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flowerandblood · 3 months

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Appearances (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x little sister • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, obsession, mention of arranged engagements ]

[ description: All Aemond cares about is the recognition and attention of his younger sister, but she seems to ignore him and shun him, driving him to an ever-increasing state of withdrawal and dark, grim agony. Something inside him snaps when his grandsire announces that it is time to marry her off. Sexual tension, understatements due to lack of communication, obsession. ]

This oneshot has its sequels: Experience, but can be read as a stand-alone story.

My other works: Masterlist

_____

It seemed to him, though because of this his throat squeezed in pain and rage, that his little sister was simply afraid of him. He couldn't explain her behaviour otherwise – the way she quickly looked away, meekly lowering her eyelids adorned with her long, dark lashes, playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture as she met his gaze.

She was the only one who didn't have their pearly white hair, the only one who didn't have the eye colour due to the gods.

Even when she witnessed his duels with Criston Cole, when she could see how much he had changed, how skilful he was in wielding his sword, defeating him again and again, she did not congratulate him – she turned and left the square, no longer bestowing even a single glance on him.

Confronted again with her wordless rejection, he thought in the back of his head that she was disgustingly ordinary with her dark hair and eyes inherited from their mother, that she could be the daughter of some commoner walking up to his knees in the mud feeding his pigs.

However, his great annoyance usually lasted only a moment, after which he went back to his state of despair.

He didn't follow her, wanting to spare himself this humiliation and discomfort, feeling his heart twitching in rage, in shame that he so desperately desired her attention, a few words of recognition, one warm look.

He saw her one morning through the window speaking to her servant, gesturing vigorously and laughing pearly, joyful; he thought with regret that she was consorting with people who might take advantage of her, who cared only about her position.

That if she were his he would protect her from them.

She would be safe.

She was so careless, innocent, wise and naïve at the same time, looking at him with those big dark eyes of hers when someone in her presence annoyed him, begging him with her gaze not to explode.

His tongue was like a blade, cutting anyone who approached him – she knew this and was afraid to open her mouth in front of him, imagining for sure how cruel his reaction would be.

He didn't know how to explain to her that he would never hurt her, his sweetest little sister, his greatest joy.

He watched from the distance like a cool, sinister shadow as her fingers intertwined with Helaena's, stretched out side by side on their armrests during supper, observed her leaning towards her with a sweet smile, whispering something tenderly, from which their older sister giggled quietly – there was something mythological in these scenes, making a shiver run down his spine.

He knew that they sometimes met in her chamber and even slept together, confiding in each other about their feminine affairs that were beyond his comprehension, however, he couldn't stop the feeling of burning jealousy that filled his chest when he thought of how he wished it was him she visited at night.

He thought then of how tender he would be towards her, how his arms would enclose her warm, delicate body in his tight, firm embrace, protecting her from anything that might frighten her.

He imagined how wonderful she would smell, her oils teasing his nostrils constantly, sweet and intense – looking at her figure seated next to him he felt the need to bite into her flesh like a ripe fruit.

He thought she would taste like a peach.

When at last they had finished their conversation and her beautiful, soft hand reached for her cup her gaze finally met his – her plump, glistening lips parted slightly, as if the intensity of his gaze frightened her, her breasts quivered in quick, shuddering breaths.

He felt what he saw in his breeches, his length all swollen, demanding her closeness.

Wanting to keep her attention on him he lifted the platter with her favourite dish, sweet cinnamon pie filled inside with apples; he saw that she blinked quickly, her cheeks flushed at the realisation that he knew she favoured them.

He watched her swallow with difficulty, her trembling hand set her goblet aside – his manhood throbbed hard when their fingers brushed in the air as she took the silver platter from him. She lowered her gaze, embarrassed, her sweet, plump lips parted to whisper a quiet, barely audible thank you.

He leaned back again, looking at the pleasing profile of her face, her long eyelashes gleaming under the warm candlelight, a drop of sweat on her skin shimmering like a small diamond ran down her neck.

Gods, how he craved her.

He wanted to touch her, stroke her shamelessly exposed back with his large hand, rough from holding the hilt of his sword, and dig his fingertips into her warm, smooth skin, with a subconscious gesture proving to whom she belonged, that she had been his right, his delight and his duty since she was born.

Why didn't she realize this?

He watched with a squeezed throat as she took a piece of pie into her mouth, the involuntary lick of her tongue with which she brushed her lower lip focused all his attention.

The thought that this fleshy lips could in the same way clench around his painfully swollen cock, suck it and squeeze it, barely able to fit it in with her sweet cry of effort.

He grunted, looking away, feeling his length twitching and pushing against the tight material of his breeches.

She didn't look at him again that evening, absorbed in a discussion with their mother and grandfather as he drank Dornish wine, staring dully ahead, its tart aftertaste melting on his tongue.

"I spoke to your mother about the importance of slowly deciding on a suitable candidate for your husband, my love." Began their grandsire with his eyebrow raised in satisfaction, directing his words to his younger sister, who froze in mid-motion – he saw that her hands, in an involuntary reflex of terror, clamped down on the material of her gown.

She remained silent.

"She's still too young, for god's sake." He hissed out feeling rage like a burning fire pulsing through his veins. He grew hot and took another quick, deep sip from his cup, an uncomfortable silence fell around him.

Otto grunted, turning with a creak of wood in his seat, his fingers stretched out and clenched into a fist on the table top in front of him, apparently wondering why such a sudden and aggressive reaction on his part.

"I understand that as an older brother you feel responsible for her safety, however, she is now of the right age and has begun to bleed, and that's why…"

"Father." Muttered their mother, looking at him pleadingly, clearly not wanting him to bring up such intimate and sensitive topics at the table, moreover in the presence of other men.

He saw out of the corner of his eye how his sister dropped her gaze, her dark eyes shining from the tears of shame that had gathered under her lids, her brows arched in pain.

If she had only asked him to marry her he would have done so at once, freed her from this laughable obligation that her marriage to some mere lord would be.

He felt his jaw clench at the thought that no one would ever love her as devotedly, dearly, warmly as he, her blood, her protector, her brother.

"In the coming months, we would like you to meet a few candidates we consider worthy of your hand." Concluded their grandfather, taking a deep sip of wine from his goblet; he felt rage filling his chest when he saw that his sister merely nodded her head, accepting her fate without a word of protest, looking down at her plate.

He got up from the table, bitter and furious, leaving the hall without a word, unable to look at her, once again letting his anger take over him, accusing her in his mind.

Her lack of reaction, her lack of opposition, when it was so obvious that her husband could only be him, him, him.

He walked into his chamber, undoing the buckles of his tunic, throwing it angrily to the ground, remaining in only his chemise and breeches. Although he did not usually do so, he reached for the wine jug and poured himself a full cup, grabbing it and sitting down with it in the chair by the fire, tilting his head back, letting out loud sigh.

He shuddered when he heard a quiet, tentative knock on his door – he ran his hand over his face, guessing it was his Queen, as usual wanting to be his voice of reason, to come to him with her stoic calm, explaining to him why he had to accept the responsibilities that faced their family, including those standing before his sister.

He didn't feel like having this discussion, however, he acknowledged with reluctance that he couldn't dismiss his own mother.

"Come in." He said coolly, staring into the flames.

He heard the creak of the door opening and closing a moment later – he glanced involuntarily over his shoulder and froze, feeling his heart stop in his throat at the sight of her, beautiful, teary-eyed, her face all flushed red with pain, her fleshy, plump lips parted in a hastened breath, her brow arched in pain.

"Lēkia (big brother)." She mumbled out with difficulty, choking on her own tears – he stood up at her words looking at her with eye wide open in shock, driven by some sudden emotion, moved that she had come to him as he had always imagined she would, vulnerable and desperate, seeking refuge and a reassurance in his arms.

"Come closer, hāedar (little sister). Come." He whispered softly, extending his hand to her in a gesture of encouragement; she moved tentatively towards him, looking up at him with her wonderfully dark, large eyes, tear drops glittering on her lashes like little stars.

He parted his lips and swallowed loudly when her smooth, warm hand touched his, thought with tenderness that compared to his she was so small, so fragile.

When he dared to lift his other hand to her cheek she twitched, wrinkling her eyebrows, breathing loudly, distrustful like a maiden who was afraid of a stranger's touch, simultaneously craving his closeness and fearing it.

He breathed quietly as she let his fingers touch and run over the wonderfully soft, firm skin of her pink cheek, her eyelids closed for a moment, a quiet, sweet sigh leaving her lips.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked in a calm, low, trembling voice, ashamed of how scared he was of her answer, of her rejection.

She looked at him surprised – her lips parted in astonishment as if she didn't know what to reply to his words, her quivering fingers touched his hand stroking her cheek.

"I fear your harsh judgment, brother. It seems to me that my person often arouses your frustration and impatience." She muttered in shame, lowering her gaze; he felt a squeeze in his throat at her words, not believing what he heard, what she confessed to him.

I am afraid of your harsh judgment, brother.

It seems to me that my person often arouses your frustration and impatience.

How could she think so? Was his eternal desire, his suffering so expressed in his gaze, his facial expressions, his gestures?

Did she perceive his rage at the lack of her closeness as his constant displeasure at the sight of her?

He was horrified by how deep the misunderstanding reached – he didn't know what he should do to fix it now, to reverse it, he ran out of words that could describe what he felt.

How glad he was that she was standing before him now, that she trusted him, that he had adored her from the moment she came into the world, cherished her with a love that was warm, tender and devoted, that he believed she had been born to be his, his sweet joy, his beautiful little sister.

He swallowed loudly, parting her plump, fleshy lips with his thumb, looking at her in emotion, feeling a painful tightness in his throat.

"My sweet sister, where did these words come from? How could I feel anything but adoration towards you?" He asked softly, feeling her whole body quiver at his words – her mouth parted involuntarily, letting his thumb go deeper, between her puffy, sticky lips.

Something changed in her gaze, dreamy and warm, from which he felt heat in his chest and lower abdomen, her fingertips digging into the skin of his palm.

"Ivestragī umbagon issa (let me stay)." She whispered in a trembling, uncertain voice, and he felt his breath caught in his throat, his manhood throbbed aggressively in his breeches at the thought that she wanted to stay in his bed, in his embrace.

His surprised silence made her lower her gaze, ashamed, apparently panicking at the thought of what she had suggested, of how indecent it was, surely thinking that he would now despise her.

"Very well." He muttered quickly, not wanting her to leave his side.

She lifted her hopeful gaze to him and nodded, swallowing loudly, her cheeks pink with emotion. He rubbed his thumb over her wet skin and leaned over her placing a tender, lingering kiss on her forehead, her wonderful scent filling his lungs again.

He took her small hand in his, guiding her towards his bed, sitting down on it with his face towards her, letting her stand over him and decide what would happen next, looking at her pleasant, girlish figure.

It seemed to him that she had no idea what they were doing, whether it was right – he could see thoughts and doubts running across her face, fears of what would happen if their mother found out.

"Come. Do not fret. Your big brother would never hurt you." He whispered in a voice trembling with emotion – he was hot, his heart pounding like mad in his chest, he felt butterflies in his stomach, a sweet delight of satisfaction spread through his body.

His words emboldened her; she stepped closer to him, standing between his thighs, breathing loudly. He sighed and closed his eyes as she took his face in her soft hands, stroking it for a moment with gentle, slow movements that made his throat dry up; he felt with horror that his cock was completely hard, all swollen and throbbing.

In a gesture of desperation he snuggled into her abdomen, clasping his large hands on her back – he heard her surprised gasp, her hands froze upwards for a moment before they began in a soft, calm motion to stroke his head as if he were a small child.

He closed his eyes, snuggling into her body, the material of her gown pleasantly delicate and soft; he could feel her flesh throbbing from beneath it, her womb that could swell with his inheritance, his dragon seed that could root deep inside her if only she noticed his devotion and love, if only she understood that they had always been destined for each other.

He clenched his fingers tighter on the material of her gown when he felt her lean in, enclosing him in her embrace – his face was locked between her shoulders, her womb and her breasts, enveloping him in her warmth, her hands running down his back with such tenderness and gentleness that he closed his eyes, wanting to focus only on that feeling.

"I am terrified, lēkia." She whispered softly, her breasts trembling in a broken breath – he moved away to look at her, his hand cupped her soft, warm cheek.

"Marry me, issa dōna rūklon (my sweet flower). Marry me and I will protect you. I will caress you, adore you, hold you in my arms, I will give you everything." He said in a quivering, low voice, placing the emphasis on the last word, so final, direct, betraying how desperate he was.

She looked at him for a moment, shocked, her lips twitching in disbelief, in terror and something else that shone in her dark eyes, but which he did not comprehend.

"You don't have to do this. Sacrifice yourself for me." She mumbled with a blush of shame, as if she thought his suggestion stemmed from his logic and tactics, from helping her not to leave her home, rather than from his feelings.

