose to date the 6’2 hockey player with anger issues, with intentions of cheating on him?!” you laugh.

mark gets off of the bed and begins to pace around the room. “im angry because y/n, i want people to know you’re mine, and if you let these guys stare at your tits, and stare at your ass, i’m gonna get angry. i know how the male brain works and best believe i saw at least 5 guys stare at your ass. the fucking things ryan was saying about you, that doesn’t piss you off? he said it in front of you too! i don’t get why you’re angry at me!” mark exclaims. you let out a deep sigh, “i’m not angry at you mark, i’m angry at the way you deal with your emotions. you didn’t need to fight him, you could’ve just like, i dunno, made out with me in front of him or something? you always resort to violence when you’re on the ice, you literally have the most penalties out of anyone! people seriously make signs before the games that say ‘free mark’ cause they know you’ll get a penalty” you chuckle. mark runs a hand through his hair, taking in the words you said. “i’m sorry for punching him, and i’m also sorry for being petty and giving you the silent treatment. i just want people to know you’re mine, and i don’t like when other guys look at you, wondering how to get you into bed. i’m sorry” he says, looking down at you. “mark i promise you don’t have to worry. i’m all yours. now, let me see that busted lip of yours.”

#mark estapa #michigan hockey #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich blurbs #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich wolverines #mark estapa is so sexy #ily markie poo! #mark estapa x reader

[cyberrat]

72nd Batch Of Fics: 6th Fill

Hanzo/Cassidy – Rough and Tumble AU – Part 9 – cont B67F6 – premature ejaculation – Cole is still fighting with that pesky premature ejaculation problem he's got :')

---

Hanzo throws a leg over Cole’s hips, hands pushing down against his hairy chest. His usual lovers are all nice and shaved but there is something that always stays his tongue when he is about to order Cassidy to go and do the same.

He curls his fingers slightly, pinching the crips hairs between his fingers and pulling until he sees tears shooting into Cole’s eyes. He hisses and shifts a little beneath Hanzo… but other than that he stays nice and put.

Here, at least, his training is showing through.

His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows thickly, staring up at his sugar daddy in anticipation of his order, though he must already know what Hanzo wants of him.

“You will not come until I tell you to,” Hanzo says in a low voice. He reaches behind himself with one hand, briefly searching for his stud’s cock. It is big and warm and practically leaps into his palm. He holds it still while he drags his ass crack along the shaft.

Hanzo can feel it flexing in his grip, throbbing nice and slow in time with the heartbeat he can feel against his palm.

“Do you understand? I am sick of your pitiful little demonstrations of your… stamina.” The last he says with enough disdain to have Cole shift again, his cheeks becoming ruddy red beneath his unkempt beard. His lovely dark eyes shift to the side but he hisses and looks back up at Hanzo when he once again gets his chest hair tugged on.

“Yes, Sir,” he rasps obediently.

Hanzo can feel a fat droplet of moisture against the sensitive inside of his wrist. He lifts one brow, staring down at Cole in challenge as he slowly lifts on his knees and situates his cock against his loose hole, wet with lubricant.

He arches his back and positions himself before slowly letting himself slide down on Cole’s cock. It’s big and warm and feels absolutely perfect inside him. He’s already addicted to this idiot mutt’s dick… if only he would finally learn to properly use it.

Hanzo is not overly fond of sitting on him; he rather likes to spread is legs and let his studs do all the work; but the last few times he’s let Cole have a go at him, he pumped his load so ridiculously fast that he thinks this might be better after all.

Even though he doesn’t sound like it. He already whines like a puppy, briefly gripping at Hanzo’s legs before quickly letting go again.

No roughhousing and leaving marks.

Hanzo enjoys the feeling of fullness for a moment or two, just breathing through it and trying to find a position for his legs that will let him ride Cassidy for a bit before his muscles start cramping.

It doesn’t really help. He’s only gotten in a few slow, delicious drags up and down when the mutt already starts to beg.

“Uh… S-Sir? Sir, please- I… I’m aboutta-” Cole’s lovely deep voice has crawled up an octave or two. There’s a tremble of absolute desperation in it, his brown eyes huge and panicky.

Hanzo’s hand shoots down, grabbing a hold of the young stud’s shaggy beard to pull on his head. “You won’t!” he gasps, insides clenching down on the juicy young man cock he’s riding. His whole body is primed for release itself. “You won’t! Not yet!”

He rides faster, harder, desperate to get his own release before Cole has a chance to disappoint him again and pump out his gooey, warm load before Hanzo.

Cole wheezes. It kind of sounds like a sob which Hanzo definitely likes. Gets him far closer to his own release, in any case. He does not mean to keep his claw-like grasp on the young man’s beard but he holds on either way. He is too focused on his own body; the burn in his thighs as he desperately pumps his body up and down, fucking himself on the stud cock.

Determined to carve an orgasm out for himself before Cole has a chance to ruin everything again. No matter how mean he is playing with him over and over again, the hairy idiot finds a way to disappoint Hanzo all over again…

(Not that he isn’t flattered by just how hot and horny Cole is for him. How obviously the idiot is head over heels for this older, distinguished gentleman and the abuse he can dish out for him. It might be the only reason that he keeps him around in the first place.)

Cole’s wheezing becomes whimpering. Against his orders, he grabs Hanzo, his big hands warm on his master’s thighs, fingertips digging into his muscles. Oh, he will put bruises on Hanzo’s flawless skin.

This mutt…

“Sir please- Fuck- your pussy feels so damn good-” He shifts, nearly toppling Hanzo as he digs his heels into the bed and lifts his knees behind him.

Hanzo’s eyes flare, his hand immediately tightening on Cole’s beard, pulling on it until he sees his face lightly twisting in pain. “Don’t!” he hisses at him. But those pretty brown eyes are looking at him in apology.

They both know what will happen now. That Cole can stop it just as little as Hanzo can as his hands slip from Hanzo’s thighs up to his hips, holding on to him tight and pumping his hips up to meet him.

Hanzo grits his teeth, closing his eyes, trying to let the feeling of this unruly hooligan so easily manhandling him push him over the edge himself… but no. No, his annoyance over the lack of discipline wins out and his orgasm slides back into some murky depths while his hole gets used by Cole as if the mutt had any right to it.

He grunts with the effort of snapping his hips up once, twice, thrice – his fat cock drilling into Hanzo deeper even than he had been able to do sitting on those wide, sturdy hips.

Cole sounds absolutely too triumphant when he pushes up and into Hanzo one last time, his back arched and his head thrown back because all Hanzo can do at this point is to brace himself on the young man’s hairy chest and hold on so he wouldn’t get thrown off like a ragdoll.

He can feel that fat young cock flexing inside him, twitching in the desperate clench of Hanzo’s intestines before pulsing out his thick, nasty load. Hanzo wonders if it is his cum that he can feel spreading inside his tummy, hot and gooey, or whether it is his own anger over having been stolen his own orgasm just before the goal yet again.

This… absolutely won’t do. Hanzo digs his nails into Cassidy’s chest until the pain pulls him somewhat out of his orgasmic daze.

His pupils are blown so wide, there’s only a thin ring of whiskey brown around them. He looks up at Hanzo, his face still slack for a moment until his brain starts to kick into gear and his mouth opens, then closes again.

At least he has the grace of looking embarrassed as he glances away.

But this time… Hanzo won’t just leave it at scolding and ridiculing him.

#cyberratting writes stuff #hanzo/cole #rough and tumble au #premature ejaculation #dom/sub #sugar daddy hanzo

[outeremissary]

!! (a surprise for you :))

A surprise indeed, haha. As usual, this was how I discovered I had posted something. This was uhh. Not my most prepared night for it.

Hmm... I guess this will just be random rambling, and I don't have any nice, new art for this, so it's going to all be old art that's mostly not colored (lot of it is years old and I hadn't uhhh figured out the color thing). Anyway, Caina Lilindel, the ghost who haunts this blog and I am geased to have as my pfp forever.

First the meta notes: Caina was a grugach (mechanically wood elf- the UA for grugach hadn't been released yet) rogue inquisitive I played in a Curse of Strahd game that ran from 2017 to 2020. He was loosely based on a side character from an abandoned project I worked on periodically during my first year of university (which was then loosely inspired by something in VtM, but that's not important), and I made him as a quick, edgy character who I wouldn't mind dying because the DM was very adamant that the first area was a meat grinder and we might TPK. He survived though, and I was left to play my joke concept straight. And then I got really into that. Really, really into that.

Caina was a secretive exile who had been wandering the world alone for almost three decades at the start of the game. He was sharp-tongued and abrasive, never willing to help anyone for free. He hated risk but easily plunged into recklessness at the behest of emotions he made only the barest efforts to keep in check. He was always pushing away those who might befriend him, and every time someone responded to his vulnerability with kindness he recoiled as if they could burn him- or as if he would burn them. He hated being touched but yearned for intimacy. He killed without a second thought but argued passionately against dealing out further death. He was an absolutely wretched liar on the occasion he tried, and in moments of peace he was an excellent cook and unfailingly kind to children. His primary hobbies were card games and reading unimaginably trashy novels- he was the only member of the party who recognized van Richten, and that was because he was a longtime fan of a horribly prolific series of pulp thrillers based on van Richten's adventures. He had a way of following those he respected or cared about as if starstruck- he never knew what to do with his feelings. And despite his own tendency to break his word or bail on things he could never recover from anything he felt was betrayal. I always loved the combination of vulnerability and prickliness.

(backstory summary that got ahead of me ahead. and this. isn't even everything.)

Caina was born in a small semi-nomadic community in a hilly land and lived his early life without ever straying from his home. Life moved slowly and quietly there, the circular turning of seasons the only visible mark of the gentle passage of time in a community of near immortals. He was one of very few children and the spacing between the youths of the community was easily such that a child could be the only in their age group all their young life until reaching the more even ground of adulthood. But Caina was fortunate. There was another child his age in his home: a boy born the very same year as him, timing so close that the two were often called twins. That boy was Avél, Caina's best friend, constant companion, and the first person to lose his life at Caina's hands.

Caina was a quiet, diligent child who always went along with everything his more outgoing friend wanted to do. From a young age they shared the same dreams of adventure and tale-worthy glory far from home- although Caina would never be able to say if heroic legends had always set his heart racing or if this dream too was simply following Avél. He was known as a sweet child, one constantly fretted over and sheltered by his mother, who feared for a son who had been born sickly, and his grandmother (the family matriarch), who was intent on raising an eldest son who would be useful to his family. He would have duties when he aged, his grandmother knew: to his parents, to his grandparents, to his cousins, and if the Most Revered was good, to a sister who could pass down the name of the family to another generation. It wasn't for eldest sons or only sons to stuff their heads full of fairy tales and stray.

In contrast to quiet Caina, Avél was a troublemaker and a free spirit. He was never one to be confined by a rule if he could challenge it, and as a second son with no sister who would one day rely on him to keep the house for her, Avél's life had a certain openness to it. His tricks and disappearances were met with gentle scolding but never with restriction. He could imagine any future ahead of him, could dream of danger and distant lands, of anything in the world he desired. Anything he wished for might be his. And what he wished for was to be taken under the wing of the gruff old huntress Siyir. Siyir had been further afield than any of the others who wore the title of ranger. She had gone well beyond simply charting the movements of the community or passing messages between the pockets of the grugach people or brokering trade deals. Siyir had slain a griffin. She had descended into human lands, had seen mountains that spat fire and waters that spanned the horizon. She was Avél's vision: a legend who had stepped through campfire flames to stand in the mundane material world. And of course, this meant that Caina worshiped her too.

So the stage of life was set. Two boys, near opposites in every way, but each the other's closest confidante and the mirror of his own experiences- or perhaps less a mirror than a shadow and the bright thing that cast it. Avél pulled Caina out of his shell and into new experiences. He supplied dreams enough for two and invented adventures to match. There was an awe that Avél inspired in Caina. He wanted to nurture passion that could match his friend's to more truly inhabit their shared dreams. He wanted skills to match Avél's natural athleticism and way with words. It gave him a hunger to keep up, to learn, to know, to show that he too was equal. But nothing he did ever seemed to bring the two of them even. His boldness crumpled under caution, his hesitance and appeals to the wisdom of elders earning him affectionate teasing as a stick in the mud. He could never run as fast or far as Avél or climb as high or win tussles between them without tricks that brought out whines of "no fair! do it right!" The skills Caina learned alone bored Avél. Cooking was dull and far beneath a legend, Avél insisted. Wayfinding was useful but too much work- Caina was the smart one, so he could take care of it, couldn't he? And the runes of a seldom used writing system (taught to Caina by the community's shaman) were entertaining only for an afternoon or two- he laughed when Caina asked later if he'd been practicing them, and Caina's ears burned with shame for finding them so fascinating in the first place.

With age came a sharper sense of the distance between them. Avél was the golden child of the community, Caina his keeper. When Avél broke his arm falling out of a tree on a forbidden excursion it was worth a day's scolding that quickly melted into doting and repetition of the grand tale of his adventure for months, while Caina was reprimanded for allowing Avél to hurt himself and then quickly forgotten as more than a timid accessory to Avél. Siyir took interest in Avél, but Caina quickly realized had little in him: she hardly acknowledged Caina when she spoke to the two of them together, and she had a way of only offering things when Caina wasn't around. And Avél, for his part, hardly seemed to protest surprise hunting trips at dawn or archery advice when Caina was unavailable. He always shared what he learned afterwards, but no matter how many times Caina asked for Avél to bring him along the next time there was always an excuse when that next time came around. Suspicion set in that his friend was hoarding time with the huntress to himself. And when the changes of puberty began Avél grew taller and filled out better. His features emerged from teen acne as defined and handsome, new edges to his face only making the soft twinkle in his eyes seem brighter and the creases of his smile kinder. Caina stayed spindly and awkward. It was painfully clear that strength would never come to him naturally, and without it a slight edge of grace didn't feel like much. He began to distance himself from Avél to have time to hone skills his friend had and he felt he lacked. But it was never enough to do more than keep up. Just to keep up, and hope desperately that Avél's aimless talent would one day lose to training.

And then Caina's mother gave birth to a daughter, and Caina was too old to miss the meaning of the event. The first brother's duty was to his sister- to be a part of her household more constant than a partner, for those were fluid and often changed over the long turning of the decades, and more vigorous than a mother, who would one day be claimed by the years. To share in her generation and her legacy. Caina would go from a childhood sidekick to Avél to a supporting character in the tale of Cailo. There would be no breath for his own story, his own adventures. Like that he added Avél's freedom to the endless list of envies.

Yet Avél, in his careless optimistic way, never acknowledged the change. They still had the same dreams, the same loves, the same life. Even as Avél spent more time with Siyir as Caina helped care for his baby sister Avél danced around it. Any time the future was questioned Avél suddenly had a new story that needed telling immediately or somewhere to go or something that needed doing. And sometimes he simply laughed and pushed it away.

In the midst of this stormy sea of adolescence, Siyir decided to take an apprentice.

The decision wasn't an announcement, but a challenge. The ranger let it be known to all of the youths that she would take on whichever best passed a series of tests she set. Worth, she said, was the only way to decide who was fit to carry a legacy like hers. And that worth superseded all else: she would take her chosen apprentice and no other, and it was known without ever being said that likewise nothing could take her chosen from her.

Worth.

Worth.

Caina knew all her skills secondhand, but had practiced them to the best perfection he could imagine. He knew the one who would ultimately be the only true competitor inside and out. Siyir had never seen him, but he could make her. He would show her that he was worthy.

He matched Avél in every test. He could shoot, he could hunt, he could track, he could pitch a camp of his own. He was still Avél's superior when it came to navigation, even if his friend had improved. The few other challengers quickly proved half-hearted and dropped out. It was only Caina and Avél, just like it had always been.

The night before Siyir's last test, Caina returned home late. He had gone out to gather herbs for the shaman, Galen, and been sidetracked by the urge to practice one last thing. When he passed by Siyir's dwelling, he caught the sound of a familiar voice that gave him pause: his grandmother was in Siyir's home.

He crept closer, and the conversation became clearer. His grandmother was asking what she was meant to do if Caina won the contest. Who would be there for Cailo? Was their family simply to dwindle, plagued by foolish wanderlust and misfortune? Caina could hear in his mind Siyir's counterargument: that many daughters grew up alone, that Cailo didn't want for cousins who could help her, that their father was still with them and far from old. That one son was an acceptable concession for a woman who had once shot a griffin from the sky. That maybe Cailo didn't want her legacy either.

But Siyir said none of those things.

"Avél is my apprentice." It wasn't her usual brusque tone. It was a reassurance, a gentle correction. "I just couldn't let it get to the boy's fool head by letting him have that without a little fight."

Every semblance of hope evaporated. He hardly remembered the rest of the night- only the listless dreams that tore at him whenever he tried to rest. He was trapped in a haze.

He was still in that haze when he rose before dawn and found Avél.

They walked out and away from the early spring camp, Avél chattering all the way and glancing over here and there at Caina with something that sometimes looked like relief and other times looked like guilt. Caina was quiet for the most part. He smiled and nodded and urged Avél on. Once or twice he laughed. It was so easy to slip into familiar patterns while following familiar paths. By the time they reached the cliff over the falls, the light made it clear that despite the lingering morning mist dawn was well behind them.

Many years before, a lone long-branched pine growing at the edge of the falls had fallen. The reason was unknown- no one had been around to see it go- but now it lingered in death as persistently as it had in life, laying its lattice of branches out across the open air to form a precarious bridge from one side of the gorge to the other. Mist from the falls left it permanently slick, and between the spring rains and the snowmelt still trickling down the surging falls had crept in precariously close.

When they were younger, they had often talked about crossing it. Avél had take a few steps out, falls plunging down on one side and open air on the other, and Caina managed a half step before begging Avél to come back. "Next time I'll do it," Avél always laughed.

"What do you say- for old time's sake?"

To hear the proposal come from Caina stopped Avél dead. His laughter wasn't the familiar bell of joy. It cracked at the edges- nerves, perhaps, or surprise.

"As if I could say no."

And Avél stepped forward, hesitating a moment at the edge. His eyes flicked to Caina and his mouth hardened into a thin smile. He took his first step onto the trunk. A few steps later, Caina followed.

Looking back, Caina was never sure what he had wanted from that morning. It was like a dream, the roaring falls eating the sound of the world around them and the mists swallowing everything outside that tiny expanse and the figure of his friend.

Somewhere near the center, Avél stopped. He turned and shouted something. Caina read the words on his lips: Let's go back.

Avél was moving his feet, trying to reposition to walk back, when the dreadful inevitable happened. In the blink of an eye he had gone from upright to clinging to one of the branches jutting out from the edge of the trunk below. There was no thought when Caina rushed forward recklessly, bracing himself against one of the more solid branches as he grabbed a slick hand just in time as his beloved friend's support cracked and fell away, useless. Avel dangled at Caina's mercy, clinging with both hands onto Caina's arm as he struggled to find a foothold to pull himself up.

