#a thousand doors just one key

[aromanticannibal]

Ok, Feldup recs post!

Mostly my opinion (which is wildly positive) on his most recent album, Stared at from a Distance.

Warnings, this entire album talks about Feldup's SA from a woman twice his age. It's hard to listen to, it was hard to listen to for me, who suffered through no such experiences and isn't triggered, squicked or made uncomfortable by many things.

First, I'd advise that you listen to the entire album all at once (which breaks throughout if needed), in order and with lyrics (there are subtitles in the linked video). I promise it's worth it. Now for my favorite songs :

Stared at from a Distance (2nd track, 12:06), is obviously incredible and one of my faves. It's pretty long and is way more explicit on what it's talking about than Waters (4:55), the first track (which I really liked too, the music video for it is excellently made as well). I really love the way the instrumental and beat switches throughout to accompany the story, and the end of the song made me think I was going to cry (I just needed to sneeze but tbh it's still crying material). Really good, if you listen to only one song in the album I think it should be this one. (Side note, I'm also wondering if I didn't hear part of that song when I was at Feldup's concert - it was before the album was out, but you know. I don't think I heard all of it, but maybe I just forgot).

Naked and Afraid (3rd track, 3:11) is very good and picks up very well after the second track. It makes you understand that this album really is a story you're following, and you're going to get every detail of it. The following track, Dizzy (4:11) is transitioned to so well I thought it was the same song (it's also excellent), and Fear of Abandonment (4:07) right after is like. Painful. /pos

Shove it (6th track, 03:39) is honestly terrifying to listen to, and it works very well for its subject. I don't even have much to talk about for this one, it's just really good. The 7th track, Moment of Sobriety (5:30) managed to be even scarier, because of how real it gets then (if that makes sense. The whole album is painfully real, and it reminds you of this regularly).

Crying as a Weapon (8th track, 5:20) is where I had to take a break. I think it might be one of the most relatable songs for many people who were abused, not just sexually.

Death of an Illusion (9th track, 10:23) is the other very long track of this album and it is, unsurprisingly, incredible, and one of my absolute favorites. It's also one I could relate to a lot, and its progression is very satisfying. It Never Leaves (9:09) is similar to Death of an Illusion, its continuity, and its ending made me incredibly happy.

The last one, To Love Again (4:49), is the song I enjoyed the less, musically speaking, but one of my favorites nevertheless, and a perfect ending for the album in my opinion. It also has a shift in the... well, not the narration, but I guess the message, somewhat (trying not to spoil because it's so incredible to realize to me), which entirely convinced me this is actually my favorite album of all time construction-wise.

In conclusion, Oh My Fucking God this is so incredible.

Feldup is a great person who writes incredible texts and makes excellent music. The constructions of his songs and the way his story is told throughout eleven tracks is beautiful and heartbreaking and hopeful, and it genuinely is currently changing my brain chemistry /hj. It is so good. It's on Spotify and Bandcamp for sure, and I think it's on most other streaming services, and you still have the Youtube video I linked at the top. Please give it a try.

I'll quickly give my favorite songs from his other album, A Thousand Doors, Just One Key, but they're all really good too : Falling Apart (2nd track, 4:08) which is his most known song as far as I'm aware and is a fucking banger from the first notes, Mental Health (6th, 4:25), Attention (3rd, 3:54), and Stockholm (10th, 11:21), which holds one of my favorite lyrics ever (There is no cure/I am the disease).

Anyways, have a good day or night, stream Feldup's music.

#feldup #stared at from a distance #a thousand doors just one key #falling apart #music #music recs #alternative rock #indie rock #indie music #french artist #french musician #france #queer artist #Youtube

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: what do you do when your boyfriend cheats? you go to his house and look for revenge, and you get it by fucking his dad! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. age gap, blowjob, praise, degradation, use of slut, slight dumbification, dirty talk, and possibly more. 2.6K words.

you should've known that dating a rich boy came with more than just the money—it came with a shitty boyfriend too. 

as you walk to his house, rain falling in your eyes, you curse every time he had you do his homework, his bills, even his fucking laundry. that's what you get for dating the spoiled heir to the massive gojo fortune.

you step onto the gojo estate's porch, wondering what possessed you to come all the way here in the middle of the night without an umbrella. thank god you still had the key your ex had given you, since he was too stupid to remember to take it back after he dumped you.

hands shaking from the cold, you slip the key into the lock and turn, a small smile dancing across your lips when it opens as easily as your ex's legs. he was probably out fucking another girl right now, if the pictures on his instagram story were any hint of his whereabouts.

you push the door open with your shoulder and dry your feet on the doormat. his parents are never home, and it's late enough for the staff to have all gone back to their quarters. besides, even if one or two were still here, they probably didn't know you weren't their spoiled brat's girlfriend anymore.

humming the post-breakup revenge song you'd been listening to for the past hour, you tie up your hair and look around. the only reason you walked all the way here in the middle of a dark, stormy night was for revenge, and you weren't leaving without it.

on the way to your ex's room, you stop in one of the bathrooms to dry off. rainwater slides off your body as you wring out your hair in the sink, water dripping down your wrist as you do so.

you walk the familiar path to your ex's room, rolling your eyes when you see a bra on the floor that definitely isn't yours. funnily enough, you aren't surprised. there's no hurt, no sadness, just disgust. your suspicions were right—he was fucking other girls while the two of you dated. 

a sigh slips through your lips as you look around his room. it's messy, even with the help from the gojo estate's numerous staff. they say bigger rooms naturally look cleaner, and yet your ex's room still manages to mirror his mind—filthy.

you're so immersed in the thousand ideas you have to ruin your ex's life that when a deep, sleep-ridden voice asks you what the fuck you're doing in his house, you nearly jump out of your skin.

you spin around, words caught in your throat when you come face-to-face with satoru gojo, your ex-boyfriend's dad and the infamous head of the gojo family.

it's more than shameful that the first thought you have is that shit, he's hot. you've met before, but it was only in passing. satoru's never around, and the extent of your relationship was a brief nod as he passed you in one of the many passageways in the gojo estate. in fact, you aren't entirely sure if he even knows who you are.

satoru gojo's well-known in japan—not only is he the reason the gojo family has its reputation, but he's made quite a name for himself by being the most affluent and handsome of them all. 

you've heard stories about him back in his prime. most sound too far-fetched to be true, but the photos of him in his twenties that resurface from time-to-time make good material for your late-night fantasies. 

and satoru's even more intimidating in person. he's easily over six feet tall with well-defined muscles, and he's the definition of a dilf. he's probably twice your age, but the glint in his eyes and casual arrogance in his stance makes him all the more attractive.

it's a shame his son is such a dickhead.

"are you one of my son's whores?" satoru asks dryly, eying the bra on the floor. you scowl and kick it away, a soft huff slipping through your lips.

"no, i'm— wait, he never told you?" you cut yourself off with the question, a hint of incredulous disbelief in your tone. 

satoru shrugs, reaching up to ruffle his hair. his shirt slides up just enough to expose his abs, which are really fucking hot by any standards. "if you're asking about my son, he thankfully leaves me out of his sex life," he says amusedly. "so, who are you? and what the hell are you doing in my house this late?"

"i—" well, you couldn't just say you were here to ruin his son's life. "uh, i'm his... girlfriend."

satoru barks out a laugh, looking down at you through his long, white eyelashes. "really? you sure you're dating my son?"

you narrow your eyes and nod. satoru shakes his head, slipping one of his hands in his pocket and gesturing to the bra on the floor with the other. "either you aren't his girlfriend or you just found out he's cheating. which is it?"

well, you tried. "both." satoru raises his eyebrows at that and takes a seat on the chair across from his son's bed, exhaling as he does so. 

"so, sweetheart, what's the story?" he asks, a bored expression on his face. he leans back and spreads his legs enough for you to wonder what it'd be like to be in between them. 

not sensing that you really have a choice, you sit on the corner of his son's bed and start explaining. at first, you sugarcoat his son's actions, not wanting to sound like a whiny brat, but at one point he interjects with a sigh.

"i know my son," he says dryly, brushing his floppy white hair out of his eyes. "and i also know a liar when i see one."

"s' that so?" you mutter under your breath, ignoring the way satoru's eyes narrow at your side comment. from then on, you list every detail of just how shitty your ex was to you. you tell satoru how his son made you fold his clothes, how he dragged you to parties even when you swore you had homework, how he'd make you fu—

you stop there, not wanting to divulge every detail of your sex life. sure, your ex forced you to fuck him every night in every way he knew existed from watching porn, but that wasn't for his dad to know.

satoru, who's been listening intently for the last five minutes, studies your irritated expression thoughtfully. rather than comment on the way you suddenly stopped ranting, he asks, "so you're here for revenge?"

you nod, crossing your legs. satoru eyes you for another second before placing his hands on his knees and standing up with a soft grunt. "do whatever you want, but i want you out of my house in fifteen minutes. and whatever you do stays in this room. no fire."

satoru looks down at you and raises an eyebrow. "is that clear?"

it would be easier to agree if satoru wasn't looking down at you with an expression like that on his face. it's somewhere between mild irritation and disgust—whether it's directed at you or his son, you're not sure, but he probably has better things to do than listen to some girl's breakup story. so you nod, and satoru starts to leave.

just before he steps out the door, you think of a really fucking insane idea—one that would absolutely shatter your ex. and for some reason, you say it out loud.

"you should fuck me."

oh my god.

satoru turns around slowly, hand clenched around his phone. "the fuck?"

you swallow, eyes wide and a stupid grin plastered on your face. "shit, i—" you were ready to apologize for just about every word you've ever said, but satoru holds up his hand before you can start, cutting you off.

he scoffs, blue eyes glimmering with either amusement or annoyance. "you really are a piece of work, aren't ya?" satoru narrows his eyes, surveying you critically. his gaze settles on the way your shaky hands, and you hide them behind your back self consciously.

"you want me to fuck you on my son's bed?" he says dryly, stifling a laugh. when you force yourself to nod, he grins. "not bad, sweetheart. not bad at all."

"i-is that a yes?" you hate yourself for stuttering, but it makes satoru laugh.

"sure, why not?" he says, walking over to where you're still sitting on his son's bed and resting a hand on your shoulder. satoru rubs the side of your neck with his thumb, cerulean eyes fixed on your lips. "might be about time to teach my son a lesson anyways."

satoru's agreement surprises you enough to make your mouth fall open, and soon enough, his dick replaces the empty space between your lips.

"shit, you're takin' me so good, baby," satoru groans, hand tangled in your hair as he pushes his dick deeper into your throat. "yeah, that's it, jus' like tha— fuck," he cuts himself off with a breathy laugh as you nearly choke.

he's big, way bigger than your ex, and you wonder how his dad's big dick gene skipped him. and even better, satoru's skilled too. he knows how to fuck you good, and you can tell that it's from experience, not from watching porn—unlike his lame excuse of a son.

"tell me, sweetheart," satoru drawls, looking down at you with a cheeky smile. "was my son half as good as i am in bed?"

when you shake your head no, satoru clicks his tongue in disapproval. "shit, now y're gonna expect every guy you fuck with to be as good as me. well, sorry 'bout that, because they aren't."

at least you know where his son gets his arrogance from. 

it's getting a little hard to breathe, especially since you have ten inches of dick shoved down your throat. despite all satoru's talk, you can tell that he's getting close to cumming down your throat—his eyes are twitching and his breaths are starting to become more and more shaky as you suck him off. soon enough, the coil in his stomach snaps and he cums, cursing and praising you as he does. satoru's grip on your hair tightens, and it's borderline painful as he tugs you deeper by the hair.

"shit, that was the best head i've had in a while," he groans after his breathing starts to go back to normal. satoru grins at you, shaking his head and pinning you on your back on the bed.

"you've already been fucked by a gojo here, haven't you?" satoru cooes, tracing your jawline with one of his fingers. "tch, i'll fuck you better than my shithead son ever could. show ya the reason we gojos have a reputation for our dicks."

and fuck, he does. after quickly making you cum on his fingers with the excuse of loosening you up, he roughly shoves his dick in your already-throbbing pussy with a grin. he's so fucking big that you've convinced he's gonna rip you in half.

"g-gojo, i can't—"

"sure y'can," he cuts you off, jaw tightening as you tighten around him. "fuckin' hell, you're just tight as a virgin. my son must be shit in bed, yeah?"

"mhm," you hum, tilting back your head and gasping for air as you feel your body heat up. "shit— right there—"

satoru grins, dipping his head and meeting your tear-lidded eyes. he's far from gentle—it's barely been a couple minutes and your back is already in the highest arch of your life, and it's hard to form coherent thoughts as satoru continues bullying his cock into your pussy.

you lose track of time easily—fuck, you forget there's even a world outside of whatever this is. at some point your tongue falls out of your mouth, lolling to the side as your eyes roll back—just a dumb slut for satoru; or at least that's what he calls you.

as you approach what must be the hundredth orgasm of the night, satoru asks you to say his name. it's almost embarrassing how much effort it is to say—he's fucked you dumb enough to the point where you're a babbling mess.

"shit, you can't even talk," satoru says with a grin, flicking your forehead playfully. "cute." he rests his elbow by your head and shoves his hand over your mouth, amusement dancing in his eyes. "you talk too much anyways, princess. take a break."

you whine against his hand and satoru shakes his head, a faux pout on his face. "c'mon, it's not like you can talk anyways," he tsks. his next thrust is particularly rough, and you can't seem to remember who the name of the dickhead who got you in this situation—what was your ex's name again? does it matter?

"yeah i can" you mumble, voice muffled by satoru's hand. when his pout deepens, you can't help but giggle, a sound that soon turns to a squeal when he pushes the side of your face into the mattress.

"what's so funny?" satoru grumbles, dipping his head and pressing his lips against the hand seperating your mouth from his. satoru's glimmering eyes are fixed on yours as a cheeky smile spreads across his face. "fine then."

he pulls out, cursing under his breath as he presses his back to the headboard. satoru ignores the hm? that slips out of your lips and removes his hand from your mouth, resting it on his dick instead and stroking it with a smirk. "what is it, princess?"

"wha— why'd you stop?"

satoru lifts his other wrist, studying the watch on it and turning his hand so you can see too. your vision is still so fucked up that the numbers look like swimming otters, but you can vaguely make out the time.

"it's been fifteen minutes, kid. time to go."

your mouth falls open and you sit up, still breathing heavily. one second you're having the best sex of your life, and the next your ex's dad is calling you kid and telling you it's time to go?

"not fair," you mumble, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your head on your knees. "that was a stupid time limit," you huff, chest heaving. "i couldn't have done anything to him in fifteen minutes anyways."

satoru snorts, stretching his arms and resting his hands behind his head. "i'd say we did something in those fifteen minutes," he says dryly, white hair falling into his eyes. 

"hmph."

satoru raises his eyebrows, biting the inside of his lip as he continues stroking himself. you notice the way his abs flex and tense the closer he gets; something that shouldn't be as attractive as it is.

"can't believe my dumbass son fucked up so badly with a girl like you," he groans after a minute, back resting against the headboard as he continues stroking his dick. "won't be seein' you around here again, huh?"

you blink, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as satoru eyes you intently. "what d'you mean?"

before satoru can answer, the two of you hear footsteps, and before either of you can do anything, standing in the doorway to his own room is your ex, a giggling girl on his arm. the faint scent of alcohol floods through your nose as they stumble in, and it's all you can do to stop yourself from laughing when your ex sees that his bed is already occupied.

"why the hell is my dad in bed with my ex-girlfriend?!"

#osaemu #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

[snoopyearss]

When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk toji #jjk angst #snoopyearss

[probablybadrpgideas]

Utterly Bullshit Puzzles For Your Dungeon

There are two guards. One always tells the truth. One always lies. Neither know what's behind the doors they're guarding. Both doors lead to a trash compacter.

Three Chests. One hisses and contains deadly gas, one is clearly airtight and contains deadly gas, one is unmarked and contains deadly gas. If the players ignore the chests, both exits from the room (including the one they came from) contain deadly gas.

Three potions. A complex riddle gives you a series of clues to figure out which one is poison, which one is a buff and which one is just coloured water. Actually they're all glued to the table and, while you were faffing around with the riddle, thirty thousand angry orcs walked in.

A series of levers which cause the door to open or close to a different amount. You think you have to flip the levers in order to open it the right amount. Actually, the door opens whenever it damn well feels like it, and the levers are unrelated.

The Horrifying Monster is immune to all damage unless they're first stabbed by an obsidian dagger. What the players don't know is that "obsidian dagger" is actually a mistranslation of "gold needle" and no-one has any way of finding that out.

The locked door is in a room full of keys, all of which are slightly different. Actually, all the keys are the soul cages of never-before-mentioned powerful liches, and if you touch any of them that lich teleports in to kill you.

Pile of treasure that is marked with "those who touch this will be betrayed by those they least suspect". When a PC takes it, the GM throat-punches that PC's player.

The BBEG can't be defeated. That's it, that's the entire puzzle. Good fucking luck.

#rpg #roleplaying game

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖

Kento Nanami

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Summary: Your neighbor always watches you at night, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, squirting, creampie, Nanami takes panties and doesn't give them back

10k Event Masterlist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

At nine at night, you get out of the shower and walk to your room with nothing but a towel. A towel that’s dropping and getting dangerously low with every step you take. You make no effort to hold the towel and it eventually drops to the ground– It happens nightly. 

You don’t seem to care to close the curtains, you don’t care if the whole world sees you naked. And your neighbor shakes his head in disapprovement every time he sees. He sits on the armchair that’s in his room, facing his window, one that looks directly into your room as he sips on his nightly tea. 

Kento watches you bend down to the lowest drawer, and grab a pair of panties. God, he feels so perverted doing this, but he isn’t a pervert. You’re showing yourself to the world, he isn’t at fault that his eyes just happen to look. He might be at fault for continuing to stare, but he isn’t a pervert.

Occasionally you make eye contact, and he’s bold enough to remain watching. And you’re bold enough to accidentally drop something, and remain naked as you slowly pick it up. You do everything much slower, really different from when you first walked into the room. Kento enjoys the show that you put on, putting everything on so painfully slowly so he can admire every inch of your body even from a distance.

Suddenly you have to get something from across the room, and you’re still naked. He can’t complain though, he likes the view, that’s why he continues admiring it. You grab your phone and lay down on the bed, where you indulge yourself in something– He doesn’t know what, but you’re entertaining yourself. His eyes still linger on your naked body, and he’s thinking of everything he’d do to you.

He finally feels like a pervert when he’s thinking of having you under him or on top of him, he doesn’t mind. He just wants to hear his neighbor’s cute little voice as she yells his name over and over again. He’d love to have a taste of her.

You look back at him again, where they make eye contact. You have a sly smile on her face before you stand up from the bed and finally put on your underwear and your pajamas. Kento is almost sad to have it be over so soon, he was hoping you’d put on even more of a show for him. He assumes it had to end eventually.

You walk over to the window, and you blow a kiss at your neighbor before you shut the curtain, leaving his field of view. The man stares back at his own reflection in the window, almost embarrassed by his actions.

He’ll see you tomorrow again, he’s not sure how he’ll face you. Perhaps he’ll apologize, even though he knows that at the same time tomorrow, he’ll do it all over again. He tries to focus his attention on the book that’s in his hand, but it’s hard to when he thinks about you, completely bare just like you were a second ago, only this time you’re in front of him.

Maybe he should man up and knock on your door. Or maybe he should stop being so perverted and focus on his book.

“Hey neighbor!” You wave excitedly at the man that’s unlocking the door to his home. Your voice makes him nervous, causing him to drop his key. You walk over to him with a smirk on your lips. You try to disguise it as a sweet smile when you’re in front of him, and Kento freezes in his spot when you’re right there. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” He clears his throat before he speaks. His eyes look up and down your body, and they linger on the tight dress you wear. He looks straight at your cleavage, and his cheeks turn pink, picturing clearly how they look underneath your clothes. He’s seen you thousands of times walking around your room naked.

It’s surprising that this is the first time you approach him. Sure, you’ve talked but you’ve always had a reason to– Mail got mixed up, a package got delivered to the wrong house, you need a cup of sugar for baking; point is, there’s always something but today there doesn’t seem to be anything. At least not yet.

“Do you need something?” Kento asks, making your bottom lip stick out. He unlocks the door of his home and he opens it. He realizes how hostile his question sounds, and he assures you, “Not that I mind your presence but…”

“Just wanted to talk to you.” You respond. You take a couple of steps closer to him, and you bring your lips to his ear. You lower your voice and whisper, “Or am I out of line?”

“I– No, not at all.” Kento is caught off guard, and he tries his best to remain calm. You lightly bite down on your lip before you glance inside his house. “Do you want to come in?”