"How much longer do you want to torment me? Shall I fall on my knees before you and beg?" He asked resentfully, pain emerging from his throat with every word he spoke – her eyebrows arched in disbelief, her breasts began to rise and fall rapidly in accelerated, ragged breathing.

Her face expressed that only now did she realise what he meant.

"Marry me, brother. Marry me and never leave me again." She whispered so quietly that he barely heard her – they looked at each other with wide eyes, not believing what had just left their mouths, flushes of shame and doubt burning their cheeks.

He shuddered and drew in a loud breath as she placed her hands on his shoulders and climbed tentatively into his lap, startling him completely – he felt a jolt of heat, his cock so hard that he felt like it was about to explode.

All he felt was a squeeze in his throat and the heavy pounding of his heart when her soft fingers gently grasped his hand, her face blushing with embarrassment, a sigh full of arousal escaped her lips as she pulled her gown up, slipping it slowly between her legs.

They both opened their mouths wide and gasped loudly, surprised apparently at how intimate and shameless this sensation was – he thought in disbelief that she was leaking with desire, her hot opening pulsating restlessly under his fingers, her hand pressing them harder against her quivering flesh, eager to feel him deeper.

"− please − please −" She whimpered, breathing loudly, looking at him pleadingly with her dark eyes full of tears. He stared at her in shock wondering if it was possible that he had made a mistake, that he had misjudged the situation, that contrary to what he thought, she was reciprocating his affection.

His lack of hesitation, his fingertips that dug into her fleshy, hot womanhood surprised her so much that she squealed and hopped up on his lap – he put his free arm around her and held her in place, not letting her escape.

"− easy, little dove − shhhh −" He hushed her, his two fingers sinking into her plump muscles, collecting her moisture that leaked from her thirsty, throbbing core. He stared at her, seeing the expression on her face indicating that this experience had shocked her, sweet, soft moans erupted from her puffy, glistening lips, her hips involuntarily began to move to the rhythm of his hand.

"− that's it − let me take care of you − brothers know what is good for their sisters, don't they? −" He hummed low as if he were speaking to a small child and she only nodded, clearly having trouble concentrating. He sighed in pleasure as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her moist, sweet lips pressed against his in a sticky, loud kiss.

He murmured into her mouth with delight, thinking with awe that indeed her skin felt like the flesh of a fruit, wet and sticky to the touch, his fingertips teasing her bud hidden between her folds. He could feel her bouncing in his lap and trembling all over, quivering in his arms as his fingers roamed around that spot, their breaths raspy and loud, full of desire.

"− y-yes − right here, lēkia − mghmm −" She babbled in between their messy, saliva-wet kisses – he dared to slip his tongue between her plump lips answered by her sweet purr of pleasure, his hand all soaked with her juices, his long, slender fingers digging into her skin in circular, sure strokes.

"− just like that − soaking wet for me − issa dōna hāedar (my sweet little sister) −" He cooed in delight, feeling his swollen length pushing impatiently against his breeches, thinking only of how wonderful it would be to feel her, to watch his fat cock open her wide, her tight folds glistening from her moisture.

"− mhm −" She hummed between passionate, deep, ferocious kisses, a combination of their lips, teeth and tongues licking against each other.

She tilted her head back and moaned loudly as his fingers slowly made their way inside her, exploring her throbbing, swollen core – his thumb rubbed her her pearl, his fingertips searched intensely for the spot he'd read so much about in books, and when he found it her walls began to clench around him in convulsions, a pathetic whimper escaping her lips.

"− o-oh gods, brother, yes, please, please, please −" She mewled desperately, clasping her hands in his long hair, rising and falling on his fingers with a loud click of her moisture – he grasped the nape of her neck with his free hand and pulled her close, forcing her lips, swollen from his caresses, to join his in sticky, hot kiss.

"− come on, little one − I can feel you are close − thaaat's it, there we go −" He gasped out into her throat when a powerful shudder ran through her body, her moans of delight erupting from her mouth again and again as her hot muscles began to clench greedily around his fingers, sucking him inside, his hand all sticky with her fulfilment.

He was panting loudly along with her, cuddling her quivering body, thinking of how wonderfully warm and fleshy her insides were, how perfectly she would squeeze his cock once he could possess her whole, his sweet wife, filling her to the brim with his seed every night.

He intended to perform his marital duty with passionate devotion.

"− such a good girl − you did so well for me, dōna hāedar −" He praised her, wanting to reassure and soothe her, stroking her soft hair, pressing her face to the hollow of his neck, his hand between her thighs cupped over her pulsing, moist womanhood.

The smell of her wetness, of her flesh, of her sex filled his entire lungs, so lewd, ungodly and wonderfully carnal – his mouth placed involuntarily little butterfly kisses on her beautiful face, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted in delight and disbelief, her hands clenched on the material of his chemise.

He grasped her fingers in his and lifted them to his lips, kissing them with tenderness and reverence as his other hand stroked unashamedly her plump bare buttock hidden beneath the material of her gown.

"Now it's my turn."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

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freedomfireflies · 8 months

Note

pussy plug pt. 2 today?? 👀

Harry is angry with you.

Even without the explicit words, you can tell by the shift in his expression that you’ve displeased him. That he’s refraining from dragging you out of this restaurant and into the hallway so he can have a word.

You don't mean to, really. But what does he expect after edging you for hours and then plugging you full of his cum? Forcing you to sit through this prolonged evening with nothing more than some tantalizing memories and promises of release to hold you over?

“Bee,” comes the low warning, discreetly whispered into your ear as you both await the arrival of your parents. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

“Can’t help it,” you pant quietly, hand on his thigh as you squeeze for dear life. “You keep turning it up—”

“And I also keep telling you to hold it,” he hisses, scooting closer as if to hide you from the rest of the restaurant. “Are you gonna disobey me, baby girl? Are you gonna make me put you over my knee in front of everybody in this goddamn room?”

You squirm a bit harder in your seat, lashes fluttering quickly as you wrestle against your orgasm. “Har, please—”

“No.” His rejection is resolute, his voice thick with disappointment. “You are not to cum until I say so.”

You suck in a sharp gasp as a wave of pleasure explodes between your thighs, the tip of the plug lightly grazing the bottom of your chair. “H, I can’t…I can’t hold it, I’m sorry—”

“You will,” he reminds you, fingers curling around the edge of your seat as if to warn you. “You fucking will, Bee, or I’ll spank you right here in front of your parents. Is that what you want? Want your dad to see you get punished by your daddy?”

You’d slap him if this were any other time, but right now, you devote your energy to keeping the orgasm at bay. Nearly sweating from the strain. “Harry—”

“No,” he repeats, a bit icier than before as his eyes flick toward something just behind you. “Promised you’d be my good girl. So I want you to be good and fucking take it. Yeah? Fucking take it.”

With that, he’s standing from his chair, a wide smile on his face as you wilt by the table.

“Maggie, Richard, so nice to see you,” he calls loudly, arm outstretching to welcome your parents closer, and that’s when it hits you.

Because suddenly, the vibrations from the plug are abruptly changing in rhythm, and it’s exactly what you’d needed to tip you over. You try to fight it, you really do, but it washes over you like a fucking wave until you’re choking on a gasp and shivering in your seat.

Nobody else seems to notice, with Harry quickly stepping in front of your body to block you from any prying eyes.

But you’re humiliated, nonetheless, and it’s all you can do to keep from whimpering right then and there.

After a bit of small talk, your parents sweep around the table to take their place on the other side. Exchanging their greetings with you as you finally begin to find your footing again.

“Oh, honey, are you getting sick?” your mother coos, hand on her cheek in worry. “You look a little warm.”

“I’m…no, I’m all right,” you manage to stammer, ignoring Harry’s smug smile from beside you. “It’s just hot in here. How was your drive?”

“Absolutely dreadful,” she sighs. “The traffic was a nightmare, we didn’t move for at least an hour, I mean…I don’t know how you two put up with it every day.”

And thus begins the lively reenactment of their journey, with your father nodding along dutifully while you and Harry attempt to listen.

And you’re happy for the distraction because at least it means you’re offered a moment of reprieve. Even though you know Harry is currently stewing from beside you. Unable to reprimand you the way he’s so apt to do.

However, your momentary escape from his wrath is brought to a sudden halt when your parents declare they’d like to wash up. Standing from the table and disappearing toward the bathroom, thus leaving the two of you to…chat.

“Well, well, well,” is the first thing he murmurs once you’re alone. “Obeyed me for all of…what? Twenty seconds?”

Swallowing thickly, you glance over. “It’s not my fault. You kept turning it up—”

“Because you kept cumming without my permission,” he retorts, nodding his chin toward your thighs. “And after I was kind enough to keep you nice and full.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you lean a bit closer and whisper, “I’m sorry, okay? I really tried. Really, really. But it just…it was too much. I won’t do it again, I swear—”

“Oh, you will,” he interrupts again, forcing you to blink at him. “No, yeah. If you wanna act like a brat and cum whenever you feel like it, then I’ll let you cum. Let you cum as many fucking times as you want.”

The switch in tactics nearly makes your head spin, and you look over his expression curiously. “Okay…?”

“In fact, I’d like you to cum at least two more times while we’re at this table,” he tells you, and instantly, your heart drops. “Think you can do that, baby girl?”

“Har…Harry, you aren’t…you can’t be serious—”

“I think you can,” he decides for you, ignoring your outrage. “And I think you will. Think you’ll cum as many times as I’d like. Won’t you?”

And you want to respond – want to scream at him for this sadistic little game – but your parents are sliding back up before you get the chance. Forcing you to do nothing but gawk at him.

Pleased, he leans back over, and hums, “Starting right fucking now.”

With that, he hits a button on his phone, and brings the vibrating pussy plug back to life. Instantly shoving you up that peak of pleasure as your poor, overstimulated cunt is toyed with yet again.

You cough to hide a gasp, and you’re lucky that your parents are otherwise distracted by their menus to notice.

But Harry notices.

He always notices.

As the evening progresses, you attempt to keep your thighs pressed tightly together. Attempt to avoid any extra stimulation or accidental grazing to the plug. But Harry is on a mission, and his insistence on making you orgasm is relentless.

“Bee,” he warns quietly as your parents begin to relay their order to the waiter, “none of that. I want you to keep your legs spread, yeah? So I can have a feel. Make sure you’re doing what I asked.”

You bite back a glare – while also biting at your lip – and bring your eyes to his. “Har…I can’t, really. Please…please—”

“Shh,” he whispers, scooting closer to press a seemingly harmless kiss to your cheek. “Yes you can. And I don’t want any complaining. You asked for this, didn’t you? By disobeying? You asked to be punished.”

“No,” you argue quietly, head shaking. “No, I promise. I tried. I really tried—”

“I know,” he finally concedes with a sympathetic coo, running his hand over your back soothingly. “I know, baby girl, but you didn’t try hard enough. I know you can do better, yeah? So I’m gonna make you do better. And this is how I do that.”

Whimpering softly, you plead with him through a frown, desperately needing his mercy more than ever.

However, he doesn’t seem to notice, his hand merely moving down to your lap as his fingers curl around your thigh firmly. “What did I say, hm? Want them open, Bee.”

You force your expression to remain stoic and unbothered as Harry’s hand continues to tug your leg closer to him. Creating the perfect space for access while he shoots a grin toward your parents from across the table. And keeping his little game a secret.

Leaning into his shoulder, you turn your face and try again. “Harry, please—”

However, his hand simply squeezes the top of your thigh from beneath your dress, and you choke on a whine as you pretend not to notice. “All you had to do was behave, baby girl. All you had to do was sit here, nice and full of my cum, until I could take care of it for you. So I could take that pretty little plug out and have a taste of us.”

Your lashes flutter, and it’s getting harder to pretend as though the two of you are engaging in nothing more than innocent conversation.

“But you just had to cum. Just had to disobey me. And now…” His thumb suddenly finds the tip of the plug and he grazes it softly before shooting you a smirk. “…I’m gonna make you sit here at this table. All goddamn night while cum as many times as I see fit.”

Reeling, you shoot him a piteous look for leniency, to which he merely grins.

“And you?” He presses his finger against the toy – hard. “You’re you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Previous Part:

~ Harry and Bee Use A Pussy Plug*

- Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @lexiecamposva @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @harrysxcarolina @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream @finelinesss

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drudyslut · 5 days

Note

rafe x jealous!reader inspired by lana del rey „jealous girl“ (unreleased song sadly)🎀

„if i can’t have you baby, no one else in this world can.“

where he broke up with her because of her obsessive & jealous behavior a few weeks ago. (let’s pretend he’s not a killer haha) she sees him with another girl at a kook party & explodes with emotions. she beats up the girl & punches rafe & screams her lungs out that he belongs to her and no one else & that no one can have him if she can’t. topper and kelce literally have to drag her away from the poor beat up girl.

which literally leads to her breaking into tannyhill & threaten him with a gun. i’m thinking about no happy end because she ends up killing him and herself. but that’s up to you. or you can just erase the no happy end!

hope it’s not too gory, if it is it’s okay! maybe you could recommend someone who writes this kind of „gore“😩

BRO I LOVE THIS!!!! OMFG!!!!! she is me fr, bc who tf does Rafe think he is ???? leaving me??? NAH bby.