In this moment of nightmare, lucidity returned.

Caina would never be able to say why he brought his friend to the falls. He didn't know why he challenged him at their stupidest, most dangerous childhood game. He didn't know why he followed so close, never allowing Avél the space to turn around. All coincidence. All error. None of it conscious. None of it him.

But he could never forget the moment he chose to let go.

If Avél screamed, Caina never heard. The falls swallowed the sound greedily. In the constant roar of white noise, it seemed like Avél was as silent as a shadow, and when he disappeared into the mist below he became every bit as transient.

There were searches, of course. There was weeping. And finally there was blame. Caina hadn't planned the crime, and only began to hide it too late. Put before the gods in all of Galen's power, he cracked. He had believed like a fool that he had hated Avél. Now as its target he understood what true hate was. Yet for all that, there wasn't heart in a community that couldn't remember ever having an execution to kill another so soon after their loss. No one could remember the curse ever being used either, but Galen knew it all the same.

It was with nothing but the clothes on his back and a new fear of death that Caina left the home he had been cast out of. The brand of defilement burned on his hand, the angry red scar weeks from true healing. Cast out from his home, from all kin, from the sight of the gods themselves, who had sealed his exile with the cursed brand. The legend he had made for himself was one of misery. And beyond its edge, only wandering without rest- always running from the guilt carved into skin and soul.

#I'm sorry this is so so long he's been on my brain lately actually #I am once more ruminating on his life and his world #the caina family tree is Real and very interesting to me because he was actually raised in his paternal grandmother's household #instead of his maternal grandmother's (much more common) #his mother was adopted into his father's family because there hadn't been any daughters in over two hundred years #and it was a source of great anxiety for his grandmother. she had a son and male cousins and nephews #but sons and male cousins and nephews aren't enough. they give support but not legacy. and they wander off if you have too many. #but there was always tension having someone else's daughter in the household #I did not mention galen at all. or hino. or cailo. I'm sorry to have not gotten to talk about any of those three. #I had already gotten Too Sidetracked by lineage and was trying to focus it down!! so siyir was most important #I developed some mythology as well for this. by the end I uhh. don't think that what I was working with resembled my source material at all #my corellon larethian was fun though #I'm going to REALLY regret this in the morning #which is. hm. three hours from now #ask game #ask me emithing #caina lilindel #userharps

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

Schitt's Creek episode 2.13 "Happy Anniversary"

I’m lowkey a little embarrassed about how long it took me to get into this show. I tried it a few times and thought it felt too much like Arrested Development, a show I have to admit I just don’t like despite my love for its cast. Luckily, I’ve never met two people who love Schitt’s Creek as much as my mom and girlfriend, and they were adamant that if I could just make it to this episode, I would change my mind. And they were right.

            I still think the first couple seasons have that quirky, lovably infuriating Arrested Development feel, but Schitt’s Creek ultimately became something else entirely and the slow burn of its apathetic early episodes made the Roses’ emotional transformation feel genuine and significant. “Happy Anniversary” really is a turning point in the show, a moment that reveals that this story and these characters are more than frivolous.

            So it’s Johnny and Moira’s anniversary, and they’re spending it avoiding Roland and Jocelyn who have just offered to take them out to dinner to a nice restaurant. One they even want to go to! But God forbid they go with the Schitts, right? So Johnny tries to score a table at that same restaurant for that same night- one they can have to themselves. These are the Roses we’re starting the episode with, but this is the first time we’ll see a different side of them by the time the episode ends.

            Alexis, meanwhile, has just found out via Ted that Mutt is throwing a party. While Ted thinks out loud through the threat the party poses to his self-esteem (“I guess it’s just a bit of a pride issue, you know, do I go to the party hosted by the guy that you left me for?”), Alexis is herself: “yeah, no, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”  She and Mutt recently broke up, her second breakup after having called off her engagement to Ted, so she’s a little preoccupied with the fact that she didn’t get an invite.

            Johnny really did swing a table at the nice restaurant, and at the host stand they run into none other than one of their closest couple friends from their old life. This is the first time we meet any of the Roses’ old friends, and the moment serves as a wake-up call both to them and to us that maybe the Roses are a little different now. Maybe there are still terrible, mean, selfish, filthy rich people out in the world, but maybe the Roses aren’t quite like them anymore. David and Alexis will have eye-opening reunions of their own later on (remember Sebastien Raine and that bitch Klair who wanted room temperature water “that was once hot”?) and they will always mark a sort of checkpoint of personal growth.

            But Johnny and Moira don’t know this yet, so they invite Bev and Don to join them for dinner. It doesn’t look good when Roland and Jocelyn walk in to see them sharing a meal with friends that they had told them they wanted to enjoy alone. It’s a sitcom, so of course all three couples cram into this table set for four, and we’re off on the most uncomfortable evening of all time.

            Bev and Don are asking all kinds of questions about what the Roses have been up to, and the Schitts tolerate the Roses’ embarrassment enough to even help Moira bend the truth a bit. When Moira describes the motel as a “rustic, ranch-style bungalow”, Roland helpfully adds that it has ten bedrooms. When Bev and Don start making fun of a town they passed through- “Schittstown” or “Schittsville”- Roland grins and bears it. Finally, it’s Johnny who can’t take it anymore.

            Back in town, Mutt’s party is in full swing. Alexis is introduced to Mutt’s new girlfriend, Tennesee, a pretty girl that he even shaved his beard for. Alexis asks Ted how he was able to seem so cool about everything after they broke up, and this time, she’s actually listening to him. He tells her about going on their honeymoon without her, and about crying so much he scared the animals at work, but eventually he got through it. Alexis offers a sincere apology, and Ted, the sweetest little guy, says it’s okay. And then they dance together :)

            At the restaurant, Moira tries to talk Johnny off the ledge, but he’s had enough. “No Don, here’s the joke. The joke is I’m sitting in a half decent restaurant with my wife and our friends, and all you two have done is complain about the food and pretend that you didn’t leave us high and dry after we lost everything… you wrote us off, Don. Not a phone call. Not an email. Not a nickel. Roland and Jocelyn here could not have been more generous with what little they have. They found us a place to live. They’ve offered us their truck whenever we’ve needed it. They’ve invited us to parties, they even offered to take us out to dinner tonight… and that town you passed through. It’s not called Schittsville. It’s called Schitt’s Creek. And it’s where we live.”

            It’s still a little condescending. But it’s the first real acknowledgement the Roses have given of what the Schitts have done for them, and that the people in their old life aren’t perfect and magical. Moira’s the only one who is embarrassed, rather than touched, by the outburst, and she’s the only one who won’t really change throughout the series.

            Back at the barn, David is “getting some air” with Jake, and the two kiss. David can’t wait to tell Stevie, who’s dressed to the nines by the way. They don’t have that much screen time in this episode, but there’s a lot to unpack about Stevie and her relationship with Darren. David can’t help but react when he sees Stevie’s tight dress and heels, and that outfit in this setting says so much about who she is. Being anxious, socially uncomfortable people with few friends are self-proclaimed trademarks of both of their personalities, and with that in mind I wouldn’t expect her to wear anything else. She doesn’t know what appropriate barn party attire is, and she especially doesn’t know what to wear when she’s trying to impress someone. But it’s clear that she really is trying- to prove a point to David, and to impress him too. I don’t think she ever got as “over it” as she claimed.

            David has barely finished telling Stevie about his kiss with Jake, and hasn’t processed her confession that she kissed him too, when the parents come in. David and Alexis are offput to see them there, but even Moira is filled with love for her family tonight. “I don’t care what snarky remarks you kids are gonna make under your breath, tonight we are dancing as a family”. They all share “I love you”’s (David’s second time saying it in his life!) and dance to James Morrison’s “Precious Love”. The whole thing is just very, very sweet and it’s the first time the show fully gives us permission to love these characters.

            Schitt’s Creek feels like an instant classic and it warmed my heart to watch them clean up at the Emmys. There are so many great episodes, let me know which other ones we should talk about!

#schitts creek #dan levy #annie murphy #catherine o'hara #eugene levy #david rose #alexis rose #moira rose #johnny rose #tv review #tv criticism

[bridgyrose]

Blake: *rushing through the campus* Weiss! Yang! Ruby! Where are you?!

Adam: *stepping in front of Blake* If it isnt the traitor.

Blake: *stopping and hesitating* Adam…

Adam: You hurt me Blake. You never should’ve left.

Blake: *taking a step back, holding her weapon out* Go away.

Adam: *smirking and walking forward, putting his hand on his sword* And leave you alone? I dont think I will.

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

Yang: *tearing through grimm, eyes glowing with maidenly power* Blake! Weiss! Where are you?

Blake: *screaming in pain not too far away from Yang*

Yang: *rushing to where she heard the scream, stopping when she saw Adam standing over Blake* Get away from her!

Adam: *pulling his sword out of Blake’s side* Make me.

Yang: *rushing to Adam, releasing fire with each punch*

Adam: *blocking each strike with his sword, powering himself up, waiting for an opening*

Yang: *pushing back and sending a fireball at Adam*

Adam: *using his semblance to slice through the fireball, hitting Yang*

Yang: *falling back and losing her balance slightly, aura breaking*

Adam: *looking at Yang, mask cracked from heat of the fire, holding his side where the fireball hit* I’ll make her pay for leaving me!

Yang: *glaring and making her move to strike at Adam again*

Adam: *rushing forward and using his semblance again, slicing Yang’s arm off*

Yang: *falling to the ground, wincing*

Adam: *turning around and sighing* And here I thought you’d make a better plaything.

Blake: *getting up slightly and grabbing Yang* Leave… her alone…

Adam: *lifting his sword in the air* Then you leave me with no choice.

[Adam strikes down at Blake, his sword going through a shadow clone. He sighed as he looked over to his left, watching Blake run off with Yang]

#Adam Taurus #Yang Xiao Long #Blake Belladonna #Rosebird parent au #Parent au #Rwby #Skits #Yes Yang still loses this fight #No she doesn't roast Adam alive #Angst #I know yall are going to hate me for this #But Adam still had the upper hand #Mostly the fact that Blake was still on the ground #And Yang didn't know his semblance #On the bright side #Adam is going to have a nice burn mark on his side #So she did actually hit him well

[muffindaddystyles]

18, 19, and 40 please?🥺 maybe some smut if possible💕

19. “Take a breath honey, yes princess just like that.”

18. “Squeeze my hand if you could hear me baby.”

40. “I love you, pet. So much of it, come back, please??”

A/N: Girliessss, theysss and themsss. Sorry for being inactive :(( Missed you all so much!! Here's a blurb from mafia!h x soft subby.

Y/N had never been this bratty. She had her occasional time-outs where Harry refused to touch her for days till she broke through her ice and begged him with a drool-y sweet mouth and honeyed puppy eyes.

She knows the drill and loves the adrenaline that seeps to her toes when Harry glowers at her across the room with bolting dark intensity -- his hook of thumb in a demand to have her in his lap is enough to excite her, the punishments makes her insides shrill and makes her fall in love with her daddy more and the best part of all of it's that she wants to cherish again and again’s how adorably caring he’s once fucking her raw.

At the moment though. She isn’t being a brat on purpose. They came for a dinner (with one of the Harry's business people) and it’s all business talk, rich dicks everywhere, hush hush voices that Y/N despises and the piqued ogle of the wife on her that makes her squirmy in her seat.

She zones out into her own lil bubble for a second, imagining herself back in their cosy home comfy in Harry’s humungous overly worn hoodie, snuggling him and smooching him, pecking all those softish spots where he has runs his fingers through the night and she wants to have a delicious pizza all to herself because the food here’s the amount of worm and leaf of spinach on a worm.

She didn’t even realise that she was slipping into her subby state until she was getting all fussy about her surrounds and plucked her lipstick out smudging the crimson tip against a tissue and slides it atop Harry’s thigh from under the table,

Daddy, home?

His flicker of gaze alters from the little needy note towards his girl who’s being choosy in eating her veggies and rolling them around in boredom.

Her head perks up cutesly at the feeling of his attention on her and he suckles his wine layered lip upon the sight of her doe-blown out pupils and glossy eyes indicating him like a train's horn that she’s submerging into her submissiveness at dangerous rate when she goes all squeamish and pink cheeks at the mere touch of his knuckles against her elbow.

“Daddy, please.” She whispers into his ear impatiently squeezing his knee. About to write another note to him to stay persistent but her lipstick breaks and she flinches when it rolls under the lady’s shoe leaving a bright stain on floor.

“Behave.” Was all he muttered gruffly before throwing a nonchalant dismissive glance her way and that was the last straw for her.

It’s been hours!! All she wanted was to get home and cuddle! Is that too much too ask!?

That’s why she acted like a grump and didn’t even bid them goodbyes, waited at the lobby for him eagerly and couldn’t help but to sway with her hands clasped back and grin at the greedy thought that once he steps outside she will leap on him like an affection starved kitten.

Her wish remains a wish nevertheless when Harry passes by her with a stoic face and snaps his fingers at her, the single gesture’s enough to bead tension on her forehead.

“In the car. Right now.” He glares her sternly plucking his black leather glove to reveal his jewelled pretty hand as he reaches for the handle of the backseat door.

Y/N has decided that today she’s gonna hold her grounds and be as naughty as she possibly could to get her kisses of the day.

Sheepishly she slips inside and gives him a toothy smile whilst trying to scramble up towards to reach within the sweet distance for his lips.

The trinkets of her shiny dress makes a noise as Harry splays his calloused palm up her silken thigh, glides it all the way up her hip and keeps his grip on her to stop her from moving.

“What?” She pouts knocking her nose against his's in attempt to plant her lips atop his’s, all grabby hands for him, “You’re not havin’ any of me kisses.” He tuts, eyes dark and murky.

“But why!!?” She whines trying to cup his cheeks and just squish them awful good but he gives her a pointed look and doubles back, away from her.

“You know why, little one.” At that she gives him a nasty narrow squint of her peepers and mutters grouchily, “I hate you.”

“What did ye' just say?” He pushes her closer with one tug that elicits tiny gasp from her, his lip thin in annoyance, “I said I hate you!” She huffs crossing her arms and it makes her breast appear more plump.

In all reality, she’s too stubborn to tell him that she’s feeling terribly needy.

“Say tha’ again, I dare you.” Harry demands with tinge of surprise in his growl and she hisses in frustration adjusting the loose heavy shoulder of her dress, “I said, I hate you and this dress, ‘s so itchy. just w’na go home —-,” Her blabbing fades into a squeaky gasp upon the sharp sting of Harry’s hand against her bottom.

“What happened Sugar? Did cat caught ye’ tongue?” He grits wrapping his warm hand around her throat wanting to choke the battiness out of her, but rather it turns her into a melty puddle of a softie.

“Over my lap.” He says firmly.

“No.”

He doesn’t give her time and positions her himself horizontally on his thighs, elbows pressed into seat and raises her bum with the support of his knee, pinching her cheek teasingly to warn her.

He tries not to coo as she looks ethereal in the glittery dress that's now bunched in Harry’s fist atop her spine to expose her itty bittys and she mewls prettily when Harry spanks her asscheek watching it jiggle then does it again and again, on her last count she’s dripping down her thighs stickily.

“What a filthy little brat,” He groans adam apple bobbing from the vigour of heat spreading in his body as he inspects her wet holes with middle finger making her squirmy and whiny from his feathery touches, “Proper soaked just from gettin' spanked.” He traces the lace delicates of her panties and presses his thumb against her bundle of nerves to feel the throb from his touch.

He pulls her back up and squishes her cheeks to pucker her rosy lips, pecks it heartily, “Knows why you’re gettin’ punished baby?” His tone gentler now. Realising that she shouldn’t slip too deep before they reach home.

She snuggles into the crook of his neck and hums, guiding his hand to her sore bum to make him rub the burn he left on her ass.

“Uhmm. ‘cos didn’t behave nice, acted bad ...” Her voice slurry from desire and yearn. If it wouldn’t be for his grasp on her waist she’d have gotten off on his meaty thigh long gone, “And?” He arches his brow sceptically drawing soothing circles on her flesh.

“And that I said, I hate daddy ‘n the dress he gifted me ....” His heart thumps a bit from the statement but the rational part in him assures him that she was just bumbled about him being too distant from her.

“And what do bad girls get?”

“Punished.” She mumbles into his throat and he nods, kisses her hair and cups the nape of her neck to give it a tender squeeze.

How much she acts like a spoiled brat sometimes; he still always makes sure she’s in her comfort zone and knows why she’s getting treated that way.

“I love you, baby sweets. But .... it doesn’t mean you’d not get your punishment.” She was about to protest and throw a tantrum but the car comes to an halt right infront of the large dark doors of mansion.

Tranquil air fills with her giggly shrieks when Harry gets outside and throws her over his shoulder with an ease, his grin wicked as she squeals out “No's" grabbing onto one of the door-frames in the hallway but it’s all vain since he’s way stronger than her little grip.

Once in their room, he’s flipping her into heaps of pillows and catches her calf when she tries to crawl away in hurry.

Her eyes widen and she looks down with a pout upon hearing the rip of her dress, “Liked it.” She mummers sadly.

“Thought it was too itchy,” Harry shrugs pushing her up towards the bedhead and ducks down to speck soft kisses against her collarbones, mouth foaming at the sight of her tits spilling out of her lingerie.

“No! Was just —.. fuck ...” She keens out a moan bucking her core to grind against his thigh when he nooks his knuckle between her sloppy pussy lips and twists her panties pushing them up scruffily into her mound feeling the flutter of her clitoris, the sheer fabric of it giving the right amount of friction to get her to an orgasm.

Her wet gasps and moans fogs into Harry’s mouth as he kisses her with unyielding roughness, hot bubbles popping in her belly ready to spread the nice feeling inside her, holding her down when he knows what he’s gonna do next will turn her into batshit crazy.

He pulls back. Both. His hand and his mouth away from her.

She blinks, with a lazy smile first then the realization dawns upon her and she’s grappling for his sides but he takes her wrists and pins them down.

“Daddy no!” She growls a whine and he just sits on his heels and admires the mess he created out of her, flustered and sheened in sweat, all soft and pudging to litter her skin with marks and bites, his cock warming up in his pants, “Please daddy I want you.” The whites of her eyes enviable and glassy from the frustrated tears that are collecting at her waterline.

Though, Harry stays adamant because those innocent coy eyes are her best weapon and ties her wrists to the bedpost without saying a word to her.

“You brought this on y'self, baby.” He tugs the bound to make sure it’s not too tight and moves back to get rid of his pants, his prick bloated and throbbing from ridges, slaps against his lower belly it’s head coated with precum.

“Now you’re g'na watch me jerk myself off and cover ye' pretty tummy with my cum, might lick it off from you.” She shivers at his words. Toes curling as she silently pleads with a parted mouth and barely open eyelids.

His nostrils flares, howling groan slipping through his lips as he spits in his palm and wraps it around his fat girth slicking his fist up and all the way down to give some relief to his balls.