“If you insist.” You answer before walking inside the home. You want to walk straight to the bedroom since you know exactly where it is, but you decide that you want to chat first. You walk to the couch in the living room, taking note of how organized and clean the space is. Kento follows behind you, his eyes glued to your ass and thighs as you make yourself welcome in his home. “You have such a nice home.”

“Thank you.” He answers, watching as you take a seat on his couch and cross your legs. He stands in front of you, his arms crossing in front of him. “So… Do you have a conversation topic or–”

“I’m just surprised you haven’t made the move on me yet.” You interrupt him. “You’ve been watching me for a month straight, and yet you don’t even try to talk to me. You clearly like it since you keep watching.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to make the first move? You’re the one that puts on the little show. Every single night.” He reminds you, making you click your tongue. He proceeds to take a seat beside you, his arms still crossed. His arms look so big and strong, and it takes everything in you to not stop the conversation and get on your knees. You need the man that sits beside you so fucking bad.

“I already do so much for you… You should have the common courtesy to at least thank me.” You tell him, your hand going to his bicep. He hums, raising his brow.

“Why did you come here? You want a thank you or…?” He asks, and you slowly nod your head in response. That’s when his hands go to your thighs, while his face inches closer to yours. He lowers his voice and he asks, “You don’t want a simple thank you, do you?”

“What do you think?” You smirk at him, and he chuckles before his lips land on yours. It’s the least the man can do after watching you every single night. Your tongue swipes his bottom lip before it enters his mouth and presses against his own. His hand goes under your dress, going to your panties. His finger hooks under the cloth and he begins to pull your panties down.

Kento pulls away from the kiss, kissing down your neck before he begins to suck on your skin. You help him pull down your panties, and within seconds they’re down by your ankles. The man reaches down to take the panties, stuffing them in his pocket. His fingers begin to run through your folds, and before he can do much you tell him, “You wanna do this here? Or in your bedroom?”

“Why?” He asks, pulling away. You stand up from the couch, grabbing his hand and leading him to the stairs of the home. 

“Just wanna see it.” You answer. You can easily guess where his bedroom is, and you’re assured when your eyes land on the armchair that you always find Kento sitting in. You stand still for a moment, deciding where you want to go next, and you feel Kento unzip the back of the dress. You laugh, “Aren’t you eager?”

“I just want to say my thanks.” Kento says as he takes the dress off you. Of course you aren’t wearing a bra, he noticed when you walked up to him but he didn’t want to baselessly assume. His hands go to your breasts, his fingers rolling and playing with your nipples. 

“You’re too kind.” You answer, your body leaning back so your head rests on his chest. One of his hands going down to your pussy. His ring and middle finger run through your folds before he begins to play with your clit. You look up at him, and he’s smirking as he looks down at you.

“Is this good enough? Or should I do more?” He asks, and you swear you’ve never been turned on more by a voice. He’s nearly driving you to your knees. You’re squeezing your thighs, and you’re biting down your lip as you look up at him. There’s so much desire in your needy eyes. “Aren’t you pathetic? Cat got your tongue?”

“I need more.” You answer, and he gets his fingers wet enough with your slick before he pushes his middle and ring finger inside your cunt. A soft moan leaves your lips as you feel his thick fingers fill you up. You’ve gotten a glance at them a couple of times, and you always had the thought of how they’d feel inside of you. Now that you feel them, you’re cursing yourself for not making a move sooner.

“Your pussy feels so nice.” He comments as he slowly moves his fingers in and out of you. You begin to moan as Kento’s thumb begins to toy with your clit. He’s making you feel so good, you’re nearly putty in his hands even though you haven’t been with him for long. “You sound just like I expected.”

“Fuck–” You mutter, shutting your eyes as pleasure slowly gets the better of you. You make the cutest face that your neighbor has ever seen as your orgasm approaches. You slowly start to get louder as pressure builds up in your lower abdomen. There’s a smug smirk on Kento’s lips before he does an evil action– He takes his fingers out of your pussy.

He brings his fingers up to his lips, and takes them into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around them to get a taste of you, and you taste just like he imagined. He hums. “You taste just how I expected too.”

“I thought you were going to thank me?” Your brows are furrowed as you look at him, irritated that he took your orgasm from you. His eyes look at the window, and your eyes follow lead. You’re confused as to what you’re supposed to be looking at, until you realize he’s looking into your room.

“You hate closing that curtain.” He comments, his hand putting pressure on your back so you begin to walk to the window. When you’re mere inches away, he pushes your back to the window, your hands landing on the spotless glass. “You really have no shame.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You respond as you hear him unzip his pants. You eagerly wait for his cock, and it feels like he’s taking his sweet time to undress– You have no idea why, all he has to do is take off his pants (matter of fact, he’s just unzipping, not even taking them off). You’re too impatient, that’s why. 

“I’m glad you are. Always putting on a little show for me. It makes my night better.” You feel the tip of his cock run through your folds. You shake your ass, wanting him to hurry up because you can’t wait any longer. He slaps your ass in return, causing a whine to leave your lips. You feel his breath on your ear before he whispers, “Be patient, I’m not running anywhere.”

“I need you so bad… Please.” You sound so fucking pathetic. He finally pushes his cock inside of you, and your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head as his cock stretches you out. He’s bigger than you expected, but you aren’t complaining.

The man hisses as he feels your warm cunt wrap around his cock. He shuts his eyes as he takes it all in. You feel better than what he thought, and fuck, it’s taking everything in him to not lose control. Shamelessly watching you as you walked around naked in your room was enough for him but after getting a taste of you, he doubts that just watching through the window will be enough.

He gives you a moment before he begins to move. His nails dig into your soft flesh as he tries to set a steady pace. He watches your ass move with each of his thrusts. His hand pulls on your hair before he presses your face on the window, making sure your makeup leaves a mark, “You get to see my view now– Minus the goddess that blesses me at night.”

His cock is hitting every right spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He knows what the fuck he’s doing, and you hate the fact that you doubted that he did. Maybe you should’ve stopped the teasing and walked up to him earlier. 

The hand that holds on your hip goes under and begins to play with your clit, and you’re convinced that the man is set on driving you wild. But you’re also driving him insane by how your cunt squeezes around him. You’re thankful he lives alone because you can’t control how loud you are; although the window does help suppress your loudness. 

“What a tight little pussy. Even better than what I expected.” He praises. He works you up, and it doesn’t take too long for your orgasm to build up, especially after the one he ripped away from you. You begin to get tighter around his cock, and you hear as he groans in pleasure.

“Oh– Fuck–” The biggest smile forms on his face when you finally reach your climax– You feel as the liquid leaves your body, and you’re sure they’ve stained his pants. You could die of embarrassment mainly because you don’t see the excitement in his eyes. He’s only pissed off that you didn’t squirt while his face was buried between your legs. 

He has to have you again, simply for you to squirt while he’s eating you out. That thought makes him think that maybe he is the pervert that he claims he’s not. But he doesn’t give a shit when you’re so pretty and you feel so good wrapped around his cock.

His thrusts begin to get sloppy and he becomes louder. He wants to finish inside of you and fill you up with his seed– But he’s a gentleman… A perverted one, but regardless, a gentleman. He has to at least try to ask, “Inside or outside?”

“Inside.” It comes out muffled but he hears it, and when he finally reaches his release, his cum fills up your warm cunt.

He stays still for a moment before he finally pulls out his cock and puts it back into his briefs. He watches his cum drip out of your cunt, and he takes two fingers to push his seed back in. You take a moment to sit back on the bed that’s near you, staining his tan comforter with his cum. You feel embarrassed as you look at the makeup that’s on the window, and as you remember the fact that you squirt all over him.

“Sorry…” You mutter, and his brows furrow.

“What for?” You point at the pants. He chuckles. “You’re coming over again so you do that all over my face.”

It does take you by surprise.

“I have to start dinner soon, so you can either stay and join me, or leave.” He says, and it sounds like a tempting offer to stay and have dinner with him but you doubt you can wear that tight dress for too long. You wore it for him to take it off you. He watches as you ponder and reflect on your options. “Either way, I’m expecting to see you at nine.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento smut #nanami kento #kento x reader #kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x reader #nanamin #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami fanfic

[lokisgoodgirl]

The Urge [Loki x Fem. Reader]

A link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot] Loki's lack of magical contraception yields unexpected results. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Breeding kink. Smut. Language. Dirty talk. (w/ 1.8k)

"I can smell you." You stopped rinsing dishes, wiping your palms on your leggings before turning off the tap. He’s home early, you thought with mild interest. “What?! Two seconds...” you called. The sound of Loki dropping his keys into the dish by the door rattled. Metal on porcelain. You turned towards the noise, jumping as your husband’s broad shoulders suddenly filled the open kitchen doorway. “I said... I can smell you.” he repeated darkly, leaning against the frame.

Loki’s pupils were dilated, only a sliver of electric blue visible at the furthest rims. You ran your hands up the sharp angle of his jawline, trying to coax a smile. “Well I haven’t showered since last night but I didn’t think it was that -oh!” Loki stooped, hoisting your ass-cheeks with his huge palms. Your legs instinctively cinched around his hips, clinging on. It was a long drop to the floor. “I mean what’s between your thighs, wife.” he hummed menacingly. “You’re ripe.” Heat flushed your cheeks, a thrill thundering to the lowest centre of your sex. It was happening. “Are you sure you’re ready for the weight of my full load?” he snarled against the shell of your ear, the meaning in his words abundantly clear. You shivered. Loki had lifted the enchantment impeding his ability to impregnate you, and it had...side effects. “It will be four times what I usually spend inside that tight little slit of yours. I hope you can take it.” he murmured under his breath as he paced in long strides to the bedroom. He lowered you to the bed. You scrambled back on the mattress, running your eyes hungrily up his triangular torso. “And I hope you can keep it.” he spat, roughly yanking the knot in his tie. Loki had warned you that the tidal wave of god-level hormones would make him a little strange. A little less...sentimental. But even he wasn’t aware just how animalistic he would become in his mission to give you what you desired. What you both desired. He stripped the black suit jacket from his shoulders, unbuttoning the dark shirt slowly as he tilted his head. His gaze stalked over your body, breathless and flushed. He was hard already, his thick cock snaking down his thigh against the tight cotton. “How am I to make you fat with my offspring if you do not remove your clothes?” There was a venom in his voice that made you clench. “Oh, right- sorry.” you mumbled, tugging off your stained t-shirt. You lifted your hips, fumbling the waistband down. “Too long.” he scoffed impatiently, before leaning and grabbing the lowered nylon crotch. In one swift movement, the leggings ripped at the seams, half of the pair landing on the bed-knob. Your husband's stare smouldered with barbarism, his deep love hibernating as primal urges came to the fore. Loki ripped the belt from his hips, the coil of leather falling discarded with a loud crack to the floor.

You shuffled backwards on the martial bed as he unzipped his trousers, the perfect cock that had made love to you thousands of times looking different somehow. Harder? Bigger? you thought frantically, feeling your breath catch in your throat as his naked body descended. Loki’s hair fell wild around his collarbone, eyes narrowing as he tilted his chin to his chest. That smouldering gaze never left your own. “Don’t be afraid, darling." Loki nudged your knees apart gruffly. “You are worthy of breeding with a god, you should be grateful.” He wrapped his long fingers around your delicate wrists. “And I intend to thoroughly breed you tonight, pup. You can be sure of that.” You could feel the swollen tip of his manhood sliding against your entrance, the sticky mess of ovulation grasping against pre-cum gathered at the head. “Oh-my-g-god…” you gasped, unable to form proper words. You had never been more turned on in your life.

“That’s it. Praise me, little one.” Loki purred, before a long inhale made his eyes flutter closed in lust-drunk anticipation. “Such a well-bred cunt you have...” he hummed appreciatively, before licking a trail from your collarbone to your mouth. “Perfect for a god’s seed...” he rasped, releasing one wrist to palm the nearest breast upward. “... perfect for soaking in what I have to give.” he continued lazily. Loki nuzzled against your ear as his grip returned to the free wrist strewn above your head. “My prize breeding bitch.” You arched your back, feeling your pussy gape against the throbbing cock nestled tauntingly between your folds. Ready to burst. He released a ragged moan against your ear, pulsing between your open thighs. “I can’t keep myself out much longer, I can’t resist you like this – you have one final chance to stop before I fill you.” he panted quietly, a semblance of familiarity cracking through feral domination. You shook your head, murmurs of don’t stop passing your lips as a cruel smirk stretched his own. He snarled, mouth falling open as his wide tip squeezed past the tight opening. Loki swallowed, the veins in his neck straining. “Prepare for everyone in nine realms to know you have been fucked into this pathetic state.” he growled ceremonially. He bottomed out with a staggered groan as his grip on your wrists tightened. “And fucked by whom.” You squirmed beneath him, rocking your hips into the curves of his enormous muscular thighs. Waves of bliss soared as he grunted with every slow thrust, devastatingly measured. “Tell me I’m your slut, Loki-” you mewled, whining as he pressed the backs of your thighs mercilessly towards your ears. Loki's eyes fell to the sight of his glistening cock sinking into your swollen pussy, juices already leaking around the mess of twin flesh. He grit his teeth, curls swinging around his jaw as he watched himself disappear repeatedly into your ripe heat. “Remember who it is you have sheathed in your cunt, little one.” he grunted, balls slapping. “I only fuck my slut, I don’t breed her.” You whimpered, lost in a haze of unadulterated eroticism. It was filth. His voice. His hands. His cock. His words. “You’re so fucking t-tight.” he gasped, releasing a rasping moan that shook the Asgardian trinkets on the side-table. “I’m going to pound you so full of my...uhhh- sacred c-cum that you’ll be dripping from that pretty m-mouth.”

Your husband's voice vibrated around the apartment, the timbre so low you were sure it would sink through the floorboards. He was unhinged, the grip around your calves making halos of lightened skin appear beneath the dent of his fingertips. “Don’t-don’t stop...Loki” you gasped, frozen in place by his weight. The god snarled, his upper lip disappearing as his eyes flashed. “I said I would breed you, and I intend to.” he spat, suddenly pulling your wrists and flipping you to all fours. His slippery cock popped from your hole with a squelch as your palms hit the mattress. In a flash, long fingers grasped the nooks of your hips, sinking himself possessively back inside. The two of your groaned in unison as your ass hit the flat of his stomach.

“The way that ripe pussy is desperate to milk me, I won’t last…” he fawned, before placing a tight slap against your ass. “But then, pleasure is not the order of business. Not your pleasure, anyway..” The god muttered darkly under his breath, rhythmically pulling you tight against the base of his shaft before pushing you forwards. The fingers against your flesh would leave bruises. Animalistic grunts clouded the air like smoke as he railed into you like the beat of a drum. You could feel the veins in his cock swell. They pulsed, his body gearing to give you what you craved. Loki’s thrusts were becoming sloppy, erratic breaths scorching the air as he lost himself in the mission. Lost himself in the urge. Whines of his name leaked from your throat, your cheek lowering to the mattress- ass in the air like a bitch in heat. Loki’s hips juddered, the slap of his tight balls against your clit making you want to scream. And then you screamed. Loki chuckled, a choked laugh between stuttering, messy pumps. “That’s it. That’s.it - my breeding mare, taking the mount of your s-stallion as he fucks you full- f-f-fuck-” You and he moaned in unison, rising orgasm shuddering your bodies as Loki’s stomach folded against your back. You could feel the condensation of primal need on your neck from his breath, his cock tugging inside your needy pussy with shallow thrusts as he came undone. He needed this. He needed it just as much as you did. “Fill me p-prince- yes, give it...fucking give it to me-” you thundered. Your hips thrashed as you shoved you ass back to keep his cock steady against your wet centre. “All of it?” Loki choked, planting another smack on your ass with a broken moan. “Every fucking d-drop…” you managed through a strangled cry. The god roared behind you. You could feel thick cream spurt against clenching walls, hot seed sloshing and rising inside the deepest part of you. Loki's firm chest curled against your spine, hair sticking to the sweat gathered on your back. His hips juddered as he emptied himself inside your messy, fertile heat. Every drop. You could sense the clench of his perfect ass as he pumped several more times, milking himself in the slop of his own seed. Dwindling ragged grunts peppered the air, the tender slide of his palms over the curve of your ass telling you that his work was done.

“Stay still.” he murmured, carefully drawing himself from between your legs. Wet slurps filled the air, the light touch of his fingers grazing against your dripping slit. Inspecting. “Turn over-” he said gently, as if to a patient; “-slowly.” he added, before guiding you on your back. There was a broad smile on his face. “Legs up.” he quipped, still kneeling. You rolled your eyes playfully, manoeuvring your crossed ankles to rest on the curve of his neck. “I love you.” he said tentatively, placing a deep kiss on the calf to his side. A blissed-out smile fluttered on your lips. “I love you too.” you replied, reaching for his hand. Loki squeezed. “Based on that performance, we should probably make the most of the next few days.” you sighed, resting back against the pillow. Loki scoffed. “Have you so little faith in my ability to-” He trailed off, seeing the twitch of your eyebrow. “Oh.” he smouldered, pushing his hair back with a conspiratorial smile. “Yes. Indeed, darling. Very wise.” He placed another kiss on your ankle, the tip of his nose inhaling seductively down your calf as his words made you shiver with anticipation. “Better safe than sorry.” he whispered darkly against your skin.

Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @infinitystoner @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

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[azulhood]

It all started because of a school project, technically two projects, while it wasn't a world ending threat they set of a change reaction that lead to startling discoveries.

Mr Lancer had given the class the task of looking through their pasts and finding an life changing event that helped shape them into the person that were today and writing about that event.

It was a ten page essay (they were allowed to go over that limit) the more details the better and if you had something from that event to show (such as photos or keepsakes or really anything) you were awarded extra credit.

Danny's choice of event was the school field trip to a nearby museum he went on when he was seven, the space exhibit they had was what sparked his love for the stars and kick-started his dreams of being an astronaut.

It wasn't like he had any other choice (he doubted mister Lancer would accept 'my death' as a good life changing event)

He knew that he had photos of the field trip somewhere with all the other photos taken throughout his life, he just had to find them.

And after digging through thousands of boxes and piles of discarded inventions he handled with care (in case they blew up) he found them tucked inside an old photo album covered in green stains that sat on top of a bookshelf.

Opening the book caused all the pictures to fall into his lap, it seems like his parents didn't get around to actually adding them to the book, Danny resigned himself to spending the rest of his day shifting through old photos.

It wasn't all bad though, he found pictures of when Sam still had blonde hair and wore pink and of that time Tucker wrote an 'I love you' on his parents cars with their keys and many other embarrassing photos.

A treasure trove of blackmail material.

He finally found the picture he was looking for.

All of the kids who are now students of Casper high stood in front of an old building each proudly holding up something they bought in the gift shop (Danny had bought a book on planets that had long ago fallen apart)

It was a normal photo.

And yet, something seemed off.

Sam and Tucker were there with him in between them, Dash was there too.

Along with Kwan, Mikey, Paulina, Valerie, and all the others.

And yet, something was missing.

Then it hit him.

Wes wasn't there.

Danny could've sworn that he had been on that trip, but the more he thought about it the less he was sure.

He couldn't actually remember Wes being there and Danny remembered nearly everything about that trip.

'Maybe he was sick or something?' It was the most logical thing he could think of to explain the other absence, that and his parents not wanting him to go for some reason.

Mystery solved he pushed it to the back of his mind , he had an essay to finish.

Still, it stuck with him.

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

The next school project Lencer gave them was one with assigned partners.

Danny got Wes who, despite not being Sam or Tucker, was leagues better then Dash and he'd take that as a win.

Wes had insisted on studying at his house so he could, and Danny quotes "Keep an eye on you Fenton"

Danny could practically feel the hidden cameras burning a hole into him while he stood in front of the Weston's door, waiting for him to go ghost for whatever reason.

Jokes on him though, Danny asked all the ghosts to leave him along for this month with the promise of giving them a head start the next time they caused trouble, so really Wes was just wasting his time.

"This way." Wes said already heading inside without caring if Danny followed.

Being the first time he had ever been in Wes's home Danny looked at everything and anything.

It was a fairly normal home, not like Danny's which had an anti-ghost defense system or Sam's super rich house.

But more like Tuckers

One of the things that drew his attention was the pictures that lined the walls.

There were so many.

Some with Wes and his mom, some with just him, some with just his mom, and some with people Danny didn't recognise.

But there were no baby photos.

The only pictures Danny could find of a young Wes seemed to be from when he was eight? Nine?

And nothing before.

'Maybe they were put away in storage' Danny guessed, but it still made his brain itch.

He remembered looking at old school photos and not finding any sign of a young Wes at all, he didn't even remember Wes coming to school any time before the year Danny turned eight.