CW: violence, strong language, jealous!reader, toxic!reader, alcohol consumption, mention of a gun, breaking and entering, toxic relationship, mentions of blood. i think that’s it?

I didn’t understand why he’d left me. I mean, sure, I could be unpredictable and a little overly jealous. But he was mine. Any woman in my position would be the same way, right?

Maybe I took it too far sometimes. Maybe that was my problem. No, fuck that. If you’re not obsessed with the man or woman you’re with, then what’s the point, right? I was obsessed with him. I still am. So seeing him here with her has my blood boiling.

“Don’t do it.” My best friend, Kayla, says firmly.

I narrow my eyes on her, biting at the rim of my solo cup. “Don’t do what?” I ask, feigning innocence.

Kayla sighs, tossing back the rest of her drink before setting the cup onto the countertop. I place my eyes back on Rafe. He stands at the other side of the room, his right arm draped around the bitches shoulder as he laughs at whatever bullshit Topper was saying. He’s not that fucking funny.

I feel Kayla’s hand on my shoulder before she’s spinning me around to face her. Her amber eyes are narrowed in on my face. “I see the way you’re looking over there. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, squash it. It’s not fucking worth it, Y/N.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. It is fucking worth it. Rafe Cameron is mine, and it’s about time I remind him of that.

“Kayla, haven’t you ever loved someone so much, that you become overly obsessed with them? That you would do whatever the fuck it took to prove that they belonged to you? Because that’s what I feel for Rafe. I’m never going to win him back with her in the way.”

She sighs for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “Look, I get it. But you’re not going to win him back by doing something stupid. If you go over there, you might as well kiss him goodbye forever.”

She’s right. But I’ll never tell her that. Instead, I down the rest of my drink, tossing the cup into the trash bag that sits behind me and say, “I don’t give a fuck. She’s touching what’s mine. And that’s just unacceptable.”

I yank myself from her grip, turning and making my way toward Rafe and Jade.

Rafe’s eyes go wide when he sees me approaching, and I can’t help the smile that spreads on my lips.

“Hi baby, you miss me?” I ask him, batting my lashes while smiling widely.

“What’re you doing, Y/N? We’re not together anymore.”

I frown. “Baby, come on. You know you didn’t mean that shit. So why the fuck are you saying stupid shit? And why the fuck are you draped all over this bitch?” I ask, pointing toward the bleach blonde that’s tucked underneath his right arm.

A smile forms on Jade’s face, making my blood boil and my hands fist down by my sides.

“Oh Y/N.. You poor thing. Rafe told me you were fucking craz-”

My fist connecting with her nose cuts her words off. She falls to the ground, blood pouring from her nose as she holds it, glaring up at me.

“You bitch!” She shouts, and I just laugh. I jump onto her weak body, throwing punch after punch to her once perfect face. My knuckles are split from her teeth, my voice hoarse from screaming as I continuously hit the poor girl.

I feel two sets of strong arms ripping me up off her, my feet instinctively kick forward, getting her in the face one more good time before I’m physically dragged out of the house.

“Yo! Calm the fuck down, Y/N! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My body is buzzing, adrenaline pumping through my veins has me seeing fucking stars right now. I look up, my eyes focusing on a mortified Topper and Kelce. I smile at them coldly.

“You guys are no fun” I pout. “I was winning back there ya know?”

Topper scoffs, his eyes wide. “You fucking broke her nose Y/N! You fucked her face up, Rafe’s gonna have to take her to the hospital… What’re you gonna do if one of them turns you into the police?!”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in my chest. “Oh please, Top. Rafe would never turn me in. He loves me.”

Kelce throws his hands up, turning and giving me his back before walking into the house to presumably check on Rafe and his bitch.

Topper takes a cautious step toward me, his right hand landing on my shoulder. I glare at his hand for a second before he pulls back, sighing. “Look, he did love you. But you scared him away. You were too jealous and too obsessive. Rafe didn’t like that, so now you have to let him go.”

I laugh at that too. Maybe Topper is funnier than I gave him credit for.

“Top, he will be mine. No one else in this world is good enough for him. I’ll make sure he knows that.”

Before he can say anything else, I turn on my heels and skip down the steps of his front porch, making my way home to get the things I’ll need for later together.

Two hours after I’d absolutely beat the shit out of Jade in front of all of my friends, I’m sitting outside of Tannyhill, my right hand holding the small metal weapon i’d gotten from my house, fingertips tracing over the trigger slowly while I hum silently to myself.

Rafe will learn tonight, that if I can’t have him. No one can.

He’ll either be smart and take me back, or I’ll take us both out. The choice is his.

After what felt like forever, his headlights lighting up the driveway have me sitting up straighter in my spot. I watch as he pulls his truck to the side, putting it in park and hopping out. He makes his way to the door, slightly swaying from all the alcohol I assume he consumed after Top and Kelce threw me out.

Fuck them. And fuck Rafe for allowing it. He should stick up for me. He should fucking love me. I do everything for him. I would do anything he asked. And yet, he doesn’t want me? The thought of him with anyone else has my blood fucking boiling.

I watch as he pushes the door open, moving to shut it but I quickly stand and sprint toward the door, stopping it with my hand. He drunkenly staggers backward, turning his head as a confused “what the?” falls from his mouth.

His eyes land on mine, squinting to try and make out who he’s looking at since it’s kinda dark in here.

“Hi, Rafe.”

His eyes go wide and he stumbles backward, throwing his hands up. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He asks, shaking his head from side to side.

A slow smile makes its way onto my lips. I make my way farther into the house, shutting and locking the door behind me. “I came to see you, baby. Why would you ask me that?”

He laughs. “We’re- we’re not together Y/N. You fucking broke Jade’s nose, along with many other bones in her face. You’re fucked in the head. Please, leave.”

I can’t contain the laugh that bubbles in my chest. I take a few slow steps toward him, and he matches them, taking a few steps back.

“Rafe, you’re hurting my feelings. You love me, why are you acting like you don’t?”

His back hits the couch behind him, and he sticks his hands behind him to catch himself. His blue eyes are wide and full of fear.

“Y/N… I- I did love you, but you were too jealous, too fucking obsessive… I couldn’t handle that shit.”

Tears fill my eyes as the words leave his mouth. They stung. But he also just pissed me off. I pull the gun I had tucked in my hoodie pocket out, pointing it toward him as I let the first tear fall.

“How could you say that, Rafe? I love you! I would do fucking anything for you! Why can’t you just accept me for who I am?”

Rafe’s eyes go wider—if that’s even possible— and he raises his hands higher. “Y/N… We can talk about this. Put the gun away baby.”

I let out a laugh that makes me sound borderline insane, and maybe I am. But love makes you do crazy things right? I love him, and if I can’t have him, no one can…

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” I scream, my hands shaking as I continue pointing the gun at his beautiful face.

“I-I’m not lying. Please, princess. Put the gun away so we can talk…”

I take another slow step toward him, standing almost directly in front of him now. His intoxicating scent floods my senses, making me feel almost dizzy.

I clear my throat, blinking away the fresh tears as my shaky hands stay pointing in his direction. “I would have done anything for you. I love you, and you just cast me aside because what? Because I cared too much? Because I was so in love with you it made me fucking crazy?” I pause, letting out a choked laugh as I watch the fear in his eyes slowly turn into sadness. He fucking felt bad? Good. “I love you, Rafe. I’m just here to let you know… If I can’t have you, no one can.”

His blue eyes well up with tears, and he quickly blinks them away. Lowering his hands to his sides, he takes a cautious step toward me, the barrel of the gun pressed into his chest. He reaches out his right hand, running his thumb across my cheek and wiping away a tear that had fallen.

“Sweetheart… Put the gun away, and let’s talk, yeah?”

I sniff, my eyes finding his piercing blue ones. I slowly nod my head, lowering the gun in front of me, hearing him let out a deep exhale before his hands wrap around the cold metal object. He quickly turns the safety on and tosses the gun behind him and onto the couch.

Tears flow quickly down my face, choked out sobs pulled from my chest as I just stare back at the man who’d broke my heart. If he didn’t choose me, I wasn’t sure how I’d continue living. I needed him. The thought of never feeling him again, never smelling his scent, having his lips on mine, hearing his soothing voice — it was all too much for me to think about.

His arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush into his hard body, has all of those negative thoughts flying out the window. He still loves me.

I sob into his chest, apologies falling from my mouth like word vomit as he lovingly rubs his hand up and down the length of my back, shushing me. “Shhh, s’okay baby. ‘M here. I’m sorry.”

He holds me, swaying our bodies back and forth for what feels like forever. The sweet words spilling from his mouth and the feel of his hands on my body again are comforting. Like a warm blanket wrapped around you on a particularly cold day, or like your grandmother having cookies out for you after school.

Rafe was my safe space. He was my home. And I couldn’t lose him. I refused to go on in life without him by my side.

His next words hurt, but gave me a sense of hope that we could make it work after all.

“We can work on us, okay? I’m not going anywhere princess,” He pauses, lifting my head from his chest so my eyes are on him, “But you need to get help. Get medicated or something. You can’t be going off the rails batshit crazy all the time. I’m worried about you, and I need to know you won’t lose your goddamn head anytime you feel threatened by someone.”

My eyes search his, his eyes telling me he means every word he’s saying. I couldn’t be mad. I was a little over the top sometimes. If getting help for my psycho tendencies meant getting to keep Rafe? I’d do it. I’d do anything to keep him.

I swallow thickly, nodding my head, “Okay…”

He places his right hand on the back of my head, pushing it back down onto his chest and pressing his lips onto the top of my head. My body melts into his, my arms tightly hugging at his waist as I silently cry. I suck in a shaky breath, mumbling against his chest, “I love you, Rafe.”

He sighs, rubbing his hands up and down my back softly. “I know, princess. I know.” He pauses, and the hesitation of him telling me he loves me too pulls at my heart. Shattering me. But he finally says the four words that kept me sane, “I love you too.”

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #dark!reader #toxic!reader #jealous!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron brainrot

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christopher-bangnaldoskzz · 2 months

Text

Paring: Chan, Minho, Changbin, Jisung x Female Reader

Genre: Dark Romance

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Imagine this - after gathering the strength to reveal your innermost desires to your partner, he astonishingly rises to the occasion, committing himself to transform your wildest dreams into reality. Even if that means sharing you with three of his best mates.

Warnings: MDNI 18+ Anal 😨, oral sex 😜 unprotected and protected Sex 🫠, edging 🫣, blowjobs 🧐, come OMG there is so much coming 🤪 degrading language (because who doesn’t love a good shaming) use of the word Slut/whore/cum slut A LOT!!! There are some very darks sense and references in this fic so please proceed with CAUTION ⚠️

“Listen to me, my little cum slut”, he growls as tears run down your face, drool running down your neck as you gasp for air as he yanks your head back by your hair.

“You’re going to show my friends a good time. Yeah.” He presses his lips to your ear, nodding in agreement that you loved to be used. It’s been a dream of yours to have multiple men fuck you at once; this was a fantasy you often shared with Chan, who’s never been one to share you with anyone. He is selfish, really, and only wants you for himself.

“You can please them as much as you want, my little slut…. But if I see you so much cum for any of them…. It’s game over, you understand me…. This cunt belongs to me” he grabs your pussy it placates in his hand. “My little cum slut only….cums…for me” he squeezes it tighter, making your body shiver in response.

“B-but”, you quiver, the feeling of his fingers brushing your clit, making your body feel so aroused that at any moment you could explode.

“No buts, my little slut….you will hold out for me” he presses his lips to yours as he removes his hands from your soaking cunt. “ and if you don’t, I will drag you out by your hair kicking and screaming and beat your ass black and blue” his voice is low and raspy.

Nodding your head and looking up at him through your dark lashes, he kisses your lips. “Good girl,” he whispers, dragging you into the living room.

“Gentleman…. She's all yours”, he shoves further into the room.

“On your knees, y/n,” he says in a Stern voice obeying him, you kneel down, putting your ass on the heels of your feet.

“She’s a good whore isn’t she?" Minho says, using his knuckle to caress your cheek, whipping away the tear that falls down your face.

Minho goes to take a seat on the couch and unbuckles his pants, pulling them down so they sit at his ankles. “Crawl to him”, Chan commands. Not sure what the other two have installed for you, yet you gulp before crawling over to Minho.

“I want you to suck my cock with your pretty mouth” he pulls your chin up, your make-up running down your face from the session you had just finished with Chan.

"Y-yes," you say, shaking. You lick your lips before spitting down his cock to get it nice and wet. Wrapping your mouth around his top, you slowly start to move down his shaft.