He dips down and sucks onto her lower lip, “Knows your safe word right?” He asks shoulders jolting when he slops the bulbous crown of his prick against her clit in slow circles.

“Yes, yellow.” She breathes out delicately hoping he slips into her soon but Harry has other plans as he squeezes himself more, swiping the dollops of white thickness from the crown of his prick and brings his thumb to stuff her mouth shut with that.

“What a greedy kitten.” He tuts in mock when she eagerly swirls her tongue around his thumb creating soft sucking noises, she gags around his digit, eyeballs rolling to her skull when Harry slides her damp panties away and strokes his cock against her drippy hole.

“Hmm. Feels good.” He husks pushing into her, but not stuffing her full and that makes her whimper. She glides her feet around his spine to push him into her and her squishy sloppy walls tries to swallow him whole.

Everything just feels too hot and overwhelming. Him fondling his shaft from where he isn’t soaked into her warmth and her tiny whines and whimpers as he teases and edges her.

“Daddy ‘m sorry!” She squeaks out breathlessly clamping down onto him, “I bet you’re.” He moans out, that one sweaty curl dangling and tickling her forehead.

“That’s the most prettiest sound I’ve heard.” At his praise she just turns into a puddle and wiggles for more.

“You’re g'na make me cum.” He kisses his teeth and she digs her feet into his back not knowing if she’s allowed to come too and not having a voice to ask for his permission.

She gulps. Eyelids fluttering. Her cheeks blushy and peachy, listening to his deep moans that whirls within the pit of his chest as he fills her pussy with warm ribbons of cum that sticks to her already soppy walls and then pulls out to empty himself on her tummy as he promised.

Moments later the room echoes with her treacly yearning whimpers and blubbers of Harry’s name as he licks her juices off and the his own cum that oozes out of her whenever he pushes his middle finger inside her cunt.

..

“No!” That’s why they’ve discussed it before hand, her safe word. Harry knows his baby girl and that she gives up too early, gets too overwhelmed before she could actually enjoy the good part all of it although she has a potential to be more bearing than that.

They’ve lost the count of her orgasms.

The overestimation thingy.

Harry thinks it could be the best punishment for her.

She cramps her thighs around his wrist to make him stop but he spreads them wider apart, “You could gimme another one princess, knows y’could.” He curls his fingers to caress that spongey button inside her that makes her writhe like a leaf and it definitely did.

“Shit.” Eventually she gives into him basking in the pleasure of it -- sinking down on his fingers and grinds her clit against his knuckles, her cum from her previous orgasms glistening on his skin.

“Fuck already squirting.” She didn’t realize that, too floaty in her subspace and the ecstasy until she feels his fingers rubbing inside her again.

“Daddy no, no, no ... too sensitive!” She cries out cramming her legs around his waist and pushes his chest away with her knees but Harry keeps pummelling them deeper, scissoring them and adding two more, her thighs shakes terribly a burn spreads in her limbs as the sensational craving envelopes her once again.

“Yes, yes, yes. Don’t stop, please!” She shouts out whimperishly making Harry smile and he smooches a kiss to her forehead, pressing his chest flushed to hers and cradles her jaw to make her look at him, “Cum fo’ me. You’re me good fuckin' girl – g'na come right?” She bobs her head quickly fresh tears gliding down her cheeks and Harry wipes them away immediately.

She’s flying high like a kite. Wanting him all. His hands. His touch. His cock. His cum anything she could get out of him.

His love. His attention. His constant assurances and praises, affection, tenderness and his kisses and loads ‘n loads of tiny kisses She’s always needy for that.

“’M your good girl!” She sobs out in high pitch grappling onto restraints and Harry feels this dire urge to protect his little one at all costs, “Yes you’re.” He coos brushing her hair away from her eyes and let her hide her face into his neck as she turns stiff like an arrow and creampies around his fingers, lips smushed against his cheek.

“Take a breath, honey. Yes princess just like that.” He massages her shoulder and pecks it to calm her down upon feeling her heartbeat go wild after she comes.

She shakes in his arms whilst Harry showers her in kisses lining himself against her entrance and sheathes into her in a slick, their moans melting as he buries himself deep till her belly and cum spurts out from her cunt with his each hard thrust and it drips down her bum and onto already splotched sheets.

White dots wafts past her eyelids, arms shaking and lip wobbling as she feels it hit like a train. Getting pooled into utter bliss of many orgasms, feeling a rupturing dose of euphoria cocooning her.

She feels like she’s on paradise and somebody’s calling her through the white noise but she’s unable to respond all she could do’s blabber nonsense while trying to stop squirming.

Then she gets familiar to that gentle voice, the cosiness of that hand holding onto her free ones now and the softness of those lips against her forehead.

“Squeeze my hand if you could hear me baby.” He gets anxious a little bit when she stays droopy and unresponsive like a sunflower at nights.

A huge grin adorns his after climax blissed out features when she obeys him and gives a lil squish to his palm, “There y’go baby sugar. Y'alright honey?” He kisses the tip of her nose when she just blinks up at him weepily.

“Daddy.” Her voice scratchy and awfully feeble from all of the screaming and moaning.

“No daddy. ‘S just Harry, I love you pet. So much of it come back to me, please?” He almost pleads corking his mind to think what would bring her back from her fragile state since she has never slipped past from him this deep ever.

She whines at the hollowness she feels in her tummy when he pulls out catefully from her with a squelching noise and hisses even when the sheets rustles against her folds, “So sensitive.” Harry murmurs trailing honeyed kisses into the softest flesh of her thighs.

“Yes daddy, but want you!” Harry’s brows shoots up into shock and he slips his forearm under her to hug her tight, “’M right her bubba.” She cuddles into him and yawns fumbling with his sides listening to his pacific breathing.

“Guess we gotta give this little one a sleepy bath.” He mutters into her hair, nails scratching soothingly up her neck and twirling her downsy baby curls.

“I love you.” She rasps out rubbing the sleepiness in her eyes with the back of her hand, “I love you too -- would you like if I lit up some candles in the bathroom? Y’favourite ones?” He thinks it might help her get out of her subby state.

“No. Just you.” She pouts battling the sleepiness away and clings to him when he walks them to bathroom and sits them into the cold tub, he wrapped her around him in a way she doesn’t come in contact with the coldness of it as they wait for it fill with bubbling water (Y/N was too sensitive and clingy that he knew if he’d away parted away she’d have cried endlessly.)

No words were exchanged as she almost slept on his chest and drooled all over him.

“Cutie.” Harry giggles softly pecking her parted snoring lips and cleans himself and her gently.

Gets his most worn out clothes, the one that could tell another person in a beat that she belongs to him from the smell alone.

She slings her thigh around his waist and smashes her face under his chin, canoodling into him with a little tired purr.

He was petting her head and running his hand over her back that when she mumbled into her sleep, rubbing her cheek up and down his chest, Harry stopped and ducked down to kiss her forehead feeling love bursting through his insides.

“I love you, Harry.” Was what she mumbled. He's just too much in love with his soft little button.

#mafia harry x florist reader #HARRY STYLES SMUTTTT #harry styles dirty one shotsssss #DOM HARRY SOFT SUBBY READER #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles #cute harry #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Blindfold

Blindfold Yunho x f.reader Genre: Smut Words: 3.8k Warnings: Not really any warnings but we’re into blindfolding and major teasing here, folks. Birthday sex.

Authors Note: I hope that writing this will quench my thirst and make him stop haunting my dreams. Please suffer with me.

March 23rd. A day you’ve had marked with three red ‘x’’s on your phone calendar for a month. A day you have thought about since Valentine’s Day, after your wonderful, loving, perfect-to-you-in-every-way boyfriend told you about something he would like to try. The conversation had been innocent enough, although there was some irony in it’s exchange, during post-sex cuddles on your bed.

He was all giggles, with soft hands and warm skin, voice lower than usual and just as tender. You could feel the gentle tickle of his lips at your hairline as they moved to form words. Easy words that spelled out his curious desire, “Maybe someday we could try blindfolding.” Those six simple words, spoken with a tangible smile and blushing cheeks, had you pulling your head back from the comfort of his neck to watch his face. Yunho was grinning, somehow shy after all this time, and proud of himself nonetheless. You smiled right back at him with your lips pressed to his chin when he playfully lifted his lips too high for you to reach in your position cradled against his chest. “If you want to blindfold me I would let you. I trust you.” you assured him, but he let out a soft laugh. He swallowed audibly under your full attention, clearing his throat to speak even softer, “Not you…” You said nothing, needing a moment to understand, “I want you to blindfold me.” Realization hit you, and a gut punch of arousal along with it, “Oh.” With your palm against his chest, you forced yourself up at the same time Yunho let you push him onto his back. You wasted no time in straddling his lap. You leaned forward, stretching yourself to place your hands over his eyes with a giggle. “I didn’t mean we had to do it right now!” he laughed, grasping your hands and removing them from his face to kiss your palms. Placing your hands on his stomach, you rolled your hips over his growing length, “Perhaps not, but I still want you right now.” His hands were already gripping your thighs the moment you moved against him. With a bite to his smirking lips, he followed your motions with actions of his own, “As you wish.”

X

So here you were, after careful planning and orchestration. Without letting them know the details of your plan, you made sure to enlist Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s help, or at least tell them you were trying to make plans for the evening on Yunho’s birthday. You didn’t expect any promises, but Seonghwa did text you this morning to tell you they would try to get him out on time.

You fold and unfold the long piece of silk in your lap, running your fingers over the smooth fabric and appreciating the pink color you chose. It matches the rest of the lace babydoll and panties that cover you.

Part of you is slightly nervous, while the other reminisces about all the reasons you shouldn’t be. Yunho has never been one to make you feel anything less than comfortable or wanted in your relationship, and sex between you is not new.

Perhaps your nerves are born of performance? You must be feeling this way because he specifically wanted this and if you don’t make it great for him then it will be a failure. Yunho has said the same thing to you many times, when he feels nervous about performing for his fans.

Just as you shake your head with resolve to make this wonderful for him, the bedroom door opens and you jump.

There he is, stopped in his tracks, standing with his hand still wrapped around the doorknob as he stares at you sitting there at the end of your bed.

“You’re home.” is what you say, trying to rebound off your surprise. You must have been so lost in thought you didn’t notice the sound of his arrival through the apartment. You don’t miss the way his presence seems to add a fond sense of ‘home’ to the room.

He gulps, an easy smile raising his cheeks. His duffel bag is tossed to the floor in front of the dresser and he closes the door, unzipping his training jacket until that too, is tossed to the floor.

“What’s all this?” he asks, standing in front of you. He dips low to capture your lips in a greeting, waiting for your answer when he regains his full height.

You goad him with a grin, “Why don’t you hurry up and shower so you can find out?”

Yunho’s brows lift momentarily as he turns toward the hamper, smirking back at you as he begins to undress. He takes a peek at your face with every piece that comes off, eating up the way your eyes ogle him in silence.

He checks just once more before ducking into the bathroom, making sure you’re staying put there on the bed.

You refuse to let your thoughts consume you anymore, enjoying the pleasant buzz that sizzles on your skin, left in the wake of his staring. Although it’s new, you were certain he would love this piece on you, having mentioned the few times you’ve worn lingerie, that he loves you most in soft colors that compliment your cuteness. Babydolls are your personal favorite, and he has agreed prior that they’re best for ease of access when he wants to fuck you while keeping something on.

You’re both laughing when your eyes meet after his shower. The unspoken acknowledgment that he’s probably broken a record for his shower time is funny to both of you.

He doesn’t bother with anything more than a towel around his hips, and you pluck it from his grip as soon as he is within reach, “You won’t be needing that.”

He smiles at you, allowing you to tug him forward onto the bed. Yunho’s fingers busy themselves with touching and pinching the lace that delicately hides your skin from him. He lifts the hem in his fist, watching it nearly float back down around you with a sigh.

He definitely loves it.

“I love this on you,” he admits a moment later, his eyes seeking yours. The tone of his voice always melts you like this- when it’s full of love and ardor.

You gesture towards the headboard, allowing him a moment to get comfortable in your requested position before you straddle him. He hisses at the contact of your covered heat against his length, half hard since he came out of the shower from anticipation alone.

Yunho reaches up, collecting you by the nape of your neck and urging you down so he can kiss you. His lips move against yours exactly how you like, slow and building. He does this sometimes, when he wants you to be putty in his hands- not that you ever resist.

Except, today you have to take some control. Pushing past the bubbling nerves in your gut, you lean back. He chases you- leaning forward and consuming you, adamant that he isn’t finished sampling you.

It pulls a gentle moan from your throat when he moves his lips down to it. He holds you in place, caged against his body with his own arms clutching you to him. Your eyes pop open, remembering not to get pulled under the waves of euphoria with him just yet. Today is about his pleasure.

“Yunho,” you say, but it comes out as a whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he coos back, still working his mouth against your neck.

A deep breath leaves you, “Stop for a second.”

Immediately he sits back, with eyes full of concern. He searches your face for any sign of discomfort, and his expression morphs into confusion, followed by realization a moment later when he notices the length of silk in your hands.

You lift it up between you, bashful and smiling. You’re eager for his reaction, and your boyfriend doesn’t disappoint.

“Is it my birthday?” he wonders aloud.

You snort a laugh at him, taking a playful swat at his chest, “It is, you dork.”

He gives you a dazzling, heart-clenching, silly grin at your response, “Oh, yeah.”

“Now sit still, please.” you instruct, unable to hide your growing smile at his immediate and eager obedience.

He waits, eyes closed, but unable to help the way his length twitches against your core as you wrap the silk over his eyes.

“All good under there? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” you ask, not bothering to hold up any at all.

“No, but I can feel both your hands on me so nice try.” he says, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his tone.

He earns himself a swipe of your tongue over his neck at his snarky remark, and the resulting sharp inhale you’re rewarded with is enough sweet justice for you.

He’s smiling when you pull away, tugging here and there to make sure it isn’t too tight nor too loose. He groans when you give him no warning and take his face into your hands, kissing him deeply.

You don’t stop your attention, kissing him until the sound of your lips feels deafening in the silence of the room. His hands grip your waist, gently rocking you back and forth along him in tandem.

It’s enough, you decide, when you break for air and he’s panting with flushed cheeks and heated skin. “Are you going to be okay, baby?”

He swallows thickly, then smiles, and you resist the urge to coo at the way his cheeks look rounder with the blindfold over his eyes. “Keep going.”

“Of course,” you comply in a sultry tone, “Just relax.”

He does as you’ve asked, allowing you to rise from his lap and push his legs apart further. He bites his lip with anticipation- feeling your weight dip the bed between his legs.

You enjoy the opportunity to tease, letting out huffs of your warm breath to ghost along his fully erect cock. He remains still and slack-jawed, awaiting your every movement. Unwilling to waste the moment, you admire him briefly- reclined on your bed, naked in all his glory. Yunho is gorgeous, but knowing he is just as beautiful beneath the surface makes your chest swell with great love.

The sight before you is something you aim to burn into memory for every sleepless, needy night that you miss him. His abs are taut, strained with anticipation and heavy breaths. His arms rest at his sides, feigning relaxation as his fingers dance with a stray thread on the blanket beneath him. His mouth is open just slightly and his brows are knit together in valiant concentration.

The part that pulls a low hum of appreciation from your throat is his full erection. Thick, red and leaking onto his abdomen, you’re spurred into action with the desire to see him a mess.

The first touch you deliver is a kiss, just on the edge of his hip. Slowly and deliberately, you firmly plant wet, open-mouthed kisses lower and closer to where he grows desperate for you. You’re paying attention to his reaction with every ministration and you must admit you are quickly becoming intoxicated with this game.

The power you feel, and how his every tiny reaction drives the spike of arousal deeper into your veins. He holds his breath, knowing the next place your lips will find is his cock if you keep going. With a tactical pause, you skip over it, smiling at his flushed cheeks, and let your lips flutter over the top of his thigh instead.

Yunho releases his held breath with a long and dour groan.

“Please don’t tease.” he whispers quietly, gasping when you suddenly rise up and lave the flat of your tongue around his left nipple. His hand jerks up with the desire to touch, but he resists. You didn’t ever tell him he couldn’t, but let him decide on his own what he wants to do. After all, this is about his pleasure.

The next moment you’ve swooped back down, gently taking the head of him into your mouth, and he reacts with a jerk of his hips and a loud moan. Garbled sounds of pleasure drop freely from his lips, his head thrown back as you take him as far back as you can.

The wet slurping is an erotic audio that pours heat into your own cheeks, and you can imagine that Yunho must feel like that sound is surrounding him with the subconscious focus of his ears.

“Oh, fuck baby… mmm, fuck.” he whines quietly when you use a hand to pump the base of his length that you can’t fit comfortably. He raises a hand again, and you watch as he bites his lip and resists the urge to tangle his fingers in your hair- instead balling a fist and settling it back at his side.

You continue like this for several minutes, switching your rhythm and pattern here and there to stroke or suck him the way you know he likes. When his breath is coming in ragged pants and his thighs begin the slightest tremble, you slow, and eventually release him.

Yunho’s protest is audible, and you cup his cheek at the adorable way his lips are pouted open and his brows are strung together with his plea.

“I want this to last.” you assure him, “It’ll be worth it.”

“Kiss me then,” he barters with you, breathless. His request is one you can comply with, planting a kiss directly to his lips and he tries so hard to kiss you into submission with his plush lips.

“That’s not fair,” you coo.

He smiles, shaking his head and leaning forward, “You’re not being fair.”

Leaning into him, you make sure to wrap your arms around his neck and whisper directly into his ear, “Don’t act like you didn’t want this.”

The resounding moan he tries to suppress is not lost on you, and he settled back with the clearing of his throat.

Straddling his thigh, you settle yourself in a comfortable position to kiss across his chest. Your mouth works higher until you’re biting gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He moans softly in reward, finally allowing himself the pleasure of your skin beneath his fingers, pacified with touching your thigh where it rests.

Your hand reaches down and you let your fingers wrap around his cock again at the same moment you gently suck on the place you’d just bitten. Your boyfriend is louder now, letting a throaty moan peel from his lips with your fist around his aching length.

He hisses when you repeat your marking a little higher, just below his ear. Yunho’s hand grips you tighter, letting it roam beneath the pretty lace, toward the fullness of your ass and digging his fingertips in to urge you into motion upon his leg.

“Fuck.” he whispers lowly on a breath as you set a rhythm with your fist once more. His head falls back against the headboard, his hips softly canting up with every pump.

As if he had intended it that way, his throat is now conveniently exposed for your lips and teeth. You want to make excellent use of his generosity, but the ache of emptiness in your cunt demands more attention.

Wordlessly, you sit up, shimmying yourself out of the matching panties and letting your knees settle on either side of his hips. Every rustle of fabric and movement you make is one that Yunho absorbs with great anticipation.

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re up to yet, but he can smell your perfume and your sex and feel your proximity over him. With wandering hands, he reaches out, tentatively, catching the left side of your waist first. All it takes is a simple swipe of his thumb and the comforting palm of his hand for him to realize exactly what part of your body he is holding, even through the lace.