And in a small town where everyone knew everyone that really wasn't possible.

'Maybe they moved here and lost a lot of stuff' Which would explain a lot, well no harm in asking. "Did you loss a lot when you moved here?"

Wes stopped walking and turned around to give him a look that asked if he was insane. "I've lived here my whole life, Fenton."

Danny froze, that couldn't be right, he'd remember that.

Something was wrong.

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

Tim Drake sat in front of the bat computer as the rest of his family patrolled.

He had one monitor displaying the other bats locations while all the other monitors were used to show him files, or rather the lack there of.

Wayne Enterprises had tournaments held for schools and the prize was an all express paid trip to Gotham and tour of WE and surrounding areas, Tim could think of way better prizes that weren't visiting the crime capital of the world but that wasn't the point.

What was the point was that every time there was a winner Tim preformed a routine background check on students and staff (and by routine he means learn their whole live story) just in case anyone happened to be trained assassins set to kill one of them, stranger things have happened.

Wes Weston was one such student whose background Tim had to check.

And he found nothing.

Sure, there were hospital and school documents from age eight and upwards, but other then that nothing.

There was no birth certificate, no evidence of him attending daycare, nothing.

It was as if Wes did not exist before he was eight years old.

And perhaps the most interesting thing.

Amy Weston was listed as Wes's biological mother, DNA even said as much, and yet Amy's medical file said that she had never been pregnant and also had no siblings that could've been Wes's parent.

And yet Wes existed, appearing one day as if he had always been there.

Was it cloning? Aliens? Magic? A changeling? Someone creating false information to hide the truth?

It was a mystery, and mysteries had always been Tim's Kryptonite.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #is wes a tulpa? a changling? a clone? #who knows #but tim is going to find out

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU ; — you can’t help but feel a little upset thinking that your boyfriend has forgotten your anniversary.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, none, fluff! although it gets a tiny bit hawt at the end! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! an anon suggested this drabble idea literally like sometime last year + the new szn finally gave me some motivation to write it! i hope u see this!

3 years.. 3 years and gojo didn’t leave you with so much as a “happy anniversary” as he left this morning. you’d have even taken an extra smack on the ass during your usual morning makeout session, the taste of his two sugar’s too sweet coffee on his tongue as it twists with yours and his hands on your waist.. but that’s it, that’s all???

so now you’re here, angrily stomping back to your shared apartment after the few errands you had to run today because you took the day off to celebrate. but your dumb, stupidly handsome boyfriend doesn’t even know what for as he rambles on the other side of the phone.

“can feel you poutin’, what’s gotten into my sweet girl? hm?” gojo hums like hes thinking about something, his same sickly sweet tone dripping through you like honey despite the way you want to be mad at him right now— you would’ve ignored the call all together, just to be petty if you didn’t know he’d turn up at the door a second later.

“nothing. i’m just almost home that’s all.” you’re lying and you know he can tell, he always could. he could pick up every slight, little change in your attitude like he seen right through you.

“oh yeah? nothing at all on your mind?” gojo drawls again, there’s a teasing lull to his voice and it makes your pout puff out even more before he breathes out a low chuckle and sighs. “and here i thought you were mad at me. you almost made me cry at work— who would take me seriously then, huh?”

“you’re not funny.” you huff out, short and a little clipped as you finally come to a stop infront of your apartment door — fiddling with your keys in your hand while your pout still rests on your features.

“you sure?”

you really can’t be bothered playing gojo’s games right now and as amusing as he seems to find himself, it’s only making you burn hotter — making your stomach twist with the lump in your throat that you’ve been fighting to keep down all day. you don’t want to get upset, but it meant a lot to you.

you just wanted him to maybe put in a little effort on the one day that you guys really get to celebrate eachother.

“positive. so i’m gonna g—“ you can barely finish your own spiralling, upsetting thoughts before your snapped response through your phone fades on your tongue. but suddenly, the tears youd been fighting to hold back all day seem to come so ruthlessly, gathering along your lashes as you gaze onto the ocean of red that greets you as you open the door.

you’re not sure how many bouquets there are waiting for you there. hundreds? thousands? sitting pretty along the floor, decorating the shared space so beautifully that you don’t even realise that you’ve gone quiet. ofcourse gojo would do something like this, and suddenly you feel a little silly for even doubting him.

“ah, fine. i guess i’ll get the guy to come pick all of those back up then, huh, sweet thing?”

but the smooth tone that sounds from your phone speaker sounds a little louder, closer when it’s accompanied by a long arm wrapping around your waist from behind as kisses are pressed up the side of your neck.

“but, you—“ you try but you feel so overwhelmed, so full of love as gojo’s large figure drapes over you from behind. his face is stuffed into the crook of your neck and you can feel the way his crooked smile sits on his features as it presses against your skin. he feels warm, although you’re sure he’s more than smug right now when he pulls away with an exaggerated gasp that cuts off your sentence.

“as if you’re perfect, good looking boyfriend would ever forget. what do you take me for, hm?” you giggle at that despite the way he’s teasing you again, squeezing at your sides until you’re meeting his gaze and you’re sure you must look so in love when you notice the way his features soften slightly.

“happy anniversary, princess.” gojo grins as he leans into kiss you breathless, twisting into your mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips and you almost rock back with how dizzy he makes you feel. but his hands are on your hips, keeping you close against his chest with a stability that you’d always found in him.

another long press of his lips with yours and you whimper sweetly as he pulls away to look at you, pretty gaze glowing slightly from under the snowy peaks of his hair before he’s smirking again, maybe a little wider this time.

“you gonna laugh f’ me when i tell jokes again? i can feel the tears threatening to start again.” he’s like a professional when his cheeky grin twists into an exaggerated pout, making you laugh again— a little harder this time before you’re pinching at his cheeks playfully and bringing him in for another quick kiss.

“you’re such a dork.” you tease and gojo groans against your lips like he’s offended.

“mmm, no thank you? oh i’m hurt, sweet girl. what’ll i do with you now, hm?” the look he gives you as he pulls away is suspicious, a raised brow as his head falls to the side and he really looks like he’s considering it. until the next moment his large palm is coming down heavy on your ass before his next handful squeezes.

“satoru!” you squeal but that only seems to make him chuckle as he leans down to kiss you again, rougher this time despite the way you’re both smiling giddily into the shared, messy press of eachother. almost too quickly finding yourself pressed up against the wall in the hallway as he melts into you.

“let’s see! oh, i’ve got a few ideas.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff

[luveline]

kisses before dinner — steve comes home to his girls after a long day. 2k, mom!reader

Steve has a back ache twinging between his shoulders that takes his breath away as he treks the last step up to the front door. The door gets caught on the latch when he pushes it open, which is awesome, Steve’s so glad you’re being safe late at night, but deplorable in that he has wood grain etched into his jaw and no way inside. 

“Girls?” He knocks the glass pane. “Anybody home?” 

Everyone should be home. Your car is in the driveway, the girls’ shoes are by the wall. He pushes the door open as far as he can (not far) and weasels his face into the gap to look for you. It’s dark besides the upstairs bathroom light. 

Steve calls your name a few times, but eventually comes to the realisation that you’re all asleep and he’s locked out. He closes the door and heads back to his car to scrounge the spare back door key from under his seat. 

He fights through the garden gate covered in brambles to the backyard. It hasn’t been touched since summer, forgotten things left to the elements. Avery’s bike flakes with copper coloured rust against the wall. The trampoline net is tangled and fallen off of one side. There are plastic cups in the stinging nettles growing back beneath it and gummy bears swollen with water along the paving stones like some poor retelling of Hansel and Gretel. He unlocks the back door and promptly knocks over the trash can he’d left in front of it. His back whines as he cleans it away, but at least it’s warm inside. 

It’s good to be home. 

He shoves the toppled garbage back into the can, washes tomato sauce off of his hands in the sink, and lets himself bask in his own poorly lit company for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes. He was hoping for a welcome party. It took longer to help Robin move than they’d anticipated. 

“I won’t be back for a while,” he’d said apologetically down the phone. 

“Okie dokie,” you’d crooned. He didn’t need to see you to know there was a baby in your lap. “Just come home when you can, babe. And lift with your knees! I’ll put your plate in the fridge, yes? Love you.” Your voice turned to sugar. “Love you, love you, love you, honey.” You definitely weren’t talking to him at that point. Mother of my kids, he’d thought reverently, the strength of a thousand men restored for an hour or two before the fatigue truly set in and he and Robin considered leaving the rest of her furniture on her new front lawn.

He scratches his hair from his eyes with both hands. Mother of my kids, he thinks again. You’ve actually managed to keep the kitchen tidy, the only evidence of a day of play being the grape juice rings on the dining table placemats. How the fuck you’ve done it is a miracle worth marvelling. Three children, one (admittedly smaller) baby bump, and a full eighteen hours by yourself. You’re very impressive. 

He decides to tell you emphatically with his face in your neck. He should shower, and he will apologise to you for subjecting you to his sweaty hair in the morning. You’ll shrug off his apology, say something sweet about for better or worse or maybe wrinkle your nose and kiss him anyways. 

Steve honestly can’t find any shame about how much he likes you. Like and love can begin to diverge in a marriage, especially after kids when your duty as parents is more important than it is as partners, but you’ve yet to let him pull away, and he won’t give you a reason to. He’ll keep trying as hard as possible to be a husband you can adore. And you don’t have to do much, really. Realistically you give the majority of yourself every day to Steve and your kids, but he would cling to you if you got sick of it. He knows he would. You could turn hermit and live under the bed, and Steve would spend half his life on his stomach just looking at you.

Half trying to pull you out again. The other half getting the girls ready for school. He’s so tired he doesn’t realise that this is too many halves. 

When he gets to the top of the stairs he feels like a lifetime has passed since he left that morning, bright and early at 5AM. There’d been driving, car swaps, booing at people from behind the wheel, a hundred boxes, a million trips up and down the stairs, and a suspicious washing machine recalibration. This was without the cold coke drinking, peanuts, popcorn, mistimed movie references, and the obligatory insulting of Robin’s girlfriend’s mauve chaise, of which Robin refused to participate. 

Between all that, there’d been worrying, and a want for more phone calls. Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything at all, he’d said that morning, giving your face a fond caress. There’s a confidence that comes with this much love. Steve can pour every inch of his affection for you into one touch and knows you’ll soak it up like a sponge. Really. Any problems, any stress, any tantrums. Just call me. I’m ten minutes away. 

You were grateful if amused, telling him he didn’t need to worry so much, and then offering him another slice of toast. 

Is it weird how much I love my wife? he wonders, pushing open the bedroom door gently. 

You’re actually awake! He’s shocked and a little betrayed to find you looking at him, but the betrayal fades when he notices the swelling around your eyes and your trembling arm as you hoist yourself up under Avery’s weight. He’s woken you up coming in. 

“Sorry,” he mouths, frowning at your shakiness. 

You manage a smile and beckon him forward. The problem is the little ladies strewn about in the way. Avery drools on your chest while Dove takes up the entirety of Steve’s side, spread into a star shape, and Bethie snores loudly by your knees. An especially aggressive one makes him laugh as he rounds the bed to your side. 

“Hello,” he whispers, taking your face into a loving hand, “sorry I’m back so late.” 

You smile into his palm but don’t say anything. 

“You okay? Had a good day?” he asks.

You hum something nonsensical. He wipes at your cheek in the rough way you enjoy, your face bumped with every stroke of his thumb.

“Did you…”  Your eyelashes flutter closed. “Did you eat?” 

“Loads. Sorry. I’ll eat my dinner tomorrow.”

You wrinkle your nose. He’s been dying to see it. “Don’t bother, it wasn’t my best.”

“All dinners are your best.” 

You cover his hand with yours, and then you steal it away from your cheek and kiss it all over. Steve bends down to hug you.

“Missed you,” you say at the same time. Steve laughs. “Was it a long day?” you ask. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“It was aeons,” you say. “The girls were good, mostly. Baby not so much.” 

“Aw, no,” he croons softly, “what’s she been doing?” 

“She won’t let me eat.” 

Steve rubs the top of your arm. “I’m sorry, honey. You should’ve called me.” 

“What are you gonna do, H?”

He breathes out into the side of your face. “You’re right, like always. What can I do?” 

He can’t do a thing to ease your morning sickness, so… Steve ends up taking a knee on the bed beside you to hold you for a while, no rush to lay down even though he aches in strings and shouts. “I’m glad I can’t get pregnant. I’d have hundreds of your babies if I could and it would be torture.” 

You laugh at his absurdity in the giggly startled way he’d been hoping for. 

“Did you throw up?” he asks, pulling away enough to see your face while his hand starts the soft journey down your front to your bump. You’re about three months along and the bump came quickly. It’s cute and Steve loves it and he tries not to be weird about it but he’s weird about you. 

“No, just kept churning. I made eggs for breakfast and we can’t eat them anymore.” 

Steve kisses your cheek, the corner of your eye, knowing it’ll make you happy. Your smile follows swiftly after, and he kisses that with gusto. “I don’t even like eggs,” he mumbles.

“You love eggs.” 

“What was it like being the stay at home mom today?” he asks. 

“Hard. But fun. Avery was being really nice to me all day, did you have something to do with that?” 

“Avery’s always nice.” 

Your smile widens impossibly, “Yeah, but she was asking me if I wanted to sit down and if I needed a glass of water all day.” 

Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” 

“Well don’t do it again, H. She’s just a baby. She doesn’t need to worry about me.” 

Steve strokes your forehead, totally in your orbit. “She’s not worrying. Are you worrying about her when you take care of her? And sometimes you need a reminder.” 

You chew it over. “Okay… you’re right. You win that one, Harrington. Mostly ‘cos I’m too tired.”

Steve always wins when he gets to slide into bed next to you. You push yourself over and bunch the kids up tighter. There’s not quite enough room for him. He feels as though he’s one little legged kick from falling back out, but he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around you and Avery where she’s sliding off of you and onto the mattress between you both. The poor girl is in a deep sleep, dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Steve wipes it away. 

“You comfortable enough?” he asks. 

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” 

He rests his head against yours on the pillows. “Missed you.” 

“But you had fun, right?” 

“It was great. I feel like I ran a marathon.” 

“Exhausted?” you ask. 

“And accomplished… You sure you’re okay? It was a long day by yourself. That stunt you pulled in the kitchen? Incredible.” 

“I thought you’d like that. I told the girls you’d buy them a pony.” 

“You did not.” 

You laugh into his cheek. “No, I didn't, you caught me… I’m fine, really. I did miss you. It’s not nice, not seeing you. I’m used to a couple of hours, but it started feeling wrong when it was dark out, I… it’s silly but I was thinking about how horrible it would be if you never came back–”

Your pitch lifts up as Steve gasps and slaps a hand over your mouth (doesn’t slap, but covers, big hand on your lips and pressing them shut without sympathy). 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He meets your eyes, smiling hard despite the fatigue clinging to you both, and doesn’t buckle, even as you kiss his palm again. “Pregnancy brain is a scary thing.” 

Your eyes turn to melting. He’s putty immediately, pulling your hand away to caress your cheek. 

“Wanna be crazy in love in the morning?” he asks gently. You put your arm behind Avery’s back and smile as she snuggles into your ribs. Steve kisses your nose. “Go to sleep, honey. I can feel how tired you are. Back to normal in the morning.” 

“Love you, Steve.” 

“Love you, too.”

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

[zombiefiilm]

Fell in Love

spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: you hadn't expected your friend spencer to be home from his most recent case yet, let alone passed out on your couch

warnings: confessions, kissing, fluff, no use of y/n

word count: 1.5k

The moment the key hit the lock of your front door, you practically felt a weight fall off your shoulders. You had been working all day and there was nothing you wanted more than to change into your pyjamas and watch tv for the rest of the night.

Once inside your apartment, you shut the door, instantly dropping your bag to the floor and your keys onto the table. Your shoes were kicked off and your jacket was strewn across a random chair in a matter of seconds and you were ready to run into your bedroom.

But, as you passed by the living room, you caught a glimpse of someone sleeping on your couch, shoes and coat still on.

Really, you should have been a bit more startled by the sight of someone in your home, considering you lived alone, but you were all too familiar with Spencer's habit of dropping by unannounced.

You stopped in your tracks, walking around to the front of the couch and called his name.

"Spencer" you were met with an annoyed groan as he flipped onto his other side.

"Spencer" you called again, louder, shoving his shoulder slightly. No response.

"Dr. Spencer Reid" you practically yelled right into his ear and you watched him jump this time, turning to face you again.

"I gave you a key for emergencies" you scolded, watching as he sat up and groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm sorry" he sounded overly sincere "I didn't want to go home."

Then you realised that this wasn't just his regular habit of dropping in whenever he was bored, he needed comfort. You knew all to well the toll his job took on him, with everything that’s happened to him you were surprised he was able to hold up as well as he did.

“Oh Spencer” you half-whispered, sitting down on the couch right beside him, shoulder practically pressed against his. “Do you wanna talk about it?”.

“Not really, I just need to get my mind off everything” he sat up a bit straighter, facing you now.

You nodded in response.

“Is that new?” his gaze was suddenly fixated on your wrist as he reached down to your new watch.

“It is” you told him, lifting up your arm to show off the item adorned with a silver band.

“Did you get it in a pawn shop?” he seemed to be doing a pretty good job at distracting himself now, taking interest in random things like he always did.

“How did you know?” you laughed slightly, bringing your arm back down to your side.

“It’s Cartier” he explained “I know you wouldn’t be able to afford a new one, they range from four thousand to hundreds of thousands of dollars”.

“Wow” you feigned offence.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just know you wouldn’t spend that kind of money, even when you treat yourself” he almost panickingly explained himself but you still felt a little proud at him knowing things about you. You hated spending a lot of money on yourself and you wanted to treat yourself, hence the new item in your collection.

“Did you know that Cartier was the first healer to use platinum in jewellery making? And they popularised the wristwatch in 1904, it’s really quite interesting”

“I didn’t, Reid” you joked. “Do you want some food? I got groceries yesterday so I could make you anything you want”.

“I’m okay” he sighed slightly “I’m just tired”

“You can sleep in my bed, no reason you should be hurting your back on the couch"

"No its okay, I don't want to put you out. I'm fine out here, really."

"I'm not going planning on going to bed for a while, at least go in there and get some rest, okay?"

He simply nodded his head and got up to go to your bedroom, calling out a goodnight as he approached the door.

You spent a few hours lounging about, mindlessly watching Friends reruns to procrastinate anything that actually needed to be done. Eventually though, the tiredness caught up to you and you decided to camp out on the couch for the night.

You cracked open your bedroom door and the small amount of light that flooded in from the hall presented Spencer completely out of it in your bed, his white shirt half unbuttoned and his trousers twisted around him while the rest of his clothes were piled on the floor beside him.

You smiled to yourself as you went to grab a spare pillow and blanket from your wardrobe, preparing to set yourself up on the couch for the night.

As you went to leave the room once again, you heard him sleepily call your name.

"Yeah?" you turned around to him again, seeing him adjust himself slightly.

“Do you want the your bed back?” He began to sit up, the rustling sound of the duvet filling the air.

“You can stay there, don’t worry about it” there was a silence then, you could tell he was about to say something, but he was struggling to get it to slip past his lips.

"Could you stay with me, please" he looked away bashfully "just for a bit”. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was giving you a puppy-dog look, eyes wide and lip practically quivering.

“Of course” you dumped everything that was in your hands onto the end of the bed and crawled up beside Spencer.

Without another word, you pressed yourself up right against him, grabbing his hand with yours and smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand. Just the few moments of silence with you sitting there had done Spencer some good, he had already felt himself calming down, and some of his recent anxieties melting away.

The quiet didn’t last long though before Spencer was saying your name again. “Can I tell you something?”

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes finally adjusting to the dark so you could see all of his emotions bleeding through his expressions. You nodded your head, humming slightly to urge him on.

“I really appreciate you, a lot” he hesitated slightly, searching for the words to use next.

“I appreciate you too Spence” you requited.

“No, I’m thankful for everything you do. You have always been there when I need you, you always know exactly what to say to me, you care about me. And I truly hope you can say the same about me”

“Of course I can”

“I need you in my life more than you could ever know” he continued “you’re the most important person to me in the whole world, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You looked at him, almost flabbergasted, not knowing what to say that would truly encapsulate how much you cared about him, how happy you were that he appreciated you.

“I like you” he paused “I love you, so much” his words were powerful, they rung in the air as they travelled towards your ears.

“Love?” you repeated, questioning his use of the word. You were no stranger to platonic love but his previous confessions had you questioning the intention of his last sentence.

“I love you, I want to be able to call you mine. I want to come home to you every day, to spend every minute I can with you, to have a future where you’re the centre of all my plans.”