“Oh fuck….her mouth is like heaven”, he groans as Chan lets out a chuckle, almost like he has told him and Minho didn’t believe him.

You halt when you feel hands pulling down your cum-soaked panties. Chan made sure to mark you before anyone got started. “I’m going to fuck that tight ass”, Changbin announces. You can see Chan wiggling uncomfortably in his seat. This would be hard for him to watch his best friend about to fuck his girl in the ass.

You begin to deep-throat Minhos' cock as Changbin circles your ass with his fingers. Pushing one inside to stretch you out, “Relax for him….remember what I taught you?" You do as Chan says and relax your body, not entirely sure if that comment was actually meant for you or state a claim to Changbin to let him know that he had fucked your ass long before he got there.

Changbin lubricates his fingers with your pussy juice before he spreads it across your ass, sliding one finger in and slowly spreading you out for his dick.

“Holy fuck”, you moan, pulling away from Minhos' cock. Salvia now runs down your chin. Chan gets up from the chair and walks over as your body shivers. Minho briefly steps out of the way. "Breathe.... just like we practiced.... Through your nose,” he runs his hands through your hair, collecting it all, pulling a hair tie off his wrist, he ties the hair up so it’s out of your face. Giving Changbin enough time to lube the condom on his dick, Chan looks up and nods to Changbin, who places the head at your entrance. You and Chan have performed anal a couple of times since being together; he was always gentle with you. Changbin pushes his head in. “That’s it…..you are doing so well”, Chan says, brushing your bottom lip, his eyes flicking down to your tear-stained cheeks.

“Fuck, you look beautiful”, he whispered as Changbin slid himself deeper into you. He stands to allow Minho to sit back down. Taking Minhos' cock into your mouth, you moan as Changbin slides in and out of you.

You feel a set of fingers slide over your pussy lips, and you let out a moan. “Do it again, Han….the whore likes it” Han uses his fingers to spread your lips, making you grunt as Minho shoves further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. “You are so tight, Y/N", Changbin moans as he thrusts balls deep inside your ass.

Han is now slipping two fingers inside your throbbing pussy. “Don’t you fucking dare y/n” Chan reminds you of his threat, but you just feel so full.

You moan into Minho's cock, forcing him to release his warm cream down your throat. “God….that was amazing,” he moaned as his body slumped on the couch. Minho closed his eyes for a brief moment before he freed your mouth.

You gasp, now purely focused on Changbin and Han. “I’m close,” Changbin moans as your stomach clenches, trying to stop the rising orgasm in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N”, Chan growls, causing a shiver to crawl down your spine.

Chan takes a seat in front of you. “Look at me.” He tilts your chin up as he leans away from your face.

“Only me”, his voice was low and raspy.

“Fuck”, you hear as you feel Changbin thrust one last time before he realises he is inside his condom.

“She’s all yours, buddy," he says, slapping Han’s shoulder.

Han lines himself up before pushing his head inside slowly. "Fuuuuccck", he groans. “You are so tight.” A high-pitched squeal escapes your mouth as he pushes deeper inside you.

"Y/N," Chan said, grinding his teeth. He knows you sound better than anyone and can tell you are so close.

“I’m S-sorry…..I’m S-so close” You can barely speak as you fight the urge to come all over Jisung's cock; he is pumping, hitting your G-spot perfectly.

“Jisung, hurry up before I rip you off of her”, Chan growls, and he starts to pump into you faster.

“Don’t even think about coming inside her either," he spits. Jisung pulls out and flips you onto your back.

"Breast or stomach?” He says, pumping his dick in his hand.

“Stomach,” you say in panic as the head of his cock pulses and his warm nectar hits your stomach.

“Good….now get out,” Chan says, pointing to the door. “All of you out NOW!” he shouts as they grab their clothes and exit the living room. Chan stands staring down at your body, his lips parted slightly as he takes a deep breath.

“You look so fucking good, my little cum slut”, he smiles.

“Please….I need more,” you plead with him, knowing it’s never worked, but you will still try in the hopes that it will work.

“Here, wipe the cum off with this”, he says, pulling his T-shirt off and dropping it into your stomach.

You glide the shirt along your stomach, soaking up all the cum, while Chan gets undressed. “You are such a good girl”, he praises you, making your pussy flutter.

Chan kneels between your legs. “How many?” He grins, not sure what exactly he’s asking you to reply. “How many?"

“Orgasms”, he leans down, now hovering over your body, his fingers slowly tapping your clit. “Maybe 2…or 3”, he kisses your neck. “I don’t know what you think you deserve, baby” he is so fucking hot when he’s like this, your body tingles.

“P -please “ is the only word you can get out before he kisses down your stomach and is now kissing your thighs, making sure to suck and lick each side.

“So what will it be?” You know he won’t start until you tell him your answer, trying to think you say the first number that comes to mind.

"Three," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you feel a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. Anticipation consumes you as every nerve ending in your body comes alive with the promise of what will happen. With a deep breath, you slowly move your hips, savouring the moment, relishing in the build-up that seems almost tangible. The room is filled with electrifying tension, the air heavy with desire. Each movement becomes bolder and more assertive as you surrender to the passion that consumes you. Your heart pounds in sync with the rhythm of your hips, as if it, too, understood the significance of this moment. And as you finally reach the peak, a wave of satisfaction washes over you, leaving you breathless and exhilarated. The power of that simple word, "three," has ignited a fire within you that burns bright and will continue to fuel your desires.

'There's my girl' His tongue dips deeper into you then he sucks your clit while licking your lips apart. “Spread your legs wider”, he groans as he spreads your legs so that he can reach your core with his tongue. His fingers trace around your entrance, teasing you and making you want more. You arch your back as pleasure courses through your body, and your toes curl up in pleasure. You feel your body tremble as you surrender. His breathing gets heavier as he moves deeper into you. His lips and tongue move faster, sending you over the edge as you climax.

“One”, you moan; you know Chan loves it when you count the number of times he makes you cum.

“Mmmmmm……good girl”, he praises, humming as he kisses your body.

Spreading your folds with his fingers, Chan kisses your neck. “You are my little cum slut…..you serve me.”

“Only you”, you moan, arching your back as he inserts one finger inside you. Your body rolled against his finger, craving more. He kisses your jawline as he smiles.

“I want you to scream my name as I fuck you tonight” he curls his finger inside you hitting your g spot, making you gasp.

“O-oh Chan”, you moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head; after all this attention, your body is screaming for another release.

“Louder”, he groans, inserting another finger inside. Chan was not into exhibitionism by any means. Still, he knew his friends would be on the other side of the door listening to you come undone under his touch, and you knew that screaming his name while his friends listened would be a turn-on.

“CHAN…please!” you scream as you grind against his fingers.

“That’s it…..cum all over my fingers like the good little slut you are” he drives his fingers inside you, curling them as your body shakes in pure pleasure.

“Oh god,” you call as you start to see white specks in your vision.

“I think you mean Oh Channie.” He grins, kissing you, slapping his arm playfully, and you pull away.

“You are so funny,” you say sarcastically back at him; it was moments like this that you loved most; it was the simple jokes he made right after he just gave you the best orgasm of your life that made you fall in love with him all over again.

“You look exhausted.” Chan lightly brushes your hair away from your face.

As exhaustion takes over your body, you struggle to open your eyes. But even with your energy drained, your heart skips a beat as you look up at Chan, who tenderly caresses your cheek. His gentle touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but melt under his affectionate gestures. His soft lips brush against yours as he leans in, planting delicate kisses that make you feel warmth and longing.

“How about…..I'll take you to our bathroom…..I clean you up…then I’ll carry you to our bed, and we can finish this another night.” He smiles, knowing he’s pushed your limits for today.

"Like you owe me an orgasm?" Chan playfully teases you as he seductively places his hands under your hips and lifts you up effortlessly. Feeling excited, you eagerly wrap your arm around his neck, adjusting your hold to secure your balance.

“Yeah, baby…. I'll owe you an orgasm.”

Taglist: @daceydeath @krishastumblernow @cakeracha @armystay89 @choisoorin @marrivmel @s00buwu @uwuitsjungwoo

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rustedhearts · 2 months

Text

dagger (boxer!steve harrington x fem librarian!reader)

summary: the dark of night and light of morning in steve's old apartment

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1989) ✶ the library

tags: angst; toxic relationship; mentions of past child abuse/domestic violence; fluff at the end. again, not edited.

"the sunshine girl is sleeping, she falls and dreams alone. and me i am her dagger, too numb to feel her pain."

— dagger, slowdive

hawkins, indiana. october 1989.

"Do you think I'm bad?"

It comes whispered in the blue dark of midnight, tickled with the warm mint breath of your boyfriend on the other end of the pillow. Rays of moonlight beam over the bed through the blinds above. The whoop of sirens passed by in a whizzed crescendo. In one of the apartments downstairs, a door slammed so hard it rattled the frame on the nightstand.

And despite the noise of the night, the room was painfully quiet in this bed with Steve.

"Of course not," you murmured, shifting to brush noses with him atop flattened feathers.

Steve sighs, another gust of warmth. His fingers graze your chin from their place under your head. Your feet rub together under the sheets, legs intertwined. He fucked you forty minutes ago and neither of you had been able to fall asleep since. The ache never really went away. The gnawing, biting sting that something was wrong never settled down.

"That I'm a bad person," he clarified.

When he spoke this lowly, this softly, his voice had a graveled edge to it. It cracked around vowels and faded off at the end of sentences.

You furrowed your brows, swallowing. "No, Steve."

Forty minutes ago he fucked you, but three hours ago he was slamming every door in the house and throwing his car keys down the stairs. He was shattering a mug in the sink and banging his fist into his head that 'wouldn't stop pounding.' He ignored your urges to fix the bleeding on his brow, to sit down and rest because he had a long night.

A night of loss.

It was a low-level, low stake fight—but failure was failure to Steve. He said nothing on the way home, but exploded the moment he pulled into the lot when you reached for his arm. The slam of the passenger door narrowly missed your hand. The tug of your arm inside the apartment left a burning ring.

You were going to tell him you loved him tonight. After the fight, in your prettiest dress, a love letter written for him to find in the morning when you went to work.

But now you lied awake, hours before the opening shift at the library, and wondered how badly love was supposed to hurt.

Steve wiggled his hand free of your head and brought it to your cheek. Thumb brushing the tears dried on your soft, clean skin. Running along your shoulder, over the soft cotton of his shirt pulled on in a need for comfort. Into the crook of your elbow, massaging the flesh with another heavy sigh.

"Think m' bad for you."

You wanted to protest—but he was. Your parents said it the moment they met him. They begged you not to see him anymore. Your friends grimaced when you complained of another fight. You followed every tear-stained explanation with 'but I love him.'

"No," you argued firmly.

You wanted to say more, lips parting to express some sort of fond sentiment that would've made Steve wince—but he ran the pad of his finger over the top of your brow, just how you liked it when you were tired.

Your nose wiggled, your lashes fluttered. Steve sighed another minty breath.

"Go to sleep," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist resting on your chest. His palm pressed into your cheek. You let your eyes sink shut, your breathing shallow. Steve watched, blinking into a dusty darkness, as you fell asleep.

✶ ✶

Steve woke sometime near dawn. After a measly few hours of stirring and turning, doing his best to get comfortable but feeling nothing but discomfort, he snapped awake with a huff.

He slipped out of bed quietly, sheets whooshing in the still quiet of early morning. Blackbirds were twittering in the trees beyond the window, the soft orange and pink hues of a rising sun casting a beautiful glow over your cheek on the pillow. It made your hair look like it was on fire.

He shuffled into the kitchen, flipped a clean glass from its place on the kitchen counter, drying on a towel. He filled it with water, gulped it down like air. He filled it again, and padded back into the bedroom.

He leaned against the doorway, head cocking to press against the wood. You slept so peacefully. Like some sort of painting, how perfectly perched your hands were, how wonderfully languid your legs were under the sheets. You helped him pick a new bedspread out last month. You said the last one was too 'scruffy' and you didn't like how it felt on your skin.

He hadn't meant to, but Steve upset you that day. He said he didn't want 'girly shit' on his bed, that he didn't need a new bedspread because he was barely home to sleep on it. You hid your tears behind a box of sheets.

And he felt like a piece of shit in the middle of a K-Mart aisle.

Why did he say it? He still doesn't know. Standing there, watching you sleep, watching your face settle into a state of stasis—unaffected by Steve, free of frowns or creases or worries—Steve wondered what the fuck you were doing with him. He was terrible to you.

Not all the time, but enough. Enough that it made him sick. Tears sprung to his eyes, burned them like a sandpaper. He sniffed, rubbing a scabbed knuckle into the corner of one to clear them away.

Why did he say such horrible things? Why was he so quick to bite, so quick to nip? He growled. He barked. He yelled for nothing. It was nature to him now, to think everything was out to get him. Nature turned him bitter.

Steve took a sip of his water and set it on the dresser. A movie ticket stub sat tucked under a bottle of cologne. His finger grazed the paper on his way to the edge of the bed, where he sat near your feet.