That notion makes you softer for him, smiling sweetly at the dusty rose on his face as he reaches up to palm your breast. His free hand slides to your back, pulling you closer so he can attach his tongue to the nipple he’s found budding beneath the fabric of your lingerie.

The friction and heat makes you whine, admittedly turned on more than you thought possible with the addition of a simple piece of silk around Yunho’s head.

He spoils you with his hands now, roaming all over your curves, mostly followed by his mouth. He’s still short of breath, but smiles nonetheless when he locates at first your nose and then your lips with his own kisses. He doesn’t try any tricks this time.

His kiss pauses immediately when his hands, having wandered down and beneath the lacy fringe, find you bare. He groans at the feel of your skin, audibly basking in the pleasure it gives him to glide two fingers through your wetness with practiced ease.

Yunho dips one long digit into your heat, eating up the sound of your cry. Your hands hold him at his neck and his shoulder, leaning into his frame to stay steady. His face is less than an inch from your shoulder, and he takes advantage of the proximity to turn his head and capture the side of your neck with his mouth.

A second finger joins the first, gliding through your wetness and creating obscene squelching sounds with every thrust into your pussy. You’re beginning to lose yourself, completely indulged in the feeling of him absolutely everywhere.

He loves it just as much, groaning at the sounds you’re making just because of him.

“Does that feel good baby?” he suddenly asks, and the tone of his voice is absolutely sinful.

“Yes.” you whimper into his ear.

He grunts, “I’m gonna come if we keep playing like this.”

The admission is a tempting offer, but you don’t want to end the fun too early. Instead, you think it best to ask him, “What do you want me to do?”

He leans back again, reclining against the pillows, and you allow him to guide you now by feel. To do what he wants with you. “Why don’t you have a seat, baby?” he coos mischievously.

Teasing him further, you take advantage of the position and settle your core over his abs. He makes a sound in his throat akin to a growl and grabs your bottom with both hands and pulls you back into an upright position on your knees.

He kneads the malleable flesh for no longer than a second before he sits up straighter and tells you, “Sit on my cock.”

The dirty words leaving his mouth send sparks up your spine, and you do as you’re told. He’s already got one fist around the base of himself, aiding you in sliding down along the length he’s presented you with.

Watching his face contort with pleasure as you sink over him is by far one of your favorite parts of sex with your boyfriend. He’s so expressive, and the breathy moan that spills from his mouth when you’ve settled completely sends you halfway to heaven already.

Yunho is completely flushed, now. With the rosy tint creeping down his neck to his chest and the two small blooming violets you’ve given him, he adjusts to wrap one arm around your waist while the other is propped behind him on the bed so he can stay upright.

You set to work immediately, rolling your hips over him to a rhythm you can both enjoy. He’s panting again, stimulated to sensitivity from the restriction to his vision.

Mewling sounds leave your mouth, hanging open as you continuously spear yourself on his length. He gives a particularly hard thrust that sends you toppling forward onto his chest. As if he intended it that way, he naturally holds you against him and scoots down the bed- enough to plant his feet firmly so he can rock into you with more strength.

This position is your favorite and he knows it. The sound of your cries amplify with the angle of his cock into your depths, and the sounds are diving right into his ear. You’re rapidly approaching your orgasm in this position.

He grunts, baring his teeth as he thrusts into you roughly. “Fuck, Yuyu… oh my god, fuck, yes.” you breathe the words against him, and he delivers you a loud, rewarding groan.

“I can’t, oh fuck this is so good.” he praddles desperately, slowing to flip you onto your back.

He rips the silk away from his eyes, not bothering to toss it from his hand as his gaze finds your face. The mutually fucked out expressions you share spurs him on, working quickly to push your knee up to your shoulder as he drives his cock deeper into you.

The wildness in his eyes catches you off guard and he can feel your walls tightening around him. Yunho immediately places his thumb on your clit, sending you rapidly spiraling into euphoria. He wants to feel you come undone around him.

The added stimulation sends you over the edge and you seize up, crying out his name in a high-pitched moan.

He follows you on a ragged breath a moment later, unable to withstand the pleasure. He slows, thrusting steadily at a declining pace and strength until he’s spent, leaning over your frame with a blissful expression.

It takes several moments for you both you regain your breaths, and when Yunho finally slips from your core and rolls onto his side, you think he is simply stunning. You stay in your position for a few seconds longer, spying him as he throws his arm over his eyes and smiles.

“Mmm, baby, you’re amazing. That was...” he pauses to mull over choice words “Incredibly hot.” he breathes, slowly regaining a normal heart rate. You stir at his praise, finding enough strength in your jellied limbs to pull yourself against his chest.

“Did you like it?” you wonder, just to confirm what you already know.

He exhales a soundless laugh, lifting his arm just enough to grin at you, “That was some of the best sex we’ve ever had. Top three personal favorites.”

It’s a running joke between you to sometimes rank the best sex you’ve had together, and you giggle at his opinion, pleased with yourself.

“I put so much work into that, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He removes his arm finally, placing it around you instead. He squeezes you just enough that his lips can reach the crown of your hair. “Thank you.”

“Happy Birthday baby.” you finally say with a kiss to his lips.

It isn’t until four days later, the next time you see the rest of his group, that you’re made privy to the fact that he told them- in great detail- about the birthday gift he received from you when Wooyoung makes a joke about using the tie Yunho is wearing as a blindfold.

Your boyfriend fails to meet your sharp gaze when you look at him immediately after. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll get your revenge.

“That’s alright,” you assure the group. “I’ll just have to use handcuffs on him next time, too.”

You keep a stone face until you catch Jongho’s head whip up at your statement, and the look of pure horror on his face sends you into a fit of laughter.

#yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez fanfiction #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #jeong yunho

[binniesthighs]

❆on a winter’s day | reader x hyunjin |❆

Pairing: self insert, female reader x hwang hyunjin

Genre: the fluffiest smut

Tags: confident!reader, shy!hyunjin, extrovert!reader, introvert!hyunjin, virgin!hyunjin, dancer!reader, dancer!hyunjin minho and jisung side characters, minsung if you turn your head upside down, slow burn, that sweet sweet build up, first time, meet cute, college au, sexual tension, mentions of food, praising, oral (m&f recieving), marking, fingering (f recieving), protected sex, aftercare, hyunjin is the softest boi in this one

Word count: 4.3k

Requested: By a lovely anon! You can read the original ask/post right before this one! 

“and five, six, seven, eight!”

The cool of the hardwood flooring beneath your tired heels squeaked from the movement of twenty dancers throwing their bodies to the left. Each and every one of you were reflected in the mirror in front of you: bodies twisting like the curl of a ribbon and arms outstretched. You winced as your knee hit the ground and you hurled your body into a type of somersault. As soon as you were back on your feet, you bent your spine backwards reaching out as far behind you as you could. For a couple moments, the whole world was turned upside down.

It was then when you saw him. His silver hair was tied up, and his brow glistened with sweat. There was nothing else in his eyes other than pure focus.

It was breathtaking.

one, two, you counted in your head.

Next came the hardest part.    

Everyone leapt in sync, creating a resonating thud once you all landed.

Thank God that you landed it that time. To your right, your friend Minho scoffed slightly, likely teasing you for finally jumping at the same time as everyone else.

three, four

The group crashed down to the floor again, this time you had to use all your strength to roll, then pull yourself up without help from your hands. You had been practicing it for weeks.

You could feel Minho’s eyes boring into you while you attempted.  

You were able to do it, but it wasn’t nearly as fluid as him. How had you never noticed how amazingly his body flowed?

“and five, six!” Your instructor clapped. The music faded as you all sunk down to the floor again, trying to make it appear as if you were dissipating into it. “Very good job everyone!” She beamed and applauded you all who finally let your heaving breaths be heard. “Excellent improvement from you all!”

You couldn’t even stand up from the floor you were so exhausted. The aggressive florescent lights burned your eyes and you considered taking a nap right there.

“You did it!” A foot kicked you. Looming over you were your two friends Minho and Jisung shoving towels onto each other’s faces. “Were you counting like I told you to do?” Minho expectantly leaned in.

“yes,” You answered a little annoyed, not as much at him, but at yourself. You could have done even better.

“We told you that you could do it. It’s just the mental block man.” Jisung offered you a hand up.

Once you were vertical again, a little wave of dizziness hit you.

“Wanna go out to celebrate?”

Your usual friend group circled around you with their bags in hand.

“Finally got it this time, L/n?” They patted you on the back. Besides hip-hop being your specialty in a contemporary class, you still seemed to get along with everyone easily. On the first day of class when you literally announced that you didn’t want to be there, everyone warmed up to you pretty quickly. You didn’t want to lie and pretend that you were all about throwing your body around like that. Of course you thought contemporary was beautiful, just not your thing. Graduation requirements said otherwise.

“Do you need me to carry you outta here?” Jisung joked at your dazed expression. Truthfully, your head was still spinning a little.

“Only very certain people get to carry me Han Jisung, and unfortunately you are not one of them.” You quipped back, and a few of your friends snarked chuckles at him.

He put his hands up in defeat. “I was just offering.”

Across the room, your eyes found him again. He had put his bag a bit of ways away from everyone else’s. He guzzled down his water, bobbing his sharp Adam’s apple. He then tore his hair tie out and ruffled his hair around which was damp at the roots. Everything that he did was so effortless.

“Hey,” you nudged Minho, “You know who he is?”

“Him? That’s Hwang Hyunjin. I dunno much about him, he’s pretty quiet, I haven’t heard much about him within the school either. Amazing dancer though. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah...”

Hyunjin pulled a black pullover past his head.

“You coming with us?” Minho snapped you back.

“No-uh, I think that I’m gonna stay a little while.”

“Suit yourself, I know that it’s gonna be delicious.” He teased and turned to throw his arm around Jisung while the group walked out.

The silvery-haired boy zipped up his bag as if he was near leaving. Your throat became unexplainably tight. Your legs started moving towards him before you could tell them to.

“You popped up behind him. “Hyunjin, right?”

He whipped around startled, with his gorgeous brown eyes widening. “...yes?”

“I wanted to tell you that I saw you dancing today and you’re really good. It looks like its so easy for you. I wish that I could be like that.”

“Oh...thank you.” He gave you a kind smile.

shit, he was so cute.

“Soooo, what’s your secret?” You attempted to keep him there for just a moment longer.

“My secret?” His eyes became puzzled.

“Yeah, like, to how you’ve gotten so good?”

“I just...practice.”

“Huh...”

The door to the practice room clicked one last time and the two of you were alone.

“I noticed that all of your moves flow really nicely to the next, you’re not stiff at all, it’s like your body never stops evolving with the motions.”

“thank you...” Hyunjin hushed shyly and twiddled with his hair.

“Maybe you could teach me? Teach me how to make my technique better? I’m just so robotic sometimes.”

“...sure.” He hesitantly said with a growing tiny grin. “Like right now?”

“Oh! I mean it doesn’t have to be right now right now, just like when you have some time I was thinking.”

“I have a little time right now.” He began taking off his coat which he had just put on.

“Oh really?” You felt your cheeks get a little warm. You certainly weren’t expecting him to say yes so quickly.

“Do-do you have time?” He worriedly asked.

“--Yeah!”

“Okay...let’s get started then.”

✦✧✦✧

The music from Hyunjin’s phone echoed over the speakers and you attempted the twirls again. You were able to execute the timing, but each one felt more inelastic than the last. God, your whole body was aching to stop, but it couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him watching you and observing your every movement.

“What should I change about it this time?” You struggled to take in breaths.

Hyunjin looked you up and down, with that same focus from before. With someone as picturesque as him, he looked a little stern when he examined you, which scared you a little, but excited you at the same time.

“You need to take the strain out of your hips, they’re geting in the way you need to let you whole body fall into it. Focus on your legs. Like this:”

He spun in front of you with his leg pointed out. With the twist of his body his silver hair swept along with him.

“You know what I mean?” He gently asked.

“--yes, I think so.”

“Your hips are your anchor, but don’t let them stop you.” Hyunjin stepped up closer to you, hesitantly going to grab your waist with his hands. It was then when you realized how big and powerful they were. His sudden gesture made your heart beat even faster than it already was.

“Pivot like...this.” He turned you a little to the left.

“Oh.”

He lead your hips into the pivot a couple more times to show you. His hands were so warm.

He quickly removed his hands, embarrassed, like he had been doing something he should not have been. He walked away from you and you took notice of his shoulder blades curving under the thin fabric of his sleeveless shirt.

“Do you wanna stop now? I think I’ve done as much as I can for today.”

He nodded and removed his phone from the sound system.

✦✧✦✧

Outside of the arts building, snow had picked back up again after flurrying the whole night long. Everything around had been covered in a beautiful blanket of white.

“Well, I’m headed off this way.” You head nodded to your bus station a couple blocks down. “Thank you for helping me by the way.”

“For sure! I...liked helping you out.”

“Really?”

Hyunjin immediately made a startled little face upon realizing what he had said and you laughed a little at him.

He pulled his chunky scarf up higher to his chin. “Actually...I um, live down that way too.”

“Do you take the 12 bus too?”

He nodded. Little snowflakes had begun to get caught in his hair like a little halo.

“Well then let’s get going! We don’t wanna miss the last bus!”

✦✧✦✧

It was rush hour, so naturally the two of you had to stand on the bus of packed people. The air inside was chilly and it smelled of old dusty coats that had just recently been taken out for the fist snow. You thought it was a little funny how every five seconds or so someone would sniffle in there.

“I’ve seen you in class too.” Hyunjin finally said something after a while of you two being pushed pretty close next to eachother. “Dancing and other stuff, everyone really seems to like you, you’re really good at making people laugh.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You didn’t quite know how to respond to him. “I don’t really have a problem putting myself out there much, I’ve always really believed in just being me, you know? And not letting others determine who I am around them. That or maybe I just like the sound of my own voice.”

He giggled a little then pulled the string nearby the window.

stop requested.  The robot bus voice said.

“You’re not stalking me or anything are you?” You rose an eyebrow at him, which scared him more that you had expected.

“No..? What do you mean?”

“This is my stop too.”

Your boots crunched into the snow of the side walk and you thanked the bus driver. Hyunjin got off after you with his hands in his pockets. The two of you stood there in the snow for a moment, something weirdly unsaid lingering between the two of you. Something felt unfinished but you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He genuinely was so sweet, you sneakily wanted to be around him for just a little longer.

Hyunjin stammered, but confidently got out, “Do you want to get something to eat? Right now?”

It was if he had read your mind. You were glad that he had asked, and a little surprised too. He waited attentively for you to answer, still looking a little nervous; even looking like that he was terribly adorable.

“I’d love to.” You smiled back at him causing him to sigh in relief.

“Is there anywhere that you like?” He led the both of you on.

You pondered for a moment, then remembered. You cringed out the words, “Actually...I really shouldn’t be spending money right now; I need to get a lot better at saving...”

You almost slapped yourself in the face after saying such a thing and seeing how crestfallen he had become. It was true, but technically he didn’t need to know that.

“Or! I mean, we could go to my place and I could I dunno, whip something up? I should have something...”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to be eating away your food.”

“No really! It’s fine, come on, I’m just down this block.”

✦✧✦✧

It was only seconds before you opened the door to your apartment that you remembered how embarrassingly messy it was. You and your two roommates were the best of friends, but horribly matched when it came to being cleanly. The three of you just chalked it up to you all being “creative minds.” You all went to arts school after all.

“Just...don’t look--sorry, it’s really messy in there, I wasn’t really expecting to bring anyone over.”

“I don’t care.” Hyunjin politely said and watched you unlock the door.

“We just call it creative madness.”

When you walked in even you tried hard to not look at the mess and got straight to work rummaging around your cabinets.

“Does spaghetti with sauce sound good?”

He nodded and neatly arranged his coat, shoes and bag at the door.

He wandered over to the large windows of your living area. “You have a really nice view.”

“Ah thanks,” You clicked on the stove. “Makes the price of the rent worth it,” you lowered your voice “fuckin’ swindlers.”

Your eyes wandered to the island in your kitchen full of all kinds of crap: baking supplies, art supplies, old mail, textbooks, mismatched pairs of gloves.

“It would probably be best if we ate in my room,” You let up. “You can barely sit here.”

Hyunjin nodded and turned to keep watching the snow peacefully. While you cooked, he didn’t say much but you couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, nearly burning yourself on the saucepan. He changed the room by just merely exisiting in it. You truly couldn’t imagine how you had never noticed him before.

✦✧✦✧

“Thank you for cooking for me, that was really good.”

You waved his compliment off with the swipe of your hand. “It’s really nothing, you should see my roommate, she’s a culinary science major. Wait! Let me go get something real quick.”

You smiled at your little surprise and shuffled back to the kitchen, putting the two little raspberry and chocolate cupcakes on plates with equally little forks.

“Ta-da! These are to die for. I wish I could take the credit; these are just one of the benefits of having a roommate that’s constantly experimenting.”

Hyunjin took in a careful bite and his eyes widened into moons.

“I know right!? She’s a genius.”

Silence filled the air between you as you ate more. You couldn’t help but feel so completely and utterly cozy in the moment. The sun had nearly set and you had set your heater up in your room along with some Christmas music to softly play in the background. The only regret that you had was the candle you had lit which was just a little too sweet. You started to wonder after you two had finished, what would happen next? Would he leave? Greedily, a feeling seeped into you like before, you still didn’t want him to leave.

“That was amazing.” He placed his plate down.

“You know what?” Your brash confidence pushing through once more. “Your hair, the silver, it’s just so pretty. I can’t stop looking at it.”

He instantly became flustered. “Oh...thank you, I’ve been thinking about dying it like this for a really long time now and I finally did it. It sounds kinda dumb, but I didn’t wanna do anything that would draw attention to myself.”

“...can I touch it?”

Hyunjin looked a little shocked, but eagerly nodded.

You started by thumbing through some of the longer strands towards his shoulders: it was just as soft as you imagined. You then started from the top running your hand all the way down, admiring the way that it looked like it shimmered a little. You had gotten so caught up in him that you didn’t notice that he had closed his eyes.

“pretty.” You cooed.

“Y/n?” He suddenly asked.

“Hmm?”

“Is it weird to say that I feel like really comfortable around you? Is that weird?”

“No, not at all.” You continued running your hands through the silver strands, somehow you had leaned in a lot closer to him than you had been before.

He looked at you with his doe-like brown eyes. You could have sworn that they were glistening. Your eyes fell a little lower to his lips, they looked wonderfully kissable and plump. From that moment your brain furiously wondered what they tasted like. His eyes fell a little too.

He leaned in first, catching you completely off guard. He kissed you so carefully and gently, his mouth parted just slightly; it was heavenly. You could still taste the chocolate and the raspberry on his lips. He sighed a little into your mouth like he was relaxing himself. In many ways, the way in which he kissed you made you feel like he cared for nothing else in the world, just you. Your cupped his face in your hands, tracing your thumbs against his jawline.