You were practically stumped, the emotions you were feeling rendering your mouth useless.

“If you don’t feel the same way-“ he suddenly became incredibly panicked, spitting out as many words as he could to explain himself before you could cut him off.

“Spencer” you took a deep breathe “I love you too” it was a much shorter confession than his, but you didn’t need to say anything more to him, the confirmation was all he needed.

In the time it took you to blink, your faces were centimetres apart. And then his lips were on yours.

Your body felt like it lit up on that moment, the feeling of his lips on yours waking the butterflies in your stomach. You wasted no time tangling your fingers into his hair and lightly tugging at the roots as his hands slid around your waist, softly massaging your flesh.

It was gentle, his tongue softly slipping into your mouth as you let him do what he wanted, let him take the control.

The kiss was short though, as sleep had began to take over both of you. You mutually pulled away, silently agreeing to lie down, cuddling into one another.

With one more peck on the lips, you rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes.

There was plenty of time to talk it out, to figure out everything between each other, but for now all you needed was the feeling of one another pressed together and the feeling of mutual admiration.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn!reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencerreid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic

[pedge-page]

Swim Lessons

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: in Jackson, you find a creative way to get Joel to come to the lake to see Ellie swim.

Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, Joel calls you a slut or whore a few times, fingering, orgams denial, slight belly bulge, teasing, minor breeding kink (honestly I don't count it but maybe sorta), description of female reader body, low key perverted Joel, language, wet Joel is a warning itself.

18+ ONLY, minors DNI

- - - -

You were walking outside, planting flowers outside some of the main walkways when you had overheard the two of them through their kitchen window.

Ellie was begging Joel to teach her how to swim during their first summer at Jackson. There was a lake within the confines of the community that was open for fishing and, during the hot summer months, leisure swimming. What a luxury in the apocalypse.

"No."

"Please??"

"I said no."

"Wuss," Ellie mumbled under her breath.

Joel shot daggers at her, but he was not going to budge.

"Ain't going to no lake and getting my clothes wet just to watch you flail like a kid who can't swim."

"I AM a kid who can't swim, asshole. And you'd have to take your clothes off, duh."

Oh what a sight that would be.

Joel laughed out loud. "Even more reason I won't be there."

Joel turned around and noticed you leaning on the ground, your back turned towards him. He admired your silhouette, the little shorts and tank top covering your backside as you delicately turned over the soil and planted the bulbs. He was unaware that you could hear their conversation, but you were fully aware oh his eyes burning at the back of your skull.

Ellie noticed (she always notices--Joel can't help but make it so obvious when he's staring at you). "She'll be there too."

Joel scoffed, acting like be wasn't checking you out for three silent minutes straight. "Who?" He asks incredulously.

Ellie raised her eyebrows. "Bet she'll wear something cute."

Joel shook his head, acting uninterested. His mind was going a thousand miles a minute eying you up once again and trying NOT to think about the numerous bathing suits he could picture you In, all of which he'd be stripping you out of by the time the sun set.

You hear your name being called from the window by Ellie. You turn around and wave. Joel tries to dodge your eyes, a blush creeping on his face.

"Will you teach me to swim tomorrow at the lake?" Ellie asked.

"Of course!" You responded. "I'll be there at 3."

The next day, right at 3pm, Ellie was right on time. You were stretching along the sandy waterline, watching others kick around the shallow waters and diving into the depths. It was genuinely peaceful.

Ellie wore a full piece that ended in shorts, modestly covering her lower region. You could tell she was incredibly anxious to be standing around in such tight fitting and revealing clothes.

It pissed you that she was alone.

"He didn't come?"

"Said he would think about it. But he was going down for a nap when I left." She mumbled dejected. You watched her twirl her fingers anxiously, watching the dozens of kids and adults freely splashing around the water.

You knew having Joel here would help her confidence, knowing there was someone here who knew her more intimately. The one who taught her to shoot, hunt, and survive. But ultimately, having Joel here would give her someone to bully, and that was a huge confidence booster for the 14 year old.

"He'll come," you said, absolutely sure. "I'll go talk to him in a few minutes. Now let's just standing in the water for a bit, get you used to the temperature."

--

Joel was lying faceup on the couch, his arm propping his neck up against the armrest. He had no plans to go to the lake that day. The less he thought about you, the better off he'd be at resisting your temptations.

A fervent knock on the door startled him. Grumbling, he reluctantly got up from napping position and opened the door.

There were a million things he expected, but you standing there in the most revealing bikini, dripping wet all over his porch, fucking barefoot, was not one of them.

"Hey Joel!" You beamed. You could see his brain stop working as he stood there gawking at you like a fish out of water. "Ellie forgot her goggles so I'm just coming by to pick them up."

"Uhhhhh."

You had to suppress the smirk on your face as you pushed by him to jog upstairs to Ellies room. When you came back, making an obvious show of your breasts and ass bouncing down the stairs, you twirled the googles in your hand. "Got em!"

You made your way to the front door.

Joel still hadn't uttered a word. He was struggling to process what to say. He could be mad that you barged in without permission. Or that you were leaving water footprints all over the floorboards. But no, all that was on his mind was the way the water dripped down your wet hair, running down between the valley of your tits, your belly, cascading along your naval, between your legs. The way the bra did nothing but accentuate your supple breasts, pushing them up and together like they were tempting him. How gorgeous your legs looked with basically string over your hips, and the glistening of droplets against your skin just making you shine in the sun. The entire time he didn't even make eye contact with you, so unaware of the fact that he was staring at every inch of your body. His tongue slowly licked his parched lips. The only thing on his mind was bending you over his knee right now and beating you ass red--

"Ellie's making good progress. Shame you won't be there to see," you said, smile still genuine and sweet on your face as you went to the front door. He finally looks up to your eyes and blushes, quickly looking away.

"Yeah.... shame," he mumbles.

You wave goodbye--making even effort to have your tits sway with the movement, before hopping off towards the lake.

---

It takes all of 10 minutes for Joel to show up at the lake. You know it because Ellie, who was now doggy paddling in the shallow end, stood up and gave a low whistle. You were in the water with her, lying down to submerge your body, when you turned around. God, you wish you had a camera.

Joel stood in the sand awkwardly looking lost and out of place, beach towel in hand, flip-flops and (oh my GOD) actual shorts. You took a closer look, realizing this is the first time you've ever seen his legs (he's always wearing jeans) and notice they weren't swim trunks. They were fucking boxers. To your dismay, he was wear a short sleeves shirt, but none the less, this was most naked Joel had ever been in pubblic. And you could see the same nervous stance Ellie had when she first showed up too.

"Well aren't you pretty, you old fucker," Tommy muttered, whistling at Joel as well. He was sun bathing in his swim trunks, shirtless, with sunglasses.

Ellie bounced out of the water to come oogle Joel, making snide comments. Her attitude had improved immensely, just as you suspected.

"Yeah yeah, shut up." He groaned. "Where are your goggles?"

"What goggles?"

Joel stared at Ellie, then to you. He gave you a knowing, defeated look. You sunk down in to the water so he couldnt see your giggles. He sat down next to Tommy.

You came out, freshly soaking wet in your bikini.

Joel moved his beach towel to his lap, wrapping up towards his lower ribcage to conceal his belly, sitting there with hands by his side, legs bent, trying to hide his obvious boner from the world. Despite how much he eye fucked you earlier, he was doing his best to avoid looking at you now.

"So nice of you to come see Ellie, Joel," you teased. You sat down next to him, softly pressing your tits right against his muscle arm. The tips of his ears were bright red.

"You're supposed to take your shirt off and go swimming," Ellie said.

"M'fine right here. Ain't nobody need to see what's under here."

"Wuss," Ellie mumbled. Before Joel could tut her off, she was leaping back into the water. You and Joel were both extremely proud of the work she had made.

And yes, you could see the difference in her confidence now that Joel was here watching her. You both watched her splash some of the other kids, laughing and enjoying herself.

Without removing his gaze from Ellie, Joel leaned towards you. "You're a fucking tease, you know that?"

He hadn't noticed you had whipped the goggles out. You dropped them on to his lap, causing him to yelp as they grazed the tip of his erect dick under the towel. You snatched his glasses from his eyes and put them over your head, forcing him squint at you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

- - - -

About two hours later, most people had gone home to enjoy a summer nap after a day at the lake. The sun was setting beyond the trees. Joel waved Tommy goodbye, leaving just him, you, and Ellie. You had fallen asleep under an umbrella (an umbrella Joel had to put over you so you didn't burn in the sun while you slept.)

He took his shirt off and slipped into the lake, encouraging Ellie to go deeper into the water, promising he'd be right next to her. You had awoken to both of them comfortably in the water together, Ellie splashing Joel and getting his fluffy hair all wet and tampered down. It made your heart swell to watch the two of them exist as they are without anyone else.

You did your job. Time to go home.

You had started rolling up your towel when Joel's wet hand reached out and grabbed you. You turned around and saw him dripping wet, finally shirtless. Fuck he was even more imposing with less clothing. His soft belly did nothing to lessen his broad shoulders and strong built. Your eyes drifted down to his boxers, now clinging to his muscle thighs and hips and the outline of his big fucking c---

Joel smirked to himself, seeing the blush creep on your face. He realized how the reversal of your roles from earlier still garnered the same reaction.

"Thanks again for coming to teach Ellie to swim," you piped, hoping it wasn't obvious the effect his body had on you for a change.

"You were the one teaching her most of it. Just came to watch."

"Me or Ellie?" You smirked.

Joel rolled his eyes. He would never admit that the main reason he came was to watch you strut around in that pathetic excuse of a bikini for hours. Once you had given him a taste at his front door and left, he botled upstairs, dug through his clothes, searching for swim trunks. He didn't want to see too out of the ordinary when he showed up to eye fuck you for the rest of the evening. Not having a single pair of swim shorts wasn't going to stop him from seeing you in your glory.

He glanced back down to your breasts (now realizing you were pushing your arms together to accentuate their plumpness right at him), licking his lips. Seductively bringing his darkened gaze back to you, you felt your pussy throb with need.

He clearbed his throat. "Well, I was wonderin' if you wanted to--"

Before he could finish, Ellie had slapped a hand on Joel's back, barging in the conversation. "I am soooo pruney! Anyway, thanks for teaching me to swim!" She wrapped Joel's towel around his shoulders.

You and Joel both say at the same time "You're welcome."

Ellie took one look at the pair of you before loudly announcing, "Im going to Dina's tonight. Bye!" Before running off.

And then there were two.

You shuffled awkwardly, avoiding his eyes by playing with the sand below your feet. "You were saying? Wondering if I wanted to ... get swim lessons from you too?"

"Ha. No. Sure you're a fantastic swimmer. No. Wonderin' if you wanted to come to my place tonight."

"Oh? What for?" You teased.

He leaned closer, his fingers dragging your chin so you stare up as he pressed his wet body against yours. He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth before answering: "'Cause I'm not fucking you in some nasty lake."

You gulp, never expecting him to he so forward. For once, he had you speechless while he enjoyed your freezed reaction.

You two had barely made it through his front door before he was shoving his lips on yours, moaning into the kiss. Your lips were dry from the hours in the sun and water, but he was so thirsty for a taste of you that he couldn't care in the slightest.

"Teasin me all day with this fuckin bikini," he groaned, pulling the thin string that held your bilinki top together from the back. The top fell right off, his hands immediately replacing them to rub your breasts. "Knew these tits would be gorgeous," he moaned into your mouth, making you shiver. You closed your lips around his again, feeling his hands travel down your back till they reached your ass, giving a firm squeeze. "Can't believe you went out wearing a fucking thong and calling it a bathing suit."

"This IS a bathing suit," you laughed, licking his bottom pouty lip. "Least I didnt wear actual underwear."

He bit your earlobe, pressing you against the wall. "Gave you something to think about, didn't it?" His fingers were pushing your bottoms aside and rubbing along your soaked folds. You keened into his mouth, eyes closing with head thrown back. You could feel his hot breath on your face. "Fuckin knew you'd be soaked. Not just talkin about the water. Drenched cunt just from lookin at me, huh? Filthy slut."

Holy FUCK he had a mouth, and you couldn't help but feel more aroused from his words.

He continued to stroke your clit with his thumb, two fingers seaking your hole and plunging in at once. "Oh, fuck, Joel!"

He propped his knee between your legs, preventing you from closing them. He let you grind your pussy against his palm while he worked both fingers fast, curling, pulling then pushing in fast rythm, hitting your g spot with deadly precision.

"You like this?"

"Ah huh!"

"Say it."

"I like it! Oh J--m' gonna cum!"

Joel immediately withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the emptiness. "What the f--"

"Teachin everybody some lessons today." He kissed each cheek. "You're gonna learn not to tease me like that."

He continued to press his lips all over you you, refusing to put his fingers back on your aching clit. He resorted to grinding his wet bulge against your mound. You gasped at the sheer size of him, desperately needing that thing inside you.

Between kisses, you had gripped his hair which had now started to curl again around the roots. You managed to say, "Shower."

Joel scooped you up bridal style and carried you up the stairs. He placed you down in the bathroom slapping your ass.

"Take that rudiculous thing off," he ordered, nodding to your bikini bottom while he stripped off his own wet clothes off.

Your thighs clenched at the sight of his erect dick bouncing up to his soft tummy, standing tall, dripping a healthy amount of precum. It was flush red, angry at the tip, pulsing towards you. "See what ya do to me?" He wrapped a thick hand around the shaft, pumping it slowly while watching you. "Been like this all day cuz of you."

Your eyes never left it as you stepped backwards into the shower. He followed you in, shutting the curtains behind him.

While you turned on the shower and adjusted the heat, you could feel his lips met the back of your neck, slowly trailing down your shoulders and back up your spine. His stiff cock pressed between your silky thighs, rutting against your ass each time with desperate thrusts. You could feel your cunt aching at his earlier denial of your orgasm. You sigh heavily once the heat sprays you both. "Should get clean first before our mouths get too busy."

Joel nodded. You had lathered each other up, taking extra care to slick up his dick while he rubbed suds all over your ass, tits, and folds. He grunted, smiling when you would twist your wrist at the tip before fisting his cock repeatedly.

"Beautiful," he whispered against your lips.

His hand crept lower to your ass then down one thigh, hosting it up and around his hip as he drove your back against the slick wall. His other hand notched his cock at your entrance, teasing it.

"Gonna be a good girl and take this, yes?"

You bit your lip, avoiding his eyes. Of course you wanted to take that big fucker, ride his dick until morning. But you wanted to see how far he'd go just to "teach you a lesson."

Joel didn't like your lack of response. You felt a bot hand wrap around your throat, straitening you up. He pressed his face so close, his nose pushing against your cheek.

"SAY IT."

"'m gonna be a good girl, take your cock," you pleaded, unable to put up a farsce anymore. You smirked, and God, you were gonna be the death of him.

Joel impaled you on his full length in one thrust. You gasped, head slamming against the tile. "Ow!"

Joel's hand gently cupped the back of your head, rubbing the ache. "You okay?" He asked. He stayed still inside you.

You were so overwhelmed with how full you felt, how he just throbbed against your walls, that the pain in your head subsided quickly with his soft touch. "Just fuck me, pretty boy," you moaned.

He brought his lips to yours before beginning his assault, bringing both legs around his waist as he fucked you against the wall.

You had noticed it earlier when he emerged from the water with Ellie. How he'd run his hands in his wet hair, the wait it plastered smoothly against his head. It made him look both younger and older all at once. Mature and aloof, bold and serious, yet tender and like a playboy. It made you realize just how badly you wanted to be in this position right now, his cock ramming against your cervix, taking you like you were his.

"Little pussy so fucking tight, baby," he growled against your chest. "Fucking made to take my cock, ain't that right?"

You nodded again, whimpers and little shootings being the only sounds that could escape you.

As the water washed away the suds from your body, Joel took the opportunity to suck one breast in his mouth, biting your nipple. You dragged your hands into his hair, clenching tightly, wanting less, wanting more, wanting him.

His lower belly was grinding perfectly against your clit, your climax finding you quickly. "Joel," you warned.

"Go ahead, baby. You earned it. Cum on my cock."

And you were, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as you cum, cum and cum, pent up from not just today but from the weeks and weeks you had been teasing, trying, testing Joel, just to get you here. You smiled sadistically, still on cloud nine, rubbing your pussy against him.

Joel glances down at the sight of his cock disappearing into your warm heat. "Ooohh f-fuck baby. Look at that."

You looked down with him, watching a slight bulge appear and disappearing against your lower tummy with each puncture of his cock deep inside you. He pressed a palm flat against it, your walls clamping down on his dick even harder. "So big, Joel. Fills me up so good."

"Yeah? Been thinking about this cock filling you forever, haven't you? Doing whatever to get me to fuck you. M gonna give it to you, sweet pea. Every fucking day. Every night. Just keep those legs spread f'me, ya hear?"

"Yes yes yes yes, oh God yes, Joel!" You could already feel a second orgasm building inside you. You leaned back further into the wall, leveraging yourself to help bounce on his cock with each thrust.

"Little whore. Fucking yourself on my cock like that. Gotta ride my dick like this later tonight, okay? Ain't gonna last much now. Been needing you too much." He was grunting into your shoulder now, letting out needy groans as he neared his end. "Where do ya want?"

You shouldnt. Should be smart about this. Especially your first time with him. Especially in the apocalypse. Especially without any protection. But Your body had a mind of its own now, that familiar feeling climbing higher and higher deep inside you. Your ankles hitch around his back, caging him against you, reducing him to shallow, deep thrusts inside.

Joel could feel your tight draw to him. He smiled against your neck, thrusts picking up pace. "Tell me. Need to hear ya say it."

You gripped his hair again, making him moan, yanking him back to look you in the eyes. "Want your cum inside me, Joel Miller."

He drove his hips into yours like a mad man, fucking himself as deep as possible, teeth gritting, never once breaking eye contact, and then suddenly the both of you were seizing up, eyebrows scrunched together, mouths agape but pressed together as your orgasms washed over you. You could feel hot ropes of his cum pump deep inside, one, two, threefourfive--six healthy strings of pulses, emptying his load into your womb.

You both panted loudly, the only other sounds being the steady cascade of water down the drain. Joel peppered your lips in light kisses as you both came down from your highs. You could hardly form your lips to return the kisses, instead now realizing just how light headed you were feeling after the best cum of your life. Joel felt your legs loosen, barely catching yourself, as his cock slipped from your embrace. Strong arms didn't let go of you, watching as your eyes close, blissfully, your skin hot from the water.

He turned off the water and carried you to the bed, gently lying you down. He dried you up with a towel, with extra care against your battered pussy. Copious amounts of his cum was leaking, and he had to restrain himself from putting his hot tongue between your legs to clean you up, enjoy the taste of both of your mixed cum bit more. No, you were half passed out, skin aflamed from the hot shower. You needed tending.

He disappeared from the room for a moment, naked wet ass and all, before reappearing with a bottle.

"Need to start hydrating more if you're gonna be out in the sun all day, lady." He helped tilt your head up so you could take gulps of much needed water. You broke away to breath heavily, some water slipping down your chest. Joel didn't hesitate to drag his tongue up your skin, sucking the water off. You smiled dreamily.

"That's what you're here for."

- - - -

You napped, fucked again, ate, sucked his cock, then he ate you out, fell asleep, and then woke up with his cock buried inside you again.

The next morning, Joel got an angry Maria banging on his door, cussing him out for using too much water for your extra long shower yesterday, causing a shortage of heat and fresh running water for the surrounding 6 homes.

#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

[aromanticannibal]

Hello I am once again asking you to listen to Feldup's new album (edit: ive made a rec post)

#I just listened to stared at from a distance the song (after waters which I had already listened to) and it has fundamentally altered my #brain chemistry #some info on the guy : he's french and also does YouTube videos on horror and internet horrific phenomenona but his music is in english #it's indie alternative rock for the most part #in stared at from a distance (the album) some songs are pretty long. I advise you to have lyrics under your eyes #his singing isn't for everyone but I personally love it #big tw warning for csa and sa in general in some of his songs because he's a survivor and sings about it. General warning for mental illnes #ig. don't listen when you're in a bad place I'm not even feeling that bad and started at from a distance (song) just killed me #he's really really really good and he deserves to have more fans of his music pls give it a try #if you don't want to bother with the full almums I'll make a rec list of my favorites from his two albums once I'm done listening #feldup #stared at from a distance #a thousand doors just one key #French artist #music recs

[starleska]

If you're still taking writing requests, could you do possessive Wally headcanons?

*cracks knuckles* oh anon, i most certainly can 😈 yandere!Wally fans (me too 😳), this one's for you! (this is less headcanons and more a oneshot... kinda wanna write the whole thing 🙈)

content warnings for possessive behaviour, manipulation, threats, arson, entrapment and kidnapping!