He wished he could tell you why he was like this—but what would he say? My dad fucked me up. My mom fucked me up. Did they?

Steve pressed his elbows onto his knees and doubled over.

Or was he always like this? Was he born to hurt?

He pressed his palms into his eyes. The tears pooled into them, trickled free around the edges and down his arms. He knew if you were awake to see him cry, he'd push you away.

He didn't want to. He wished he could tell you that most of all. That every bite, every bark, every time you turned away with that sad little well in your eyes—it came before he could stop it.

Your hand was the softest thing he'd ever felt. Trailing his back, running through his hair, cupping his fingers, skimming his stomach.

Steve sniffed again, lifting his head to peer over his shoulder at your sleeping figure again.

When you were particularly happy, you left a smatter of kisses on his face. His eyes, his nose, his chin, the scar under his jaw where his father knocked him into the kitchen counter at eight years old. You took particular care of that small sliver of skin, running your nose over the scar that took on a tanned appearance.

He cowered every time.

They made him ugly. His father, his mother, the marks they left on him that he couldn't erase.

Steve stood from the bed and found his jacket on the floor. He fished his cigarettes from the pocket, swiped his lighter from the nightstand. He crawled into bed and tucked his knees up, using them as shelves for his arms as he took in the first drag.

You stirred in your sleep, brows creasing when you rolled onto your back. Your hands sought the sheets, and Steve was quick to bring them over your shoulders. You slept like a corpse sometimes. Steve's lip quirked.

You were funny. Most people didn't know that about you. They categorized you as a quiet, timid person—but fuck were you talkative. When you got comfortable, when you got to know someone, your mouth babbled like a motor. You made Steve laugh without even trying.

Did he ever make you laugh?

Steve looked away, blowing the smoke sideways. You let out a little groaning sound. He hurriedly resumed his staring, watching your eyes flutter open.

"Steve?" you slurred, lips barely moving. Your hands reached for him limply, still heavy with sleep.

Steve pulled his cigarette away, holding it over the edge of the bed. "Shh. Go back to sleep, baby."

You tapped the bed a few times, eyes sinking closed again. Another little noise, whiny and cracked, emitted from your throat. "Want you."

Steve flinched. Half-asleep, sweet, softened and warmed by hours of slumber in freshly-cleaned sheets: you were too good for him.

He stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray on his windowsill overhead, quickly shimmying his way toward you under the covers. You curled into the warmth of him, cold nose nudging his chest. He wound his arm around your back and buried his fingers in your hair. Your arm slid over his side delicately.

"Hmm," you moaned contentedly. "Stop thinking."

Steve pressed his cheek to the top of your head, letting a smile crack through. He hissed in a breath, letting it release with a groan. "Okay."

A moment of quiet passed. For a minute, Steve thought you fell back to sleep. But the way you breathed into him, the way your lashes fluttered against his chest, Steve knew you were only pretending.

"Are you awake?"

You blinked your eyes open, fixing them on a streak of light over the wall at your feet. "Yes."

"Can we..." Steve squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed down the shitty thing that clawed its way up his throat. "Can we just...be together today? Just me and you?"

Your lips spread into a smile, head turning to hide in his arm. You let him wait a minute, sat in the buttery silence of the morning before anyone else was awake.

You let out a sigh like you were thinking. "Okay."

Steve ran the edge of his fingers down the back of your skull. "Okay."

You stayed in bed until ten. Not speaking, not sleeping—just touching. Listening. Breathing in and out.

You called the library from the edge of the toilet seat as Steve warmed the shower, watching the plain of his broad back flex and squirm with every movement. You told them you spent the night throwing up, that you couldn't come in. Steve turned around and winked at you.

He crowded you against the tiled wall, fucked you flat into the cold surface under a stream of steaming water. Free of rough hands and angry eyes; only soft hands kneading, only gentle lips kissing, only his dripping water into your eyes when he leaned over your shoulder to find your mouth.

He buttered the toast when it popped from the toaster, salted and peppered the eggs when they came to the plates. You ate on the countertop, legs tucked in under a big blue t-shirt clean from the closet floor. He leaned into the cabinets and fed you bites of strawberry-jam slathered toast. He licked a dollop from your chin and chuckled when you squirmed.

He did the dishes. He cleaned the porcelain shatters from last night. He let you play the radio on your favorite station and grab at his hips when Carly Simon came on. He scooped you into his arms, hands warm and chapped and full of dish soap bubbles. He carried you to the living room and threw you on the couch.

The pair of you spent the afternoon half-naked on the floor, missing pants and proper shirts but agreeing to keep the heat on high. You crawled through photo albums and old high school yearbooks, spreading out his record collection and some of your own you brought weeks ago. You played them all, even the shitty ones he groaned at.

He pushed you on the floor with a heavy hand on your chest and snapped a Polaroid. He said he liked how you looked like this. In his clothes, damp from his shower with nothing but a smile on your face.

Most of all, he made you laugh. All day, tipping your head back into the ceiling, squirming into his shoulder, bringing fingers over your mouth to hide your teeth. Each time, he pulled them away. Kissed you, all mouth and no tongue, and pulled away just to watch.

To watch how happy he made you, because for once, he really did.

#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst

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dayurno · 3 months

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this is somewhat of a vent post & something i said i would not do again but has been plaguing me enough that i think getting it out might feel better. so. has anydoggy else been. Baffled and upset by nora sakavic’s refusal to speak on how terribly aftg has treated its characters of color? with the author of the series coming back with a new book and starting up on her online activity again, and questions of what she’d change about aftg bubbling up, it’s particularly glaring to me that we are all playing this very long game of pretend where we ignore how badly the non-white cast has been treated & her lack of thoughts on it

and i understand not wanting to bring up nicky and thea because people pick on her for it. i’m not trying to discredit nora sakavic’s terrible history of getting harrassed online by aftg fans. but i think it is very cynical, and it is very juvenile, and most of all very cruel, that she gets to ignore the very real ways the books have set up these characters to be hated. i think it’s obvious why the characters who get the most hate are the only canonical characters of color, and i think we do not get to treat this like a deliberate decision on the fandom’s part when the books have put these same characters in degrading and embarrassing and terrible positions in the first place. aftg is not a story about nice characters with clean pasts, but there is a very specific nastiness to the only characters of color being a brown man who sexually harasses and later assaults the main character, a black woman whose only scene is her lashing out at her love interest after being ignored for the first two books, and the japanese villain who gets maybe two lines of complexity before he goes back to being a terrible person. the white cast, in comparison, while not at all free from flaws, are never shown to commit mindless evil; all of their actions are ultimately justified. the book goes out of its way to give them concession after concession. we know exactly who to side with, because aftg tells us who these people are. does nicky’s assault ever get addressed in the books? does riko’s reasoning to be the way that he is ever gets more than briefly aluded to? is thea reserved even a shred of humanity or grace in her one scene?

anyway. it’s been years of talking about this and the fandom has been constantly hostile to criticism in this regard, and more recently any criticism at all, and it’s Grating to be on the other side of this discussion. it’s exhausting to know that in ten years we do not get even an acknowledgment besides the author saying she will not answer questions about nicky and thea anymore. it’s upsetting and it’s ugly and i wish no one had to talk about this again, but we do because what i thought was common sense has been washed away by a sudden influx of no-nuance adoration for the trilogy. basically i hope we all explode

two hours later edit: you're allowed to reblog this! sorry about the confusion

#this has been so upsetting to notice but 🥹whatever #there is a different kind of bitterness to thinking about how ten years have passed #and we are getting new content that changes and maybe even rectifies many of the ways we see and interact w aftg #and none of it not a bit of it addresses the racism #how it’s been ten years and the only thing we really get to show it is a book about a ship between two white men the fandom came up with #after seeing them be Suggested to interact in canon #i understand not wanting to hurt nora sakavics feelings by asking her about this #but imagine how tired we are. Imagine how tired we are #do you know how bad it feels to read through nicky’s worst moments in aftg #and know that he was written this way because he looks like me?#do you understand how exhausting it all is. can you imagine?#the fandom has been so quick to undo the criticism fans of colors have been making since day one #and for what. for what! my doves. for what?#have we come out of it any greater? have we done anything but lie to ourselves?#and anyway this is not some mindless pessimism #this is not me telling you that aftg is bad and you cant love it; cant have it mean anything to you #this is me saying that when we acknowledge these things it makes us better readers and better people #nora sakavic if you are reading this from whatever hellhole america you find yourself in #grabs you by the shoulders. This is not the end #this is not something to sit back and feel bad about #you have opened the floodgates of hell with tsc. kick the door in and release a revised version of aftg #there is a real material way for you to make this better. it is possible and it will not kill you #i would read a revised aftg. my mutuals would. many many many many fans would #making mistakes is not just a human right its a human inevitability #but we do not have to let ourselves get defined by them. We can do hard things #lets go of nora sakavics shoulders. anyway. where were we #aftg #txt #tsc

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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

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i KNOW i might sound insane, but what if vampire! Engel sets up traps around her isolated dark castle to capture any animal that is unfortunate enough to step on one of them, because she swears to not ever consume human blood and swore to only consume animal blood

and vampire hunter! König unluckily (luckily??) stepped on one of the bear traps, and she heard a scream from outside, so she went out to check and SHE SMELLED the smell she tried so hard to hide herself from

And she just kinda stood there, drooling and saw a very big BIG man, she thought it was a bear until he pulled out her dagger and pointed it at her, while panting in pain

IDKKK ITS GIVING ENEMIES TO LOVERS? STRANGERS TO LOVERS????? I worte this ina hirry because im about to cry thinking about it

Oh god the angst exploded in this one… sorry not sorry but these two are just UGHHH

König thought he was getting rescued when he heard the sound of soft footsteps. His stomach sinks when he sees this is not the case: his situation is far more dire than he thought. Not only is he stuck in an old trap and about to lose a foot: he's being hunted by the most dangerous, most beautiful little predator he has ever seen.

She's prowling, hungry and keen, crawling barely ten feet away from his sorry corpse-to-be. Her eyes glow in the darkness as she licks her lips; she's looking at her prey like a cute little house cat, dark and treacherous and extremely curious. He can't understand how those perfect hands could've managed to set all these traps: they look so dainty and frail. But looks can be deceiving when it comes to vampires. She's probably stronger than an average human male.

He can't hear her thoughts, which must be filled with the desire to drink. He doesn't have to: any vampire hunter can see that this one hasn't eaten properly in a while. Her lips are pale, she's breathing fast, she even moves on all fours like she's either too afraid or too weak to stand. Her fingers curl around the moss as she looks at him; her body almost trembles with anticipation.

When he draws his blade, she lets out a hiss and recoils further into the shadows. He's a pathetic mortal and a weak man for mourning the loss of that pretty little face and those lovely, enchanting eyes. He knows that she's a vampire, she's supposed to seduce her victims, but he can't help his sinful thoughts.

No woman has ever looked at him like that…

No woman has ever prowled upon him, it's usually the other way around. It won't take tremendous strength to kill this lovely little creature, but it will take a tremendous amount of willpower, a thing he used to have in abundance before he met her.

"Shy one. Did you set all these traps?" He asks and lowers his blade. The woman slinks back into a beam of moonlight, now standing on her own two feet. Her hips sway like in a dream, her red little tongue darts across the pale, bloodless lips.

"Who else if not me?"

Her voice is cool, cascading silk. It's calling him in like a siren song, forcing him to lower his dagger even more. She's dressed like an angel, in the purest white. A cruel joke from a vampire, or a desperate attempt to recall who she used to be when she was alive.

But her eyes are innocent – she's either the most cunning vampire he's ever met or then she's trapped, far more badly than him.

"You like to torture your victims?"

His question leaves the creature blinking. Then the curious eyes narrow to slits, the confused, hungry little mouth begins to pout.

"No. The traps are not meant for humans."

"No…? Why am I caught in one then?"

"Perhaps because you're clumsy."

She's cute when she's annoyed. Vampire charms or no, she lashes out so tactfully and elegantly that he cannot help but smile. What a proud, stubborn little creature… She's a sad, lonely little thing, just like he is. He would love to take her home as a pet.

His eyes must be softer when he smiles because it throws the vampire off guard. She takes a curious step towards him.

"If I set you free… will you leave me in peace?"

Her eyes are big and pleading now, free of any deceit, and he curses in his mind. If she's trying to allure him into another trap, it's working far too well.

"Ja," he tries to keep his voice even, "But if you try to drink from me–"

"I don't drink from humans."

"...Why not?"

There's no answer. But she takes another step, then another, then floats down to help him out of the huge trap meant for game. Her suspicious eyes dart to his blade every now and then until he decides to sheathe his weapon. The old hunters would deem him dead after this, but he can only concentrate on the woman before him. Her weak frame summons an immense amount of strength to open the trap.

The scent of blood must be like opium to her as the fresh wound on his leg becomes exposed. Her nostrils quiver and flare, her eyes flutter closed as she sighs softly. For that sweet, soft sound alone, he would open his veins for her himself.

"Fräulein… Are you alright?" He asks while bleeding profusely all over the ground. If she attacks him now, the culling would be well earned. No man should be this weak-willed.

"You… You smell good," she moans, her voice filled with so much longing that he can't take it anymore.

"Scheisse... Listen. One bite. Ja? You can have one bite and then I'll–"

Darkness and light envelop him all at once.

She dives forward like an eager lover, her body cold and frail and yet, so demanding when it hits him like the softest tide. He falls back, taking her with him, the vampire woman who is everything he ever wanted.

Her lips tremble on his neck for a while before she opens her mouth and sinks her tiny little teeth in. What else can he do but clutch her – in pleasure and in pain as she drinks and drinks and drinks until he's hard and groaning under her. The pain in his leg turns into full, ecstatic pangs of rushing blood, his ears are ringing with the song of it.

All he can feel is her. He can feel her relief and her hunger and the quick but quenching thirst, it makes him so happy his heart is about to burst.

The shy little lady is all but fearful now. She doesn't seem to care that his hands are roaming across her back and all over her waist. No: she hums and purrs with delight, attaches to him like she's in desperate need of a release too. She hasn't had a hearty drink in ages, then. He's glad to provide it for her: death is a small price to pay if he gets to hold her like this. If she kills him in these woods, it will be a good way to go.

"You don't… drink from humans, ja?"

He tries to laugh, but his voice comes out as a dry croak. The body above him goes tense like a bowstring.

"Don't be shy, kleine Engel," he rumbles when a pitiful sob disrupts the drinking. He only holds her closer: if these are his last minutes alive, he will spend them with this woman in his arms. The reassurance works, in a way: she draws breath so fast that the last gulp turns into a suck. It forces his whole body rigid; nothing has ever felt so good. But then she stops, and lets him go with an agonized, heartbroken look.

Vampires can't cry, that's what he was taught long ago in the academy. The demons of the night are to be hunted because they can never shed a tear for their sins. But this angelic creature, now warm and full and lush in his embrace, has tears streaming down her face.

"What did you call me?" She asks with a frail, thin voice. The white shadow above him is made of pure light as his senses begin to fail. He barely discerns that she looks more healthy, even more mesmerizing than before now that she has had her fill. He whispers his last words into the night air, just before losing consciousness.

"An angel…"

It's dawn when he wakes up without ever expecting to do so.

Someone has kept the beasts away during the dark, dangerous hours of the night. His wound is treated and his water can is full when he comes to. She has even brought her some bread and cheese on the forest floor. Stolen, no doubt, from some local homestead. The only evidence of him holding her in his arms last night are the two little punctures he finds on his neck. Small, neat and cute, just like her.

It doesn't help to know that vampires rarely leave their victims alive unless they wish to come back to them. It doesn't help to know that the reason for their return is usually the desire to turn the victim into a vampire – into a companion.

He should pursue and hunt her, but he's too weak. Or that's what he tells himself, at least. Deep down he knows he wouldn't do it even if he was in his prime.

After all, he could never kill an angel.

#vampire au #pining #könig x reader #answered

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whatwouldsylwrite · 1 year

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At least I got you in my head (prologue)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

A/N: The title is from Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko, because my motto is if I had to suffer Abby has to suffer too. I also have literally no idea where this is going, but the idea got stuck and I needed to write something. 🙃

Jessica here is Jessica from Jessica Jones. (actually all characters here are fictional women I have a crush on, no name is random)

"Listen, I have a friend, she is looking for a roommate right now." Nora said as she drank her sweet coffee you really wanted to steal after she listened to your complaining. "It's super close to the campus."

"I've seen a porn starting exactly like this."

"I wouldn't call Sherlock Holmes porn." Nora shot back and you rolled your eyes. "Do you want her number or not?"

"Is she, you know?.."

"Painfully straight. Don't worry, you won't end up looking for a place because you decided to date your roommate."

"Okay, yeah, give me her number."

Okay, Jessica wasn't.. that bad. It was cute in the beginning, you two hit it off immediately, her sarcasm bounced off your wittiness perfectly. You liked how cool and un-fucking-bothered she was, she liked you because you were a little shit. You two had so much tension it was bound to explode one day, and it did: you got drunk at home, played some have i never and then fucked for two days straight. Jess was cool, and Jess really didn't like to give any kind of clarity on where you stood even when you asked her to her face. She'd just say she liked you and that was it, and even though it really pissed you off, you didn't press further - Jess was cool, but she wasn't sweet enough to fall in love with. It was getting annoying as she grew more territorial about you, always putting her arms around you in public, which was cute until she started asking about Nora and getting angry when you were with her.

That was when you decided to tap out and move out - the red flag was fucking screaming in your face. You quickly informed Jessica about it, to which she just flipped you, and you left, not dealing with her shit. And now you were homeless, and the term was starting and you really didn't want any drama.

So a painfully straight girl would be fucking perfect for a roommate.

to: potential roommate

Hi! I'm (y/n), Nora gave me your number

She said you're looking for a roommate?

from: potential roommate

Hi! I am

Do you smoke?

to: potential roommate

from: potential roommate

That's the address

If you can, come tomorrow after six

to: potential roommate

The place was actually close to the campus and not "beautiful place to have peaceful study sessions. 20 minutes by public transport". You weren't sure if you'd be able to afford it, but it was worth a try anyway, you were tired of sleeping on your friends' couches. The apartment building was on a quiet street, but you knew that this street had a bunch of bars where students spent their time.

It was another win, and it made you want to afford this place even more. You reread the message and got up to apartment 42.

You rang the bell and waited for the girl to open the door.

And then she did.

And then you died.

Tall, muscular, shoulders and arms so defined you felt your mouth going slack. She had freckles on her face, pretty blue eyes with long lashes, stubborn mouth and a long braid.

Oh no fucking way this absolute lesbian wet dream was straight. Nora set you the fuck up here, you were sure of it.

"Hi, I'm Abby. You're (y/n)?" She said in a nice melodic voice that had just an edge of something dark and warm, and you woke up.

"Yeah." You squealed, still so shocked and so attracted to her it was getting painful.

She was painfully straight? Well, you were painfully gay for her right now.

"Cool, come in."

Oh god.

She had the ass. Oh what a good day to be a lesbian, you thought, but you politely looked away, feeling like a creep for staring at her.

It gave you time to look around: the place wasn't too big, but it was cosy and clean, clearly looked after. That was a good sign - Jess was tidy, but she smoked and the whole place just stank of it, her cigarette buds were everywhere. Abby seemed sporty, probably obsessed with her food, but you didn't mind.

"Do you play sports?"

"MMA."

Oh for fuck's sake, you groaned inside. How could she be so stereotypically gay and be straight? Well, of course she could, looks and hobbies weren't indicators of someone's sexuality, but it was pretty fucking ironic to you.

The kitchen was small and tidy, everything in its place and a cute towel hanging from the oven handle. It gave you a 1950s housewife vibe, but it was cute. The living room was more chaotic, pillows and blankets everywhere: on the couch, on the floor, behind the couch (???), big tv and playstation next to the wall with a bunch of games next to them. Likes games, you noted, really feeling like a Sherlock Holmes and laughing at yourself for comparing your basic observation to the fictional genius.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to figure out this mess." Abby said and rubbed her neck and you had to clench your fists to stop feeling so attracted to her.

"It's cosy, not a mess." You chuckled. "My previous roommate left bottles instead of pillows."

"God." Abby scrunched her nose in disgust. "Okay, so there's two bedrooms, one is mine and the other one can be yours and if you promise to pay rent on time and not leave your laundry in the washing machine."

"Yeah, that won't be a problem.” You hesitated before speaking up, but you needed her to know you weren’t straight. “I'm a lesbian, by the way. Just in case you have a problem with it."

"Oh, I don't, it's totally cool." Abby smiled and you smiled back, relieved. Sometimes straight girls got wrong ideas and you wanted to get it out of the way now. You could deal with how attractive Abby was, but could she deal with you finding her attractive - that was a different question.

You talked about the price for the place, which wasn't too high, but you might want to find more students to tutor if you wanted to not worry about splitting your budget too much.

You left Abby’s place feeling relieved - you got a place to live in a good location and a roommate who, yeah, was super attractive, but she was straight, and that meant no relationship drama.

Fuck you, Jess - you thought as you made your way to Cait’s place - I won’t fall for the girl this time.

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #aligyimh

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emojellyace08 · 4 months

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Hi! Big fan of your oneshots. Can I request a female Gojo x lookism men characters. Where Gojo dies and is reincarnated into the popular webtoon Lookism but "HE" became a "SHE". Gojo being gojo causes mayhem wherever she goes and rizzing people especially teasing the students at J-high because she is now their teacher. And Gojo is more chaotic than Goo and I imagine her saying to Gun, "I'm the strongest". Since he reincarnated as a girl and in a world without curse energy he doesn't have any CE but he is still super strong just like the OP characters in the webtoon especially since he's an expert in the martial arts. He still has the six eyes but not as OP and draining he just can see really well than the average person.

Female! Gojo Reader x Lookism Cast!

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 (𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐥). 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 (𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝)

In the world filled with infinite possibilities, you wouldn't expect to end up in another universe. You, one of the most (if not) powerful sorcerer in the whole world ends up dying in the hands of Sukuna. And you wouldn't expect to get reincarnated in an ordinary world without curses. Well, that's what you thought at first.

You were first confused at how did you turn into a baby. But lucky for you, your family is part of one of the most wealthiest and powerful Yakuza in Japan. Growing up, you were confused about your identity. Asking your mom if you really turned into the opposite sex. "Ma, can I ask you something?" "Sure darling, what's the matter?" she asked with a sweet tone as she prepares your meal. "Am I really a girl?" "Well, physically you are a girl. But if you feel like not fitting with the other little girls, it's okay if you like masculine toys. But inside of you must be always genuinely kind and is ready to help others without wanting anything in return."

You may still have the familiar sapphire blue eyes, hair fluffy like clouds, skin white as snow, and your personality intact with your female body, you still can't help but to feel weirded out in your early life. Without your powers, you felt the familiar feeling of dread linger through your soul. All the training and physique were wasted because of that monster! But you forced your dad to teach you martial arts. He almost scolded and beaten you up for "disobeying" his rules as you are not fitted to replace his heir. Feeling that familiar burst of pride in your heart that wanted to explode and lash out to him and knowing to yourself that you have LOTS of experience in your past life as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, you trained yourself for years to prove your own father wrong and show him who really is the weak one. Time-skip ahead, you successfully graduated and hired as a teacher for Physical Education knowing that you are body-kinesthetic.

You made your way into the school hallways with your bag. Instead of books for your lessons that you will discuss about, it's filled with sweet treats (and some lip balms to keep yourself ✨sexy, gorgeous, and daring✨. You remember high-school days when many teenage boys at your age often fight outside your house when they used to court you. "Sorry, I'm not attracted to men and girls are really scary! Sheesh people are so cheesy these days!"

Knowing your instincts, you tend to be a bit too friendly with other people as you are excited to annoy another living soul in this earth today. "He~~LLO!" you greeted quite loudly as the poor guy squeaked in surprise at your presence. "WUAH FUCK! Oh, shi- I'm sorry sunsengnim!" (teacher). "Oh, NO WORRIES PAL. You must be new here, right?" you questioned as you introduced yourself to the new student. "Well, I am (*insert female name here*) and according to every men and women that I had rizzed, I'm the most prettiest and sexiest woman and teacher in this country. Well then nice to meet you." you winked as to express your friendliness as he awkwardly shook your pale hands with his sweaty ones. "Ah, I'm sorry for the overflowing enthusiasm. Let's go to your new class for us to meet them!" you chuckled as you ate your mochi, even offering to share Hyung-Seok but he politely declines.

The moment you and Daniel entered the Fashion Department class, everyone's jaws dropped as it almost hit on the floor for dramatic effect. And you know that you weren't wasting their time when you gave all those candies as prizes by making up a warm-up game before classes begins as they are already fond of you! The other boys trying to impress you as you platonically tease them even though you have no romantic attraction on them. And the GIRLS WOULD LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Your hair and eyes also makes them fond of you (especially Zoe since she's a Beauty-Nerd). "OMG ARE YOU AN ANGEL OR SOMETHING?!" she squealed as you let her braid her hair as you relaxed on your chair and placed your legs on the teacher's table despite it being against the rules on free time. The others were doing their own shenanigans as you keep telling them to quiet down. "So, you think I'm hot or something? I'm glad you know. Oh Zack stop abusing Jiho's hand it's just arm wrestling!'

And they also enjoy your performance activities too! Since their courses is all about sewing with those mind-twisting history behind it, of course they will get sleepy and stressed out about it. But being the bold and bright-spirited that you are, you know school won't be fun without a little stretch of your body. So you make sure that whatever you teach them sports will be easily followed, yet you tend to forget to uncomplicate the rules since you're pride and confidence gets in the way at times. Sports and a little bit of martial arts (especially with the boys) are so fun! Being competitive, you taught them not only the basic techniques and skills that all can master. But you also thought them discipline when using it as you also sighed to yourself that you can get a bit cocky when fighting too as the adrenaline keeps chasing you to your high when fighting a strong opponent. You can see Daniel, Zack, heck even Jay taking down notes to this. The other departments are also fond with you as they really idolize you as their teacher (especially The Architecture Department).

But despite having your comedic side, it's rest assured that you are not letting anyone slide whoever tries to mess with you or anyone you know or fond with. The bullies will just stare at you cowardly as you look back at them with your striking cerulean eyes yet they seem uncanny because of your menacing expression. "You little fuckers, didn't your parents told you to not disturb anyone in the way?" "WE'RE SORRY SUNGSENGNIM!"

Yet since your family background is REALLY involved with the gangs (and the 4 major crews as you have minor knowledge around it), you started to get involved with the drama. Not only because you want to protect the innocence of your students as you grew fond over them, but because you tend to get a bit bored on teaching and pissing off your co-teachers. You smirked as the thought of fighting strong opponents excites you.

And you're excitement matches up with the sturdy and powerful fighters in this universe. You even helping out your students to bring down some of the most-feared men in Korea like Jonggun and Jungoo. You even got to flirt with them with a moment before you went face-to-face with the two as you declined their offer as they asked you to be their new member for Charles Choi's success.

"Miss, I'll ask you again. Why is it that you don't want to join our team? Are you so worried about leaving your students?" The black eyed male whispered at your ear as crimson-red blood drips down to his chin as you smirked at the bruise you gave him at the side of his lips. "And for a hottie like you, I didn't expect you to be this strong! So why not join us for a million won and even more?!" the blondie exclaimed as he swung his pipe as his weapon of choice. Him looking around at the building with lots of damage done from your fighting. "First of all, that's three questions. And yes, I have no plans to team up with your shitty team since I like hanging out with my students. And lover boy take note of this, I'M GOING TO SHIT ON YOUR FACE BECAUSE I"M THE STRONGEST!" you maniacally laughed as you landed a kick on Shiro Oni's face once again as he's starting to feel aroused excited about the energy that you're giving him. "If so, then LET'S FUCKING KILL EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW!" he ripped his shirt off as he rushed towards you as you did the same with that smile. "OI YOU'RE FORGETTING ME HERE I'M THE MAIN CHARACTER!" Goo replied as he plans to attack you from the back.

#lookism x reader #lookism x y/n #lookism x you #daniel park x reader #lookism fic #gun park x reader #goo x reader

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superblysubpar · 1 year

Text

Her Body Is Bible:

steve harrington x fem reader

Summary: Steve and you can't keep your hands to yourself despite being in a church. (aka filthy smut that sends me straight to hell) | find more Her Body Is Bible AU stories here | masterlist | steve's music | NSFW 18+

WC Range: 3-5k

Warnings: religious themes (mentions of celebrating Easter/Christian church things like the lord's prayer, I'm not responsible for lightning strikes to anyone who reads this), breeding kink (both of ya'll), public (church basement bathroom/with family afterwards), piv intercourse - creampie, dirty talk, a little ass slapping

Steve was losing his damn mind.

A ribbon in your hair, his initial hanging from a simple chain settled in the dip of your collarbones. Lavender fabric that matched the concealed bruises he sucked into your skin only a few hours earlier falling over your curves softly. Lace edges across your shoulders and laying against your thighs. Your laughter the sweetest melody as you spin his cousin's baby in your arms and nod at something she’s telling you. Your insistence to help his grandmother with the dishes, placing a glass of wine in her hand and shooing her out of the room.

He couldn't take it any more. It was all too sweet, too easy for you, too domestic. And as he leaned against the wall and the room grew quieter, you brought him a refilled glass of whiskey, straightening his tie and tugging it a little so he fell closer to you.

Catching his chin with your thumb and whispering, "Careful, Mr. Harrington, I think you're drooling a bit."

Steve's hands dared to play with the edge of your dress, fingers gliding over the straps as he swallowed harshly. Eyes trailing from the little gold 'S' to the lace curving over your breasts just below it.

"You like my dress, Steve?" Smiling sweetly up at him, a mischievous and rebellious glint to your eyes under fluttering lashes.

Steve only hummed, fingers hooking under your chin so he could pull you in for a soft kiss. Your hands fell to his chest as you each sighed into parted lips, body relaxing against his. The heel of your wedge sandal lifting just slightly as his tongue swipes over your top lip.

Lemon and powdered sugar on yours, the spice of whiskey on his, just a brush of a taste between your lips before someone was calling for him and you were left standing there with blinking eyes and flushed cheeks.

Steve's wink over his shoulder before exiting the room causing you to press your palms to your heated face and pull your lip between your teeth.

You were losing your damn mind.

You know that Steve knows what he’s doing. Soft and sweet kissing all morning to get you riled up until you were late because you were cumming on his fingers while he sucked a bruise into your neck. His blazer and his tie and the whiskey and god dammit now he had a three year old on his shoulders walking up the steps of the church.

He watches as you grab coats and say it’s no trouble, you need to freshen up anyways, slipping away and disappearing down the stairs past the nursery. His grandmother grabbing his arm before they enter the chapel, “Oh, honey, could you hang up my purs-”

She doesn’t even finish her sentence before he’s nodding and quickly rushing down the stairs after you. A dimly lit, well worn carpeted, and a too strong lilac air freshener filled hallway leads him to you. Leaning up against a small counter, fixing your lipstick in a mirror that you meet his reflection’s gaze in.

Your heart is racing, because Steve is looking at you very much in a way he shouldn’t be in a church and he feels like he’s going to explode from how much more the forbidden energy of it all makes him want to devour you.

Turning to face him, you press a manicured hand to his chest in a half hearted way to stop him, eyelids fluttering as your eyes travel up his neck, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs when he glances down at your cleavage.

Steve’s hands settle on your hips, thumbs brushing over the fabric and he makes a noise that he’d argue was not a whimper and you’d gloat it was as he whispers, “Just give me five minutes.”

Hand traveling up his neck, cradling his jaw, playing with the stray hair behind and over his ear, you smile, whispering back, “You’re unbelievable. We’re in a church. Be patient, Steve.”

His fingers glide over your dress, down to the hem, trailing up your thigh and pulling the fabric with it. Stomach flipping as warm breath falls over your neck, his mouth and nose just ghosting against your skin as his fingers climb higher at an agonizing pace.

“I’ve been patient,” voice shot, raspy and low as his nose presses into your cheek and his lips skim your jaw, “In case you’re forgetting, I didn’t get to cum this morning.”

Your head falls back on its own accord, exposing more of your neck and chest to him as your hands slide into the lapels of his blazer, humming as your eyes start to flutter closed, “That’s not my fa-fault,” his fingers squeeze at the inside of your thigh, hitching your breath, “We were late.”

Steve nods against your cheek, lips grazing your skin still as his fingers finally find the edge of lace he was desperate to feel. As they glide even higher, ready to follow the band to the center in that teasing way you like, he finds no gap.

“Oh, fuck, honey.”

Steve’s a goner. Pulling away enough to glance between your bodies, the skirt of your dress rucked up around your hip to find all black lace, mesh, and hard boning that connects all the way up to your breasts. The smile you bite down on, trying to hide how pleased you are at his reaction has him growling into your neck.

“You’re a menace,” his fingers grip at your lingerie covered sides and he moans, a press of wet lips to under your ear, hot breath fanning down your neck as his lips graze and his teeth nip, “Had this underneath here all fucking day?”

You hum, hands fisting into his jacket as his fingertips drag along the high cut edge, following the dip and crease of your thigh as his breathing grows heavier at the way you sigh his name.

Steve glances over his shoulder, tugging you quickly through a door and clicking a lock in place before he’s back on you. Your hands resting behind you on the counter of the sinks, he’s on his knees, fingers dragging up the back of your legs as he presses his soft lips up one of your calves.

“Baby,” he presses his nose into your knee, “Baby, you’re gonna kill me. Walking around with this on all day, holding infants, and being so sweet.” He’s mouthing over the black fabric now, nose nudging into your covered clit as your hands move to his hair.

“Steve, I-”

Teeth tugging on the edge of the lace, he groans when you say his name all breathy and timid like that. Like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.

Standing now, his fingers toy with the thin material that’s quickly becoming soaked, nose pressing to your cheek as he closes the distance between you, your dress held up in his other hand on your hip.

His middle finger traces the edge down and back up, lightly pressing your clit again as he admits, “I’ve been thinking about ripping this dress off of you all day. Looked so pretty in it, holding babies on your hip, helping with things around the house, so,” he slaps over the wet fabric harshly and suddenly, sticking it against your slicked folds, as you gasp around his words, “Sweet.”

“Steve, please,” your lips catch the corner of his, pressing a kiss there and then to his jaw. Your fingers search for purchase on the cool countertop while his slip under the lace, soaked as they drag through your slit.

“Please what?” He hovers over your lips, eyes unable to pull themselves from where your legs spread wider for him. Unable to hear anything except the sound of your wet lips parting around two of his fingers now.

“Kiss me, please,” you’re whining, nose into his jaw, thinking about the small amount of scruff he’s grown and how it would feel between your thighs. You feel possessed. Like the devil himself shoved the forbidden apple down your throat but then you asked for more with a hopeful please.

Steve doesn’t make you ask again, parted lips over yours. He tugs on your bottom one, teeth grazing over it as his fingertips tease at your entrance. You nod against his forehead, hands coming up to cling to his shoulders as your kissing becomes more frantic.

“Please, baby, I’ve been thinking about you doing this all day, I can’t-” broken off into a moan as he nudges a finger into you, a second one following almost instantly.

He swirls his fingers slowly, letting you catch your breath and adjust before his thumb slips over your clit, the mess you’re making tells him you’re not lying at all. Driving himself crazy as he thinks about how you had this on all day, growing wet thinking about him.

“Poor girl, just been feeling empty all day, huh?” He mocks as you gasp against his cheek, mouth quickly finding his again, breathless and sloppy kissing as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’s expecting you to grow shy like you do, to let his teasing take over, to let it numb your brain but you nod your head against him again.

“You were-oh fuck-” your hands drag down his jacket, quickly working on his belt, “You were with the kids and I-” biting your lip like you don’t want to say it out loud.

Steve’s fingers stop moving, and you whine, hips squirming against them as he pulls them out slowly. Wet with you as he catches your chin, cheeks pink and pupils blown out as he stares at you, “Thinking about me filling you up and getting you pregnant? Is that it?”

Your lips part at the words, a slow and timid nod of your head against his hand still cradling your jaw. Shoulders rising to tuck your neck into him as you grow shy again has him crashing his lips into yours, both of you frantic to tug at his belt and slacks.

He kisses you quick and pushes his pants and boxers down, freeing his length. Pink tip swollen and leaking as he pumps himself, nudging his nose against your cheek, “Turn around for me, honey.”

You do as you're told, earning a moan as you spread your legs for him without being asked. His lips kiss up and down your neck, smirking into your neck as he speaks, “So sweet even when she’s being filthy.” He tugs the black lace to the side, sliding his tip through your slick until he’s nudging at your entrance slowly.

The crackle of the speaker alerts you both that the service has now started and Steve pushes into you as the pastor greets everyone.

Biting your lip to hold in the obscene noise you want to make, feeling every inch of Steve against your walls until he’s pressed flush against you. Dress in his fists as he glances down at where your bodies meet, pink cheeks and tousled hair, his reflection looks wrecked.

Your hips wiggle against him and he tsks at you, kissing over your shoulder, nosing along the strap of your dress, “Be patient, sweetheart.”

He slowly pulls out and thrusts into you, rolling his hips against yours that earns him an absolutely sinful moan. Crawling out of your chest and mingling with the quiet sound of a hymn being sung.

Steve continues to babble nonsense into your skin, cheek pressing to yours as he catches your eyes in the mirror, “Wanna walk around so full of me it’s leaking out of you while you’re in a church, huh, honey?”

His cock pulses inside of you at the way you clench around him at the words. He can’t himself but to push in a little harsher on the next thrust, grunting as he imagines getting to cum inside of you over and over again, ready to give you a baby. You’re all fluttering eyes, flushed skin, heaving chests as the drag of his cock along your walls seems to go even slower.

A forceful thrust up into you, a roll of your hips back against him and the fucking ceramic easter decorations covered in crosses fall over on the counter. A fire slowly burns inside of you at the tantalizing pace and his hopeful tone despite teasing you. It’s all so wrong, and you want more.

Steve mouths at your neck, pace of his hips slow and agonizing, but forceful, like he’s trying to be so deep inside you that it’s sure to stick.

“Want me to give you a baby, huh? Wanna make me a daddy?”

The sound you make brings him straight to heaven.

Steve’s hands roam to over your stomach, dress falling from his hands so he can press and squeeze over your stomach and hips and his breath is hot in your ear as he admits, “You’re gonna look so pretty with a baby, all round and carrying our kid and-oh fuck.”

He grips at your hips as your head falls back against his shoulder, whining at his words and he keeps going, kissing over your neck and cheek and jaw as his hands push and cup at your breasts, thumbs swiping over your pebbled nipples through the fabric, “You want it too, don’t you baby? You want everyone to see you all pregnant? Need everyone to know you’re the one who gets to have a kid with Steve Harrington?”

Your hands reach above you, holding onto the back of his hair and gripping, gasping at his words as his hips pick up their pace.

He lets go of your chest, hand cupping at the curve of your ass and slapping it, “Tell me, babe.”

Nodding furiously, you clutch his hair tighter as he moans into your neck at your words, “Please, Steve, I want you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?”

Steve’s teeth nipping at your shoulder, lips smiling into the dip of your neck as you shiver, letting out a quiet, “Christ.”

“Baby, we’re in a church, be good,” his teeth drag on the chain of your necklace, tugging at it as his hands pull up your dress again, “Hold this. We don’t wanna ruin your pretty dress, right?”

Doing as he says, his hands push on your lower back, marveling at how you arch perfectly for him, begging him to hurry up before he’s cupping your ass, spreading your cheeks so he can see how you’re dripping around him. Black lace curving and cutting across at a high angle, stark underneath the bunched up pastel and pristine fabric of your dress, he closes his eyes and breathes through his nose.

His hips slap against yours as his pace becomes brutal, bruising your insides on every drag out and thrust back in. The slick of your walls tightening around him on every pump, your breathy mewls and gasps of babbling nonsense mixing with his grunts and the sermon crackling out of the speaker.

“Steve, baby, please-”

“Our Father, who art in heaven-”

Steve could feel you clamping around him, your dress curling in your fingers as you gripped at the counter underneath it, his left hand covering yours, rings clicking together faintly. Chest to your back as he kissed at your sweat slicked neck, breathing in the scent of your fresh perfume.

“I know honey, just-” Steve mouthed over your spine, nose pressing behind your ear as he gasped out, “I’m almost there too, just hold on-”

“Thy will be done, on earth as it is in-”

He felt you tense up, thighs and legs shaking as you gushed around him, dripping out and down his dick, the base coated as you couldn’t keep quiet, his name leaving your lips in what was practically a sob, begging him for something he couldn’t wait to give you.

“Steve!”

“-and deliver us from evil. For-”

Steve whispered your name into your skin, groaning as he gripped your hip, his own stuttering as hot ropes of his release spill into you. Quiet praises of how good you did and how much he loved you lost in both of your heavy breathing.

“Forever and ever, Amen.”

Steve drags himself out of you, fingers quickly reaching down and pushing his cum back inside, soothing over your puffy lips, then dragging the black material back over your cunt. His palm holds it flat against you as he presses wet and hot open mouthed kisses over your neck in between ragged breaths, “Can’t let any of our mess leak out.”

Your knees buckle at his words, chest heaving as you let your dress fall from your hands, wrinkled from where you had clutched it so tightly and you cover your lips with your fingers.

Steve tucks himself back into his slacks, amused eyes finding yours in the mirror and he kisses down and back up your neck, nose tracing over your ear. He smirks into your sweat kissed skin, when you whisper, “I think that was more than five minutes.”

His teeth scrape at your earlobe, and he squeezes your hips, “Give me five more and I’ll be ready to go again.”

Turning, you smack at his chest, “Steve!”

He kisses all over your laughing face, already daydreaming about a glow you’ll have when you are actually pregnant. His hands roam up your sides and back down, his lips moving over to your neck and you both sigh as your head falls back for him. Arms wrapping around his neck, fingers carding through his hair as his kissing leads down to your chest, he whines into your cleveage, “Fuck.”

Your giggle spurs him on more and he’s pawing at your hips and thighs, pushing you up against the counter and he feels himself growing hard again. Head shaking from side to side, your lips press to his temple, “Who’s the menace now?”

Pushing him away, he pouts as you unlock the door and peek outside, hand reaching back and grabbing his wrist. As quietly as you can, you sneak into the back of the chapel, settling in open spaces in the last pew.

Steve’s fingers graze the outside of your thigh, hitching the hem of your skirt higher as his knuckles drag back and forth. You sit with your legs pressed together and he’s giddy with the knowledge of why. When you interact with the toddler looking over his father’s shoulder in the pew in front of you, sticking out your tongue and crossing your eyes to elicit a shriek from the kid, you giggle and hide your face in Steve’s shoulder and he squeezes your knee.

It seems simple for you, to act like nothing happened. You hug his grandparents and push his cousin’s on the swings after the service. Running around and helping them with the Easter egg hunt like it’s your job. And it’s driving him even more insane than it did earlier. Now he knows what’s underneath your dress. Now he knows what it’s keeping from dripping out of you.

At one point there’s one kid on your hip playing with your hair and one holding your dress as you ask her what kind of cookie she wants. A kiss on each of their cheeks as they leave and helping a worker fold chairs even though no one asked. Easy, sweet, domestic, a secret menace. The love of his goddamn life.

It’s hard to breathe properly after leaving the bathroom with Steve. Thighs sticky, limbs heavy, and your heart hasn’t gone back to beating properly since. You’re filled with adrenaline, a secret no one else knows but you and Steve. Hating and loving that something that should’ve been wrong felt so right. Relishing in catching Steve’s eyes on you, almost able to still feel his breath on your neck, the fullness of him inside you still fresh and dancing across your nerves.

When it’s finally time to say goodbye, Steve and you barely make it five minutes before you’re already climbing over the console as he pulls off onto a gravel road. Pants dropping to the floor of the car and dress hitched to your hips again as you take him back to heaven.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and I hope you consider reblogging my work to get it circulated to new readers - thanks for being here 💛

Steve Tag List: @boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @aftermidnightwriting

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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bari-the-witch · 1 year

Text

“Ahoy there, sailor!”

Eddie saunters into Scoops Ahoy like he owns the place, an overly cheerful expression on his face. He nearly panicked again making his way through that blasted mall full of people, and putting on a fake smile is his way of not losing his mind. It’s not the healthiest way Eddie knows but it’s quick and it’ll do for the moment. He can deal with the aftermath of being overwrought later in the confines of his own bedroom.

Fortunately, Steve doesn't seem to notice the fakeness of Eddie’s behavior or notice him at all. He’s too occupied with trying to make the little girl at the counter explode or something if the look on his face is any indication of that.

“Listen, Erica. You can’t come in here every day and demand free samples of every flavor we have, okay? I told you yesterday. And the day before. And every other day of summer until now. So buy something, or leave.”

Steve looks like he’s ten seconds away from tearing his hair out or banging his head against the wall. Eddie is torn between watching how this unfolds just for shits and giggles, or jumping in and saving Steve from his obvious discomfort. Unfortunately, he's a very curious person, so he seats himself at one of the many tables near the entrance and watches the train wreck in front of him unfold.

“That’s not how you treat a customer, idiot. Do you want me to talk to your boss or something?" The girl - Erica - replies, clearly not impressed in the slightest by Steve’s lecture. “I bet he wouldn’t like what you did.”

“You wouldn't-." Steve pauses for a moment. There seems to be something in Erica’s face that makes him falter mid-sentence. Because in the next second, Steve sinks into himself like a puppet with its strings cut off.

“Fine,” he groans. “What do you want?”

“See, I knew you’d come around.” Erica sounds proud of successfully blackmailing Steve into giving her what she wants.

Ten minutes and a few samples later, Erica leaves the store with a smug expression on her face. When she catches Eddie staring at her, she glares at him with disdain, before finally leaving for good. Geez, those young girls sure are different today.

“God, I can’t believe her sometimes…,” Eddie can hear Steve muttering from behind the counter, head tipped back and staring at the ceiling like it holds the secrets of the universe inside. When Steve looks down again and finally spots Eddie sitting there, he blanches, his face immediately losing all color.

“Oh no,” he states. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been here the whole time.”

“Would it make things better if I told you that this little girl is absolutely scary before giving you an honest answer?” Eddie says, before making his way over to the counter.

“A little,” Steve squeaks, sounding unsure. “God, you really must think I’m a loser now.”

Eddie deliberately lets his eyes wander over Steve's body, clad in that scandalous sailor outfit." Right. Only now.”

At first, Steve doesn’t get what he’s hinting at. Then his eyes widen. Then they narrow. And before Eddie knows it, he’s met with the infamous Harrington glare of doom. Or the mean girl stare as Grant jokingly likes to call it. It’s almost funny to watch Steve turn from complete and utter embarrassment to this in a matter of seconds.

But instead of lashing out, like he surely would’ve done last year, Steve leaves it at that and a “Funny, Munson”, before smoothing out his face again into a neutral expression. Though he now believes Steve changed, Eddie is surprised by his tame reaction. The old Steve would have verbally torn him to shreds at such a jab at his ego by now.

“Does she really do that every day?” Eddie asks, changing the subject, so as to not test his luck. He doesn’t need to overdo it when the first soft tendrils of their friendship are still fragile.

“Erica? Yes, unfortunately,” Steve replies, making a face. “And because I need this job and my asshole father surely would serve my head on a platter if I lose it, I have to play nice with her. Mostly.”

“Your father makes you work here?”

That’s a bit surprising actually. Eddie always thought the Harringtons would rather be caught dead than let any member of their family work a minimum-wage job. In this ridiculous outfit no less.

“Mhm. Remember when I told you they always nag at me for something?” Eddie nods, and Steve continues. “Well, seems like he didn’t take it well I graduated at the skin of my teeth and couldn’t go to college because of it. Seems like he was right calling me a disappointment since the first time I brought home a bad grade.”

He sounds so defeated telling him about the way his father treats him, Eddie feels the urge to punch Mr. Harrington in the face fester inside him. He balls his hands into fists at his side, trying to shove his anger down. This is not the time, nor the place for this.

“So that’s the reason I work here. And most of the time it’s not even that bad,” Steve says, shrugging his shoulders like it’s no big deal for him. But Eddie isn’t convinced at all. From the things he heard about Steve’s dad, whether it was from Steve himself or his uncle Wayne, Mr. Harrington doesn't strike him as the person to give his son a job he would like.

“I mean, I get free ice cream sometimes. And at least I have a job, unlike others. So I shouldn’t complain that I-.”

“Steve.” Steve immediately clicks his mouth at Eddie’s firm tone, something that he’s definitely filing away for later. “It’s okay, really. You don’t have to pretend to like your job in front of me. I’m not judging you for it.”

“I uh - thanks. I guess.”

“Don’t mention it. I would be a hypocrite if I’d actually encouraged you to like your job in that evil den of capitalism,” Eddie jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

It seems to work because Steve snorts, his solemn expression turning into an amused one. “Are you going to jump on tables here, too?” he quips good-naturedly, then his eyes widen. “Oh, please don’t actually do that.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Although it sounds rather tempting.” When Steve wants to protest, Eddie holds his hands placatingly. “Just kidding Stevie. Wait, does that mean you actually listened to those things I said at the school cafeteria?”

“It was hard not to,” Steve grins toothily, his cheeks red for some reason. “Has anyone ever told you really have a knack for the dramatic?”

Eddie bumps his finger against his lips a few times, pretending to think about Steve’s rhetorical question. “Hmm. Nope, definitely heard this the first time today.”

“As if,” Steve laughs. “I think you being dramatic is like a law of the universe or something.”

“I’m going to pretend this is a compliment,” Eddie replies dryly but feels somehow giddy at Steve’s words. He feels seen. “Otherwise it would be totally rude of you.”

“Believe me it is a compliment” Steve becomes serious again and Eddie feels almost dizzy with how fast the other is changing his emotions today. “There’s just something so admirable how you’re so unabashedly yourself. Makes me a bit jealous, to be honest.”

Jealous? Steve Harrington is jealous of him? No way in hell. But Steve looks so earnest that Eddie can’t do much than accept the fact that this may be the truth.

“Sorry I-,” Eddie hesitates because this is just so weird for him. “I think I’m a bit surprised hearing that from you.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. It’s only the truth. And I think I’m jealous because if I would be a bit more like you, I maybe could accept myself more easily.”

This catches Eddie’s attention. “What do you mean by that?" he asks curiously. And it must’ve been the wrong thing to ask because Steve’s expression immediately slides shut and suddenly there’s a distance between them that’s almost palpable.

“Uh, nothing. Forget it. It’s - I - nothing, really.”

Despite his brash demeanor, Eddie knows when it’s the wrong time to pry. So he just nods and lets it slide for the time being. Maybe there’ll be another opportunity to talk soon, where Steve will be more open about whatever this is.

#steddie #i'm bored and alone don't judge me #steddie fandom #pre relationship #but they're getting there I hope

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