That was it. You were absolutely crazy for him.

You broke for a moment and he turned into a huge, rosy, smiling mess. The two of you giddily giggled at how happy you were over what had just happened. You shuffled your own plate off the bed to silently invite him to lay down which he did obediently. Now he seemed less hesitant, but more excited.

You swung your legs around both sides of him and kissed him more on his smiling lips. At this point, you had convinced yourself that nothing in this world was sweet as him. His hands found their way to your back, where he ran his fingers down, making you shiver delightfully at the touch. His hands finally found your waist which he grabbed onto firmly. He pulled you down into him so your bodies were flush and you could feel all of his warmth. Once you were this close, he started kissing you back more wantonly, gasping a little in between.

“You’re so beautiful Hyunjinnie.” You snuck in between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

He let an airy laugh fall into your lips then brought one of his hands to tangle in you hair. All at once, your hands yearned to explore the soft of his skin everywhere. Outside your window the snow still silently fell and the golden sunset faded into the skyline’s horizon.

You knew how excited you had become, where together your hips grinded together. Your head spun thinking about having someone as beautiful as him give your body attention.

Hyunjin broke, holding your eyes seriously. “I-I want to make you feel good. Can I do that?”

“Of course, I would love that.” You melted.

“--But...I think you’ll have to tell me how...I haven’t done this before, sorry..”

The fact that he had shared this with you made him even more adorable.

“Don’t apologize, I can show you everything.” You whispered into his ear with a prideful grin. “But first, can I first help you?”

He gulped, “Yes.”

“I want to show you that you’re worth the attention, you’re worth all of it.”

You helped him pull off his sweater, and then his sleeveless shirt revealing his toned and pale chest, just waiting for your lips. You didn’t want to move too fast however, or risk scaring him.

“Just relax okay?”

You planted kisses everywhere you could: on his collarbones, his stomach and on his ribs, right over his heart. Even from the simplest of touches from you he seemed to unravel.

“You’re breathtaking.” You said onto his skin.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sucking a little harder than you planned, drawing little purple marks against his milky-white skin. He looked like pure art.

“Can I go down a little further?”

“Mmhmm.” He got out, with eyes closed shut trying to control himself.

You slipped his joggers down, revealing his quivering member, which was enticingly long even hidden by his briefs. He had already stained them a little with pre cum.

“oh my god.” you whispered, enamored. You couldn’t wait a single second further.

He timidly watched as you completely striped him, then tore off our own shirt and pants to make it a little more even.

“Tell me stop if you want me to, okay?”

He pleaded with desperate eyes, “Don’t stop.”

First you teased him just a little by running your tongue flat up and down and around his length, wetting your tongue with one hand and slowly pumping. You moved on to then twist around the head which had grown painfully hard. His breaths wavered and he let out little moans in desperation. You took him in at last, bobbing your head steadily.

“ mmm, that feels so good.” Hyunjin moaned out breathlessly.

You kept on, but not for too much longer, you didn’t want him finishing quite yet. He looked a little dejected when you stopped, but you swooped up to kiss him more. You took up his left hand and kissed him all the way up to his wrist and into his palm. His fingertips brushed over your lips, as gentle as one would with a flower petal.

“You want to touch me now?”

“--Yes.”

You unclipped your bra for him and laid back. For this he didn’t need any instruction. He immediately took your breast in his hand, squeezing and and ghosting his fingertips over your nipples; you reveled under his touch. He lowered to suck lightly on the bud, pulling at it lightly with his lips. His teeth grazed you slightly but you didn’t care, you fucking loved it.

“That feels amazing.” You whispered as you watched him. He was sure to give both of your nipples attention.

“I want you.” You said with hot breath. “I want your tongue.”  

He looked a little bewildered, but determined after what you had said. He slid down your body, giving you kisses the whole way down like you had done to him.

He nibbled a bit on your thighs. “Tell me how you like it.”

By the second his confidence grew more and more and it was addicting.

You started by rubbing yourself a little so he knew where to start. “In circles, you can go fast or slow, I like both, and you can suck on it too if you’d like.

He lowered, and you swung one of you legs over his shoulder which he palmed into. He started painfully slow, kitten licking carefully; he didn’t know it, but he was teasing the hell out of you. Nevertheless, you whole body began to shake a little with each lick.

“Flatten your tongue out...like that, you can go a little faster, yes...just like that.”

He had closed his eyes and settled into a rhythm, and you dug your heels into the bed. It was astonishing how quickly he got the hang of it. You whimpered out while he continued.

“fuck, Hyunjin--”

He sped up a little, your first orgasm was close by.

“Your fingers, like this.” You held up your pointer and middle together to show him. “Fuck me like that.

He did as he was told, sliding them in with ease over how wet you had become. His fingers were long and slender; addictive. He pumped in and out while your pussy made ungodly sounds. You felt so close you were lightheaded.

“Curl your fingers up, like this.” You showed him again. He continued going fast, taking a hint from your quickened breaths.

You came with white heat, clawing at the comforter on the bed. You only gave yourself a few more moments before pulling him up towards you. “I want you inside me.”

You scrambled with the drawer of your nightstand to rip a condom off from the strand that you kept, tearing it open for him. He was a little flustered, but put it on quickly; he was dripping even more for you. Your lips connected as you laid down, and he aligned himself on top of you. It was then when you saw how pink his chest had flushed. You opened your folds for him, and he started to guide himself in. He filled you up perfectly, and he groaned out once the two of you were connected.

“it’s so tight.” He shivered.

Your fingers latched on to the skin of his hips as you guided him lightly up and down. He buried his face into your shoulder as little euphoric moans slipped past his lips. After a moment, he was able to find his pace, grazing you deep inside. You let him take control as he thrust into you, leaving your arms to wrap around his broad back. You pulled his face over to kiss him, the both of you loosing yourself in the other.

“You make me feel, so, so good, baby,” You hushed into his ear.

He panted, “I-I’m gonna cum soon.”

It took all your strength to flip him off of you, and to land in his lap. He groaned with his hands getting lost journeying all around your body--anywhere he could touch. You took over, riding him and rolling your hips fast with both of your palms flat on his chest riddled with hickies. Like this, you thought that he looked practically angelic. Both of you chased your orgasms together, erupting at nearly the same time, and you ravished in him throbbing inside.

You laughed a little together in sheer bliss and he flinched a little when you slid off of him.

“Did that all feel good for you? Are you okay?” You pecked his nose.

“Yes. It felt like nothing else.”

You stood up, adjusting your frazzled hair and putting on a fresh set of comfy clothes. “Stay right there okay?”

You went to grab him a towel and clean himself off with, handing him his clothes one by one as he dressed. You brought the plates back to the kitchen coming back with a large glass of ice cool water, then offered it to him. He guzzled it letting a little drop fall down his neck.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Do you wanna...stay a little longer?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

You blew the candle out and dimmed the lights, adjusting a blanket for the two of you to crawl under. Hyunijn followed you under, sweeping you deep into his arms.

Just a little bit longer. You thought to yourself. Stay with me.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids #I'm SOFT for hyunjin okay #can you tell that I'm really feeing these winter vibes #hyunjin x yn #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids drabble #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop drabble #college au #dancer au #meet cute #first time #requested #stray kids angst

[bluefuckboy]

vampire!Dabi x m!reader

A/N: not enough Dabi x m!reader out there so here’s a contribution with a twist. Reader works at a bloodmobile donation center and receives a late night visitor...

WARNINGS: blood (obviously), non con elements, body horror, very brief references to homophobic slang, implied virgin reader, implied death,

Word Count: 4,276

“Thanks again man!”

“Yeah no problem.”

Except it was a problem. Or rather more of an annoyance, even if you were on the end shift anyway. Protocol was two people for transport back to the hospital, but your coworker was very adamant that if he didn’t get to his girlfriend’s right at 9pm then they were over. You’d neglected to ask how he “forgot.”

You were more than capable of managing the bloodmobile by yourself. It was just a little lonely since the drive back to the hospital was close to an hour. Not to mention the time it took to double check donation storage before you could even head back.

You were midway through the A- donations when you heard a knock at the door. It had been at least twenty minutes since your coworker left. It was past 9pm now and everyone at the donation event had left around seven, so you were slightly wary to go to the door.

Upon peering through the window on the door you saw nothing initially. Just the parking lot illuminated dimly. There were shadows from the trees that made strange shapes on some of the parking spaces. It made you slightly anxious, so you turned to go back to the donations when another rap sounded on the door.

This time there was a man in front of the door. He was tall and lanky, his messy black hair was tousled by the slight breeze. A cigarette was perched between long, pale fingers with black nails and what looked like tattoos that came up to the wrist. His other hand was tucked into the pocket of a trench coat, black of course, which almost reached the heavy duty combat boots he was scuffing impatiently on the pavement.

He tapped on the glass of the door with a knuckle, but didn’t look up, opting to take another drag of the cigarette while casting a bored look in the direction of a streetlight.

Your hand hovered over the door handle. You knew opening the door was probably a terrible idea, but for some reason this guy had piqued your interest. You were curious to find out what the heck he was doing in front of a mobile blood donation center at this hour of the night looking like the long lost member of My Chemical Romance.

You slowly unlocked the door to the bus and opened it a crack. The man turned around and looked up at you. His face was pale, and eerie. There were multiple piercings studded across his cheeks, and up to his ears. The lower half of his jaw was heavily tattooed, the ink winding down to his neck and disappearing below the collar of his shirt.

You cleared your throat.

“Can I help you?”

“I dunno, can you?”

The question was mocking and he ended it with a toothless smile. His tone irked you and you informed him that you were done taking donations.

His brow lowered and he mused, “Donations? I thought this was a late night food truck. I even brought my crazy straw.”

He produced an impossibly twisted black straw from the trenchcoat, holding it up for you to see. You stared at it as you tried to come up with a response.

“Sir, this is a mobile blood donation center, not a food truck.”

The man tutted his tongue and peered past you slightly. You moved to block his view of the inside of the bus. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms, taking another long drag of the cigarette and blowing the smoke a little too close to your face for it to be a mistake.

When he spoke it was almost to himself, mumbling, “I don’t know why I even bother to make conversation.” He chuckled. “And what a waste of a clever joke.”

He laughed again and then sighed, letting the cigarette dangle loosely between his fingers. You were thoroughly confused now. Your confusion turned to disgust and slight horror as he brought the cigarette back to his lips. Instead of taking another puff, he drove the still lit butt into the center of his tongue, putting it out without even batting an eye.

You gaped at him, speechlessly watching as he tossed the butt aside. He was unfazed, despite the fact that he had surely just severely burned his tongue. He was merely stretching now, as though he were getting ready for a workout.

After coming back up from a deep toe touch he quipped, “Nothing like a nice palette cleanser, hmm?”

You blinked at him, and then suddenly he was making his way up the steps casually. You put out an arm.

“Excuse me, sir, I can’t let you in.”

The statement made him laugh.

“Letting me in. How 18th Century. You’re cute.”

He made to come into the bus. You tried to stop him, but suddenly found yourself unable to move. It was like the muscles in you body were cramping all at once.

The man easily slipped past you and there was a strange sense of foreboding building as you tried to move again. Pain shot through your legs and you grit your teeth. You were able to move your eyes and found yourself staring into the face of the man as he stood in front of you.

Up close you could see the dark circles under his eyes, heavy bags that accentuated his gaunt features. His eyes were unsettling, cerulean and dangerous. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. As you stared at them they seemed to flicker between a darker color momentarily, but it could have been a trick of the terrible lighting within the bus.

You watched as the man shut the door behind him and strolled slowly through the bus. He had his hands clasped behind his back, casually peering at the equipment as though he were looking through a library.

Upon finding the open intake box you had been sifting through, his eyebrows went up and a smile crept across his face. He knelt down in front of it and picked up an A- donation packet. He tucked it under his arm and then shuffled through the other packets as though he were looking through a collection of vinyl records.

“Any AB-?”

The question was directed at you and you were suddenly able to move your tongue again, which had felt like it was stuck to the roof of your mouth.

You tried to keep my voice steady as you said, “Sir I need you to put that down and please leave.”

He looked over at you with an amused expression, then turned back to the donations.

“I’ll take that as a no then. At least you’ve got a couple O-‘s. Always a safe bet, if a little bland.”

He sighed and then did something which would have made your jaw drop if you could have. He stabbed the crazy straw into the bag and then took a long sip of the blood. He swallowed, smacking his lips.

“Decent enough I suppose.”

He took another sip and emptied the bag, tossing it aside before moving on to the one he had tucked under his arm. All you could do was stand motionless and watch as he picked out a few more bags and sat casually on one of the donation chairs.

He propped his boots up on the chair and leaned back, sipping form a bag of B+ plus. You could feel sweat dripping down your back. Your muscles were painfully tense and you could feel fatigue setting in, but you couldn’t relax.

You tried in vain again to move and the man’s unusual eyes flicked up to you. He wiped a bit of blood clinging to his lip and sucked his thumb into his mouth. It was overtly obscene and clearly done to annoy you as he knew what he was doing was not only illegal but downright disgusting.

You could feel your legs starting to shake and were worried they might go out and send you flat on your face. Instead, you found yourself suddenly released from whatever strange force had been holding you hostage.

It was so sudden you just fell to the ground in a heap. The man laughed.

“How graceful.”

Despite the feeling of utter exhaustion that was washing over you, you were somehow able to get up and spin around to face the man. You were a bit larger than him and you needed to get him restrained before making a call to the authorities and figuring out what inventory he had decided to drink.

You moved to grab a strap from the chair he was in, quickly buckling it over the wrist that was by his side. His eyebrows went up, but he didn’t make a move to try and fight as you put the straps at the bottom of the chair over his feet so he was bound by all but the hand that held the bag he was still sipping from.

He swallowed and said, “Do I need to give you may safeword?”

Before you could snap back at him for the sexual comment, he lifted the bound arm up. The restraint broke like a piece of dental floss, snapping in half. The restraints on his feet were broken just as easily and you backed away slightly as he swung his legs over the chair and stood up.

He inspected his wrist, even though there were clearly no marks on the tattooed skin. The bag he had was tossed aside and he looked at you.

“I don’t usually prefer to play with my food, but I suppose if you want to have a little fun we could. I prefer fresh anyway.”

Before you had time to react he was grabbing you by your lab coat, swinging you onto the chair as though you weighed nothing. He practically threw you onto it and you felt you head hit the wall of the bus behind it.

“Whoops,” the man said, cracking a smile.

Your own blood went cold as he parted his lips for this smile. His canines were abnormally long, pressing into the soft flesh of his bottom lip. As you looked into his eyes, you saw they had a reddish tint to them, almost staining the blue, glinting as he leaned closer to you.

Your mind went to the tales of blood sucking monsters you’d heard growing up. But those were just stories and fairytales. This had to be some psychopath or sexual deviant who got off on a kink that had to do with bodily fluids.

The man was inches from you face and you found yourself unable to move again. You were stuck sitting in the chair sideways, your legs dangling over the edge. Your heart was racing, making blood pound in your ears.

You felt a chill run down your spine as the man leaned forward. His breath against your skin as he spoke was almost unnaturally hot.

“Sounds like a marching band, doesn’t it?”

Somehow you knew he was referring to the pounding of your blood in your ears. You felt something wet on your neck and the marching band was a cacophony of sound. His tongue was right at your pulse point.

His voice was almost a whisper.

“I’m sure you say this daily, so hopefully you won’t be too surprised. This may sting a little.”

Your eyes went wide as he suddenly sunk his teeth into the column of your neck. You could feel the two points of his canines drive deep, puncturing your skin easily. Your body spasmed as he pulled the fangs out. Blood oozed from the wound, but it was lapped up before it could drip over your collarbone.

The man went back to the gouges and this time you felt yourself jerk violently as he began sucking. A hand was suddenly on your upper thigh, then another on the opposite side of your neck, holding you there. It felt like receiving the world’s most painful hickey.

You shuddered and the hand on your thigh tightened. The man had a strong grip, and was putting just enough pressure to give a warning. Not that you could move if you wanted to. You weren’t in control of my body anymore.

You were hyper aware of each area of your body he was touching. The skin of his hand against your neck was cold, but his mouth on the other side was warm and damp. You could feel his tongue press into the holes. The sensation was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

For some reason it wasn’t pain you were feeling. There was a strange warmth spreading over the back of your neck and down your shoulders. The man pulled away from your neck for a moment. You could hear him swallow as you felt saliva and blood begin to drip onto your shirt, staining the collar of your lab coat.

He put his mouth on you again, but this time there was no sucking. Just the feeling of his tongue laving over the broken skin. It made your stomach drop and your mind began to feel foggy.

You didn’t know how much blood you’d lost. You could still hear the pounding heartbeat in your ears, but your body felt off. You must have involuntarily jerked again because the hand on your thigh slid upward, almost pressing into the dip of your pelvis.

The man must have been trying to keep you from jerking. But the feel of his thumb at the jut of your hip combined with the pressure of his long fingers around your side was making you feel strange in a different way now.

His lips against your skin was now sending heat to other areas of your body. You felt panic begin to rise in your chest. All the sensations were too much for you to handle and the lack of control over your body led to a response you hadn’t anticipated.

The man pulled back and you were mortified as he glanced down at the obvious bulge in your jeans. He raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose that explains the poor flow.”

He sighed and you could feel cold air rush into the space between him and you as he backed away. There was red at the edges of his mouth. He did a circular swipe with his tongue to lick it away and you felt your pants get even tighter.

Your cheeks were burning and you wanted to cover yourself, but you were still unable to move. The man had put a finger on the side of his face, tapping it in thought. You inhaled sharply as he suddenly swiped his thumb over the twin punctures on your neck, gathering a thick glob of blood.

He put the digit in his mouth and sucked on it in thought briefly before saying, “You humans never change.”

You were able to move your eyebrows down, relaying a confused expression to which he replied, “You’re all driven by libido. Just the slightest stimulation arouses you. It’s rather annoying actually.”

He tutted his tongue and your eyes widened as his hands were suddenly at your belt, unbuckling it deftly. He pulled you toward him, yanking off your pants. You felt your breath quicken even more. You could see your cock tenting your boxers. You wanted to disappear.

However the man had other plans. You nearly jerked off the table as he put the tip of his pointer finger on the head of your cock. He rubbed at the fabric of your boxers. You could feel they were damp.

The finger was moved to the waistband of your boxers. The man tugged them off, not being gentle as he dragged them over your flushed cock. You inhaled sharply and desperately wished you could do something, anything, to stop him as he took you in his palm.

He gripped you, musing, “I’ll never understand the hype over drinking from you virgins.”

The blush on your cheeks spread down your neck and chest and the man laughed.

“I suppose there is the thrill of seeing you come undone at the slightest touch.”

He moved his hand up slowly and thumbed over the head of your cock, which was practically dripping now. You shuddered and let out a pathetic noise as he dug the nail of his thumb into your slit.