Possessive/Yandere!Wally Darling x Reader headcanons

👁 it all started so well. Wally was a Darling both in name and behaviour, and you fell hard and fast. such an attentive sweetheart, from the moment you moved into the neighbourhood it was as if he were always at your side. anywhere else, you may have been unnerved, but Wally's simple warmth and easy smile dispelled all of your doubts. while you tried to spread your time equally between your kind new neighbours, you somehow always found yourself in Wally's presence, talking to him for hours.

👁 in time, you found yourself becoming bolder. you start returning Wally's curious glances, and soon allow your eyes to linger a touch longer than they should. curiously (and with a little bit of a thrill), you notice that Wally seems incapable of breaking eye contact - no matter how long you stare, he'll always stare right back, unperturbed.

👁 one day, you find yourself closer to Wally than usual. you're half-pressed against one another on your sofa, Wally's cheek nestled in the crook of your shoulder. he's drawing something in his sketchbook: an indistinct, wobbly shape that you can't make heads or tails of. while Wally's right hand scribbles furiously with his pencil, the fingers of his unoccupied left hand spill at your side, reflexively clenching every now and again with the automatic motions of his drawing.

👁 the closeness imbues you with a newfound confidence. you take a breath, steady yourself...and reach across, brushing your fingers lightly across Wally's own. Wally's eyes snap towards you. for a moment, his pupils blow so wide you think they might just swallow you.

👁 the next day, your house catches fire. such an incident is unheard of in this neighbourhood, and all your neighbours are horrified for you. however, Wally is strangely calm. "I'm sorry you lost so much," he says, still smiling. "Would you like to live with me?"

👁 you're shaken - but accept Wally's offer. the shock of the fire takes a few days to wear off, but nothing could be more unsettling than living in close quarters with Wally Darling. existing within the living, breathing (creaking? squeaking) walls of his Home has an atypical effect on the puppet. Wally's voice is lower, and he moves with more purpose, as if he and Home are one and the same: symbiotic entities which exist in tandem with one another.

👁 to add to your creeping sense of dread, Wally flips the script on your personal space. now he is the one letting his fingers slip easily around your waist, and fixing you with uncomfortable, impossible-to-ignore stares. you try to laugh off his behaviour, questioning him openly if he enjoys having you as a guest so much. for once, Wally doesn't smile when he replies, "I love you living with me."

👁 it isn't until a week has passed that you learn all the doors are locked, and Wally never gave you a key. you try wrestling with the door handle, but it doesn't budge. then you try the windows, but they're sealed shut. 'I'm not trapped!' you think to yourself. 'Wally is just being a good neighbour - he wants to keep me safe.' but that still doesn't stop you from panicking, scouring the house for the heaviest thing you can find and trying to smash the window. the glass does not break. Home suddenly groans with the sound of a thousand old floorboards and overloaded pipes - a dreadful, ear-rending noise - causing the glass in the window to triple in height and thickness right before your eyes.

👁 terrified, you scramble backwards to run out of the kitchen - only to run smack into Wally. you collapse to the floor and gaze up at Wally, standing in the doorway with his hands tucked behind his back, that cat's smile of his holds some private amusement.

👁 "did you try to leave Home?" Wally asks. "Silly, silly." he takes a step towards you, and then another - slow and loping steps, his cute puppet form now moving in a way equal parts unnatural and sinister. he crouches next to you, those eyes now whirlpools of void which obscure all but the slight white rim of his scleras. "Try again," Wally whispers. "I'd like that very much."

#hoo BOY i think i received this ask blacked out and then woke up with a book 🙈🙈🙈 #this kinda stuff is my favourite so i hope you guys enjoy it too 😉 #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home #welcome home arg #starleskasks #starleskawrites #tw: manipulation #tw: threats #tw: arson #tw: possessive behaviour #tw: entrapment #tw: kidnapping #wally darling x you

[y0ucanbemydaddy]

Konig with reader that tends to run away

Konig expected you to try and run when he first took you but he never expected you to try and run 32 times!

And yes, he counted

The first time you tried you really didn’t get far, he had left the basement door unlocked on accident and you saw it as a chance to get away

It wasn’t till you got till the front door only to see a huge padlock!

He grabbed you in a matter a second and dragged you back down to the basement, he didn’t punish you for a couple of reasons

One, he wanted you to love him because you wanted to not because you were scared and two, he seriously did expect you to try and run so he wasn’t very mad. Plus he got you before even making it out of the door

Then the second time you tried to run you asked him to cuddle, and how could he ever say no to that! He really believed that you were warming up to him or you were just really lonely but whatever

So obviously he started to cuddle you with his arms wrapped around you and his face burrowed into your chest

Little did he know you basically pick pocketed him to get your hands on the pretty little key that you keeping you from freedom

It took a couple weeks but he left the door unlocked again

At this point you might have thought he was doing it on purpose, at this point he deserves you running away

You got all the away to the door completely safe, you even got to unlock the door! Only to be spotted and thrown back down to the basement

And he definitely was a little heartbroken you only cuddled him to get the key but he was also a little turned on that you were you smart enough to think of something so sneaky

It continued like this for the next 30 tries

One time you got up there to find he had put like 3 new locks

Another time you got upstairs to find him in a chair just watching the basement door like a creep

He just wanted to make sure you were safe( read as “making sure you didn’t get out”)

But through all this he had yet to punish you

He wanted to love you gently and kindly but you were pushing his god damn buttons

It was only until you actually got outside, you had picked so many locks, stolen so many keys

You finally got outside, at first you didn’t move from the front porch. You just stood there and thought, like really thought for what you realize was the first time you really took in your situation

You were standing on the porch of a house in the middle of nowhere

What looked like thousands of miles of trees surrounded the house, no matter where you look you can’t spot a road or anything similar to one

How long had you been there? A couple weeks? A couple months? A year? More?

You had no way of telling. You felt the sweet summer air fill your lungs and then realized it was fall when you were last outside

Had it really been that long? Was anyone even still looking for you? Was anyone even looking in the first place?

You feel the sting of tears in your eyes, you quickly wipe them away though. You don’t have time for that you need to get far away

You already wasted enough time thinking about fall that you should have used to get far far far away

It doesn’t take much longer for you to take off, your lungs quickly starting to burn, you haven’t had much movement in the time you had been taken. Only the many times you tried to escape but other then that you hadn’t done much but sit in the basement and reassure a over grown baby that you loved him and didn’t want to leave him

That doesn’t matter now, all that matter is running. Getting away is all you should be thinking of

You really think you could do it this time. You think that you must be pretty far away you try to keep going but your running slows

Until you hear it, the sound of something heavy running not to far behind you

You want to convince yourself it’s a deer or another animal but you know exactly what it is

You pick up your speed and try not to look behind you but you can imagine the hooded man only a couple inches behind you

It was stupid to think you could out run him, a pathetic little thing like you? No chance.

It doesn’t take very long until you feel his muscular arms wrap around you tightly

“Didn’t get very far did you huh maus?” Konig says teasingly

That’s something he said often when he would catch you, it made you unexplainably angry but this time it just made you more confused then anything?

What didn’t he mean? you thought you got pretty far?

He was only till he turned around with you still tightly wrapped up in his arms that you saw it

You where only maybe 70 feet away from the house

You could still see the damn house clear as day! But that wasn’t the worse part

The worst part was konig whispering all the horrible things he was gonna do to you little body the second you both got home<3

#yandere konig #konig x y/n #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig headcanons #konig x you #konig cod #konig smut #konig x reader #kiddnapping #kidnapping k1nk #cnc kidnapping

[strawberrysturniolo]

gaming // bf!chris

summary: you’re desperate for attention while your bf is playing a game with his brothers on twitch, and you distract him with a blowjob

My day has been filled with nothing but phone calls and stress. Work felt never ending, and when I finally clocked out, I had endless calls to make. 

I could feel my anxiety dripping out of my skin with every bead of sweat that fell. I hate letting things have this power over me, but how can I stop it? At some point it just builds up and I have no choice but to let it take control. Right now, I’m fully checked out of everything for the day. 

For some sort of break from life, I use my spare key to enter my boyfriend’s house. I would have given him a heads up and let him know I was on my way, but my phone was occupied with everyone else in the world, when all I wanted was to vent to Chris about my day so he could cheer me up like he always is able to. 

I lock the door behind me and head to his room, knocking once on the door before letting myself in. He pokes his head out, his eyes wide in surprise, and I notice when I hear Matt and Nick talking to him through his headset that he had no idea who could have been coming into his room.

“Oh, hi,” he says, finally smiling and relaxing a bit when he realizes it’s me. 

I toss my bag on his bed and kick my shoes off. “Hi.”

He nods his head to the monitor in front of him, and it’s at this moment that I realize that not only is he playing a game with his brothers, but he’s also streaming it in front of god knows how many viewers, who can all see me now. It’s a miracle I stopped myself from saying something vulgar before everyone heard. 

I whisper a “Sorry” before stepping out of the frame. 

When my back is turned, I hear Matt and Nick through the stream going, “Oooooo”

“Guys, shut up,” Chris says. 

“Who could that be?” Matt asks although he knows it’s me. They’re just trying to tease Chris for my unannounced appearance during the stream.

He turns around in his chair, moving his headphones so one ear is out. “You wanna say hi?”

I let out an annoyed sigh, already wishing I could take it back, and this only grows when Chris’ face falls, thinking I was reacting that way to him. That’s not the case at all, I’m just mentally and physically tired, and the last thing I want is to be interrogated with questions in the stream’s chat, or feel like I need to entertain people. 

“I’m not really in the mood,” I finally say.

Chris gives me a soft smile, noticing something is wrong. He always does. “That’s okay.”

He turns back to the screen, and it’s at this moment that I realize I’ve probably made myself look like a complete cunt in front of tens of thousands of people.. 

I walk behind Chris, bending over his shoulder a bit so I can see the screen better, scanning my eyes over the chat. “Hi guys, I’m sorry if I sound bitchy. I just had a bad day.”

Chris looks over to me and asks, “Wanna get ice cream later and we can chill?”

As silly as it sounds, one thing me and Chris have to do when we have a bad day is treat the other person to ice cream. It’s such a simple and somewhat foolish activity, but that’s the best part. When we have our days of stress, anxiety, and misery, we always make an effort to get ice cream to forget about our issues. 

“When is later?” I ask, getting excited for our plan. 

“In like an hour,” he guesses. “We’re still streaming.”

I nod, planning to designate this next hour to getting myself unready and trying to relax for the first time today.

As I undress myself, I can feel my boyfriend staring at me. I make sure I’m far from the camera, but my first thought when he stares is that I have just flashed our audience. 

I turn back around to double check, only finding my boyfriend with red cheeks and a stupid smile. He quickly turns back around. 

With my shirt and pants off, I purposefully let myself take more time to dress in something comfier, teasing him in front of a crowd of people online. I peek over my shoulder at him, finding him shifting uncomfortably. It’s relentless, like he can’t stop himself even if he tried. 

He has a full shot of my ass when I bend over and dig for a pair of Chris’ sweatpants, finally opting for his blue Fresh Love set. 

“Chris! Come on!” Nick shouts at him, noticing how distracted his brother has become. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he mutters before the sound of him clicking on his controller. 

I laugh to myself at the idea of him becoming distracted, a sense of confidence growing inside of me knowing that I was the one who made him that way. 

I stand next to him, staying out of the frame of the camera. I smirk at his boner, which only grows by the second. It’s prominent through his gray sweatpants. 

He notices me staring. “Stop it,” he warns through gritted teeth. 

I lower myself to the floor next to his gaming chair. My fingers take over, tracing over his thighs. He sucks in a sharp breath that is luckily mistaken as a missed shot on his opponent. 

He quickly reaches up to his headset, muting his microphone before he says, “You better be careful,” in his normal volume. 

“You better be careful,” I tell him. “You’re the one being watched by…” I peek at the monitor. “Seventy-five thousand people.” 

His eyes dart between the screen and me. “Are you just going to tease me and try to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

I pout a bit, insulted that he would think so lowly of me. “Of course not,” I assure him. “I’m going to suck you off, and you’re gonna behave and make sure no one knows.” 

He licks his lips, trying to act nonchalant. He does nothing but nod and sink a bit in his chair, making sure I will be completely out of the frame below him. 

He returns to his game, spitting out insults at his brothers and trying to seem invested in their game as they continue to play. 

My hands tug at the string of his sweatpants, loosening them before tugging them down to his thighs. He lifts his hips a little bit, helping me out without making anything too obvious. 

His black briefs hug his dick. His erection is so clear and tight against his underwear, I can see him leaking out onto the fabric. My pussy clenches at the sight. 

I trace my finger over where I know his tip is, following the pathetic splotch of pre-cum. His hips shift, and I squeeze his thigh as a warning. 

I press soft kisses to his clothed dick, peering up at him and watching his expressions change, trying not to laugh at his attempts of playing off his outward reactions to my touch to him as reactions to the game. 

I pull the last layer of clothing out of the way watching his cock smack his stomach before his pre-cum continues to leak, now onto the trail of hair between his belly button and his pelvis. 

I wrap a hand around him, stroking him lightly, spitting down on his tip and rubbing it on him through every stroke. His stomach starts to heave, already desperate for more. 

I poke my tongue out, licking over his slit and tasting what he’s been leaking for minutes now. I continue to spit on his dick, making a mess on him before taking him in my mouth. He rolls his lips into his mouth, trying his hardest not to make a sound. 

I swirl my tongue around his tip through every motion, taking him deeper over time. The sight of him struggling above me is enough to make me wet. 

“Alright we’re gonna take a little five minute break,” Nick’s voice echos. My eyes widen, and I find myself pulling Chris out of my mouth at the sound. “We’ll be back so just sit tight.” 

Chris quickly turns off his camera, pressing the mute button on his headset and tosses it onto the bed behind him. 

Then, his hands find my face, holding my cheeks as I take him into my mouth again. “Fuck, baby that’s so good.” His face contorts now that he can take advantage of the camera being off. “Oh my god, just like that.”

I continue to bob my head on him, his tip reaching the back of my throat each time. His stomach heaves harder now, his hand raking through my hair before thrusting himself deeper. 

My eyes widen before gaining a comfortable rhythm, drool beginning to drip down my chin as my mouth hangs open, getting sloppily fucked by my needy boyfriend. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he whines. “Fuck– Please don’t stop. Please, baby.” 

I nod, not wanting to take my mouth off of him and risk us losing time before the stream starts again. I lower a hand to his balls, rubbing and squeezing them until I can feel them tighten in my hold. His moans become strained, trying not to let his brothers hear us. Any other time he really wouldn’t care, but I know he’s worried about getting teased in front of fans, and the last thing we want is attention being brought to what we’re clearly doing. 

His thrusts become erratic, my eyes watering as he fucks my throat. I have to mentally encourage myself to keep going. 

“Ohhhhh, shit,” he groans. His eyes are screwed shut, opening when he feels my lips close around his cock as he releases his cum into my mouth. He watches me take it, his jaw slack. 

I pull his underwear up delicately, knowing he’s overly sensitive at the moment, before doing the same with his underwear.

I press a soft kiss to his lips, earning a pleased hum from him in response. 

“You look so pretty in my set,” he compliments me, his voice low as he presses a kiss to my shoulder. 

“Compliments to the CEO,” I grin.

He smiles back at me, hugging me tightly as we bask in the last few moments of silence before he jumps back on the game. 

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

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [15K] PART TWO OF TWO old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco. 18+

tw: mentions of pregnancy, slight steddie.

If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right

Five weeks. 

You didn’t see Steve for five weeks. Not for lack of looking. The Lake House was astoundingly quieter with the loss of the youngest Harrington and his friends, the bar empty, the Macallan well stocked and poker nights were taken over by the older generation. You didn’t see him on the golf course, nor in the spa. He didn’t frequent the smoking lounge and you didn’t see him at the bar. Gone was his maroon BMW from the parking lot and on the one, stupid occasion where you’d swallowed all your shame, you drove past his townhouse after a late night shift and you weren’t sure if you were disappointed or relieved to see it sitting in the dark, empty.

You hadn’t exchanged numbers that night, still, the radio silence was infuriating. But hey, at least he wasn’t just plain avoiding you. 

Which you realised when he waltzed in one Tuesday before lunch service, more tanned than ever, white shirt sleeves rolled up, tan trousers perfectly tailored. His eyes were on you immediately, his hair longer than you’d last seen him, like he’d been so busy he hadn’t had time to get it cut. Strands of it fell into his eyes and he swept them out of the way with a grin as he approached the bar. More so a smirk, really. And it irked you, his smirk, his pretty brown eyes, his perfectly messy hair, his sunkissed skin and don’t give a fuck attitude. 

He leant on the bar like he owned it, elbows pressed to the wood, hands clasped in front of him so the gold ring glinted in the afternoon sun. He didn’t say anything, he just waited, watching as you finished polishing a wine glass and put it back on the glass shelf. 

You cleared your throat and didn’t bother to smile, but the voice you spoke in was very much reserved for customer service. “Good afternoon, sir. What can I get you?”

You watched as Steve’s eyes flashed a little darker, amused and something else. He let out a soft laugh, like he thought you were funny. Like he thought your cold indifference was hilarious. So he played along, sliding onto one of the suede stools. The bar room was somewhat empty, most of the members either gathering for lunch in the sun room or soaking up the last of the warm weather on the golf course. It was quiet, and the tension between the two of you could fill the entire manor. 

“A Macallan, please,” Steve answered, just as politely. 

He was still watching every move you made, eyes raking over your legs, the fit of your dress over your hips, the swell of your ass when you turned and reached up for the bottle of scotch. You smiled, a sardonic press of your lips that didn’t meet your eyes when you asked him, “would you like ice with that?”

Steve really laughed then, but there was an edge to it that told you were getting under his skin. If he wanted to leave the country for over a month after blowing your mind in his fancy living room like it was no big deal, well— you could pretend you don’t care. Or better yet, didn’t even remember him. 

“No ice,” he said and before you could pour, he waved his hand for you to stop. “Actually, you know what? I’d prefer the forty year. You have that right, honey?”

You did. But it was in the back, behind a heavy, locked door. The forty year old scotch could go for thirty thousand dollars a bottle. You tried not to look surprised, or worse, impressed. So you nodded instead and told him, “of course, sir. Please bear with me.”

But when you left the bar to walk towards the door that was marked ‘employees only,’ Steve was behind you. You watched him lean against the wall as you fumbled with your key card, pressing it once, twice - fuck - three times against the pad before it buzzed. And when you pushed the door open and Steve caught it, slipping in behind you, your cold indifference turned to anger. 

Who did he think he was? Did he think he was that untouchable?

“This is employees only,” you hissed at him, panicking at the thought of someone else - god forbid, your boss - catching you in the hallway with him. 

Like they’d be able to tell you’d gone to his late one night, that you’d stood and stripped for him in front of his big fireplace and bigger TV, like they’d find out he’d put his mouth on you and made to you come harder than  anyone else ever ha—

But Steve just sighed, a long suffering thing that made your hackles rise up that little bit higher. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Honey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He brushed past you, hands in his pockets, walking down the corridor towards the locked room where the high value liquor was kept. “No one gets in trouble unless I say so. Now, come on.”

You didn’t want to obey, you didn’t want to do as he said. But you were at a loss. He looked so good and smelled so nice, clean and like the ocean, like sunscreen, like he’d just stepped off the plane from whatever Italian city he’d been hiding in and came straight to you. So you didn’t say anything, you just straightened up and let the clickclickclick of your heels fill the silence as you edged past him again and walked towards the door. 

He didn’t let you reach it before he started talking again, a lazy drawl that matched his slow walk, an effortless thing that suited his linen trousers and effortlessly rumpled shirt. Even the lock of hair that fell across his forehead looked artfully placed. 

“Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?” 

You clenched your jaw. “No.”

You heard him laugh and the sound made your hand slip from where it tried to remember the combination for the door. He was so sure of himself, so sure and so confident that you’d spent the last five weeks thinking of him and where he was and what he was doing and who he was with—

“So rude today, honey. You don’t want to hear about the business deals I secured? The money I made?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. You kept your back to him, body stiff, mind positivity empty as you tried to recall the fucking code. You could sense him getting closer, body heat crowding yours, his cologne, his scent, like he’d bottled an Italian summer and sprayed it all over himself. 

“No,” you repeated. Blunt, short, cold. 

“What if I brought you back a present, wouldn’t you want to know then?”

He was behind you now, a towering presence, intimidating even when you weren’t looking at him. His chest brushed your back, a solid, warm thing that you wanted to melt against. But you kept yourself strong, hoping he couldn’t see your shaking hands as you tried another series of numbers. Steve’s hand came up to your neck, sweeping away the hair there, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin. 

The keypad beeped at you in protest, another denied entry. 

“You’re not like the other girls, are you, honey?”

You braced yourself, waiting for the speech about how you were different from the others, better in whatever way Steve deemed appropriate. Prettier, maybe. Smarter, quirkier, some kind of compliment that was supposed to make you preen for him. 

 Steve tsked and moved closer, his nose brushing the nape of your neck. “No, you don’t want my money. You’re not interested, huh? You don’t want the cash, the presents, no diamonds, no five thousand dollar shoes. You don’t want the cars or the houses or the yachts or the ring on your finger, huh?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer. Steve’s little speech didn’t go the way you assumed. The boy spun you suddenly, backing you into the wall as he took your chin in his hold, heated skin between a finger and his thumb, his nose and lips trailing over your cheek, your temple. You closed your eyes, breathing him in. You waited. 

“No, honey, you just want fucked, don’t you?” 

His lips were at your ear, trailing over the shell of it and you couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered, heading lolling back until it thudded against the wall. You were breathing funny, your body boneless. How did you fucking get here?

Steve grinned even though you couldn’t see, teeth on your jaw instead. He took your hand from where it lay limp by your side and brought it to his crotch, cupping it between his own and his cock, the hard length of him pushing against his slacks and your small hand. “You just want this, right?” His teeth nipped at you and you scrunched your face in pleasure, lips parting. “Tell me.”

You folded, a new kind of girl from the one that stood at the bar, brushing him off and pretending you couldn’t recall the way you came on his tongue. You nodded, brows knitted together, like you were ready to beg. Maybe you were. “Yeah,” you answered breathily. “I want it.”

Steve kissed your cheek, a sweet thing, a sudden and shocking touch. “Want what? Wanna hear it, honey, c’mon.”

Heat rushed through you, clinging to your cheeks, your neck. You squirmed, embarrassed and turned on, even more embarrassed that you were throbbing at his words. You blinked at him. “Want your cock,” you whispered. 

“Smart girl,” he cooed. “Clever girl. Such a good fucking girl.” Steve let go of your chin, used his fingertips to brush your hair back and draw a line down your jaw. He pressed another kiss, to your chin this time, a fleeting thing that you tried to chase. You wanted to taste him. “That’s better isn’t it? So much better when you play nice. Where do you want it? Hm? Wanna suck it for me, honey? Want to feel it down your throat?” Steve tsked, his voice low and controlled despite the filth he was muttering against your cheek. “No, no, you want it inside of you, right? My baby wants fucked, right?”

Baby. My baby. It didn’t feel like a pet name, not really. Not like the way he said ‘honey,’ like melted candy on his tongue. No. This felt like ownership. 

You were throbbing from the inside out, your brain buzzing, a white noise kind of sound that tuned out everything bar Steve’s voice, his words, that awfully fucking pretty cadence that made you feel like you were one step away from getting in trouble. You don’t know why you loved it, why it made your toes curl, your lips part and a whine get stuck in your throat. 

“Fuck, Steve,” you clawed at his shoulders, nails scraping over his shirt, creasing the expensive linen. You didn’t care. “Yeah, please, I want that.”

“Oh, it’s Steve, now, is it?” The boy laughed a little meanly, grabbing at your hips to turn you for him, your chest pressed to the wall as he made sure your ass stayed popped out for him. He traced the pretty arch of your back, rocked his dick against the curve of your ass cheek and squeezed. “I think I preferred ‘sir.’ Made you sound so much more agreeable.”

You just moaned. A sound you’d never heard yourself make, an animalistic thing, wrecked sounding and it made Steve beam. “Oh honey, you’re filthy, aren’t you? You’d let me fuck you right here, wouldn’t you?” His hands found the hem of your dress and cool air hit the tops of your thighs as he started lifting it up. 

You didn’t care. You didn’t fucking care. 

Your cheek was pressed to the wall, Lake House green paint under the press of your palms and you remained pliant for Steve, back arched and legs spreading a little, ready for him to pull your underwear to the side and slip his cock inside of you. You wanted it, you needed it—

“I’m not gonna fuck you here, pretty girl, not yet.” Steve was at your ear again, whispering against the shell of it, his fingers grabbing a handful of your ass under your dress as he squeezed and pulled at the dough of it. “Gonna take my time with you for that. Going to make sure I ruin you.”

Disappointment washed over you like a bucket of cold water. It was sobering and his words made you whine, a desperate noise that the staff corridor of The Lake House should never have heard. You turned on your own volition, gazing at Steve with heavy lidded eyes and you were pleased to see he looked the same. Cheeks pink, lips parted, his chest moving a little quicker than before. You remembered the way he’d taken charge that night, how he’d just assumed you’d come home with him after the poker game, how he’d sat in front of you, sprawled on his big sofa as he watched you take off your clothes for him. 

How he’d told you to. 

And then he’d made you come undone, unravelling against his mouth as he whispered dirty things to you, leaving you fuzzy and hazy as he dropped you home, seemingly unaffected. You wanted that power back, you wanted to see him too far gone to remember how much money he had in the bank. 

So you pressed your palms to his chest and smoothed down his shirt collar before you dropped to your knees in front of him. It should’ve been a submissive thing, most people would assume it was. You, kneeling below the rich man, the man who had wealth and connections and an entire legacy built on just his name. You, the girl who was paid to serve him from behind a bar, pouring drinks that you’d ever be able to afford, on the floor in front of him. 

But when you looked back up at Steve, his cocky expression had changed to one of awe. Genuine surprise showed in his eyes, lashes fanning over his cheeks as he blinked at you, dreamlike, hazy, fuzzy. Just like he’d made you feel. You brought your hands to the front of his trousers, finger teasing the button there before he slumped forward a little and braced his hands on the very wall he’d pushed you up against. He nodded, mumbled something that sounded like ‘please.’

Victory. 

You looked back at the door you’d come through, no windows in the wood, but still thin enough that could hear the grand piano playing in the dining room, the distant tinkling of china teapots against porcelain teacups. Anyone could walk in. You’d get fired. Or worse.

The button popped under your finger and thumb, and the zipper whispered in the quiet when you tugged it down. Steve groaned, a heavy, hot sound that made the slick between your thighs worsen. He was leaning over you, head bowed between the arms that held him up, his full lips pink and parted as he stared down at you. You waited for some sort of instruction, an order, some filthy kind of praise but instead, he just watched. 

Powerless. 

You flattened a palm against his cock, hard and warm under the cotton of his black Calvin Kleins, your other hand braced on his thigh. You looked up, one brow raised, a silent question even as the solid length of him kicked up against your touch. 

“Yes,” he rasped, nodding. “Yeah, honey, go ‘head.”

You worked fast, the rest of the club a far away murmur behind the locked door as Steve’s heavy breaths took over your senses instead. You dragged the band of his underwear down, his cock slapping up against his stomach. He was huge, thick and long and hard to wrap your fingers around and you hated that he had another reason to walk around acting like he fucking owned the world. 

But you wanted the power back and you grasped him in your fist, pumping him against your palm as he tried to stop his hips from bucking forward. You wanted Steve like putty, yours to play with, you wanted him to fall apart as fast and as hard as he made you. 

So you skipped the teasing, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe across the head of his cock, salt on your tongue and he swore, hips jerking when you opened your mouth and let him slide past your lips. You worked quick, heart racing from the adrenline of sucking someone off during working hours, hidden in a place you weren’t supposed to be. This was stupid, it was so fucking stupid but the stretch of your jaw around Steve’s cock was delicious, the sounds he was making even better. He was gasping your name, his voice hoarse, his eyes barely able to stay open but his lashes fluttered and he made sure he watched the way his cock disappeared in and out your mouth, over and over again. 

Your nails scratched at his thighs, making him hiss, your free hand pumping the length of him that you couldn’t nudge into your throat. It was wet and messy, a filthy thing that made his brain malfunction ‘cause you were looking up at him the whole time with big, doe eyes and your pretty, little dress was splayed over your thighs. You looked like sin, you looked like his own personal wet dream and you were tracing your tongue along the underside of his cock as the head of it hit the back of your throat and—

“Oh my god,” Steve growled. One hand fell from the wall to grasp your head, not pushing, not guiding. Just twisting into your hair and holding on for dear fucking life. “Oh, fuck, m’gonnacome.”

It had barely been five minutes and a new sort of determination flushed through you. You were soaked, inner thighs wet from the heat of Steve’s stare, from the weight of his cock on your tongue and god, he was tipping his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair as he realised you were doubling down on your efforts and not pulling off. 

“In your mouth, honey, yeah?” His voice was a little higher, breathier, so much less than controlled that it ever had been. “Gonna come in that pretty mouth, that smart, little mouth, hm? Please? Gonna swallow it all for me?”

You hummed in agreement, refusing to take you lips away from him, bringing a hand to cup his balls as you worked your mouth around him, rolling them in your palm. Steve twitched against your tongue, hips jerking forward as he gasped out everything from a prayer, to your name, to a curse. He came hard and sudden, his jaw hanging slack as he stared down at you, watching with a greedy sort of awe as he spilled over your tongue. You made a show of it for him, lips parting and mouth open as you pumped what you could out of him, letting him see it cover your tongue before you swallowed. 

And as he stood, barely keeping himself up, breathless and speechless, you tucked him back into his trouser, soft and spent. You stood primly, caged between his arms as you smoothed down your skirt and met his gaze. He looked a little wild, a little wrecked and he swore under his breath when you licked your lips, using your thumb to politely swipe at the corner of your mouth, like a lady at high tea, not a girl who’d just sucked the fucking life from him. 

Neither of you spoke. You weren’t sure Steve could. So you ducked under his arm and walked away, heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you tried to make sure he couldn’t seen the way your legs shook. Chin high, smile victorious, you didn’t look back before you slipped out of the door and out to the bar. It took a while for Steve to appear, face still a little flushed, but he’d brushed back his hair and smoothed out any wrinkles in his shirt, his trouser buttoned back up but his eyes gave him away. 

They were glittering, trained on you as he came through the employees only door like he owned the entire building. 

He didn’t care that you were serving Mr and Mrs St. Clair there afternoon martinis. No, he walked right up to the bar and tapped his fingers on the wood, vying for your attention. You gave it easily, gaze on Steve instead of the cocktail shaker you were filling with ice. 

“What time do you finish?” He asked, voice still rough. 

You swallowed tightly, eyes flitting to the older couple who weren’t paying you much mind. Not when their drinks weren’t ready yet. “Seven,” you told him.

Steve nodded. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

—————

That’s how it went. 

No labels, not much talking - not about anything too serious anyway, like the future. Just a whirlwind you couldn’t really call a romance because Steve Harrington had fucked you in every room of his house, every car he parked in his too big garage, but he’d never kissed your lips. You’d found that Steve didn’t really do sweet unless it came with some kind of condescending tone that made your toes curl, surprising you on the odd occasion with a sudden fondness that even shocked him. But still, no kisses. He’d kiss you everywhere else, forehead often resting against yours as you both caught your breaths, his cock still inside you. You’d feel his nose bump your own, a soft touch, an intimate thing. But he’d pull back when you’d lift your chin a little, mouth searching for his like he hadn’t just been gasping into it. 

He didn’t really hold your hand or call you his girlfriend but he knew your favourite wine, an expensive Chardonnay he liked to buy you by the crate, along with flowers you hadn’t even seen before, colourful blooms that looked like they belonged in a magazine. He’d place his hand on the small of your back when he took you out to restaurants, cocktail bars full of business men that only he knew. Away from Hawkins, always in the front of one of his cars, each one faster and shinier than the last. Dining rooms with chandeliers and low lights, pillar candles on white table cloths and five forks each. 

He showed you off, surprising you with silk dresses and red bottomed heels that you told him off for, but Steve would kiss your neck, your bare shoulder and whisper how he wanted to take the pretty dress off of you later, how he wanted you in nothing but Louboutin’s. His touch was possessive, dirty, sometimes surprisingly caring, a gentleman that opened your car doors for you, who pulled out your chair for you to sit. 

 But no, he never kissed your lips. 

And when he was spending days and weeks in Rome, Milan, Cannes, New York, Los Angeles, Singapore, St. Martin, well. When was there time to talk about relationships?

Steve Harrington was private jets and brand new Bentley’s. He was a special edition Rolex and had his family's name outside Hawkin’s city hall on a gold plaque. He was silk, leather, polished shoes and freshly ironed shirts. Gold, suede, expensive cologne, yachts in Monaco, a villa in the hills of the French Riviera. But he wasn’t your boyfriend. 

No. He was thousand dollar bottles of whisky, business deals in San Tropez, a private beach club in Marbella. He was parties. He was the party. Cocktail nights with the elite, a grown up rager in someone's mansion, where chandeliers swung from ornate ceilings and the stairs were painted in gold leaf, littered with coked up rich kids who were using daddie’s hundred dollar bills to fill their noses. 

Like the one you were at now, the thumpthumpthump of far away music still managing to reach you three floors up. The entire house was filled with art, a gallery more than a home and twenty something year olds made the place look too messy, black ties loose around men’s necks as girls walked around the marble floors barefoot, bottles of Moët clutched in their hands, each one looking for someone else to fuck. Grecian statues were thrown like footballs, busts of women from too long ago used as something to take a line off of and there were five people in the pool outside, naked, drunk, all taking turns touching each other. 

It was debauchery at its finest. At its richest. 

It was Eddie’s idea. 

He’d invited Steve who’d then picked you up in a car you hadn’t seen before, a deep green Camaro with tan leather seats. It was already late, later than you’d like to have left for the beginning of a night out but Eddie promised a good time and the possibility of a new business venture for Steve.  

The house had been an hour out of town, nestled off into the countryside between a forest and a lake, the long driveway spot lit as it led to the huge brick manor. You’d walked through the door behind Eddie, Steve’s hand on your back as he coaxed you inside and into the chaos. Music, bodies, champagne flutes overflowing on a round table in the foyer, marble flooring, tapestries on the walls, spilled glitter on the stairway and money littering a desk, poker chips on the floor. 

No one greeted you, no one looked at you. But someone slapped Steve on the shoulder and Eddie shook a guy's hand, a bag of white powder exchanged for a rolled up wad of cash. No words were said. So Steve grabbed a mottle of Moët from a tabletop and took your hand, only to lead you up the stairs and Eddie followed, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he winked at the girl on the landing that you all had to step over. 

An empty room, champagne bubbles, two men. 

The bed was huge, a canopy style thing with too many pillows and with gold stitched quilts. Red drapes and low lights, a thick carpet that you dug your toes into when you slipped off your heels and then fell onto the mattress. Eddie followed, tipsy, boisterous, laughing as he did. Steve lazed in an armchair in the corner, long legs splayed out in front of him as he sipped from the bottle, his eyes on the way the hem of your dress slipped up your thighs. 

“How does Steve’s little friend like the lifestyle?” Eddie asked you, grinning. “Is the Moët to your taste, sweetheart?” He was teasing and you knew that, teasing in a lighter way than Steve would because he was smiling and his eyes were kind, his cheek pushed to the bedding as he waited for your answer. 

You took the bottle from Steve and let the bubbles slide down your throat, the fizziness tickling the roof of your mouth and it wasn’t sweet enough. Still, you took it greedily, wetting your lips before you dropped the empty bottle onto the floor with a thud. “I prefer Chardonnay, but it’ll do,” you joked back. 

Eddie laughed and then hummed. He appraised you thoughtfully before his eyes flickered to Steve, dark in the dim light. “Oh yeah, Mr Harrington was kind enough to buy you a whole case of it, huh? I saw the order, sweetheart don’t get flustered.” Eddie reached out to brush a stand of your hair away from your face and from the corner of your eye, you saw Steve sit up a little straighter. “He’s real nice, isn’t he? Likes to spoil a pretty girl like you.”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice was a warning. 

“Right?” he continued, nodding at you like you’d agreed. You simply watched him from the bed, breath hitching a little when he propped himself onto one elbow so he could look down at you, one finger tracing up and down your forearm. “Jewellery, flowers, nice dinners, nicer dresses,” he trailed off, plucking at the strap of your black dress. “Pretty things for pretty girls. He doesn’t kiss you though, does he?”

The air was sucked out of the room and Steve bristled. “Eddie.”

Eddie ignored him. He tutted sympathetically, pouting at you. “He hasn’t, has he? He never does, some weird rule he has.” You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. But you gasped quietly when Eddie traced a finger over your bottom lip, tugging at it gently until he let it go and it fell back into place with a soft ‘pop’. “Such a shame.”

He pulled away slightly to look back at Steve, who was sitting forward in the chair now, his elbows braved on his knees as he stared at Eddie with a dark expression. Like he was waiting. Warning him. But he didn’t say anything, so Eddie turned back to you. 

“D’you know that Steve and I share things?”

You shook your head, wishing you had the sense to sit up, to collect yourself, to pull the hem of your damn dress down because the warm air that was trapped inside the room - between these two men - was heating up the skin on your thighs. 

“Yeah,” Eddie explained. “Shares, stocks, cars… girls.” He leaned down again, nose bumping against your temple as he whispered theatrically into your, loud enough for Steve to hear. “He likes me more than Hargrove, you see.”

You could hear a pin drop. 

“Do you think he’d let me kiss you, sweetheart? I bet he would.” Eddie was on his hands and knees now, crawling over you, hovering just above, hands braced on either side of your head and he grinned at the way your pupils grew a little bigger, a little darker. Both of you turned your heads to the side, your cheeks pressed to the expensive Egyptian cotton and you both looked at Steve. You weren’t sure what for. For a scolding, for a fight, for approval. 

“C’mon, Harrington,” Eddie broke the silence. “She’s not your girl, is she? You gonna let me taste her? Seeing as you don’t? Bet she’s so fuckin’ sweet.”

Steve let out a huff of breath, his eyes flashing as he gripped the arm of the chair too tight. He sat back into the leather, shoulders stiff and lips in a straight line. “I know how she tastes, Munson, trust me.”

The way they spoke about you like you weren’t there made your skin tingle, an electric current that ran through your bones and you were buzzing, fizzing - but that might’ve been the champagne. But still, Eddie continued, playing Steve until he was flushed in the face with an emotion you couldn’t place. 

“Yeah but those lips look pretty fucking biteable,” Eddie whispered and he ducked his head down, nose brushing yours, lips parting when yours did on instinct. “Could eat her up. Like a little peach, huh?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t stop it. He just sat and stared, cock stirring in his trousers because this is how these parties went and this wasn’t the first time he’d watched his friend take the girl he’d brought on a bed. In fact, this was tame compared to the other nights, lines of coke and whisky on a bedside table, his cock buried in some strange girl's mouth as Eddie took her from behind, shirt buttons ripped open and matching red lipstick on both their chests. 

This was different. It felt different. 

But still, he stayed quiet. 

“You just want a kiss, don’t you?” Eddie cooed as he kept close, nuzzling his nose to your cheek, making sure his lips brushed across your when he moved to the other side. Your hands curled around the outside of his thighs where he kneeled over you, keeping him there, holding tight. You could see Steve out of your peripheral. “Pretty thing like you just wants some lovin’, I know it.”

Then slowly, as if allowing you - or Steve - to stop him, Eddie moved in, kissing your top lip before moving to your bottom, a barely there thing before he was kissing you properly, mouth pushing against yours. He angled his face so Steve could see, so the other boy on the armchair could watch the way he parted his lips and opened your own with his tongue, licking into you in a way that made your back arch. Steve watched the black silk of your dress - the one he bought you - meet Eddie’s shirt, matching colours, black as midnight. Ink on skin, moving against a stranger's sheets. Nipples pebbling against the material as Eddie dragged one of his hands down your sides, lifting your arm up and keeping it above your head so he could drag his fingers down the side of your breast, the material pulling tight over your skin. 

He followed the curve of it, made you gasp into his mouth and then he was groaning, whispering something about how sweet you were, his tongue sweeping over your own before he was ripped away from you. 

Steve had Eddie by the scruff of his shirt, hauling him off of the bed and you until he staggered into the other boy, grinning like this was all the funniest game in the world. You were panting, lips still glossy from Eddie’s kiss, eyes wide with shock because Steve was pulling himself up to his full height, shoulder squared, chin tilted up. 

His nose almost touched Eddie’s. 

“S’wrong, Harrington?” Eddie whispered. He was goading, excited, too amused. “She’s not your girl, right?” Their chests touched but Eddie didn’t back down, still grinning, curls mussed from where he’d lay on the bed with you, your gloss smeared across his own lips, a pretty pink that matched the flush across his cheeks. “You normally don’t mind sharing, dude, what’s the problem?”

Steve’s nostrils flared and he was breathing a little heavier, gaze flickering to you as you sat up and smoothed down your dress, your hair. Part of you wanted to get between the boys, soothe whatever was about to start, but something inside of you wanted to hear what Steve had to say. You stared back at him, feeling too hot, too exposed but you waited, gaze hard on him. 

“Quit playin’, Eddie,” Steve warned and he took one step back, standing in the middle of you and the other boy. He looked flustered, a little put together than he normally did, his eyes dark and his cheeks heated, his back too stiff and he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the way they were balled into fists. “I’m not in the mood.”

But Eddie kept smiling, hands held out in front of him as if he were surrendering but he continued to smile, eyes shining as kept talking, voice lilting. “Poor thing just wanted a kiss, man, only giving her what you don’t. Sorta mean, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t say anything, you just watched as Steve glared and Eddie grinned, the room filled with something more than faded music, empty champagne bottles and all the leftover bubbles. Tension fizzed in the corners, it made the walls crack and split, it made your chest turn a little too tight. 

“Like I said,” Eddie gestured to you, eyes flirting up and down your frame appreciatively before turning back to Steve, “s’not like she’s your girl, is she?”

The thump of a bassline from two floors down, faint splashes from a pool outside the open window, the smash of a glass. But silence from Steve. 

“Am I?” 

Your voice sounded so much smaller than you wanted it to but you stared at Steve as you watched his jaw tense and flex. He closed his eyes and said something under his breath, something you couldn’t hear, pressing his thumb to the corner of his eye before he faced you. 

“We’ve, uh,” he swallowed and reached for another cigarette. “We’ve spoken about this, honey.” He said it calmly, casually, like you should’ve known better. 

But you had spoken about it at all. Not really. Steve’s silence said more than words and when he only pressed kisses to your cheek, to the insides of your thighs and side of your neck, you’d finally gotten the hint. Steve Harrington didn’t get attached. He didn’t do relationships. He was too busy, and spent too much time between too many cities, too many countries. Steve Harrington had yachts and cars and penthouses and villas. But he didn’t have girlfriends. Not just one, anyway. 

You should’ve known. You had known. But hearing it aloud made it hurt that little bit more. So you nodded as if you agreed and when Steve lit the cigarette and let it hang between his lips, you stared at the floor as he stared at you. Then he was nodding towards the door and expecting you to follow him. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You didn’t move. Eddie chuckled, a dark thing that made Steve glare at him but he looked over at you, cigarette between his fingers as it turned down quicker than he could smoke it. “Honey, let’s go.”

You still didn’t move. 

So Steve looked at you and then he looked at Eddie and scoffed, waving a dismissive hand before he left the room and left the house. 

Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

You didn’t hear from Steve for the first few days after the party. 

Four days went by without seeing him and honestly, that was okay with you. He stayed away from the clubhouse, even when you saw Billy and Eddie in the lounge, Jonathan at poker nights, Steve wasn’t with them. You saw his car around town now and then, passing the maroon BMW as you drove home from work late at night, watching its tail lights speed away in your rear view mirror. You wondered if he had another girl in the front seat, someone else he called honey and fucked on the living room sofa. 

You told yourself it didn’t matter. You knew this would happen, you were just stupid enough to let it. You knew you’d get your heart broken, you knew you’d be the one left hurt. Because despite Steve’s proclivity for showering you in gifts and sex, you did have fun with him. He was sweet when he wanted to be, when he took off his suit and tie and shut off his pager. The business calls would stop and he’d forgo the expensive wine and designer shoes in favour of bringing a bag of your favourite chocolate, a dollar from the gas station and more appreciated than he realised. 

There had been a night he’d taken you his kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you with an intensity you’d never felt from him before, his forehead pressed to yours, his soft murmurs falling into your open mouth. 

“Eyes on me, honey, keep watchin.”

“You’re so pretty, y’know that? Could stay inside you all fuckin’ night, Jesus Christ.”

“There she is, there she is, look at you, huh? Fuckin’ perfect at takin’ me.”

It had made you feel giddy, fuzzy, coming on Steve’s cock harder than ever and after he slid out of you he ran you a bath instead of taking you home. He didn’t join you like you asked, scoffing at the idea of lavender bubbles and water hot enough to scald him but he did sit on the tiles, shirtless and with his hands in the tub, fingers trailing over your water slick legs. He told you about the places he’d been, beaches and cities, the towns he’d think you’d like. And in the candle light, at three in the morning, with no one else around, Steve told you that he’d have to take you one day. 

You’d hummed, pleased, heart racing at the idea of something coming from all of this. Not a free holiday, but someone to be with. A boyfriend, maybe, a partner. Someone who loved you as good as they fucked you. You weren’t deluded, you knew this wasn’t love. Not yet. But this handsome man came to the bar one day and decided that you were going to be his in some way or another. He wined you, dined you, spoiled you. Fucked you the way you asked and looked at you with stars in his eyes every time you got on your knees for him. He didn’t want you kissing anyone else, even when he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. 

There were times you thought he would. Times he looked at you like he wanted to, needed to. Straying closer and closer to your lips every time he kissed you goodnight, a lingering thing on your cheek that you wished you could bottle up and keep. He’d let his lips graze over you when he fucked you, pressing you into the cushions of his couch because even taking you to his bed was too intimate, too much like a relationship. So he’d fuck you slow in his living room, in the glow of the fireplace with the red wine forgotten on the table as he lost himself in it all, mouth skimming over the planes of your cheeks, the slope of your jaw, the very fucking corner of your bottom lip, like that wasn’t as bad as letting him bend you over his mattress. 

Steve Harrington told you that he didn’t get attached, but you weren’t able to promise him the same.  

So your crush gave way to anger, a frustrated annoyance that made your blood simmer when you left work one Wednesday evening, autumn settling over the town as you wrapped your jacket around you a little tighter and headed to your car. Except Steve was leaning against the hood of it, a dozen red roses clutched in one hand. He didn’t look nearly as put together as he normally did, but you thought he was twice as pretty. Still tanned, forever sunkissed even as the leaves on the trees started to fall, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old Harvard sweater. He didn’t go to Harvard, didn’t need to, but he looked every part the preppy boy you would’ve fallen in love with if you’d made it to college. 

He looked softer but still as confident as ever as he stayed lounging against your car, like he was waiting for you to come to him. Instead you rolled your eyes and headed to the driver's side of your old Volkswagen, ignoring him as you passed. 

“Wow, you’re just going to pretend I’m not here?” 

Annoyance flared inside of you at the sound of his voice, unapologetic with a touch of entitlement. You scoffed, turning to the boy only to glare and you opened the drivers door so you could throw in your purse. “Most people would start with an apology, Steve.”

He pushed off the front of your hood and came to you, flowers held out as if to say ‘this is the apology.’ You could smell the flowers in the air, fresh and a vibrant red, overflowing from his hand and you could only imagine the price he paid for something that would wilt and die in a few days. 

“You actually have to say it, you know.” You challenged him, eyes meeting his, unblinking, unwavering. Time spent with the richest man in town had given you some confidence of your own, an unflinching boldness when faced with stares in restaurants, whispers in crowded bars. “I don’t want your gifts.”

“Honey,” Steve tried, reaching for your hand. You moved back, out of his reach. He tried another approach, softer, sweeter. “Baby, c’mon. I’m sorry, alright? I am. I shouldn’t have acted like that at the party.”

He was right, he shouldn’t have. So you nodded but kept away, standing stiff and tense as you decided whether you should ask what you wanted to. You crossed your arms, a protective stance, and tried to sound braver than you felt. “Why wasn’t Eddie allowed to kiss me?”

Steve stared at you before he scoffed, setting the roses on your car roof before he shoved his hands into his pockets. His face became passive, a mask, a shield, the one he used on business calls and during luncheons with shareholders in his fathers companies. “So that’s what we’re doing now, huh? Kissing other people in front of each other?”

You could feel your frustration rising to the surface, bubbling and simmering and ready to explode out of you. “Why shouldn’t we? You said it yourself, we’re not together. I’m not your girlfriend.”

Steve avoided the question, eyes flashing instead and he swiped a hand over his face, through his hair. “Honey, please, like you wouldn't throw a fit if I took someone out to dinner, hm? If you found out I’d been taking someone else to nice restaurants and—”

“How do I know that’s not happening already!” You shot back, almost too loud. Mr and Mrs Lewinsky were walking arm and arm to their Mercedes, glancing over to the corner you car was tucked into. Thank god it was dark. You turned back to Steve, face heated. “You leave, like all the time. You’re gone for days and weeks, all over the world with villas and hotel rooms and penthouse apartments. You expect me to believe you don’t have a girl in every city? There’s not another me waiting for you on your living room couch in New York? Monaco? Italy? France? Oh, I’m sorry, do you maybe let them into your bed?”

Steve swore, looking around the parking lot as more people started to flood out now that dinner was over. Valets were moving cars down to the door and you could hear the voice of Frederick bidding guests goodbye. He held his hand out, “give me your keys.”

You stared at him, face screwed up. “What?”

“I said,” Steve repeated calmly, “give me your keys and get in the car.”

You scoffed, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. And you’re not driving my fucking car.”

“I’m not having this conversation here,” Steve muttered and his voice was annoyed. “Either get in and let me drive or I’m marching you across the lot to my own car and you can wave to your boss at the same time.”

Annoyance pricked at your skin, a thousand needles of anger that made your back stiffen and your eyes narrow. “You drive like a fucking formula one wannabe,” you hissed, but still you threw your keys at his chest and marched round to the passenger seat, not caring to see if he caught them or not. “You fuck up my wheels, you’re buying me new alloys, Steve.”

Steve threw himself into the driver's seat and laughed meanly, lifting the bouquet of roses and throwing them into the backseat. Petals scattered everywhere. He slammed the door with the same amount of aggression as you did and once you were seated, he turned to you and smiled too sweetly. “Honey, I’ll buy you a new goddamn car, okay? Put your seatbelt on.”

You sat, stubborn, arms crossed and staring out the window. Your seatbelt remained unfastened. Steve revved the engine and despite the headlights stopping them from seeing who was behind the wheel of the beat up old Volkswagen, they were still staring. 

“Stop it,” you hissed. “Just, get us out of here, god.”

“Seatbelt,” Steve repeated. You didn’t move and he tutted. “Where did my good girl go, huh?” He leaned over you and you remained passive, even when his breath was on your jaw and his hand slid around your hip as he did the belt for you. “You used to be so good at doing what you were told.”

“I’m not your girl,” you reminded him, smiling in a way that was anything but friendly. You felt dead behind the eyes, nothing but annoyance when you looked at Steve right then. “Remember?”

Steve grunted, swearing under his breath as he pulled away too fast and the wheels screeched as he sped out of the clubhouse parking lot. He hit sixty on the country roads at the back of Hawkins, screaming past the lake before he pulled off the road, just as you were ready to tell him off. He parked up in an empty lot, nothing but dirt and trees and a view of the water tower in the distance. 

“There’s no other girls,” he said, breaking the silence. It was easier not to yell in the dark, in the closeness of the front of the car, where everything felt intimately softer than before. 

“What?” You scrunched your face, mostly in disbelief as you tried to recall what you had yelled at him before he drove your car away from the scene. 

“There aren’t any girls in other cities. There’s no one fucking waiting for me in Monaco, or, or Cannes, or L.A, no one, okay?”

You scoffed, disbelieving and you unclipped your seatbelt so you could lean against the door, facing him. Steve was still gripping the wheel with one hand, another swiping tiredly over his face, but for what it was worth, he looked sincere. But still, annoyance and the lingering feeling of rejection clawed in your stomach, an awful, ugly thing that made you sneer. 

“Whatever, you really expect me to believe that? The front page of the Hawkins Post ran a damn article about how your new yacht had a mirrored ceiling in one of the bedrooms.” You laughed meanly, sadly, hoping your voice didn’t crack. “Okay, Hugh Hefner, excuse me if I don’t buy your bullshit.”

Steve groaned again, a long suffering thing and he pulled at his sweater sleeves, rolling them up his forearms until his watch face glinted in the light of the moon. “Fine, okay, yeah, I used to! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

No, it wasn’t. 

“Had a girl for each damn arm, alright? But I haven’t— I haven’t—” Steve swallowed and you watched the harsh way his Adam’s apple bobbed, the furrow in his brow deepen. He didn’t look at you when he said, “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

It was a surprise, that was for sure. And what was even more startling, was the fact that you believed him, you truly did. Gone was the businessman facade, the smooth tone of voice that made you call him Mr Harrington. Instead there was a young man in front of you who was doing his best to make you understand. 

“I don’t do relationships, honey, you knew that,” Steve said and he sounded almost sad. “I don’t kiss girls and hope they fall in love with me, I don’t bring them home and take to my bed and let them believe we’ll wake up together in the morning and fuckin’ cuddle.”

You blinked away tears, angry, upset, frustrated tears that burned the corners of your eyes. You sniffed, annoyed, venomous. “Fine. I’m far from declaring my undying adoration for you Steve, don’t worry. But you don’t then get to decide who I get to kiss if you don’t wanna do it yourself.”

Steve stiffened then, turning to you with an angry flash in his eyes and hard set to his jaw. He narrowed his gaze at you and shook his head. “Don’t test me, honey.”

You scoffed, defiant. “Whatever. Take me home, you can walk back to your car.”

“I’m not done talking,” Steve frowned and he couldn’t believe it when you simply laughed and got out of the car. He jumped out after you, bewildered at the sight of you walking through mud and the littering of fallen leaves in your clubhouse uniform, heels and all. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Walking,” you shot back, “what does it look like!” 

“Get in the damn car,” Steve said your name and it sounded like a warning, “it’s pitch fuckin’ black out here.”

You didn’t turn around though, arms crossed right across your chest because you’d left your coat in your locker like an idiot. “Then I’ll find a pay phone, call for a ride. Maybe Eddie will come get me.” It was a cheap blow, but it did exactly what it was supposed to. 

The sound of heavy feet marching up behind you, a hand on your arm to stop you from moving and then Steve was in front of you, face scrunched in anger, in frustration. He held your shoulders, slipped his wide hands down the length of your arms until he eased them from your chest and held your fingers between his. 

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Steve asked, his voice a little louder than it had been earlier. He seemed to unravel slightly, a panic in his tone that you’d never heard before. “I— I take you out, I treat you good, right? But you presents ‘n’ pretty things, fuckin’ flowers and shoes and dresses and take you to restaurant openings, parties and, and—”

“I don’t want any of that, Steve!” You yelled, eyes wide. You felt too hot despite the cold night. “I never wanted any of that! I didn’t ask for it.” You blew out a breath but you didn’t drop his hands. “I appreciated it, all of it, I did. I do. But I didn’t need any of that! I enjoyed being with you.”

Steve shook his head at you, lips parted and a look of confusion on his face. Like he’d never been told such a thing before. “So, so what? You want Eddie? None of that, but you want Eddie, is that it?”

You huffed, head thrown back in exasperation and you counted to three, staring at the stars blinking back at you in the night sky and you wondered what you were doing here, you wondered what cruel twist of fate led you to sit down with Steve Harrington that night in the lounge. 

“No,” you eventually said, calmer than you’d sounded before. “No, I don’t want Eddie. God, Steve, I wanted you, alright? This whole time, just you. Not your money, or your cars or your houses or anything else. Just you. I wanted to hold your hand and go on dates. Somewhere stupid and lame like the movies, or, or a drive through for a cheap burger and shake. I wanted you to kiss me goodnight and kiss me good morning and maybe, I don’t know,  have sex with me on a mattress like a normal couple.”

You sniffed, willing away the tears that came with your speech. You weren’t prepared to cry over a man who didn’t want you the way you wanted him. But you watched Steve’s expression fall, a crumpled thing that made him look young and boyish. He dropped your hands only to move closer and cup your face instead, his thumb soothing over your bottom lip like he could will your upset away. You watched his gaze fall to your mouth, following the movements his thumb made across the seam of your lips like he wanted to put his against yours. His lips parted and he looked pained. 

“I’m not asking you to fucking marry me, Steve, but god, why won’t you at least kiss me? Am I that much of a throw away toy for you that you won’t even—”

“Because if I kiss you, I’ll fucking fall in love with you, okay!” Steve barked out, sudden and rushed and panicked sounding. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath, letting his hands fall to your neck, his head falling forward. “God.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. 

“You don’t think I know I can get any girl I want?” Steve laughed and it sounded powerful, it sounded like money. “Honey, I walked into the club that day and saw your pretty face and knew I was fucked.” Steve lifted his head so you could see him again, lips parted in surprise at his admission but he just smiled. He brought a hand back to your cheek, smoothed a thumb over the apple of it, down the line of your jaw. “So I told myself I could just have some with you, see how good you looked without that uniform on, maybe spoil you a little and whatnot.”

“You’re a pig,” you told him but you didn’t move away. 

“I know,” Steve shrugged. “Wasn’t looking for a wife honey, I just loved the way you got all huffy with me, how sweet you’d get when I got my hands on you.” Steve dragged his thumb down your neck, pressed lightly and watched the way you tilted your chin up for him. “You’re just so fucking pretty.”

“But then you had to get under my skin didn’t you? Thought about you all the goddamn time and couldn’t look at any other girl without seeing your face instead.” Steve tsked, walked you backwards until you were against the side of your car and pressed against him. “Hated it at first, you know. Tried to stay away for longer than I needed to, but shit, got back into town and went straight to the club to see you. There you were, pretty as ever and chewing me out for being gone too long, callin’ me Mr Harrington like you knew it would get me so fuckin’ hot for you.”

Steve grinned when you whined, a knee jerk response to the way he was sliding a hand around your upper thigh, up under the hem of your dress and your head hit the door of your car with a dull thud. “Ate at Michelin star restaurants all ‘round the world, honey, but I’ve never tasted anything as good as you, you know that?” He was on your throat now, mouthing up it, licking a line along your neck until he could nip at your jaw. “Want you, all the time. Just you. It drives me fucking insane and I dunno what to do.”

You felt the fight leave you and you hated yourself for it, feeling weaker every time Steve put his mouth on your skin and his nose was pressed to your cheek now, one hand in your hair and the other squeezing at the dough do your ass under your dress, pulling up the hem of it to expose you to the cool air and it was all filthy. It was all exactly why you entered into this whole situation in the first place. Steve Harrington - money and family name or not - made you feel like you were on fucking fire. 

So you grabbed at him, tried to fight back in other ways, with fingers in his hair so you could tug him down and let him latch his mouth to your neck. He scraped his teeth along the column of it, groaning when you pulled meanly. Steve swore, licking over the bruise he’d marked you with, a pink-red bloom on your skin that would remind you of him even days later. His nose bumped yours as he leaned down to you, crowding you against the car and up against his chest and you were panting, waiting for it, feeling the way he let his nose graze yours, a teasing back and forth that left his mouth hovering over yours. 

“Get in the back,” Steve whispered and it was a quiet order, a soft demand, one that you knew you’d bend to because you were soaked, clit pulsing against the lace of your underwear, and shit, Steve knew that too. 

But it didn’t mean you weren’t going to make him work for it. 

“No,” you argued back. You didn’t mean it, this was foreplay. This was everything that got Steve a little hot under the collar, the way you played pretend and tried to get your own way. “You can fuck me here, ‘gainst the door.”

Steve laughed and he pressed the sound into your cheek, teeth against your skin and he pushed a kiss there, a smattering of them as his hands went back under your dress and he pulled down your underwear with the tips of his fingers. He let them fall to the ground, not bothering to pick them up. 

“Get in the car, honey. Front or back, you decide, but either way you’re gonna ride me, okay?” Steve told you and that big, bad businessman voice was back, the one that made your toes curl and your cunt ache. Sweet, syrupy, demanding. He brought a hand between your thighs and cupped you, groaning at the heat and the slick that coated his fingers as he swept them through your folds. “She’s missed me,” he cooed, not asking but telling. Like it was a fact. 

“This is the last time,” you told him and it felt like you were trying to tell yourself that too. “We don’t want the same things, fuck—” you were cut off on a gasp when Steve circled your clit, his gaze heavy and dark as he leaned in and let his forehead touch yours. “S’all gonna end in a mess.”

“In the car, honey,” Steve reminded you, neither agreeing or arguing with your words. There wasn’t any point. You both knew this wasn’t the end. “C’mon, be a good girl for me.”

So you stepped out of your underwear and left them lying, like some sick white flag, a symbol of surrender as you pushed Steve away and opened the back door, sliding over the seats as Steve joined you. The door clicked shut and silence took over, the dark and heavy kind that came with the late night, the one that carried a special type of tension and it filled the whole space, it fizzed and crackled in the air between you and it made you fucking breathless. 

You watched with a tight chest as Steve sat back in the middle  seat, already looking wrecked, his hair a mess from your greedy fingers. He spread his legs as much as he could in the tight space and he nodded to his lap, where you could already see the outline of his dick pressed under the denim. “Sit,” he said. 

Not feeling as ready to argue anymore, you listened to the throbbing between your legs and obeyed, the top of your head grazing the car roof as you slid onto Steve’s lap, thighs spread over his in a way that made you burn that white-blue type of hot, because your dress was too short and your underwear was still outside. He could see everything when you looked down, hem of your uniform flirting too high, the dirty spread of you on display. Even in the low light he could see you shine, wet and ready, all for him. 

But Steve kept his hands on the seats, practically lounging as he tilted his head back to look at you from where you were perched on top of him. He studied you, like a piece of art he was ready to buy. His eyes found yours before his gaze dropped to your nose, your cheeks, the line of your jaw, the slope of your neck. Then he found your lips, parted and wanting, the tip of your tongue peeking from between as if you were just dying for something to taste. 

Maybe his fingers, you liked that. The heavy feel of them on your tongue so you could suck on them while he fucked you slow. Maybe his neck, right where it met his shoulder, that almost always bruised piece of skin that you bit down on when you came, riding Steve’s cock somewhere you shouldn’t and you had to keep quiet. Maybe you wanted his dick, too big to take all of it, but the stretch of your jaw and the hot slide of it over your tongue made you rock your hips against nothing, especially when Steve was feeling extra sweet and swept his hands over your face when you sucked him off, thumbing at the corners of your full mouth as he told you how pretty you looked. 

But he offered none of those. No. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “what do you want?”

You looked at him, a question mark on your face, just able to see the shine of his eyes and the strong lines of his nose and jaw in the dark. His hands remained by his sides. “What?”

Steve smiled, just a small thing. “I said, what do you want?”

“You,” you answered shyly, only after a beat or two of quiet. You kept it deliberately vague, leaving it to the boy to decipher if that meant sex or more. Or both. “I want you, Steve.”

“You don’t want my money,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. He knew that already. “Not interested in where I could take you, what I could buy you. No,” Steve's voice grew warmer, softer, fond. “Told you before, didn’t I? I know my girl just wants fucked.”

You squirmed, nodding. Because if this was the last time, you’d make sure you enjoyed it. But then Steve did something even more unexpected. He let his hands settle on your thighs, still a little cold from being outside and you hissed at the slide of them going upupup. He didn’t touch your cunt though, didn’t let his fingers play with you like he usually did. 

“C’mere,” he asked instead. “Close your eyes, yeah?”

Your brows stitched together at his request. You were hardly a stranger to blindfolds and surprises, but this didn’t seem like the time or place. 

“You trust me?” Steve whispered and his gaze was on your lips, waiting. 

It didn’t take you long to nod, because yes, despite it all, despite Steve’s issues with… commitment, you did trust him. You believed him about the other girls, about everything. 

“Good girl. Close your eyes,” Steve asked again and you did. 

The car seemed smaller with one sense gone. Eyes shut and Steve so near. You could feel his warmth, the way he moved into you a little more, closer than before until his breath was fanning over your mouth and chin and his nose was bumping yours. Your stomach tumbled. 

“I can’t promise you anything,” he whispered into you. You could feel his lips moving, a barely there ghost against your own. His touch felt like a secret. “I don’t know how— how to be someone’s boyfriend. I’ve never done that. But I can try, if you’ll let me.”

You weren’t sure when your own hands had moved but they were fisting the front of Steve’s sweater. The letters for Harvard crushed in your palms and you were holding on for dear life. 

“You said this was the last time,” Steve murmured and you wanted to open your eyes, you wanted to stare him down and challenge him but you did as he asked. You kept your eyes closed. “Is this the last time, baby?”

Baby. 

“Or are you gonna give me a chance? I’ll do my best for you, I swear, I’ll try,” Steve’s mouth was moving over your cheek, kisses pressed there between each word until he was mouthing along your jaw and chin and you were weak, sitting on top of him and feeling like you could melt. “I’ll try for you, honey, don’t wanna lose you. Don’t want you with someone else.”

He was talking faster now, like there was an urgency there that wasn’t before and his hands were skimming up from your thighs to squeeze at your waist before his palms were cupping your jaw and pulling you to him. His lips touched yours, only just and you gasped like you’d been burned. Steve kept you there, panting hard, his own eyes closed now and his brow furrowed. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered and his voice cracked. Gone was the businessman. He smelled like mint toothpaste and cologne, like sunscreen. “We can stop this here and I’ll let you go and we can pretend we never met, if that’s what you want.”

You only clung to him tighter, one hand trailing blindly up his neck until you could pull at the longer hairs there and hold him. You made a noise of protest, tears lining your lashes as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut tighter so they’d stay in. You shook your head, nose brushing Steve’s, lips moving over his so, so briefly. 

“I don’t want to stop.”

You weren’t sure what you thought your first kiss with Steve Harrington would be like. You’d thought about it a lot, sure. But it was usually in the heat of the moment, when he was inching inside of you, hips slapping against your own, your fingers tight in his hair and whispering filthy things to each other. You thought he’d kiss you like that, hard and fast and messy, with a dirty lick of his tongue. But Steve moved slowly, almost shy. He hesitated as he brought his thumb over your cheek, a brief touch before he was closing the gap and meeting your lips with his. 

It was slow, careful. Soft. A gentle thing and Steve exhaled shakily, his breath fanning over your cheek as he tilted his head and let you press closer. His lips parted, tongue swiping over yours as the kiss deepened and when you let out a soft noise of appreciation, the boy groaned and his hands fell to your waist, squeezing and pulling you closer still. 

Once he started, it was like he couldn’t stop. 

Steve pulled away only briefly for you both to suck in a breath, his lips finding yours again until the kiss turned into the kind you’d thought about, a messy, dirty thing that had you whining into his open mouth, tugging at his hair until he let you swallow each groan. Steve’s eyes were closed when he spoke, chest heaving, words a low, rough rasp and his hands were under your dress now, fingertips skimming up the inside of your thighs until you were squirming. 

“Want it, honey? Yeah?” Steve was mouthing over your jaw, kissing at your cheek as you panted, pulling at his belt buckle until you could free his cock from his boxers. He sounded drunk, wrecked. “That’s it, good girl, c’mon, take it. S’all yours.”

Steve let his head fall back, resting on the back seat of the car, eyes hooded as he watched you. You didn’t waste any time, pulling at the button of his jeans until you had enough room to free his cock. He was already hard, leaking for you, his breath hitching when you wrapped a small hand around him and pumped once, twice. You swiped a thumb over the tip, dragged the slick back down the length of him and leaned in, intent on making Mr. Steve fucking Harrington, business man, millionare, poker winner, car collector, fall apart for you.

Your nose slid against and your bottom lip brushed his, a teasing thing that you managed to not give into, even when Steve's lips chased yours. He’d made you wait months for a kiss, he could wait another minute or two. You pumped his cock again, fisting it a little tighter, the way you’d learned that he’d liked. He was quick to pant into your mouth, lips catching yours when he titled his chin up for you.

“Tell me it’s mine,” you coaxed, voice low and sweet, just the way Steve loved to speak to you. You palmed his cock, voice sugar. “Tell me this is mine.”

Steve’s hands swept up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin, grip bordering on too tight, a possessive touch. He was breathing heavily, the windows in the car starting to steam up, condensation running tracks down the glass. “S’yours,” he slurred, drunk sounding, softer than ever. “S’your cock, honey, promise.”

You couldn’t wait any longer, rutting yourself against Steve’s thigh as you touched him, foreheads pressed together, lips catching against each other and it pulled a moan from both of you when you raised up on your knees. Dirty, wet noises filled the car as you ran the head of his cock through your folds and Steve dragged your dress up, pushing the material over your hip so he could watch you sink down onto him, taking every inch.

He helped you bounce, up and down, up and down before you started a lazy roll of your hips, grinding down against the boy until you were pulling on his hair and whining into the crook of his neck. It was all too much and Steve’s hand grabbed at the nape of your neck, hand fisting in your own hair, bordering on too tight but he brought your face back to his, eyes half lidded as he gazed at you and pleaded: “shit, honey, kiss me? Kiss me, please, fuck-- m’gonna come.”

His neediness made you groan, a pitchy, breathy noise that Steve soon swallowed, your lips melting between his as he caught you in a kiss, open mouthed and possessive, teeth and tongues as he came. His hips bucked up as you rode him harder and the boy let go of your hair to cup your jaw, his free hand falling to rub at your clit with two fingers, white hot pleasure shooting up your spine. You fell into him, letting Steve catch you and you kissed him, eyes glassy, squeezed shut, your mouth on his as you both came hard. You felt Steve’s cock twitch, spilling into you as he kissed you, chest heaving against yours and as your hips slowed, so did his kisses, softer, kinder.

“You okay?” he breathed, breath fanning over your lips, your cheeks, your gaze blurry and unfocused. “Baby, you with me?”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

You nodded, nose knocking against his but you didn’t dare pull away. You didn’t want to. And by the looks of things, Steve wasn’t ready to let you go either. His hands soothed over your hair, pushing back the stray strands that clung to your damp forehead, your warm cheeks. He was still inside of you, softening only slightly, a mix of you both spilling over your thighs. It was dirty, filthy, it was the most tender thing you’d experienced with him.

“So good,” Steve breathed, cheeks flushed, his eyes shining. He looked drunk, he looked as gone as you felt, his hands roaming over you, touching every piece of bare skin he came across, palming greedily at your hips, your thighs, your ass. He dotted a line of kisses from your neck to your cheek, nosing there until you lifted your chin for him and kissed his lips, sighing as you did. “So fuckin’ good for me, all the time, huh? My girl, fuck, you’re so pretty, so, so pretty.”

You lazed against him, soaking up his touch, his words, the insane feel of his lips over your skin, your throat, chasing your lips until you pressed into him, opening your mouth when he did, tongues brushing over each other in languid strokes. Steve kissed like he fucked, like he wanted you to feel every part, like he wanted you to remember it for days.

“Come home w’me,” he murmured into your lips, never leaving them, never stopping his kisses. Steve whispered between words, hummed happily when your hands clasped his cheeks, when your fingers trailed over the stubble on his jaw. “Come back to mine, please. We can talk ‘bout everything. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, I’ll wake up beside you. Please.”

Your heart stopped at the idea of it all. The intimacy you hadn’t been given yet. The thought of Steve talking to you about something as serious and long term as a relationship. No dropping you home after five orgasms, kissing the back of your hand as he dropped you at your apartment at three am. No running off to an airport, no flights, no meetings, no business calls to interrupt. 

“You can’t cook,” is what you said, voice muffled by his shoulder, the way your face was buried in the crook of his neck. 

Steve scoffed, laughing even though you could hear the nerves there. He nosed at your cheek until you emerged, a hand wrapping gently around your neck, thumb pushed to the underside of your chin so you’d meet his gaze and the sincerity there took your breath away. You were still on his lap, his softening cock still inside of you but neither of you made the move to unravel from the other.

“I mean it,” he whispered and in the quiet of the night it was like you could hear his heartbeat. A thumpthumpthump that rattled the air between you, but fuck, maybe that was your own. “Come home with me, honey. I wanna-- I wanna make this right.”

-------

The next morning, Steve woke you up with his lips on your cheek, a soft, cautious thing that you leaned into even half asleep. Your bare chest pressed to his, your legs stretching out alongside the boy’s. You turned, arms needling around Steve’s neck so you could find his lips with yours, mouths searching, needy, suddenly desperate even with half closed eyes. 

“Morning,” you murmured.

“Mornin’, honey,” Steve whispered back and you couldn’t see with your closed eyes but the boy was smiling, soft and proud and fond. 

You were right, the night before, in the car. Steve didn’t cook. So after a shared shower where you let Steve hook your leg over his shoulder and kiss at your cunt until you came on his tongue - his eyes on your the entire time, his nose squished all pretty against your pussy as he came in his own fist, the waterfall shower raining down on you both - Steve took you out for breakfast.

Dressed in a pair of his running shorts that you had to roll up and one of his hoodies that had a tiny Yves Saint Laurent logo on the chest, you were relieved to find a pair of sneakers in your trunk. You’d mumbled that you’d looked ridiculous, but Steve had just used your embarrassment to kiss you again, hands on your cheeks and pulling you to him in the driveway. 

He got to take his car instead of yours, only because you got to choose where to eat. 

So Steve Harrington drove you both from his three story townhouse in his shiny BMW to a Mom and Pop’s just out of town. He held your hand across the parking lot, held the door open for you and plucked at his sweater collar to pull you in for a kiss over the table, red leather seats sticking to his expensive jeans. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t complain, didn’t mutter about missing out on eggs benedict and caviar at the clubhouse because here, he got to kiss you all he wanted.

And it was worth it, to watch the way you softened for him, feet against his under the table, sharing a strawberry milkshake that didn’t really go with the hashbrowns and bacon you’d ordered. It was worth it, to leave his pager at home, to ignore the incessant beeping, emails pinging in his office about flights, meetings, business deals, money, shares, stocks. 

Steve was realising it was all worth it, to have you. 

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life 

Three Years Later.

The sway of the boat made you feel weightless. A miracle really, considering how heavy you actually felt. The italian sun warmed your skin, mostly bare from your bikini, straps slipping down your shoulders as you lay flat on a lounger, sunglasses covering your eyes from the harsh blue skies above.

The water was the same colour, the gentle lap of the ocean on the sides making you sleepy. The bustle of the city was barely heard, Monaco in the distance as the yacht bobbed just outside of the harbour. Despite its size, The Smart Girl hardly had anyone on board. You were on the deck, catching the last of the day’s sun, with a few staff members milling around. And Steve? Steve was in one of the rooms he’d made into his office from home, a big oak desk taking up most of the space and he’d sit for hours taking calls, pouting at you from the open door as he tried to coax you in to sit on his lap. You’d always refuse, stretching out on your lounger, bikini top riding up, giving him a show until he could string enough words together to make an excuse to whatever big shot millionaire was on the other end of the line.

“There’s my baby.”

The lounger dipped as Steve pushed a knee to the cushion, crowding over you, leaning in to greet you with a kiss, tasting like aperol and oranges. You hummed into him, salt on both of your lips from the sun, the sea. Steve kissed your cheek too, moving down to nuzzle at your neck as his hand skimmed over your belly, the slight swell of it making your red bikini bottoms stretch out.

“And my other baby,” Steve cooed cupping your growing tummy. 

“You said an hour, tops,” you complained but there wasn’t any heat behind it. It was hard to be annoyed about Steve leaving you to your own devices when the Mediterranean sea was rocking you to sleep. “No more business, right?”

Steve smirked at your bossiness, nodding as he leaned back down to ghost some kisses along your shoulder, he nipped at your jaw and hummed. “No more business, honey. M’all yours.”

The trip was supposed to be a babymoon of sorts, even though you were only a few months into your pregnancy and you were sure Steve would whisk you off somewhere else warm and sunny as the months passed. But he’d promised no business, no meetings and when the chance to join a conference call with the owner of the city's most prestigious club arose, Steve caved. 

“I’ll buy you somethin’ pretty to make up for it,” he’d told you and you’d tried to act huffy but after three years together, the man saw right through you. 

“How’d the call go?” You asked him, eyeing him greedily as he popped some buttons on his shirt, the white linen falling open to show off sunkissed skin, the gold chain around his neck. 

Steve slipped his sunglasses from his pocket onto his nose, made sure to wink at you over the frame of them so you knew he saw your appreciative gaze. He stretched out next to you, one of the staff members appearing - Paul - with a tray of lemon water and glasses as he got comfy. “It went well,” he smiled his thanks to Paul and gave you a class, coaxing you to drink up. “We scheduled another call for when we’re back home to iron out some details. I told him my pretty wife would have me thrown overboard if I took any longer.”

Steve grinned when you frowned. “I wouldn’t do that,” you mumbled. “I’d just yell at you for a bit.”

Steve leaned in, still smiling, nosing along your jawline as his hand plucked at the flimsy strap of your bikini. “You know that would just get me all hot, right?”

You rolled your eyes and tried to hide your smile in his neck, tipping it back to let Steve kiss the skin there. He still smelled like he did when you first met him, the same expensive cologne, sunscreen and the Italian countryside. “You make me sound so bossy,” you murmured, meeting him for a kiss. 

“You are,” Steve whispered, his hand back on your tummy, his thumb running over the bump in soft circles. “M’whipped, remember?” He held up his other hand, the band on his ring finger glinting in the sun. 

“You complained when Eddie said it,” you teased. 

“That’s ‘cause Eddie’s a dick,” Steve shot back but it was light hearted. “Speaking of, I promised him we’d meet him for dinner when we got back. I know it’s not your favourite but—”

“The clubhouse?” You groaned, pouting. “Really?”

“He loves the steak tartare there, honey, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I was fired from there—” you reminded him, voice surly. 

“You’re a member there,” Steve quipped back. He kissed your palm, over your knuckles, lips grazing the diamond on your finger. 

“—after my boss caught you going down on me in the ladies changing rooms,” you continued, cheeks still hot at the memory even if it was years ago. You’d never forget the expression on Frederick’s face. “I can’t look that man in the eye, never mind order dinner from him.”

“Fun times,” Steve smirked. “Don’t you love being able to click your fingers at the man who made your life hell? Order the most expensive champagne with all your money?”

You whined, a fake complaint as Steve manhandled you into his lap, letting you lie between his legs, your back resting his chest. He was warm from the sun, strong, solid. “I don’t click my fingers at anyone, Harrington. It’s rude. And it’s not my money, I’m unemployed. I’m basically a leech,” you pouted up at him, all faux dramatics. 

Steve snorted at your words before leaning down, skimming his lips over your hairline, his hands, wide and warm, cupping the swell of your tummy. “You’re not unemployed, you’re on maternity leave. And studying. No woman of mine is working while she’s growing our baby,” he kissed your nose when you tilted your chin up to him, smiling. “And what’s mine is yours, Harrington,” he shot back. 

“Your woman?” You raised your brows at his words. 

“My favourite one,” Steve whispered. He was still all charm, even after the years had passed. His voice grew softer then, fingers trailing up your ribs. “Can’t wait to take you home - both of you - get settled, build a crib, paint a nursery.”

“You’re not building a crib,” you laughed, eyes shining. It was easy, it was wonderful, being this is love. This happy. “Have you even held a hammer before, Steve?”

He responded by nipping at your neck, enticing a squeal from you, a choked laugh. “You’re incredibly rude, Mrs Harrington, I’ll let you know I have, actually.”

You turned in his arms, kneeling between his thighs and you watched as his eyes darkened, gaze trailing over the way your breasts pushed out, the way your thighs pressed themselves together. “That’s not important,” he answered tartly and he grinned when you snorted. 

The new house back in Indiana was modest, by Steve’s standards. But he’d let you choose, a family home that was built in the 1800’s with big, bay windows, original cornicing and a fireplace in each bedroom. A perfect family home, with more rooms in it than you could’ve ever imagined having.

It had been easier than you’d thought, to get here. With Steve Harrington, married and with a baby on the way. Not that you’d expected it, not back then. But weeks turned into months and months turned into years, your first anniversary sailing by without much issue. There were arguments, forlorn phone calls when Steve left for business and you had to work, shouting matches when the boy came home and tried to get you to quit work altogether, ‘cause you didn’t need a wage when you had him, right?

But he was quick to compromise, when it came to you. Kissing away your upset, swapping expensive gifts for genuine apologies, your favourite flowers that came by the handful instead of the boxes of hundred dollar bouquets made by someone else. Was he smug about it when the job at The Lake House came to an end? Sure. Too smug, maybe, considering he gave a half assed apology to Frederick with your lipstick trailed across his cheek and jaw. But he supported you - celebrated you - when you got a new position in a paralegal’s office, picking back up your textbooks that you once had to abandon. 

There was a big bed to share now, a wardrobe that held both your clothes, suits and silk dresses, your old sweaters, Steve’s knitwear that was practically all yours. Your toothbrush next to his, your vinyls next to his record player, a stocked fridge with all the ingredients for his favourite meals, ready for you to reach him how to cook. There was sex, holidays, hotels, more sex, nights on the sofa with blankets and movies, a diamond, Steve in the driver's seat in the parking lot of that Mom ‘n’ Pops diner, the ring clutched between his shaky fingers as he told you how much he loved you. A pregnancy test, staring back at you both from the bathroom vanity, a year after the wedding in Cannes, the honeymoon in the Maldives. 

Unplanned, yes? Unexpected, definitely. Did it make you both overwhelmingly excited? More than you could express. 

Steve took your chin in his hand, pulling you in, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip, his eyes growing softer when you kissed at it. “Are you happy?” he whispered.

“With you?” you answered, smiling. “Always.

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