“You’re particularity responsive,” the man said, rubbing in a slight circular motion, “Do you perhaps, hmm, what do they call it these days? Bat for the other team?”

The man gave you a ornery smile. You couldn’t say anything. Your tongue was stuck pressed up against your bottom teeth. Even if you could speak it was a subject you didn’t want to talk about, especially with some random psychopath.

However said psychopath was now bending down, pushing your legs further apart, saying, “If you swing that way then perhaps you haven’t found yourself a catcher.” His hooded eyes glanced up at you briefly before he continued in a lower voice, “Or maybe it’s a pitcher you’re looking for, hmm?”

Your whole body spasmed violently as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your asshole. His slang was outdated and embarrassing, but it was obvious he was experienced. The thought excited you more for some reason.

The man grinned and suddenly you were able to move. You gasped loudly as your mouth dropped open. The spit that you hadn’t bee able to swallow dribbled down your chin and you grabbed the edge of the chair to keep myself from tipping over.

You glanced down at the man and was met with a sultry gaze, combined with a vulpine smile. You tried to bring a hand up to push him off, but you had no strength. It was taking nearly all of your energy to try and lean forward and close your legs to try and cover yourself.

He brought the hand not on your cock up to your torso, pushing your shirt up. His fingertips were like ice against your heated skin and you couldn’t resist him as he lightly pushed you so you were lying on your back, legs parted, completely exposed.

You gasped as you felt the man take your cock in his mouth. There was no warning, no tongue teasing beforehand, just the tightening of his throat around you as he took all of your cock in.

Your nails dug into the cheap leather of the donation chair as he pulled off, switching to sucking on the head of your cock while chilled fingers made their way down to cup your balls. You shuddered and then cried out as you felt a finger ghost over your entrance.

The man’s wet maw was on you again, saliva dripping down your shaft as he teased you. You whined slightly as he leaned back after sucking half of you for a brief moment. He was looking at you with lewd curiosity.

You were surprised as he leaned forward so your faces were inches apart. His eyes were definitely tinged red now and his features seemed sharper, the angles more prominent. You gaped at him and then cried out in pain as he suddenly bit you again.

It was a different spot, closer to the junction of your collarbone and neck. The bite was harder, but for some reason the pain was arousing now. He pulled back and you didn’t have time to react as you felt his mouth on yours.

His lips were cold, but everything else was hot. You could taste the copper tang of your own blood in your mouth as he snaked his tongue sinfully past your lips. His fangs tested your bottom lip for a moment before he started kissing you so forcefully it felt like he was trying to devour you.

When you finally parted you were gasping for air. Blood and spit were dribbling down your chin and you could see saliva dripping from the man’s fangs as he gave you a feral smile. Then his hand was cupping your chin, his thumb dragging your bottom lip down.

His voice was husky as he said, “It seems you’re enjoying yourself.” He yanked your face toward him. “Unfortunately I can’t finish eating until we can take care of this it seems.”

As he spoke he pumped your cock a few times, making you squirm under him. He smiled and then you were gagging as he stuck two fingers into your mouth.

“I’ll let you do the sucking for a while,” the man said.

His expression made you nervous so you obediently began sucking, despite the humiliation you felt each time you heard the squelch of spit. When he was satisfied with the amount of your spit he’d gathered on his fingers, he pulled them out abruptly.

He moved his hand below your waist and you jumped as a slicked finger nudged at your hole. The man’s mouth was back on the new bite and it felt like your body was going numb. You could feel him suck at your neck as he pressed a finger into you.

You’d never tried any anal play before, so the feeling of someone pushing their finger into your asshole was so foreign you instinctively jerked away. The finger slid out and the sensation made you shudder.

You shut your eyes and hoped that you might have lost enough blood to pass out. But you could feel every sensation as the man’s finger entered you again. He was relentless in his sucking and now you were beginning to feel dizzy.

Your mind was hazy and when you came back to yourself the man had worked two fingers into you. He curled them upward and you felt like you’d been struck by electricity. It was pleasurable and you could feel more precum drip from your cock as he moved his fingers inside of you.

The man’s other hand was suddenly on your cock, putting pressure in just the right area. He twisted his fingers as he pumped you slowly. It was too much and you cummed so hard you saw white.

Your ears were buzzing and the room was spinning. It felt like you were having an out of body experience, especially as you felt the man’s wet tongue tracing down your abdomen. You couldn’t lift your head to look, but you could feel as he swirled his tongue against your skin.

The wet sensation was gone and you heard him say, “I wonder what the police will come up with as an explanation? After all accidents do happen, but certainly they’ll have never seen a scene like this.”

You felt his nails sink into your thighs. They were abnormally sharp and you cried out. The man retracted his right hand and his face came into view, going in and out of focus as you tried to stay conscious. He caressed your cheek briefly and then the nails which were more like claws, were digging into your scalp.

The man forced your head back and kissed you again. This time the fangs that nipped at your bottom lip drew blood. It rushed into your mouth when he pulled away. There was red dripping down his chin and his fangs glinted as he licked them.

He placed an almost chaste kiss to your bloody lips. When he spoke his voice was almost a hiss, hot air just ghosting over your mouth.

“Such a shame really. A young man with his whole life ahead of him. Oh well. At least we were able to have some fun though, hmm?”

He pulled back enough for your eyes to focus on his face. His eyes were clearly red now, just like the blood that was smeared over his face. The sight was horrific and you felt sick.

Red tinged saliva dripped from his fangs as he opened his mouth to say, “My condolences.”

At those words you closed my eyes and braced yourself. Of course he was going to finish you off. There was no way he’d let you live. If he truly was a vampire like the legends of old, you knew far too much now. Plus you were nothing more than another meal.

You felt his nails rake down your thighs and then he bit into your inner leg. You could hear a scream echo in your foggy mind and you assumed it must have been your own. The man clenched his jaw with so much force, a terrible, wet crunch rang in the air.

He’d gone for your femoral artery. You only knew of it because you had studied it, browsed the pages and diagrams, reading how long it took to die after it had been severed. Was it a minute? Less?

You could feel your heartbeat becoming irregular. Blood, your blood, was seeping into the material of your jeans and your vision was beginning to go dark. What little feeling you still had in your body sent shooting pain through your leg and pelvis. The horrifying crunch must have been one of your bones.

Your vision blurred and for some reason your mind recalled the man’s question earlier regarding the blood types you’d gotten donations of for that day. AB- was what he’d asked for. It so happened that you were AB-, a fact you’re sure he found out as soon as he sunk his teeth into you. He’d gotten what he was looking for after all.

As the world faded away completely, you wondered if it was a cruel irony or almost poetic.

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x m!reader #vampire!dabi #vampire dabi #dabi smut #dabi x you #dabi x male reader

[nonbinarylowkey]

collar

Rating: Explicit. MINORS: DO NOT TOUCH! Pairing: Loki/Reader Summary: On the last night of Chanukah, your true love gave to you... a collar. So you decide to test it out. Just, maybe, not in the way he was expecting.  Note: Posted this on ao3 a lot earlier in the day, but now that I’m home and can format this properly, it’s finally going up here! Woo! Anyway, the Loki trailer dropped on the first night of Chanukah + the last night of Chanukah was Loki’s birthday so naturally these two things combined in my brain and led to this. Hope you enjoy it! It’s sub!Loki.

Loki Laufeyson looks good in a collar.

Like, criminally good, you think, walking circles around him.  You trail your index finger along the top edge of the collar as you go.

He shivers.

Loki kneels on the plush grey carpet of your bedroom floor, knees spread wide to give you the best possible view. His pants are unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. He's not wearing underwear tonight, you discovered when you first started this game, and so the head of his cock peeks out from the open waistband. His hands are restrained behind his back. His shirt never made it to the bedroom.

"I'm waiting," he says when you finish your circle and take your place in front of him.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "And you'll continue to wait until I've decided what to do with you."

"You are a cruel mistress," he shakes his head, but the cheeky grin on his face betrays his somber tone.

You pull the golden leash toward you; Loki falls forward with it, his face nicely cushioned by the area between your thighs. You run a hand through his hair and take advantage of the places where your fingers snag in his curls by pulling his head back so that he is looking straight up at you. Even in this position, defiance colors every inch of him. His shoulders are set back, his spine straight. The set of his jaw is stiff, giving his smile a distinctly sinister look.

You lick your lips.

"If you didn't want me to be cruel, you shouldn't have gotten me a collar for Chanukah."

"Ah, but you were meant to be the one wearing it," he nuzzles his cheek against you.

"But you look so good in it, Mischief. How could I resist?" You kneel down to kiss him, laughing as you catch his grinning lips with yours. Your content to stay like that, sharing breathy laughs with each other while your mouths move against one another. But Loki is not content in one position for very long so when he starts grinding himself against your leg, give a sharp nip to his lip. "Be good for me, please?"

" Goodness is not in my nature."

"Well then, maybe I should break out the strap. Deprive your cock of any fun tonight." You run your finger along the collar again, then press your thumb to his Adam's apple just above it.

His tongue drags a slow trail along his lips.

"Oh, please do deprive me," he says in a tone that lets you know he wouldn't actually consider the strap a deprivation at all.

"Right," you roll your eyes. You glance at the bed behind Loki, looking for inspiration. How to make the God of Mischief behave… "Maybe I should just tie you to the bedpost while I get myself off."

A hiss catches your attention. Loki's teeth are bared now and he's glaring.

Hit the nail right on the head , you think.

You make your way over to the bed, twirling the leash around your finger as you go. The knot you tie the leash into around the post is loose; it's definitely something Loki could undo with little to no effort on his part. But it gets your threat across all the same. You perch on the side of the bed closest to him. One of your hands slips under the waistband of your shorts. You're wet already; the sight of Loki at your mercy ensured that much. Your fingers slip inside your folds easily; an exaggerated moan drives home the idea of what Loki will be missing if he doesn't agree to be good.

He growls.

For a moment, your touch lingers on your clit. You rub slow, gentle circles over it, careful not to work yourself up too much; despite your teasing you weren't going to keep Loki from all the fun. You twist your hand so your thumb continues to press at your clit while you sink two fingers into yourself.

It isn't enough. You grind into your hand, trying to get the same fulfillment from your own touch as you would from Loki. Lower lip caught between your teeth, you groan in frustration.

"You only torment yourself by keeping me tied," he said through gritted teeth. It was a commendable show of restraint that he didn't just break out of his restraints; one you thought you might have rewarded if the game wasn't so amusing.

"Maybe I like torment."

He snorts, "I reiterate: you should be the one in the collar."

"Hush, you," you stick your tongue out at him. It's a decidedly unsexy thing to do. You take your hand out of your shorts and stick your fingers out to him.

Loki takes your fingers into his mouth without question. His gaze burns into yours as his tongue swirls around your digits; he is a man dying of thirst presented with a cool glass of water. When he's gotten all he can from your fingers, he pulls back, teeth dragging across your skin. It makes you feel powerful, even if you have no idea what to do with the power.

"Undress me. No hands," you leave your perch on the bed so that you can hook a finger underneath his collar. You pull his head up; eyes on you. "No magic, either. Just your mouth."

"Is that all?" He asks. Anticipation leaves his breaths heavy; an open mouthed smirk adorns his lips as he tries to keep it under control. The effect is entirely indecent.

Is it too late to give up the game and just let him fuck you?

"It's a start."

In his enthusiasm, Loki manages to get some skin when he latches on to the fabric of your shorts. It stings in the best way, amplifying the want flowing through your body and the drag of his nose as his mouth reveals more of your skin. He abandons your shorts when he reaches your center. He breathes your scent in and presses his nose to your clit, nuzzling.

You suck in a breath. The game dictates that you reprimand him for acting without permission. You don't want to. Instead you pull on his collar to bring him closer, to invite more of his willfulness.

He complies, most eagerly.

Loki's tongue delves deep, reaching places no one else had ever bothered to find. And while he is eager about what he's doing, he makes sure to go slow; to savor every last drop his mouth can find. To torture you. And you're pretty sure he's trying to torture you for even suggesting that he wouldn't get to touch you.

"Fuck, Loki," you moan, gripping his hair tight in your hand.

"Yes, fucking is the goal here," he laughs against you, sending delicious vibrations through your core.

You buck into his mouth. You need more and your body is reaching the limits of its patience. So you push him away and, startled, he falls on his ass. Despite your growing impatience, you do take a moment to admire the sight of him. His face is coated with your wetness, a mark of his passion for the taste of you. The collar and matching leash sparkle in the room's lights and his arms remain restrained behind his back - all evidence of his trust and willing submission to you.

With his hands restrained, he's no help in getting his pants off. You don't bother trying to get them off all the way. Shoving them halfway down his thighs is enough that his cock is fully free. And with his pants out of the way, you straddle him in one breath and only leave the space of one more before you bury his cock into your heat. You tug on his arms.

"Touch me," you demand.

Obediently, he frees his arms of the spell he'd used to restrain them. He runs his hands over your thighs, up your hips and waist, and then retraces that path back down. He touches you everywhere he can reach, memorizing each bump and blemish and stretch of skin that you offer to him.  He tangles a hand in your hair, uses the grip to pull you down for a kiss; the fact his face is still covered in your juices is no deterrent for him. He wants you to taste what he does to you, wants to remind you that although he is the only one wearing a collar tonight, you belong to him as surely as he belongs to you.

"Shall we take this to the bed?" He asks. But he doesn't give you the chance to to answer before he's moving the two of you off the floor.

You don't even really manage to follow how he does it. All you know is that one moment the two of you are on the floor and the next your back is hitting the mattress while Loki looms above you.

"I thought I was supposed to be in charge?" You wrap your legs around his waist.

He nuzzles your neck, "Always, my queen. So much so that you needn't use words for me to know what you desire of me."

"Silvertongue," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

All talking stops when he kisses you, open mouthed, and sliding that silvertongue of his against your own. He lines himself up with your entrance, once more burying himself inside of you. It feels like he's come home to you, always; no matter how many times you're together like this, it's a homecoming.

Then he's moving, rolling his hips slowly, deliberately against you at first; you can hardly breathe for the sensation he sparks within your body. But it isn't long before he speeds his movements up. He grows frantic and rough, pushes one of your legs down into the mattress so that he can go deeper inside of you. He swallows each of your cries, keeping the noises he forces from you all for himself. He's selfish, you see, and he wants to keep your moans and shouts and pleas for more all to himself. There are other ways to show the world that you belong to each other; your noises are all for him.

You reach your climax both too soon and too slowly. You try to keep your eyes open, you want to see Loki when you reach your peak. But you're feeling too much. It's all too overwhelming so you squeeze your eyes shut and press your face into his neck because if you can't see him, you can at least try to mold yourself to him so that you never have to be apart.

Loki isn't far behind you. He murmurs desperate I love yous and my queens and other endearment as he comes. You're too far gone to understand the words, but the sentiment comes through all the same when his hips stutter against yours and he spills into you.

Silence falls over the room in the aftermath. His forehead is pressed against yours, breath intermingling in the small space between your faces.

Your fingers fumble with the collar's clasp. When it unlatches, it falls to the floor, forgotten.

"Was I good enough for you, my love?" He falls to his side, maneuvering you until you're lying on your side facing him with his arms wrapped securely around you. One of your legs is propped up on his hip.

You trace his mouth with one finger, "You've certainly got a mouth on you, I'll tell you that."

He smirks and catches your finger with his teeth, nibbling just a little bit on the first knuckle.

"But, yeah, I'd say you were more than good enough," you laugh. "Happy birthday, Lokes."

"Happy Chanukah," he responds.

#loki x reader #sub!loki #loki smut #loki fic #loki fluff #my writing #i'm so bad at tagging fics on here #jewish reader

[impossible-rat-babies]

morning after (junebug)

fallen hero | 3.6k words | chargestep (nb!step + m!ortega) | cw: brief suicidal ideation mentions + blood/gore mentions + mild suggestive mentions

most below the cut!

--

Pollux grumbles and grunts, hiking his pants up and over slim hips in a smooth motion, adjusting them around his waist once they’re buttoned and zipped up. His hip smarts a touch and he shift his weight from one foot to the other, rolling his ankle. It clicks like always does, his knee bowing and he straightens his foot to correct.

He smooths his hair back and off his neck into a meager bun, poking around at the mess of a bedroom they left the night before. Clothes tossed aside, socks rumpled on the floor next to one of Ortega’s expensive button downs in a rumpled heap. Pollux kicks it towards the overflowing laundry basket.

The sunrise from the open blinds washes the room in oranges and reds made more brilliant and saturated through the layers of industrial grime hanging over the city like a thick fog. It leaves a promise of a hot day to come, what with the heat haze already rippling out on the distant horizon; the sharp shine off the skyscrapers will wobble and wane by the time noon hits. It’s getting hotter with each summer, the AC straining and ceiling fans spinning.

Pollux reaches out and half closes the blinds and shut the curtains, turning the bedroom from orange and red to filtered blues and whites. He grabs his tank top from off the floor, mumbling to himself as he pulls it on. His sweater somehow ended up on the dresser and—

No wait, he remembers that one.

Dresser digging into his lower back, hands scrambling past the nice buttons on Ortega’s fancy shirt to feel his skin under his hands, heart pounding under his palm. Lips bruised from the dozens of kisses they had shared already from the front door to the hallway (oh the things that happened in that hallway). Ortega tasting like a thunderhead of ozone before a storm and sip of expensive whiskey.

He’d tried his best to not knock over any of the photographs--couldn’t say the same of Ortega of course--so he corrects one of them and straightens another. He tries not to look too hard at the seven year old faces staring back at him with wide toothy careless smiles. Ranger blue and sidestep teal as they started calling that particular brand of eye burning blue green.

A watch sits discarded next to his own rings; he slips those back on, flexing his crackling joints. A half empty bottle of cologne sits still knocked over. Pollux fixes that too and his fingers come away with the rich scent that will stay wash after wash—stuck in the splits of his nails and his fingerprints. Pollux rolls his shoulders, unconsciously rubbing the scar that’s there; the joint clicks and he grimaces.

There’s a creak as the bed shifts and Pollux yanks his sweater on over his head and glances back. He still remembers who this house belongs to, who is stirring in the bed.

Ortega’s legs move, fine white sheets sliding with him and his bare leg—ankle to calf to knee to the line of his thigh and oh is that a little hickey on the inside of his thigh?—slips out from under the sheet.

He wipes his wrinkling face, scratching his beard, his chest heaving with a deep breath and an even heavier sigh. Ortega’s hand drops, and his brown eyes blink open, blurry and bleary until the spot him. He turns his head, a sleepy smile turning his lips.

Pollux’s breath catches and stalls in his chest and oh Ortega knows what all those little motions do to him. How the sheets are dipping down his stomach, past his hips and—

It’s downright nasty what the sight is doing to Pollux’s stomach. It’s worse as he stretches, back arching and Pollux swallows hard.

Asshole.

“Morning...” Ortega’s voice is low, thick with gravely warmth.

“Hey lover boy.” Pollux replies smoothly, his voice surprisingly even as he adjusts his sweater.

“You’re leaving?” Ortega asks quietly, blinking more life into his expression.

“Can’t be languid in bed all day like you can.”

Pollux sits down on the bed beside him, sinking in close. Ortega reaches out like he’s an anchor, a weighty hand settling on his hip, thumb testing the hem of his shirt. Can never keep his hands to himself, huh?

“It’s only for a few more hours. It’s not even nine am yet, you know.”

Pollux rolls his eyes, leaning over top of him, trapping him in with a hand pressing into the bed beside his hip. His bare hip and Pollux rests his hand against him instead.

“And…?”

“That’s when reasonable people get up?”

Ortega is fishing, his hand creeping further up under Pollux’s shirt. Does he know the difference between skin, scar and tattoo just by the touch of his fingertips? His middle finger finds a gap between scars, trailing along sensitive skin. He’s kissed him there, that spot where hip meets thigh—left behind a welt and an aching reminder that not all kisses taste sweet.

It’s just like any other temptation. Pollux isn’t opposed to laying in bed for a few more hours (plans can be canceled easily when he’s his own boss), but there’s still the nagging little corner of his mind that tells him no. Don’t give into the temptation.

But, Ortega is so easy to want, especially with the grin he’s giving him, so familiar to the old parts of his brain. Pollux is relearning not to hate that face, to not thinks it’s a good place to punch him. He used to think about that a lot: punching him in that pleasing picture perfect toothy smile Ortega boasts.

Pollux is so used to his hands inflicting pain, knuckles tight (make sure to keep your thumb outside a clenched fist was what they first taught him) fingers taut. But Ortega keeps catching his viciously thrown fists, slipping his fingers into his white knuckle hold to spread his trembling hand apart. To lace their fingers together with hopelessly honest words like he won’t let him leave again—not without a fight.

He’s pulling his teeth, but Pollux handed him the tools to do that long ago. The ‘please tell me it’s okay to stop doing this, please tell me that you’ll stop me and that you’ll forgive me. You’ll be the only one who will forgive me and I can die happy if you’re the only goddamn one who will forgive him.’

He’s giving him a closed hand and Ortega’s taken more than that—tip toe up a scar to his elbow and around to touch his shoulder; he’s given so much more than just his hand and its infectious--terminal just under the skin.

Like the bruises be-speckling just above the barcode, or the naughtier line across the curve of his breast he spotted when he woke up. Or the ache in his thighs and more importantly the memories he’ll keep when the marks fade. Brown eyes in the dark, sharing the same air.

There’s marks on Ortega’s neck too, little dark purple oblong shapes Pollux left behind; he can’t count the number of times he’s kissed that one spot on the side of his neck. The dip next to his Adam’s apple, where he feels his pulse skip beneath his tongue and lips and the breathy exhale that always follows. A pleased hum and his voice asking him to keep going.

“You say that now...” Pollux tells him softly, curtains of red and peppered grey curls falling down the side of his neck, brushing against Ortega’s chest.

“Okay what if I promised that it was only going to be a few hours?” Ortega curls a little ringlet around his pinky finger.

Doubt fills Pollux’s face.

“Oh come on now, Lux...we can get up after a few hours and I’ll make us both some breakfast--whatever you want. And then, if you like, you can leave and I’ll only ask for one kiss.” He offers as a compromise, the look he’s giving far too earnest for it to be anywhere close to the truth.

“Only one kiss?” Pollux raises a brow. He traces Ortega’s cheek and he’s so warm it’s like the sun gathered beneath his skin.

“Well...if it’s just one long kiss, that counts right?”

“That’s called making out.”

“Not like you’ve had issues in the past making out in the front door where all my neighbors could see.”

Pollux groans.

“Last time I agree to something like that--”

“It’s not like that time you agreed to make out with me in the backseat of a taxi cab…”

“That was *one* time. And we were both drunk.”

He remembers how they both almost fell off the roof of the Ranger’s headquarters that night, juggling warm beers and half a bottle of fancy tequila they kept passing back and forth.

Ortega grins and oh no…

“We should try that again—get a cab to nowhere, or something fancier than that, and make out in the back. Or you know we could--”

Words silenced by a sudden kiss and a sharp inhale. Ortega exhales through his nose smooshed against his cheek, mumbling something else and Pollux pulls him in sharper to silence him. He tastes like sunlight, his teeth and tongue tingling. A broad palm against his spine, coaxing him in closer, lips pulling him in deeper.

Pollux’s hand cups his cheek, brushing hair away from his ear and along to the back of his neck. The first port of his magnificent spine against his palm and he grabs a handful of his hair. Ortega isn’t the only one who can pull and push and the little pleased sound he catches between his lips tastes delightful—potent. Honeyed lips and curses breathed against wet lips.

Pollux wants to keep holding him like this, have just a little taste of tender heat, the threat of a hand hovering over a lit stove, or letting a match burn down to the tips of his nicotine stained fingertips. Run his fingers over Ortega—touch, feel, taste, map—until he’s reminded that he can’t have this forever. He can’t keep dangling off the edge of a precipice, not when he craves how the wind feels rushing up to meet him during the blessed free fall.

“I guess I should talk like that more if you’ll kiss me like that again...” Ortega mumbles when Pollux pulls away and he snorts, shaking his head.

“Next time I’ll just tell you go shove it.” Pollux huffs against his lips, closing an eye as Ortega brushes a stray curl from out of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah--I know.”

Arms easily wrap around him and pull him back down into the bed and Pollux grumbles, letting it happen and he buries his face into the side of Ortega’s neck. His own scratchy stubbly cheek presses against his rough skin. He smells like day old cologne. He’s warm—secure.

“You’ll still kiss me though?” Ortega mumbles against the side of his head and Pollux groans, tilting his head to look him in the eye. Brown eyes so deep he could drown.

“Your beard is scratchy...”

Ortega snorts.

“Your face is the one that’s scratchy--I take good care of my beard. When was the last time you shaved?” He rubs his chin against his forehead to tease and Pollux curses.

“God, fuck--shut up, quit rubbing your face on me and go back to sleep pretty boy.” He insists and Ortega laughs, pulling him back in.

--

They tumble out of bed a few hours later, Pollux righting his sweater and redoing his belt as he meanders down the short hallway and out into the living room. It’s brighter out and he squints, lazily tucking his hands up and underneath of his sweater to hide them.

He follows Ortega, eyes skimming over the leftover plates and a glass mug left on the coffee table. His battered cigarette box and matchbook sits beside a weeks old newspaper and an old Time magazine. He still gets them biweekly?

He pauses at one of the large glass windows, curtains only half closed. He brushes it open. The sun pounds against the glass and Pollux squints his eyes against the shimmering heat rolling off the high rise buildings towards the west. The shoot high into the sky, more following further until the cracked spine of the coast turns to failed developments and old chain link fence guarded ruins.

A few palm trees needing a good grooming, their fronds dipping low with the heat, the tops sun bleached beige. Just about the only plant that grows well here, save for the scrubby evergreen like trees and whatever people are willing to waste water on keeping alive. 

At least it’s a clear-ish day, the sky more blue than sickly yellow or congested grey today. It’ll only last a few more weeks before the winds die down and the city is left to cook alive in its industrial smog.

Further out towards the west, Pollux can almost see the shimmer of the ocean, a line of white hugging the horizon. Beneath that are all new beach homes—folks willing to capitalize on the new growing beaches or what remains of the old. The sand comes back softer each year, the ocean carving away her shoals, eddys and tide pools. She’s had four decades to heal--but people remember forever.

Down below (don’t look too hard now Pollux) cars slip on by, the nosy honking of buses, taxis and surely the occasional motorist weaving through the lunch rush traffic.

“You look like you’re thinking pretty hard.”

Pollux starts, taking a half step back from the window, eyes darting to Ortega. His brow scrunches, shyly holding the coffee cup out to him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you--”

“No, it’s fine...” Pollux waves his hand. So what if he was thinking of how nice it would be to just lay on the hot asphalt road and wait for rush hour traffic to turn him into a wet smear? Which he wasn’t thinking about at all, no not at all.

Ortega looks like he’s biting the inside of his cheek, but gratefully he keeps his mouth shut.

“Coffee?” He offers and Pollux takes it with a quiet word of thanks. Ortega reaches up and pulls the curtains shut, removing the temptation.

“Are you okay?”

Pollux takes a sip and it burns his tongue, but he only shrugs. It’s as much of an answer as he’s willing to say; he isn’t up to the verbal chess match that staring longingly at a window would earn, the what he thinks he saw, or what he thinks he’s thinking about.

Ortega puts a hand on his shoulder before wrapping his arm around his shoulders instead. He places a kiss at the top of his head and mumbles something sweet and soft, guiding him away from the window and towards the kitchen.

“What do you want for breakfast, then?” He changes the subject so easily, giving Pollux the grace to pretend it doesn’t matter. “Or it is closer to lunch at this point. Whoops.” Ortega cringes, looking at the stove clock.

“You wanted to sleep in.” Pollux finds an unused countertop and he pulls himself up onto it. Ortega briefly gives him a look and Pollux responds in kind, Ortega giving up with a shake of the head, but the faintest of smiles. 

“What’s on the menu, lover boy? Lunch or breakfast?”

Ortega grabs a pan, twirling it around. “How about this: I’ll just make something and if you really hate it, we can get something ordered in.”

“A mystery brunch then?”

“More like lunch, but you’ve never complained.”

“At least food wise. You’ve given me plenty of reasons to complain otherwise.”

“Are you admitting you like my food?” Ortega looks over his shoulder at him from the fridge and Pollux rolls his eyes.

“Never said that I dislike your food, Ricky boy.” Pollux teases, hiding a smile behind his coffee. “Unless you count that one monstrosity you made.”

“Hey, that was partially your fault, Lux. I refuse to take the full blame for what happened to that poor casserole dish.”

“Wasn’t my recipe that you got wrong. And you let me play with your knives.”

“Mierda, I thought you were going to lose a finger.”

“Better than practically ruining your stove.”

“How was I supposed to know it was going to explode like that?”

Pollux snickers, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling, his head hitting the upper cabinent.

“Is that a speck of food still stuck up there...?”

He doesn’t quite catch the dish towel that hits up in the side of his head, Ortega swearing at him and Pollux snorts. He chuckles the longer Ortega keeps making that face until he dissolves into laughter.

And he keeps laughing. Lips wide and bright, rarely seen smile lines breathing back to life.

Ortega is looking at him, he knows, but he can’t fit the placid frown back onto his face just yet--letting the smile linger on his cheeks and the crinkles of his crows feet. It feels good and Ortega is smiling at him.

“Hey, Lux...” Ortega’s voice is so tender. “I love you. I love you a lot.” 

He says quietly once Pollux’s laughter has faded, leaving behind the tingle of it in the air. How it used to be so easy for Pollux to start laughing--how it’s only just now that he’s laughed again. He’s been so quiet, so still.

“You know that, right?”

The smile falters and Pollux takes a long drink of his coffee, the cup a disguise for what he hasn’t whispered back--not when he can hear. 

“I know…” He mumbles like it’s a substitution all his own and he swallows down the bitter bite of coffee.

He’s murmured it, barely spoken it in the dark when he’s sure Ortega is asleep. He isn’t ready for that admission, not in the light like this. The sunshine from the kitchen window warms the back of his neck.

Ortega looks like he wants to say more. To keep reminding him of how much he cares, how much it matters that he’s back in his life, how he wants to make up for seven years of not saying ‘i love you’--it’s all just synonyms. 

How many times has Pollux said it without saying it, too? He knows a hundred different ways to say it without anyone but him knowing it.

(Asshole, or I care about you too, or will you let me take care of you for once in your life, or please give me an excuse so I don’t have to keep remembering how much I hate walking down these perpendicular paths, inches away from intersection. Or the simple way his name tastes on his tongue, or a nickname held so dearly between his lips, inches before a kiss.)

“I missed your laugh…” He does say those words and Pollux looks. He doesn’t know that for sure, especially when he looks at him as tender as freshly bruised knuckles.

Did he almost forget the sound of it? Had Ortega almost forgotten the sound of his voice, just like he almost forgot what he sounded like? Would it have been so tragic if he never heard his voice again, stuck with only the preserved opalescent amber of memory of a better time and a better place?

Surrendered to memory where his voice would waver into stilled silence, a cheap copy of the voice in Ortega’s head. Or stuck in old photographs and newspaper clippings, or old news reels and private videos. He thought that stupid handheld clunky camcorder Ortega carried around was the worst thing ever. How many did he break? He can’t remember.

“I know.” Pollux replies just as gently, like trying not to press too hard against the bruises of memory, but he’s heavy handed--clunky and broken. What else can he say?

“Thank you…”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Someone should. You put up with me.”

Ortega pauses, turning to look at Pollux. Trying his hardest to see him.

“Because I want to Pollux--because I want this to work. Us to work.”

It’s so easy to say he can’t always be here—it’s the truth after all, nothing complicated about it. It won’t end up working out. But all that starts is arguments and he’s tired of them. 

(He’s just so tired all the damn time. tired of everything and maybe he’ll steal a motorcycle and weave through traffic until the inevitable happens.)

Pollux doesn’t dispute the point, he just nods when he feels Ortega looking at him. He doesn’t shy away when Ortega puts a hand on his waist and kisses the side of his head, his eyelid, the bridge of his nose. Mumbles another ‘i love you’ and Pollux hums when he steps away.

He sets the half empty cup aside, absentmindedly reaching under his sweater, thumbing the edge of a tattoo along his waist.

Last night Ortega brushed his thumb along the thick slick tapering edge. Pollux excused the strange face he’d made at the weird texture of it, but he didn’t excuse the kiss he placed when his lips followed his hands. 

Maybe later he’ll hold him like that again; when he comes over again in a few days and crawls into bed beside him and lets him touch him in the darkness. He’s not brave enough for the light yet, not when he’s still angry--still so hurt--over lost time.

Seven years--he doesn’t have seven more in him.

Pollux watches his back instead as he gets to cooking, half smiling as Ortega starts to hum, bobbing from foot to foot as the smell of lunch crowds the kitchen.

He murmurs, mostly to himself and it tastes like a shout at the back of his throat.

“I want it to work too. I really do.”

—

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #chargestep #fhr #oc tag #oc: pollux #okay to rebloog #owen writes #i've been holding onto this for so long. time to let it go lmao #dhflksdf after adding 2k to it but! you know #the time honored tradition of starting this out with bigger paragraphs and then devolving into simple ones sdkfhds

[lunaekalenda]

So I have this idea for the longest time now and I would like to see if you can make something out of it 😂

STORY TIME! Marley has something similar to the witches trial going on and witch!reader runs away to Paradis, joining the scouts and she and levi get all lovey dovey. After a while, they discover that she's from Marley and think that she's betraying them, so they make a pact with Zeke to give her back in exchange to leave Paradis alone. Soon everyone realize that she didn't betrayed them and was about to be burned. Fluffy ending where she's saved or angst 😈

wooooow i'm buYING IT!!!!!! i love witch concept omg, i hope you like it!! <3

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❁ levi x witch!reader

❁ mention of death, witches trial, death by burning, stitching :'), mention of con sex, season 4 and manga minor spoilers.

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You were only five when they burned your neighbor in the public place. It was a cold day, your mother's arm around your shoulders, her gaze searching silently the other witches of your coven. They were looking at their friend, their superior, being licked by flames. But she was totally straight, her eyes fixed on the cardenal. He was smiling.

Now you're running out of Marley. The trials are more and more popular. They judged half of your coven. Your mother told you to leave, to use your power to escape. So, after taking something to eat and a cape, you started running. Running until you saw the ocean. You look at both sides, making sure there’s no one around you, before closing your eyes and concentrate in the sound of your crow, possessing it’s body. You start to fly, searching land to stop at. You look around, a little island can be seen some kilometers away. You’re tired oof running, but you think you can arrive there. You keep flying, more and more tired. You’re near, but you can see tents in the beach. There are tents. And people. Your mind starts to panic. Transforming in front of this people will make you suspect. You look to the little forest near the beach. It seems empty. You fly towards there, really really tired. You start to notice how your body gets heavier. And, faster than you thought, your human body was back, making you fall into the ocean. The water enters on your nose and ears, and makes your dress heavier. You swim, but you’re so tired, and your head hurts because of the impact. You let your body connect with the sea, the waves hugging you. 

“Please, take me to that island, mother Ocean.” the salty waves start to rock softly, making you near to the beach little by little. Your eyes start to close, the sweet movement of the sea relaxes you. You’re so tired...

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“It’s a girl, captain.” You hear the voice of a boy near. Also, some people mumbling around. You start to open your eyes, finding a girl pointing you with a gun. The boy who talked, extremely tall, looks at you again. “She’s awake.” There is a lot of people around you. Boys and girls, all dressed in black, are talking about the girl that appeared on the sea.

“Who of you took her out of the ocean?” a deep voice is heard. You stay quiet, the brown-eyed girl keeps pointing her gun at you. A man enters your vision camp. His grey eyes examined you from above. His gaze was serious.

“I did.” a black haired girl talked. “What should we do with her, Captain Levi?”

Levi looks at you, and you keep your eyes on his. His eyebrow raises.

“Should we kill her?” a boy says.

“No! we should interrogate her!” someone says. 

“Tsch, shut up you all.” The man keeps looking at you. His sharp features make him look so attractive... “From where do you come?” he asks. You have to think, or use your powers. It’s highly improbable that they count with another witch on their team, so no one is going to notice how you research a close town. You choose a blonde boy. You concentrate in his brain, searching info. Armin. 19 years. Shinganshina district.

"Shiganshina district." you say. Levi looks at you, trying to know if you’re telling the truth. He clicks his tongue. The blonde boy looks to the girl with a scarf, and she looks to a long-haired boy next to her.

“Do you know her?” Levi asks. The three of them shake their heads, but it was easy to change their opinion. 

Change people’s memories is not that hard for a witch of your level. Just making your face appear in one of them’s memories.

“Oh, I know her!” the long-haired boy talks now. “I think her family lived behind me.”

Levi looked at him, and then back at you.

“Sorry for you, but you can’t go back to Shinganshina. You’ll have to stay here for a bit.” A person with glasses shows behind him.

“Levi, let me talk to her.” they ask. He helps you to get up, but you still feel the gun pointing at your back. “I’m Hange Zöe, the Commander of the Survey Corps. You’re in our camp, near the coast. Since we don’t have information about you, you’ll be held here. You can choose to be helpful for us, either training with our soldiers to help us, or doing some paperwork or cleaning. I’m sure Levi can help you in any way.” The man keeps being on your side. “Then, what do you choose?” They ask, smiling at you.

“I work as a tailor, so I guess I can help with...”

“Oh, so you can sew wounds!” They say.

I wasn’t going to say that... you think for yourself

“Well, I only sewed clothes, but...”

"We need help with that, so you'll stitch the survey clothes and soldiers!" they say. Levi sighed and then reached your back with his hand.

"I'll show you your dorm."

Since a lot of soldiers where living there, as Levi told you, you got a shared room with a couple girls of the military. Sasha Braus and Mikasa Ackerman where your new roommates. Mikasa is really aware around you, just in case you're a traitor. Sasha, in the other hand, is really close to you, although she was the one pointing you with a gun. The first weeks you stayed there, it went really well: Sasha showed you the camp, presented to you the people and sat with you for eating. You tried to not use your powers that much, just in real emergency cases. All this time, you felt gazes on you, curiosity or hate gazes, but one was more heavy than others: a pair of intense grey eyes. Levi Ackerman had his eyes on you since you arrived here, months ago now, maybe because he's a Captain and has to neutralize every single danger he sees. Maybe that's why you feel him when you eat, run or work. He also goes and sits near to you, doing paperwork while you sew someone's coat.

"You're good. I'm sure your stitches won't leave a scar." he says. You keep sewing the coat, this time is Connie's coat. His gaze totally fixed on the letters he has on his hands. He has been looking for you for half a year now. He also has a strange flirty game on going, he likes to get closer to you and look at your body, but then he acts cold for a while. You sigh.

"I don't think so..."

Unfortunately, you had the opportunity to try on him days later, after an attack. His back needed stitches. So, there he was, half undressed and covered on blood, waiting for you to start bounding him. You started to pass the sew. The sensation of the needle trespassing his skin was horrible, but you tried to make your best. He didn't say a thing, with a piece of cloth in his mouth. You felt his jaw bitting the cloth with strength, trying not to move. You thought his endurance of pain is in levels you didn't know a human could reach.

You could have cured him with magic, but if they know it, they'll probably send you back to Marley, if they don't kill you in the moment. Once you finished, he stayed there, sitting, with some saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth after releasing the cloth. He passed his hand fast, cleaning it.

"Try not to move..."

"I got my skin stitched a hundred times and fought five minutes after." he says. "But thank you."

All the hours he spent by your side, doing paperwork and that stuff, you realized you found him attractive. His voice, his grey eyes, the way he looks at his friends. You want to be looked that way.

No, you want more.

Maybe it was a stupid idea. But you felt so attracted to him, like if his aura was calling yours. Your hand reached his back, the way his muscles tense with the touch. He looked at you from above his shoulder. You traced a little drawing on his skin, a no-sense form down his back. Surprisingly, he didn't ask you what the hell where you doing or moved away.

You wanted to know if he was even just a bit interested in you, but using magic will break totally the moment. So you kept moving your hands on his skin. It was warm, almost hot. He sighed. His hands dropped the shirt he was about to put on, and his muscles started to relax. At the same time, you got closer to him. Maybe he needed to unburden. Maybe he has been there for months, in need of a girl like you to help him. Your hands moved to his shoulders, dangerously near his neck. He raises his head, eyes closed. He's enjoying it, no doubt. His bony hands are now on his legs.

"Captain..." you ask quietly. "Are you feeling good?" he hums in answer. His back is totally relaxed now, and his eyes are still closed. The way he has his head, thrown back, lets you see his adam's apple, another attractive point of him. You wanted to kiss the point of his neck where it connects with his shoulders. His lips, always on a inexpressive facade. You wanted him to be a mess, asking for more. You wanted his bony hands marking your waist and his fingers ruining your hair. "Do you want me to stop?" your voice goes out like a whisper. He breathes in, deeply.

"No." His voice is raspy. He looks at you again, his grey gaze shining with... maybe interest? curiosity? desire? Maybe a mix of those three. "I never got someone to massage me after a battle. It feels nice."

Your heart skips a beat when you hear that. Was it your opportunity to tell him you feel attracted to him?

If it wasn't, you didn't care.

"Well, I could do this to you a hundred times, Captain." Your hand goes up and down his back, being careful with his stitched wound. "I was getting kinda confused, Levi..." you say. His back tenses again, but he lets you continue. "Why do you lend closer to me, but then act cold for days? I never got it." He takes a deep breath again.

"I'm a Captain. I'm in charge of a full squad of humans. Really good but kinda dumb humans." he says. "They're my responsibility and my team. I can't get distracted and lose a single one of them." he says. You nod, understanding.

"Wow, that's..." That's exactly how covens work. In Marley, witches are the worst of the worst. And the Island people, demons. You thought maybe you're not that different, after all. "That's amazing, Levi."

His eyes shot open after hearing that. You weren't telling him his sword abilities are amazing or his control of the ODMS. You were telling him his way, his human being, was amazing. But he called you a distraction. You stand up. But his hand reaches your wrist.

"Oi." he calls you. "Come back here."

"I don't want to distract you, I understand your..." his voice interrupts you.

"You asked why I always act cold with you, right? Because if I didn't have to go and kill those damn titans and marleyans I would had kissed you a while ago." he says. So, after all, he does found you interesting, at least.

Your mum always said that a boy only wants a girl because of sex. That's why she obligated you to wear vanila perfume, one that she made. It shows you the true intentions of the people around you. You concentrate on Levi's aura.

You're not going to lie. Levi's aura is a bright red. He finds you attractive, and now he wants you. But even your aura looks like that.

So, two adults that want each other, what could go wrong?

That's why you kissed him. His lips quickly adapting to your pace, owning the kiss. He catches his breath.

"Are you sure about this?" his voice is even lower, his eyes darker. You nod. He caresses your blushed cheek with his thumb. Minutes later, your dress was mixed with his shirt, as well as your breath was mixed with his.

"Your back..." you told him. He was above you, so attractive. His sharp jaw tensed when your bodies touched.

"My back is fine." he says.

His hand traveled down your waist, your hands tangled on his hair, and his name was just a repetition on your mouth.

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Next morning, Levi is still asleep when you wake up. His handsome face is close to yours, and one of his hands rests in your back. You get up silently, dressing fast. You search your necklace, the one with magic properties.

"Searching this?" he asks. Your necklace is on his hand. "Witch." he adds. He gets up, totally undressed, and takes his pants from the floor. Starts to pull them on.

"N-no, you're..."

"We have been in a lot of missions on Marley." he says. "And all the prints in the streets advertised people about women with this necklace." he gets closer to you, really close. His eyes are fixed on yours. "Did you bewitched me?" You shake your head. Twice.

"I didn't"

"I've heard some witches work for Marley's government as spies." he says, looking at your necklace. "Are you also fucking the Marleyan commander?" he asks. He was being mean. "Lucky you, a man is coming later from Marley. Maybe if I give you to them, they will stop attacking us, hm?"

He was angry. He has his reasons.

He wanted to stop talking when he saw the first tears running down your cheeks. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't. He was angry, thinking you bewitched him.

"You slept with me because you witches need a intimate bond to enter on my brain, right?" you shake your head again. He was so wrong, you never wanted to hurt him.

"Levi, I..." he put your necklace on his pocket. You were weak without it.

"Tell that to Zeke."

Zeke Jaeger.

Was him the same Zeke?

Zeke Jaeger never, never, absolves a witch.

"But he's going to kill me." you cry. Levi keeps getting dressed normally. He doesn't say nothing. How could he be so blind? Your necklace was always there, when he was cursing on your neck because of how good you felt. It was there.

But he found it this morning, when he moved and collided with your body.

Zeke landed on Paradis that afternoon. Levi told Sasha to look up for you, and the girl had his gun pointing at you since you came back from Levi's tent. Sasha and Mikasa didn't believe him.

"But if she is a spy, she should have tried to enter the archives or get information from Hange or Armin."

"And she even cured Levi a couple times!" Mikasa says.

Levi thought about it when you were going back to Marley. The pact is done, but, making rewind, you were never a dangerous person. Even Sasha asked you from where you were and she told Levi you were escaping from Marley! He's feeling bad now. He should had listened to you. And, fuck, he had your necklace. You were so easy to kill now. He knows they were going to judge you tomorrow morning. If they're fast enough...

"Damn!" he yells. Hange, sitting on the desk next to him, gets surprised. Levi goes out of the tent without a word, entering the cantina, where Sasha talks with Niccolo, adoration on his eyes, and Mikasa tells Eren to eat more. He searches the crowded table.

"Jean, Mikasa, Sasha. We're going on a mission."

❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁

Moving on Marley at nights is so easy. The amount of drunk people and drunk guards is huge, so entering the prision is quite easy for Paradis' demons. Guided by Levi and his blades, the other ones enter on the prision were you're kept, your arms and legs bonded to a corner. Levi runs on the corridor, searching your cage. He found you easily: your pretty body snuggled on a corner and your low crying sounds making his heart break.

"Y/N!" Sasha says quietly, but with happiness.

"Sasha?" you ask. You see her ponytail bouncing behind her. And also all the other's figures.

They came. For you.

Even Levi is there.

His gaze is low and he's not looking at you in the eyes, as he usually do. Sasha looks around and tells Jean to look to the other corridor. Mikasa and Levi examinate the door.

"It's closed with magic." you whisper. "A witch that works for Marley did it. That's why there's no place for a key." Levi keeps looking at the ground.

"Isn't your magic strong enough to undo it?"

"They made me enter here without my necklace. They know it has all my power inside. Without it, I'm a human."

Levi reaches his pocket quickly, taking out the blue necklace.

"Oh, Captain you have it!" Mikasa says. Levi nods in silence, putting his arm between the bars. You get up and walk towards him. Your hands are really close, but you'll never be close enough to touch him. He swings the collar towards you and you take it, putting it around your neck once again. You feel how magic runs again on your veins.

"Are we going to see how she makes magic?" Jean says, truly amazed.

"Is she going to shine or transform?" Sasha asks at the same time.

"Now you should be able to open." you say. Jean and Sasha look at the other.

"What? Without thunders or lights?"

"Well, she's bleeding." Mikasa says. It's true that unmaking a curse is more tiring than making one, and the ones made to capture are really strong. That's why your nose is bleeding a bit. Once you're out, Levi takes a tissue for you.

"Thanks" you whisper. He also takes out a letter, written with his elegant handwriting. "For Zeke" it prays.

"No one in this door. We can leave." Jean says.

Outside, Levi takes you from your waist, and elevates the two of you with his ODM.

"Sorry." you both say at the same time. You let put a little laugh. "I should have told you the truth."

"You deserved to be listened." he says. His face is buried on your hair. He has you by his side now.

"Tie?" he laughs a bit.

"Tie"

After this, Zeke found the letter, of course. He was there, at Marley, getting angry because of a girl with a dangerous necklace.

Necklace that is stored in a drawer, while your head rests in the Captain's shoulder, back again at Paradis.

#aot fluff #aot x reader #snk fluff #snk x reader #snk fic #aot fic #aot scenario #aot fanfiction #snk headcanons #aot #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi #levi attack on titan #levi aot #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi x y/n

[yikesharringrove]

Steveikes to think he can hold his own in the bedroom with billy but as soon as Billy’s starts with his particularly nasty brand of dirty talk, calling his ass a pussy and a cunt, talking about how he wants to keep Steve in his bed open and ready for him 24/7, how he wants to fuck him over the hood of the camaro or have Steve ride him while he’s speeding down the highways,,, yeah Steve goes dumb with it, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a long and loud groan, mind racing with all the filthy shit billy keeps feeding him with

Steve’s never had any complaints.

The people he’s slept with have always been well and truly sated.

He likes taking care of his partners, making sure they finished, that they felt good and comfortable.

He loves pleasuring his partners, sucking dick or eating pussy, making them feel good.

So it’s not that he thinks he’s some sex god or something like that, but he’d definitely say he’s not bad.

And he figures going into it with Billy, he’d stand a chance. Get to share in the give and take that Steve’s sex life almost always is.

And that holds up the first few times they have sex. When kinks haven’t really come out to play yet.

Billy’s good. His stroke came is not to be doubted, and his cock is nice, thick and heavy. Makes Steve feel so good.

Plus, like, he’s really great to look at.

So yeah, Steve’s having a good time. Participating fully in sex.

Until one night.

After a party at Stacey Adams’ house.

They’re both a little crossed, and Steve feels loose, feels good, Billy on top of him, lazily kissing his neck.

He’s coherent, and in his body.

Until Billy takes his wrists, presses them in one hand to the pillow above Steve’s head.

And pins him down, using all that bulky muscle to keep Steve just where he wants him.

And Steve’s not a small guy.

But he’s never felt more little, more meek and overpowered as he felt in that moment.

And Billy leaned forward, biting harshly on his neck before muttering in his ear, his breath hot against Steve’s skin.

“Can’t wait to get into that little cunt ‘a yours. Gonna destroy that pussy and make you beg for more.”

And Steve has never moaned so fucking loud before.

His eyes practically rolled back, his body arching closer to Billy’s, his shoulders straining from where his hands are still pinned above his head.

Because fuck. That’s new.

The dirty talk, the cunt mention, the begging.

And Steve wants it. He wants Billy to take him as hard as he can, to make him feel full and fucking good, to open up his hole and tell him what a nice pussy he has.

He just has the overwhelming urge to make Billy feel good.

Not in the way he usually does, to carefully and expertly pleasure his partner.

He wants Billy to use his body anyway he wants to get off. He wants him to take and take and take, to make Steve oversensitive and incoherent. He wants Billy to call the shots. To take control.

Fuck, he wants to be dominated.

Billy had one hand holding both of Steve’s wrists above his head, the other hand was sloppily pouring lube between Steve’s spread legs, making it drip coldly down his balls, run along his crack.

It was sloppy, and Billy grinned when he tossed the lube away, pressing one hand down to feel over Steve’s hole, purring in his ear.

“You’re so wet for me. This get you goin’? When I hold you down like a bitch? That what makes your cunt drip?”

It was gross, and so very hot.

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever spoken to a girl like this. He’s pretty sure this is demeaning. And maybe that’s what makes it so good, the pure humiliation of it all.

“Tell me what you want, Sugar. Beg for it.”

Steve didn’t even have to think, Billy’s fingers gently circling his rim making him crazy and needy.

“Want you to finger me open, get me loose enough for your cock. Want you to fuck me hard. Fuck m-my, my pussy.”

His face burned, and his cock kicked, spitting precum over his stomach. Billy grinned. He pushed one thick finger forward, and Steve moaned loudly at the intrusion, the sweet pressure as he opened up for Billy.

“God, you’re so easy. Such a fucking slut. Don’t know how your pussy stays so tight, the way you gag for cock. Maybe I should just keep you nice and open then, what do you think? Tie you up in this bed, keep you plugged up and loose for me to use anytime I want. Nothing but a cocksleeve for me.”

“Yes, Billy, fuck. I want that. I want you to use me.”

Billy drew his finger out, pressing two in at once, pushing them in and spreading them open, making Steve’s toes curl.

“What will you let me do, Stevie? Let me fuck you in public? Bend you right over my car and take you in front of the whole fuckin’ town?”

“God, yeah. Show everyone what a whore I am for you.”

It was making Steve so goddamn hard, calling himself a whore. Being taken by one by now three of Billy’s fingers. Picturing himself being claimed, being fucked, in broad fucking daylight.

And then Billy’s fingers were gone, and Steve actually fucking whined.

“Really, Baby? You want my cock that bad?”

All Steve could muster was a pathetic little mmn-hmmn in confirmation.

Billy reached down to slick up his cock, sliding it along the excess lube all over Steve.

One little adjustment, and the blunt head of his dick was pushing against Steve’s hole, just teasing him, barely even breaching his rim.

Billy leaned forward over him, and Steve thought he was going in for a kiss, let his eyes flutter closed.

And something wet hit his cheek as Billy thrust forward, ramming his cock inside Steve the exact same moment he spat on him.

Steve cried out, his mind going blank as he writhed, back arching off the bed, shoulders flexing as Billy still held his arms over his head.

Billy was fucking him brutally, knocking the wind out of Steve with every buck of his hips.

It felt like Billy was everywhere, and Steve was just a drooling fucking mess, barely even registering the words coming out of Billy’s mouth.

“-filthy fucking slut. Just a wet hole for me to use. Don’t even give a fuck if you finish, just gonna fill your cunt with my cum, watch it drip outta you like some brain dead little bitch.”

It was so hot.

“B-Billy, feels so fu-ucking good,” Steve could barely get the words out as Billy rammed his cock in and out of him, stretching him so wide it was bordering on painful.

“Your little pussy’s so tight for me. So fucking wet, you’re makin’ a mess of the fucking bed. What’s Stacey gonna think? When she comes in here after the party and finds the sheets ruined. You think she’s gonna know? Know that it was King Steve who got sloppy enough to leave a goddamn puddle? Know that it was me who got you on your back? Stuffed my cock so far up your sweet cunt you won’t be able to sit tomorrow?”

“I-I want her to know. Want everyone to know.”

“To know what?”

“That I’m, you make me-I’m your slut. Want everyone to know how, how good you fuck me. And how w-wet my pussy gets for you,” Steve stuttered out, his cheeks burning.

And then the pressure on his wrists were gone, and all of a sudden Billy’s fist was closing tightly around Steve’s cock, stroking him in time with his rough thrusts.

“Should drive through town with you squirming on my cock.  Roll down the windows, blast the radio, and let everyone see what a mess you turn into for my dick inside you.”

Billy gave one final tug, and Steve nearly screamed, his entire body going tight as he came all over them, covering himself and Billy with his cum.

He felt exhausted after, boneless and absolutely fucking ruined.

But Billy kept going, still fucking into Steve just as rough, just as brutal, getting himself off.

“That’s right, Sugar. Just lie back and let me take care of myself. Just use your fuckhole to finish off and leave you so sloppy and wet.”

And he did just that, bucking a few more times against Steve, sucking a punishing hickey onto Steve’s neck, no doubt leaving a huge mark Steve would probably whine about tomorrow.

He pulled out of Steve, sitting back on his heels to watch as his own spunk dripping slowly and beautifully out of Steve’s hole, puffy and pink and abused.

He pressed a kiss to the inside of Steve’s knee, the music from the party thumping away through the walls of the random bedroom.

Billy helped Steve stand up, pulling his underwear and jeans up and on for him, even buckling his belt, planting another kiss to Steve’s belly.

Steve felt loose, felt tired and fucked out. He felt fucking amazing.

“How was that?” Billy felt more on the nervous side.

Steve had gone along with everything Billy was talking about, had even cum harder than Billy’s ever seen, but he’s not sure.

“So fucking good, Bill. Gonna make you do that again someday soon.

Billy grinned at him as he zipped up his fly, pulling his shirt back on over his shoulders.

“‘Course, Baby. Gotta treat my princess right.”

Steve smiled at him softly, and they leaned in together for one last kiss before finding their ways out of the bedroom, leaving at different times, hoping not to draw any suspicious attention to themselves.

Steve caught Billy’s eye from across the living room several minutes later, raising one eyebrow and jerking his head towards the front door. Billy nodded once, their signal for leaving the party and heading back to Steve’s for the night.

Billy got in his car, following Steve home from a distance, hoping with his whole heart that Steve still had some of his cum left in him, some that Billy could use his fingers to fuck in and out of Steve before only adding to the load.

#yikes writes #lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove