#but had this idea in my mind since christmas

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile VII

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Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: 4913 words... I don't know what happened. I'm so tired, it's 1 am but who cares, I needed to drop the new chapters. I really hope you'll enjoy it dears ! Tell me what you think of it! Because I'm dead tired there might have more mistake than usual, I'll check it out tomorrow.

“ And then I kind of kissed him through the blanket.”

You stared as Alice squealed with delight, bouncing on her seat in front of you. You were in your living room,sitting on your sofa, your Mother was out which made you alone with your friend. You just finished telling her what happened two days ago and she seemed delighted while you were… confused. At that moment you didn’t even think, you just… went for the kiss. It wasn’t even a kiss, your lips didn’t touch! You just felt the blanket!

“ And then ? And then ? Don’t leave me hanging, tell me what happened next!” begged Alice while she was squeezing a cushion against her chest. You turned your head toward the chimney’s fire. You were the 20th of December. Christmas was around the corner and then Alastor’s birthday…And you still didn’t have any ideas for a present ! You sighed, you were losing against the clock… “ Hey, are you doing alright ?”

“ Oh, sorry Alice, nothing happened after. He… reassured me and then he went home. But the problem right now is that I don’t have his Chrismas’s present… I don’t even have his birthday’s present!”

“ He was born on the first of January, right ?” You nodded and she tilted her head backward, thinking about a present for your friend. You almost scoffed, you trusted her but if YOU couldn’t find a present for Alastor, how could she do it? “ Hey, before I forget, I asked my parents if I could celebrate Chrismas’s Eve with friends and they said yes!” she clapped her hands together. “ You should come, and bring Alastor with you !”

Going to a soirée with Alastor..? You looked at Alice. She was indeed the daughter of a rich family but she wasn’t like those pompous people who thought they were better than anyone. She was open minded. She made friends with everyone, white people, coloured people, everyone.. And you were surprised her parents were okay with it. Maybe they weren’t closed minded people?

You kind of wanted to see Alastor in this kind of environment, you have never seen him all dressed up since you were kids. It could be fun ! But would he agree ? You could almost hear his voice saying he didn’t want to leave his Mother alone for Chrismas’s Eve.. You didn’t want to leave your mother alone either– Wait, that was it! You would invite Marie to pass Chrismas’s Eve with your Mother and you and Alastor would go to Alice’s soirée and then celebrated Christmas in your own house with Alastor and her mother!  

“ From your smile, I guess it is a yes?” asked Alice with a grin. You winked at her before standing up.

“ It’s a maybe… I don’t know if Alastor would want to come.”

“Mhn.. If he doesn’t want to come, tell him that John will be there.” she said with a teasing expression, like she knew something you didn’t. You raised an eyebrow at her, suspicious.

“ Alice… Did you talk with Alastor when he walked you home?”

“ Oh! Actually yes, he is the one who began to talk. He asked about our relationship, he seemed very protective of you, it was cute!” she beamed as she giggled. You blushed, looking away. “ But you think he would not like a party?  He seemed like he would be the star of the soirée!”

You did know that. Alastor has something that made people want to approach him. He was almost seventeen but he already had so much charisma, he was a proper gentleman. You weren’t blind, you could see more and more young ladies turn their eyes on him when you were walking outside. You wondered if he was aware of it? If he was, he never made a deal of it, he would just smile back at them if they happened to catch his eyes. 

You wondered how ladies would try to approach Alastor. You’ve known him for eight years, so you weren’t impressed by him anymore, if you wanted you would just jump on his back because you were tired and he would carry you home just like. No questions asked. You smiled without noticing, people might have found Alastor difficult to approached but for you, it was as easy as breathing.

You kind of wanted to see people trying to approach Alastor now…

“ Well, I just have to convince Alastor.”

~~

“ I’ll be delighted!”

You blinked, turning your head toward him. He was laying on the tree’s foot, seeming to be reading a book as you were sitting on the swing. It was snowing today, but you both decided to stay outside for a change. The forest was pretty hidden under a white blanket.

You went to Alastor’s house after parting ways with Alice. You did pay attention to the people around, but you didn’t see any man that would be stalking you. You were sure, if there was a stalker, that he would stalk Alice, not you. But Alastor has made you promise that you would pay attention so…

“ Really? You would like to come?” you smiled as you let the swing go, walking toward him. He put his book down and looked up at you with his usual grin, he really seemed excited about it! 

“ Of course dear, going to a soirée with you holding on to my arm? How could I refuse? And I’m sure my Mother would be delighted to celebrate Christmas’s Eve with your mother, as long as we celebrate Christmas with them.” he sketched before sitting up. He tilted his head and you couldn’t help but laugh as you saw a few leaves and snow on his hair. You sat next to him and began to take the leaves out of his hair. In two seconds, Alastor was laying back down on the grass but this time his head was on your thighs. He took his book back and continued his reading as you stroked his hair, looking at the sky.

What kind of dress would you wear? You never went to a soirée before, you needed to look your best, you wanted to impress Alastor. You’ve never really put too much thought into what you wore, you’ll have to ask Alice for advice… You wondered how Alastor was going to show up..

“ Alastor, what are you going to wear?” you looked at him, still playing with his hair, how could his hair be so soft to the touch? He didn’t move his gaze from the book, answering you with a teasing smile.

“ Why? ”

“ Come on, I was just wondering… I don’t know what kind of dress would suit me, I have never been to a fancy soirée. I’m scared of being… underdressed. “ and you didn’t want Alastor to be ashamed of you because of your poor choice of outfit. He stayed silent for a minute and then tilted his head backward on your laps so he could stare into your gaze.

“ Red suits you.” 

You stared in his eyes, the sun made them look almost caramel like. He was so lucky to be this handsome, really ,and he wasn’t even a full grown man yet. You pouted, looking away. How unfair.

“ Well, thank you, does that mean that the only color that suits me is red and I look awful with any other color?” 

“ Oh I didn’t say that. I just want to see you in red.”

You looked at him and couldn’t help the smile sketching your lips. Well, if that’s what he wanted. You took his book off his hands, which he let you do, still looking at you. You put the book next to you, on the grass. 

“ Do you think you'll be able to keep up with me if we have to dance ?” you teased him, raising an eyebrow. His eyes widened before he roared with laughter, holding his belly. You chuckled at his reaction, you knew that Alastor was an amazing dancer, you just wanted to hear him laugh… 

“ Oh my dearest friend, if we happen to dance, trust me, I’ll make it so you wouldn’t be able to walk for some days.” he winked at you with a confident smile. You laughed out loud, throwing your head back.

“ And I’ll make it so you wouldn’t ever consider another partner!” he took your hand in his with a soft smile, caressing your skin. You looked up as you heard someone coming and your eyes met Marie’s. She smiled softly at you, saying it was time for you to go home, she didn’t like you going home at night and didn't want you to catch a cold.

Alastor stood up, before taking his book. You stood up with his help, said goodbye to Marie’s and went back home with Alastor. Since the “stalker” evenement, he didn’t want you to walk home alone. You rolled your eyes at him but at least you could stay with Alastor a little while longer, so it was worth it. You walked together on the road of New Orleans, watching at the shop vitrines if it could give you some ideas for Alastor’s gift.

“ Hey, Alasto-”

You screamed as your foot slid on ice. You felt yourself falling before Alastor wrapped his arms around you and tugged your body against him before gracefully dancing around the freezed road. You stared at him, your eyes wide opened as he made you spin on the freezing floor, but you never fell, he was moving your body, like it was another part of him. You began to laugh happily. You let him take control of your body, letting him make you dance as he wished. Not too long after he made you drop, your head almost touching the ground. You stared at him as he held you firmly, your breath coming in short puff. He was staring intensely at you with a satisfied smile.

“ No matter what, I’ll always catch you if you fall.”

You smiled at him as he straightened you before offering his arm to you. You took it, as you kept walking toward your home and of course, as always, he leaned in to give you a kiss on your forehead before leaving. You stared at him until you couldn’t see him anymore and then you decided to enter your home.

“ Mom~ What would you think about celebrating Christmas’ Eve with Marie~?”

~~~

“ This is a disaster Alice !” 

You fell on your bed,head in your pillow ready to scream bloody murder. You haven’t found a single red dress that suited you. You hated every single dress you had tried ! And Alice’s soirée was tomorrow night ! You didn’t know what to do with your hair, with your makeup and you still didn’t have anything to wear ! 

“ I see… Well, it seems like it’s my time to shine ! Look what I’ve got you !” She took a bag from behind her and put it in front of your bed. You lifted your head from your pillow and opened the bag. Your eyes opened as you saw a beautiful black and red flapper dress. Your eyes were wide open, you’ve only seen this kind of dress with the riches folks. You stared at Alice, your mouth wide open without being able to put words together. “ I know you will look delicious like this, come on, try it on so we can find makeup and hairstyle to go with it!”

“ We can see my legs !”

“ We’ll wear stockings, don’t worry ! It’s almost 1920’s, come on!”

“ We’ll be in 1917 next month!”

“ That’s what I said, come on now!”

You undressed yourself before looking at the dress. It was very pretty and it was shining with so many sparkles… You dressed up and put on some heels and then you looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked… like a woman. You really liked the dress… you moved around a bit, it was comfortable, you feel like you could dance with it! You could feel the flapper moving against your thighs with each movement. You blushed a little and looked at Alice who was staring at you with stars in her eyes.

“ Ooh, yes! You’ll look perfect ! Don’t worry, I’ll have some similar dress, you’ll not feel left out! Now, the makeup and the hairstyle my friend~.”

Oh dear.

~~~

It was the day. You were in front of your mirror. You were wearing your dress, your black heels, you had put a red lipstick on your lips and a bit of mascara. You were so nervous. What if Alastor found you absolutely ridiculous ? Oh you couldn’t live with the humiliation. You heard your door open and turned around to see your mother, staring at you with teary eyes.

“ Oh sweetheart, you look… Breathtaking, your father would be crying…” She went into your bedroom and hugged you which you immediately reciprocated. 

“ I don’t look stupid ?”

“ Baby, no. You look like a grown woman! Oh, how time flies…you're already sixteen...” she smiled before you heard someone ringing at your door making you tense. It was Alastor, you were sure of it. Your Mother smiled at you before winking and then she left you bedroom, going downstairs so she could open the door. You tried to hear what they were saying but you couldn’t hear anything…

You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror.

“ Come on girl. You’re going to an amazing soirée and you’ll enjoy every single second of it, okay?” you nodded at your reflection. Great.

You sighed and then left your bedroom. You took a deep breath and then began to walk down the stairs, your heels making noises against the wooden stairs. You heard Alastor and Marie’s voice getting closer. You saw your mother at the bottom of the stairs with an encouraging smile. 

“ Alastor, come closer, there she is !”

You heard his shoes before finally seeing him.

Oh.

He was beautiful.

His dark hair was slicked back, he didn’t have his glasses on, he was wearing a dark redded suit and he was holding a bouquet of flowers in his right hand. He was staring at you, his eyes wide open. You both stood there, without talking or doing anything else. You took a shaky breath before walking down the stairs until you were in front of him, thanks to your heels you were face to face with him. He was still staring at you with a straining smile. Did he find you ridiculous, did you try too hard? You kissed him softly on both cheeks and you heard him gulp. What was happening to him?

“ Alastor, please say something…” you begged, looking down.

You felt his hand on your face, raising your chin up so he could meet your gaze. His smile was softer and his eyes still had this intense glint that made you relax.

“ I told you, red is our color.” he smirked before giving you the bouquet. You grinned as you stared at the beautiful flowers in front of you and then you looked at Alastor’s eyes. He didn’t even once let his gaze move away from you, it made you feel warm. You smiled brightly as your mother took the flowers from you, putting it in a vase. 

“ You both are so beautiful, but leaving before being late !” Marie said just after taking a picture of you. You took a long coat that hid your figure before leaving with your arm around Alastor’s one. 

“ I can’t wait to be there ! “ you said excitedly. You were still feeling nervous but Alastor by your side, it was getting easier to just be excited about this party. You felt Alastor grip your arm tighter as you walked into a busy road. You tried not to bump into people, and after a thirty minute walk, you find yourself in front of a huge house. Was it a mansion?

You knocked on the huge door and a butler opened the door, eyeing suspiciously but before you could even your mouth you saw Alice running toward you. She was wearing an outfit similar to yours, as promised, but hers was white and blue. She looked almost angelic.

“ You made it ! Come, come, come inside!” 

You walked into a huge reception room and there were already so many people inside. The butler took off your coat making you feel a little cold, so you just stayed against Alastor who put his arms around your shoulder. Alice introduced some of her friends, you could not remember every name, there were too many. Did Alice really know all of them? Some of them looked like real adults, and was that a band that was getting ready? You went with Alastor toward the buffet.

“ Well, what do you think of it so far?” you asked him with a tired smile. He took a drink and sniffed it before putting it back. “ What?”

“ Be careful, some of the brevage have alcohol,” he said before leaning against the wall.” but I’m not surprised. Your friend seems to be the type to always go big.  Being able to pull off this kind of soirée with a war going on? I’m almost impressed.” he said before straightening his tie. 

“ Alastor, is it you?”

You turned to the voice and saw a beautiful lady. She smiled sweetly at Alastor who gave her his usual smile. Who was she? She began to talk with Alastor, ignoring your presence. You tilted your head, it was the first time someone came straight at Alastor with you next to him. She seemed so confident, you almost envied her. Almost. You were a polite girl, you wouldn’t interrupt them but you didn’t want to stand next to them too long, it would get boring quickly. You took a drink from the buffet and sipped it. It was sweet, you wondered what it was. You smirked, you could already imagine Alastor’s face at the disgustingly sweet brevage you just had.

You should prank him. You took another cup and turned toward Alastor before being startled by the band who began to play music. You almost dropped the cup, that was a close call.. You looked at Alastor who was being dragged by the lady toward the dancefloor. 

Wait what? 

You stared at the scene in front of you, as Alastor began to dance with her.

What?

“ Oh, who do we kill before Christmas?” You turned your head toward Alice who was trying to see what you were watching. “ Oh… Oh, yes. Jealous?”

“ No! I’m just .. surprised. I didn’t know Alastor had other female friends.. Come on, let’s dance.” you finished your drink and dragged Alice who eagerly nodded. 

You both danced with each other, smiling. It was fun! The band was playing some good tunes! She gave you a spin who landed you into someone's arms. You looked up and saw John, your school’s mate.

“ You look beautiful like this…” he said as he admired you. You nodded with a confident smile. You didn’t know why but you felt like the most powerful woman right now! He smiled at you, before looking away shyly. “ Care to bless me with a dance?” You laughed, so formal. You took his hand and danced with him, keeping your eyes open to match his steps. You did stop him from lifting you in the air though, you didn’t trust him to keep you up in the air but thankfully he didn’t take it badly.

You took a look at Alastor and couldn’t help but frown. He was dancing amazingly, as always, spinning the woman before tugging her against him. You pouted, you thought he only did that with you.

As the party kept going you were getting more and more agitated. Why was Alastor still not dancing with you? You didn’t know why, but most of the time you were a good girl but when Alastor was included, you could become the worst brat ever. You walked toward the buffet, took another drink and went toward the band, you needed to look confident. You spoke to the singer and he smiled before making some place for you. He placed the microphone in front of you and asked you what song you wanted to sing.

You smirked and asked for a song you and Alastor’s used to dance on when you were younger. You were watching the crowd, took a deep breath and began to sing. You stared at Alastor who was dancing with another girl but once he heard your voice he turned his head toward the scene , where you were standing. You couldn’t feel but something in your belly, just like that his attention was back on you. You saw the girl trying to keep his gaze on her and you smirked. Not today.

Today you were selfish.

You sang like there was no tomorrow, the crowd clapping their hands with the rhythm of the song, you didn’t think you ever sang this good. You had perfect control on your voice, you were even dancing on the stage as the band were giving their all with you. You looked at Alastor who was still dancing with the lady, even if you could see he was getting bored. Well, you could help. You began to sing with more energy, the band making the rhythm faster as well. You could feel your lips sketched into a mocking smile as you saw the girl not being able to keep up with Alastor. Perfect.

You went down the stage , still singing. The crowd parted for you and you couldn’t help but feel excited. You walked toward Alastor, he had his back on you. You slided your hand on his back making him flinch. He turned his head toward you with a surprised expression. You grinned at him, singing before smoothly taking Alastor away from the girl. You both were encircled by the crowd but you didn’t care. Alastor and you danced, never breaking eye contact. You kept the rhythm as fast as you could, every step was nailed, every spin. You would have your back against his chest and then he would spin you so your face was inches away from each other. And then Alastor lifted you in his arms before throwing you in the air. You closed your eyes, feeling perfectly safe. He promised he would always catch you if you were to fall.

You fell down in his arms, your head near the floor but never touching it. You felt his breath on your lips and you opened your eyes, staring right back into his gaze. He was sweating and so were you. You were holding his shoulder, breathing hard. You were both alone in your own world. 

And just like that, the spell broke as the crowd cheered for you. You blinked and Alastor straightened you up with a genuine smile. You grinned at him before you both bowed to the crowd. You went back to the stage, giving back the microphone before going to the buffet, you needed some fresh water.

“ Oh my Lord, you both were.. I don’t even have the words!” squealed Alice as she shook you by the shoulders. You laughed at her reaction , it was just you being petty because Alastor wasn’t paying attention to you.

“It really was amazing.” John said as he clapped while you were drinking a glass of water.

“ That’s what happens when you let us do our things together, let that be a lesson folks.”  Alastor said as he put his arms around your shoulders.  You nudged him but couldn’t contain your laughter. You were having a great time.

You had other dances with Alastor, before people were making little group. You were sitting on a table with Alice,John,Alastor and other people you dind’t know. You didn’t know why, maybe they drank some alcohol but the conversation which was proper began to turn toward something more… spicy?

“ You’ve never kissed before? Hoho, you don’t know what you are missing.” said a lady to John who just blushed. The lady stared languidly at Alastor. “ And you, pretty boy? Have you ever kissed someone ?”  You were ready to tell the lady to back off, you didn’t want her to embarrass Alastor because he didn’t have his first kiss.

“ Yes, I have.”

Huh?

“ Oh, I’m not surprised. And you sweetie?” you felt everyone's eyes on you and you blushed. Even Alice had already kissed someone !

“ N-no, I have never.”

“ Well, why not remedy it tonight, just before Christmas ! John, was it, why don’t you kiss our adorable singer right here?” you flushed even more as John was looking at you, seeming hesitant. 

“ As if my dearest friend’s first kiss would be with such a boring fella, no offense my friend.” said Alastor sarcastly.  You frowned, why would he care! He already had his first kiss and he didn’t even tell you. You stood up.

“ I need some air, I’ll be back.”

You took a sip of your glass with the sweet juice and went out, in the garden. You heels hit the paving stone as you try not to burst out of… of what? sadness? angryness? You sighed as you stared at the stars in the sky, you felt the snow falling on your naked arms. You could even see the air you were breathing.

“ You are going to catch a cold.”

You turned your head toward Alastor as he took off his blazer, ready to hand it to you. You shook your head.

“ No, I needed… I need the cold air.”

“ Why did you lie ?”

“ Pardon?” you turned your body toward him as he took a step toward you.

“ About your first kiss.”

“ I didn’t lie, I’ve never kissed anyone. And unlike you, if I did, I would have told you but Mister Alastor doesn’t care to share such a secret with me, am I right?” you crossed your arms over your chest. He smiled at you mockingly. You felt anger sweltering inside you.

“ Don’t you dare look at me like that, Alastor.”

“ You’ve always been endearingly stupid. My first kiss was with you, in your room, remember ?” he tilted his head as he took another step toward you.

You felt your body relaxed. You couldn’t be angry with him. He didn’t know. He wasn’t reading the same book as you. You have been so embarrassed when he had catched you reading a love story but at least you knew what a first kiss was! 

“ Alastor, a kiss isn’t… A first kiss is something you must share with a special someone. Your lips need to touch the other one.” you blushed as you looked away. “ I think.. Th-The lips need to move against each other an-and..”

You took a step back but his hand found the back of your waist as he softly tugged you against him. You knew he was trying to find your eyes but you were so embarrassed by what you just told him.

“ So, a first kiss must be with a special someone, right?” he waited for you to nod before raising your chin with his finger. “ Then, can I give you my real first kiss?” You stared at him with your eyes wide open, your cheeks flushed red.

“ What..”

“ You are my most special person since childhood… For me, it’s only natural for you to have my first kiss.” he smiled at you, his eyes shining with that oh so familiar glint you were used to seeing each time he was looking at you. “ You don’t have to if you don’t want of course, but–”

“ I want to. You.. You are also my .. most special person…” he nodded with a soft genuine smile that made you feel warm inside. You closed your eyes as you waited for him to kiss you.

“ Nu-uh, keep your eyes on me.” you opened your eyes, blushing furiously.

“ You are supposed to close your eyes when you are kissing someone !”

“ I don’t really care, this is our first kiss, we’ll do it how we want.” he smirked as he approached his face toward you. Your eyes were looking at his lips then his eyes, you couldn't focus on something, you were stressed, you were nervous, you were excited. Your eyes were half closed when you felt his warm lips against your cold one. You looked at his eyes, his gaze piercing your gaze with an intensity too much to bear, you closed your eyes.

It wasn’t like in the book but you didn’t know why, you didn’t care. 

You kept your eyes closed as Alastor stepped back slightly , you could still feel his breath against your mouth. You opened your eyes and gave him a shy smile as he whispered.

“ So dear, have you ever kissed someone ?” you nodded. “ With whom?”

“ Alastor.”

“ How was it?”

“ Perfect.” you smiled at him as he grinned at you before covering your shoulder with his blaze. 

“ Come on now, the soirée needs its stars !”

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[eddies-house]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas

W/C: 7.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀

A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭

Masterlist

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Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.  

A senseless daydream.  

It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it.  Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape.  This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place.  It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.  

So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt.  Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life.  And last week he was suddenly dead.  It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie.  All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor.  Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.  

He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s.  Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste.  Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.  

Whatever you wanted. 

He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke.  His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you.  He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him.  He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place.  Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick.  He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.

Now just standing up seemed impossible.  Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible.  And for what?  For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions.  Pathetic, he knew.  But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.

This was it.  

This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man.  Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything.  He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come.  A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind.  And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver.  The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him.  He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Eddie told you he was feeling better.  It was a lie.  He never had the flu.  He didn’t feel better.  He wanted to die.  And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive.  Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.

And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon.  His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.

He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones.  There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did.  A flaw in the system.  And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?  

Several.

He thought to himself.  

You could have gone to school, shown up.  

Could have stayed out of detention.

Gotten arrested less.

Not get arrested at all.

Could have said no.  So.  Many.  Times.

In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death.  He couldn’t stop making excuses.  Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse.  For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together.  Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had.  It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.

Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision.  He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid.  Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.

What’s the matter darlin’?

And he just sobbed.  And remembered.

Morning pancakes and the blues.  Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies.  Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum.  Dancing in the living room.  Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees.  Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin.  Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.

Then he remembered.

Him.

Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense.  Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer.  That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised.  Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights.  Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in.  Disappearing for days.

Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home.  Only he rarely did.  Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time.  Years and years of push back.  A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.  

“My dad has a ton of jobs.”  He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.  

The kids would snicker.  Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness.  And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day.  Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them.  Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.

So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature.  At least that’s how dad described it.  It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse.  They called his dad a drunk.  They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged.  “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie.  Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time.  Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.

Freak.

Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt.  And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up.  Closure in some kind of fucked up way.  Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.

Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with.  Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.

All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes.  Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability.  No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door.  He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it.  This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions.  He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world.  They shouldn’t have to worry about me.  With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.

The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana.  A life he’d always longed for anyway.  

Be careful what you wish for.  

That goddamn voice taunts him.

The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away.  “One slip up…”  They had said.  It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him.  Literally anyone.  As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.  

Cause he was nothing if not a problem.  First and foremost.

Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–

“Eddie?”

It all stopped.  

“Eddie?!”  

There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry.  The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.

Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–

“Please don’t make me go back!”

You couldn’t form words.

“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.”  His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime.  “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear.  Please d-don’t let them take me.”

Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen.  With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made.  You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“Shh.”  You soothe. 

Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose.  A wordless commitment.  Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere.  You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure.  Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had.  Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at.  He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.  

The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house.  Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred.  If either spoke it would make it real.  Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.

He said it was an accident, and you believed him.  There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind.  Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip.  It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.  

He felt on a deeper level than most.

At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him.  In the standard of fight or flight, he froze.  Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.

“Bambi–”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

You were trying to keep it together.  His croaking voice made that hard.  But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability.  And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime.  Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him.  Maybe that was dare you even think it, love.  But that’s a crisis for another time.

“Dad died.”

Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions.  Conclusions you backtracked on immediately.  It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.      

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–”  A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.

“It’s fucked.”  His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior.  “I shouldn’t–”  There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath.  “I shouldn’t feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to.”

“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”

“And you’re still allowed to mourn.  Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”

You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet.  Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.  

“How’d you know?”  He finally asked, timid.

“Hm?”

“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”

“Needed someone?”

Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.  

“Wayne called me.”  You sigh.  “Said he got my number from Steve.  Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?”  At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it.  “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in.  Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“So you knew?”

“No.”  You assure, taking care to relax your features.  “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out.  He wanted me to check in.  I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.”  You chuckle.

Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again.  You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick.  The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor.  There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better.  You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again.  It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.

“I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.  When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.

“But right now you’re not.”

Sabotage.  In his eyes.

“But I will be.  Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”

Excuses.  Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble.  A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.

“Stop it.”  You demand.

“No, Bambi.  Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”

“Stop.”

Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key.  Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself.  And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses.  His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.

Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness.  Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in.  He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.

“Would you listen to me?!”  Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow.  “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down.  I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it.  My shit is my shit.”

You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.

“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.”  Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze.  A plea.  “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in.  I don’t care what holiday it is.”

“Go.”

You try not to take it personal.  It’s not personal.

“Fine.”

The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him.  The room turned colder, more vacant.  Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart?  His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.

Do not resuscitate.

As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall.  The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.  

It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended.  Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness.  Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what?  Stormed off?  Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat.  He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—

In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other.  And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness.  The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.

Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut.  An uphill battle.

“Bambi, what did I tell you–”

“You told me to go.”  You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth.   “And I did.  You didn’t say how long or—or where to go.  But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake.  Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“

Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.  

There he is.

Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips.  Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you.  Your boy.  

Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense.  Bambi and Eddie.  There is not one without the other, not anymore.  Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—

“I love you.”  

It just fell from his tongue.  A promise.

“I-are—are you s—“

“Am I serious?  Is that what you’re gonna ask?”  He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.

You nod, gulping.  Not because you’re afraid, no, never.  You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.

“Bambi…” He tuts.  “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”

All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.  

“Bad.”  He reiterates.  “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“

“I don’t—“

“I’m not finished.”  Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip.  “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it.  And I’ll run with it.  Far.  Because I’m pathetic—“

“You are not.” 

“I’m a pathetic man.  Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”  

“Stop saying you’re pathetic.”  You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.

“Oh, but I am.”  He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.  

Did he believe it was his last chance?

And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.

A pathetic whine dare you say.

“Sorry, sorry.”  You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.

“Don’t—ow!  Jesus fuck.”  Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek.  “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”

You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of.  Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.  

“Can you…can you do that again?”  He whispers.  Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.

Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck.  His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest  wet dreams.  

Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail.  And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.

 He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.  

“Like that, baby?”  You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.

“Please.”  A whisper that tells you everything.  “I-I never—no one’s ever—“  He tries to warn you.

“What?”  You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe.  “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”  

“Just my hand.”  Eddie jokes, voice strained.

Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap.  Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his.  Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.  

“We can stop.”  You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.

“No, no.”  His voice shakes, chest heaving.  “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”  

There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him.  But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable.  Feel sexy and wanted.

“Let me do the work.”  You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him.  “Let me take care of you.”  

He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles.  You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.

“I said, let me take care of you.”

Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you.  His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.  

Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far.  His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.

“Eddie.”  You whimper.

“M’ gonna cum.”  He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria.  “Wanna be inside of you.”

You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.  

“Please, baby.  Please, I’ve got condoms—“

You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.  

“You bought condoms?  Boy, are you prepared—“

A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.  

“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”

“Shhh, okay, okay!!”  You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back.  You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?”  You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.  

Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care.  Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed.  You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you.  Purely Eddie.  Woodsy and minty.  A tad smoky.  And some hints of apple.

Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room.  And then it plays.  A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love.  A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.  

“Well alright, cowboy.”  You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.  

“Shut up.”  He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.  

“C’mere.”  You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you.  “Wanna see you.” 

“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”

Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach.  Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago.  The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined.  While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side.  Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.

As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him.  Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants.  Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.  

“F-feel what you do to me?”

It aches.

His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet.  But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.  

You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side.  His eyes grow, lips parted in awe.  And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.  

You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control.  And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.  

Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval.  That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.

His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it.  Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red.  Painfully aroused.

He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.

“B-baby, please.”  While grinding into nothing, poor boy.  “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”

He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands.  You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.

Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth.  Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps.  Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair. 

He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot.  Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned.  Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone.  The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom.  The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.  

Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm.  Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.  

Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting.  The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.

 Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds.  Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what.  Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime.  Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.

Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm.  His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted.  You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark.  All of him.

His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you.  He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.  

Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless.  Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit.  Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”.  That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?

–

Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close.  Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.  

The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart.  Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.  

It could help though.  And that’s all that mattered.  If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing.  If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.  

While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree.  Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar.  Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works.  Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.  

You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did.  Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste.  Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.  

You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes.  While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet.  Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity.  Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips.  A dream.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”  You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.  

Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth.  It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.  

“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?”  He laughs, voice husky with sleep.  

“No but I can do you one better—“

“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“

“Next to the table.”  

Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created.  Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow.  He felt like an asshole.

“I—no I can’t—“

“Open it.”  

Eddie just stared. 

“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!”  You smile, approaching behind him.

Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you.  When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.  

“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse.  I just didn’t.  I’m sorry.”  His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.

As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck.  And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.

“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you.  I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“

“I love you.”  You interrupt.

Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table.  Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you.  Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute.  He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing. 

“You’re not just saying that—“

“I.  Love.  You.”  You enunciate each word with a peck.  “Point blank.  No exceptions.  You’re stuck with me old man.”

“Old man?  We’re like the same age—“

You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records.  A huge stack of them.  All genres.  Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal.  It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling.  That much you could gather.

“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”

“Don’t like them?”  You scoff.  “I love them.”

You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school.  You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach.  He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.  

And he was blushing. 

“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me.  I picked some out that I knew you’d like.  Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”

“Oh, we are listening to them.  Right after you open your gift.”

More blushing.

Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him.  Like Pandora’s box or something.  Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper.  A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold.  His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper.  It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head.  Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture.  At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said. 

“No fucking way.”  He smiles, half laughs.  Then repeats himself.  Over and over.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around.  Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.  

“I love it, I love you.”

Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table.  The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other.  Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between.  His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.

He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three.  Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled.  Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.

Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere.  You miss it.  But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything.  Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi.  Makes small talk with mom and grandma.  Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day.  No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her.  He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

Lastly you call up the gang.  Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual.  Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background.  Something about a broken sled.  Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.

“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either.  This would all make so much more sense then.”

There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on.  Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default.  She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially.  Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house.  Beautiful in the summertime.  Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.

Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays.  One of the records he’d gifted you.

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #smoke signals #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie Munson series #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic

[occudo]

Make a confession, face your crush- Love Archives the new visual novel going to Steam- well, never, but I thought it would be funny.

#occudo's art #tma fanart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #elias bouchard #I wanted to make card designs #but can't find it in me at the moment #so consider this my early valentine's day post #but had this idea in my mind since christmas #maybe it's already been done #but anyway #dating sim(s)

[da-proti-toku-grem]

venting in the tags again bc i'm literally shaking right now wtf

#god i hate it so much #my exams start on monday and i'm not even halfway through everything i need to know for my first exam #i've had all the holidays to study but i just can't concentrate on anything #i've been in my room all day every day (except the days i spent w family like christmas and new year ofc) #and seemingly i'm studying all day #my family thinks i spend all day studying #but the only thing i'm capable of doing most of the time is stare at the things i have to do w/o having any idea of wtf i'm doing #my brain won't shut tf up and telling me stuff that i know are not true #but i just can't #i feel like i've been having an anxiety attack non stop since this monday #not very bad most of the time but it doesn't really stop yk? #and i feel like i have a weight on my chest that i can't really take off #i've been going to therapy and we've come to the conclusion that the cause of my anxiety overall are my studies #(not counting my social anxiety that's been getting worse every day to the point that i don't even want to go out with my best friends) #which doesn't really surprise me but it's just Too Much #i just want to drop everything but since idk what i'd do if i quit this career i chose to do my exams #bc maybe they are useful if i do change my path #but i just can't find it in me to focus and study because my mind is racing all the time #i just want to lie down and cry but i don't even have the strength to do that #i just feel so weak and miserable ever since i started uni and every day it gets worse and worse #my mind just screams at me saying #'stop complaining all the time. no one cares. everyone goes through stuff like that. you're no different. stfu and study like everyone does' #and i know i could do it if i tried but i just can't #why tf is it so difficult to be normal and do what i'm supposed to do for once ffs.... #venting #maca speaks

[einaudis]

There's something painfully insane about mourning the life you could have had.

#I just keep thinking about that. I feel like that idea hasn't left my mind since December #because I know I could (and should) have had a different life. I mean it was all on me #I was supposed to be successful. but I'm not and I don't think I'll ever be #but I just keep thinking about me having my own place and hosting dinner parties #it's such a particular thought that attacked me around Christmas time (and I understand why) #but it's almost May why do I still miss the Christmas parties with friends I never got to host???? #and let's not even talk about the idea of hosting a 'cousins night' with all the cousins #cousins who hate me. cousins that I hate #because in the world that we were sold when we were kids we were going to be best friends forever #but that never happened. and the idea of what it could (should) have been hurts a lot #I'm fine though. but it's a constant sadness that never leaves because I WANT to be that Christmas party host #and welcome people to my place and laugh and dance and create beautiful memories with love #but it never happened and I hate it #anyway... I'm fine #just thinking way too much #random #personal #my shitty English

[july-19th-club]

the last book grandma ever read was agatha christie's "murder on the orient express," which was also the first book my mother remembers getting from her as a gift and not a hand-me-down from her siblings.

one of her favorite 'isms' was 'all things in moderation,' but she also had a plaque in the kitchen when my aunts were growing up that read "you have to kiss a lot of horny toads before you find a prince" and another tchotchke that featured a cherub swinging on a length of twine that said "when you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and HANG ON." like every nonna on earth before her, she ushered us to dinner with a "mangia" - which was also what it said on her favorite apron.

the last picture taken of her was her first picture with her great-granddaughter ellie, who's two months old and named after her. it was the first and only time they met.

#talked to mom for the first time since #i guess she was going to get the mail (she was ALWAYS going to get the mail even when there was no mail. bc dementia) #and everyone always figured that was her best way to get a little exercise #but she fell on the sidewalk. broke an arm and had a lot of injuries to her face . and probably chest? i dont know #but she just. it happened on tuesday and forty-eight hours later she was dead #and this is the first time i realized how bad pappy's dementia is because apparently. he keeps forgetting it happened #and assumes she's coming back to the house. calling hours and wake are monday funeral's tuesday #and my aunt still wants to celebrate pappy's birthday (wednesday) and a couple other birthdays on saturday #because she figures we'll all need a celebration #but i have no idea how we're gonna do ALL that and not lose our minds/get sick/something #still. we Always celebrate pappy and colleen and emmett's birthdays that week #just like we celebrate the december birthdays the day after christmas. which was grandma's #and we celebrate the july birthdays the week of mine because there's like six birthdays then #so . here we fuckin go i guess

[1980ssunflower]

ugh i swearrr ill be drawing again soon im just lazy rn

#w my semester being done i have the time now BUT ive been using my time playing the guitar again so far lol #ill hopefully have something to post for christmas since i had a little comic idea in mind #tape entry circa 1980

[osaemu]

"YOU'RE PREGNANT?!" FT. GOJO SATORU

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: gojo mistakes your period symptoms for signs of you being pregnant.

contents: fem!reader. mentions of pregnancy and periods (duh), gojo is an idiot (obviously), innocent miscommunication lol. gets pretty suggestive.

just because satoru gojo's the strongest sorcerer on the planet, that doesn't mean he's the smartest one; especially when it comes to you.

not too long ago, you got your period, and the cramps have to be the most painful thing you've ever experienced. nestling yourself farther in between the couch cushions, you wrap your arms around your stomach and wince, eyebrows furrowing. somewhere in the background, you hear satoru enter your house and call for you, but your stomach hurts a little too much to allow you to do more than hum in response.

"baby?" satoru calls again, poking his head in the living room and smiling when he sees you. "hey, i'm hom— babe, you okay?"

you open one of your eyes (which was previously squeezed shut) and look at him, a soft whine slipping out from your lips when the pain in your stomach goes up a notch. "hey, 'toru," you mumble, watching him quickly plop down besides you on the couch. his eyes round in concern when he notices how tight your teeth are pressed against each other, and a moment later, satoru scoops you up and holds you in his lap.

"is.. this 'cause of last night?" satoru murmurs, stroking your hair as you squirm in his grip. his eyes are focused on your scrunched-up face as you fidget, struggling to find a comfortable position.

"i dunno," you mumble, assuming that satoru's referring to the way you scurried off into the bathroom the second you and satoru finished round after round in his sheets. funnily enough, your interpretation of the events is starkly different than satoru's.

you had immediately gone to the bathroom because you suspected that your period might've come, and you were right. but to satoru, he had something very different on his mind; especially since last night was the first time you two had fucked without protection.

satoru pauses before replying, face slowly tinting pink as his version of the events settles in. he had no idea your departure from his arms so soon after sex was because you just wanted to check for your period; on the contrary, he thought you ran into the bathroom to check if you were pregnant.

"are you—" he starts, dipping his chin and looking you straight in the eye. satoru's azure eyes carefully take in your expression, studying your features for a sign of what's to come.

you nod. "yeah, i am." on your period, that is.

satoru's eyes widen and the corners of his lips twitch with a smile. "is that why your stomach's hurting?" he whispers, and you hardly spare a thought as to why his reaction was nothing like what it usually was.

"duh," you huff, automatically assuming that he's talking about period cramps. "why else would my stomach be hurting?"

"holy shit, are you kidding?" satoru breathes, eyes lighting up like a child's would on christmas. you make a face, confusion evident all across your features.

"that's not the reaction i was expecting," you note tentatively. satoru's mouth falls open a little and after a moment, he immediately dips his head and kisses you, long and slow. his mouth tastes like spearmint (like always), and something about the way his lips melt into yours feels... different.

"is this better?" satoru whispers, smiling against your lips. you nod, carefully removing your arms from your torso and wrapping them around satoru instead. you nod hazily, more invested in the way satoru's mouth collides with yours than in anything else.

"much better."

"anythin' for my pretty girl," satoru murmurs, eyes softening every time they settle on your face. his hand trails down your waist and settles on your tummy, and he slips his hand underneath your t-shirt and rubs the skin with his thumb. a couple more seconds slip by in silence, with the only sound being the soft breaths you two take in between kisses.

when satoru finally tilts his head up and takes a longer breath, you both open your mouths to speak at once.

"i can't believe i'm gonna be a dad."

"my period cramps feel a lot better."

the two of you stare at each other in silence for a long, long second. you blink and ask, "what did you say?"

satoru tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrows lifting in uncertainty. "uh, what did you say?"

you look away, cheeks heating up as you mumble, "satoru, i'm not... pregnant...?" you stare at him blankly, matching the confused look on his face. "i'm on my period, baby. what did you—"

"oh, shit."

"yeah."

five awkward seconds go by until you clear your throat and smile up at him hesitantly. "i mean... d'you want a kid?"

satoru's face somehow goes even redder, which you didn't know was even possible. after a moment, he nods, and the subtle movement is enough for you to grab his face and pull him in to kiss you again; and you stay like that for the rest of the night.

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

[attapullman]

Robert From Next Door | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings & Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x gn!reader, extremely fluffy, food mentions, heavy making out, shirtless Bob, only referred to as Robert for the series, unrealistic expectations of next door neighbors, 18+ as always. This idea hit me like a bus while walking the dog (where I almost was hit by a bus) and has been fully unable to leave my brain since then. Cozy, sweet, overly helpful Neighbor!Bob is literally all I want for Christmas. And he's my holiday present to all of you!

robert from next door | if only the neighbors knew

“I have a ladder you can borrow.” You look up from the box of Christmas lights you’re detangling in the garage to see your neighbor standing in the opening to the street. Coffee mug in hand as he watches you loop out another knot. He’d noticed your garage open that morning, too early for a Saturday, and came to investigate or possibly offer assistance. If there is one thing Robert Floyd does best, it’s help his neighbors.

You had moved into the tidy bungalow just under a year ago, placing a potted fern on the doorstep and painting over the dated beige walls. It was finally starting to feel like a home. Now with the holidays approaching (as reminded by the entirely too jolly Santas everywhere in town) you were excited to start new traditions in your humble home. And it started with putting twinkling lights on the house, lights currently tangled in the cardboard box you haphazardly threw them in twelve months ago. 

Threading out another knot, you give him a playful smile. “How do you know I don’t have a ladder?”

“Lucky guess?” He’s not going to admit he’s scanned and memorized nearly every inch of your garage.

The day after the moving truck came and went, you were thrilled when your first new neighbor rang your doorbell. While you had expected some middle aged woman with a plate of brownies and a plea for babysitting, you were pleasantly surprised at the man in a flight suit (Lt. Robert Floyd according to the stitching) with the striking blue eyes who stood there instead. He didn’t have brownies, but he happily gave you the lowdown on the neighborhood as you sat amongst moving boxes drinking lemonade out of paper cups. 

As the months passed, an easy friendship had developed amongst neighbors. In the morning before making his way to base, Robert would scoop up your morning paper and walk it up the seven steps to your porch. The paper boy always threw it short. And despite numerous pleas to leave it be - you didn’t mind the short walk - every morning when you went for the paper, there it sat neatly on your mat along with any misdelivered mail.

And when he wasn’t saving kittens from trees in his free time, Robert was a shining example of a great neighbor. Driving his truck for a trip to get plants at the nursery, lending his mower when yours broke in the heat of July, cleaning your gutters when the leaves fell…you shouldn’t be surprised he’s now offering up his ladder so you can enjoy your Christmas lights. Looking down at the tangled mess, you hadn’t even thought about how you were going to get them actually on the house. Nails? Did you even own nails?

Not even an hour later you’re standing on the sidewalk facing your home with a hot cup of coffee in your chilly hands. Propped up on a ladder with detangled lights in one hand - and a tool belt around his waist like your personal Mr. Fix It - Robert hums to himself as he hammers nails into the trim before wrapping the first strand of lights in place. 

You had accepted his ladder graciously, but mentioned you needed to hit the hardware store first for nails. With a nod of his head he left your garage and you continued on the lights. It was a tedious project, but rewarding once the final strand lay flat against the concrete floor. You were digging around in boxes for tools when your neighbor reappeared. He had a ladder and his tool belt, a full box of nails clutched in his large hand. Cheeks warm, you assured him you would buy your own. He let out a playful pfft.

“Nonsense. It’s Saturday, the hardware store will be packed. Consider them an early Christmas gift.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Let me at least trade you for them? A cup of coffee?”

“Do you still have those Kona beans?” His ocean blue eyes are hopeful.

Your smile widened as you nodded. The overpriced beans you had expensively shipped every month were a favourite of the weapons systems officer. Last month you had hosted the homeowners association meeting (for the first and hopefully only time) and Robert had raved about the coffee you served. He was used to the basic stuff they made on base, his own home brewing not much better. Your coffee was the best.

When you came back to the garage after whipping up a carafe - hot mug in hand - you shouldn’t have been surprised to see your neighbor already up the ladder, deep into the project.

You holler up to him. “Robert, get down! You don’t need to do that!”

But he waves you off, insisting that he had already started and might as well finish the job. He would just drink your delicious coffee once he was done. And so you were relegated to the sidewalk to make sure everything looked straight from the street. 

From this distance you could admire him innocently. The military-issue wire frames that catch the morning sun. Broad shoulders under the neat canvas barn coat he recently replaced when the corduroy collar ripped. His strong hands shielded from the chilled wind under his workman’s gloves. Because someone like Robert Floyd follows safety precautions and owns workman’s gloves. 

At this angle you can see the slight smile on his lips as he strings lights along your porch. For the next hour you watch him put up lights, him occasionally turning back and asking you how they look.

“Are you sure they’re straight?” You promise him they are, but he meticulously checks his work anyway. He wants your house to look perfect. 

The wind has tinged both your cheeks a deep pink and the cold is starting to seep through boots. Robert has nailed the last of your lights to the trim and deemed them faultless. He comes down the ladder and walks to stand beside you to admire his handiwork. Hands on hips - with that damn tool belt still astride his waist - he turns to you beaming at a job well done. It’s impossible not to beam back, thinking how long it would have taken you to do even a job half as good.

“Thank you for putting up the lights. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” He isn’t sure whether your cheeks are red from the cold or something else. “I’m so lucky to have you as a neighbor.”

His smile is permanently stuck at your compliment. He opens his mouth to make a joking comment about the coffee you owe him - anything for more time together - when he feels the telltale buzz in his pocket. Pulling it reluctantly out after shedding a glove, he sees it’s Phoenix and is only semi-annoyed. They have lunch plans, which he’s running late for. And while he’s sure his front seater would approve of him blowing her off for the neighbor he can’t stop talking about, he’s a better friend than that.

Turning back to you, where you’re enjoying your freshly strung twinkling lights, Robert rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I have to head out…lunch plans. Rain check on that coffee?”

Nodding through your disappointment, you help him gather up his ladder and assure him that coffee is his whenever he wants.

The following morning you pad toward your front door, eyes bleary from a deep sleep. The house was cold and you pull your robe tighter around you. Through the glass panel in the door you can see your paper on the mat, as always, ready for you to consume over coffee and toast. As you open the oak door and scurry to shut it with the paper secured, something - or rather someone - catches your eye. 

Robert stands in the doorway of his own bungalow, calmly watching the neighborhood. The thick fair isle sweater covering his wide shoulders looks incredibly cozy, and he nurses a mug between both hands. He exists in that moment without worry, and you’re envious. 

His placid expression is broken when he feels your eyes, turning his head to see you, bedhead and newspaper clutched in your fist. His lips turn in a warm smile and he raises one hand in a slow, friendly wave. Your heart flutters, utterly taken away with how surely he carries himself, how sweetly he treats others. An emotion quickly squashed when you realize you are still standing in a bathrobe and knobby socks, flying back inside and shutting the door with heated cheeks. 

As you go about working on your Sunday chores, you keep picturing Robert’s face, that small happy smile you can’t get out of your head.

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in the sheets unable to find peace, you finally trudge down the hall into the living room, settling under blankets on the plush couch with a cup of chamomile. You’ve lost details of the plot of the movie you started, brain racing as your fingers fidget with the mug. 

The faint trill of your phone on the coffee table breaks you from your thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Bo-Robert…from next door?” You yawn a hello while checking the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. “I just wanted to check if everything was alright? Noticed your lights were on.” 

A warm feeling spreads through your chest at his concern. Picturing him peering out his kitchen window with the striped cotton curtains, filling up his own kettle, distressed that your house lights were on so late. You’d like to think he wore tartan pajamas, neatly buttoned. Those would suit him. 

You settle back into the cushions as you reply. “Everything’s fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”

His thoughtful nod can practically be heard through the phone.

“Better question is, what are you doing up so late?” 

The whistle and clink of boiling water and china crash over the line. A sigh pulled from his lips before responding. “I was going to make myself a cup of tea while I finished some reports, but appears that I am out.”

You glance down at your own mug of tea. It’s late, but not that late.

“What kind of tea do you like?” He muses on about his lack of preference - an equal opportunity tea lover - before admitting he was looking forward to a cup of peppermint. You make your way to the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you both open your cupboards. Your voice feels small as you offer, “I think I might have some.”

A silence lingers on the line. An unspoken late night implication that neither of you knows what to make of it. Your fingers flip through boxes of tea that take up too much cupboard space. Pomegranate, green, oolong. You don’t even drink tea that often. But right as you think you have too many white teas, you see the striped box of peppermint tea, one lone bag waiting for its turn.

You empty the box and walk to the window in your kitchen, where you can see the faint light on through his curtains. You clear your throat. “Look out your kitchen window.”

To your disappointment, Robert does not wear tartan pajamas to sleep. Although you are delighted to see his shirtless chest, defined from years of Navy training. He waves at you through your respective kitchen windows, holding up his mug of hot water. You lift up the tea bag, and his face splits into a toothy smile.

Before you can offer to bring it to him, he’s already turning toward his front door, speaking into the phone, “I’ll be over, just a minute. Need to find my coat.”

By the time there’s a soft knock on the door, you’ve turned on the kettle and gotten a fresh mug for him. You open the door, greeted by the tip of his nose and ears a merry red, the cold kissing his features. He’s been outside all of a minute. You usher your neighbor in, watching him observe how you’ve put up garlands and festive knickknacks in the entry since his last visit.

He slips off his boots, bare feet settling on the cold hardwood, and fingers the collar of his canvas barn coat. In his rush to come over he’d thrown his coat on forgetting his bare chest. It feels obnoxious to be half naked in your home, so he keeps his coat on and follows you to the kitchen. 

“Peppermint still good?” You tease, the packet of tea leaves in your hand. He nods, slightly distracted by how cozy you look in your soft loungewear and the robe from this morning. Dunking the bag into the hot water, you search for a topic to pass the steeping time. But when you turn to talk to him, words catch in your throat because he’s right there.

Eyes so blue the sky is jealous. Shy smile so friendly it warms the room. Your thoughts dirtily flit to the tool belt around his waist on the ladder, fingers adeptly wielding a hammer. Fingers that brush yours in the proximity. He’s so close and your brain blanks as bodies simultaneously take action.

Your mouths find each other effortlessly, bodies pressing together as if they know the moves the two of you were just figuring out. The low-lying tension building for the past year breaking the surface as the dark of the house gives you both the bravery needed. His hands are cold as they find your waist, your hands too warm on his chilled jaw.

His mouth is all soft lips and hard pressure, the faint hint of toothpaste in his taste. It’s exactly as you imagined, but better.

Lips become more desperate the longer you connect, your back suddenly against the counter as he presses into you. This moment has been building since he’d watched you first walk up the front steps with that too big moving box. A hand slips into his sun-bleached locks he always has so perfectly combed. He moans into your mouth, a sinful noise in the quiet kitchen. 

Before sense can interrupt, you’re reaching for the zipper of his coat, revealing every inch of his toned pale chest as the zipper slowly comes down. You slide a hand over the skin, a low gasp slipping out at the strong muscle. You’ve been attracted to his mind for so long, it feels unfair his body should be attractive too.

He shrugs out of the barn coat and follows you to the lowly lit living room, where the couch is softer on your back than the counter edge. Sitting side by side, knees knocking, he’s more hesitant to touch you in this context. Despite his body screaming to explore every inch of his pretty neighbor’s mind and body, he knows he’s basically barged into your home and immediately stuck his tongue in your sweet mouth. You get to set the pace. 

“This okay?” His hand encompasses your knee, thumb rubbing smoothly through the fabric. You nod, tilting your head toward him to continue kissing. He’s warmed up now, your home and body bringing him to temperature. Robert smiles into your kiss. You can’t get enough of him, wanting to consume him fully. He’s delicate with you in the most delicious of ways; gentle kisses pressed to your soft lips before sliding his tongue across to politely ask for access.

Your mouth can’t open fast enough.

You place you hand on his hip, enjoying the warm skin and lean muscle beneath your fingertips. Groaning lightly into your mouth, he blindly reaches for your hips to bring you into his lap. His tongue takes its time to taste you, learn every intricacy of your flavor. Administration so thorough your eyes roll back in your head. The sounds escaping you music in the darkened room.

Fingers dance across skin, finding purchase on thighs, shoulders, chests. You can’t get close enough to him, resting one hand on the back of his neck as your swollen lips press harder to his. Robert loves the way your thighs straddle him as he leans against the couch cushions, his warm, large hands along your back bringing you closer to him. Your sharp inhale as one hand toys with the waistband of your lounge pants.

When his lips trail down your neck, praising the delicate skin, you can’t hold back your declaration any longer. “I…I’ve wanted this for a while.”

His lips pause, brow furrowed. “This?”

“You.”

That gratified smile will forever be imprinted along your neck. “I’ve wanted you since the day you moved in.”

The whimpers that rip through you when he nips the thin skin behind your ear have him grabbing your chin and swallowing your sounds. Reveling in the shared passion you’ve both had simmering beneath the surface. Can’t help his hips rutting up into yours, glorious friction he’s been craving satisfied. You giggle through a moan against his lips.

“So, we could have been doing this all year long? What a shame, lieutenant.” 

You ground down in his lap, running your own tongue along his lips and savoring his taste. Thoughts of what he tastes like after his peppermint tea have you wrapping your arms tighter around his bare shoulders. Behind his head, outside the window, the faint glow of the Christmas lights he strung up shines in the winter night. How did you find this perfect man, and how is he your neighbor?

You express your gratitude for him with your mouth along his jaw, licking along the skin while he deliciously whimpers in your ear.You can only take so much before you’re sealing your lips over his again, inhaling his every breath.

As lips finally reach exhaustion - brains well past tired as the clock strikes a new hour - Robert and you pull apart with content smiles. Already cold without his warmth, you immediately lean back into him. He’s practically a furnace now under your ministrations. Unspoken words pass between as you invite him to sleep on your couch with you. A throw blanket produced from the nearby chair as the two of you tangle your limbs. There’s something comforting in the way he rests your head upon his arm, your knee upon his thigh. Again, it’s like your bodies know the actions like they’ve been waiting for you to finally figure them out.

You’ve just settled your head upon his warm chest when a thought strikes you, prompting you to lean up to look at those sleepy cerulean eyes. The small curious smile he gives you melting your heart.

“Did you still want your tea?” 

He shakes his head with a chuckle, using the last of his energy to tuck the blanket tighter around your body. “It’s okay. I got what I really wanted.”

Your heart feels two sizes too big as he presses a kiss to your temple before sleep takes you both. 

When the winter sunrise streams through your curtains the next morning, you refuse to get up. Perfectly warm wrapped up in the thin throw and your neighbor’s arms, you are purely too content. When Robert blinks open his eyes and gazes at your face, he sees the same placid smile he wore the morning before. The same one he’s had since you moved in next door. 

Despite both being all too happy to remain entangled on the couch, sharing small kisses on any skin within reach, the responsibilities of Monday morning dawn and you must get up. Reluctantly you release him, watching him fold the throw neatly upon the sofa arm before helping you stand. Warmth blossoms down your spine the more you’re in Robert’s presence, the little things he does meaning so much to you. Especially as he strides through your home shirtless, musing about the whereabouts of his coat on the kitchen floor.

Your eyes flit to the cold mug of abandoned peppermint tea as you offer him coffee. But he’s intent on getting home for his flight suit, the drive to base longer than he’d like. Of course, he would ideally spend the morning drinking your expensive delicious coffee and listen to you go on about the neighbors down the street with the atrocious holiday decorations. If you’d let him, he would spend every morning like that for the rest of time. But his admiral would put him in drills all week if he was any later.

You walk him to the door, robe pulled tight across your chest to keep out the cold. He’s pulled on his boots for the short walk and wraps his arms around you in an intimate embrace, disappointed this perfect night must come to an end. You bury your nose in his jacket-covered chest to enjoy the last of his herbal and citrus scent, hands reluctantly slipping from his middle. He turns to leave and both your hearts pang.

When Robert reaches the end of your path, he bends down and picks up the paper, thrown too short as always. He turns around and retraces his steps, walking back up the steps and straight up to where you reside in the doorway still. Fingers brush as he hands you the newspaper, saving you the walk as he always does. Only this morning he tips his head to press a kiss to your lips.

You’re already adding peppermint tea to your shopping list as you walk back into the house. Just for him.

see what antics happen at the next HOA meeting

taglist: @callsign-mongoose

#robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fan fiction #top gun maverick fan fiction #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #x reader #bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd fluff #gn!reader #neighbor!bob

[amentomensmut]

I've never asked for a request before and i dont have clout to write it myself so i thought id ask since i like some of your Mike stuff but

What about something like reader and Mike are friends and he goes to a wedding her as a favor cause i like the idea that he has like a messy suit, loose tie kind of hot mess vibe and smutty things happen lol I dont have much in mind but the idea of him in a messy suit trying to look cleaned up is just like ...drool idk

Plus One

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 3.1k+

Summary: You invite Mike to be your plus one at your sister's wedding, but things go wrong during the reception and Mike uses you to take out his frustrations.

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT, okay so like reader and Mike are friends but also its kinda angry sex??? You’ll see. Manhandling (sorta), slight exhibitionism, degrading, praise, dirty talk, finger sucking, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap pookies)

Note: oh my GOD this one got away from me and i'm NOT sure about it, I feel like i could’ve written this a bit better but i just started babbling and now we're here. to the person who requested this: THANK YOU.  i loved ur idea and him in a suit like makes me drool too omg. i also couldn’t help adding a little angst in here. also so nevry to post this?? so lmk what u guys think! enjoy :)

“Please, Mike. I swear this is the last thing you’ll ever have to do for me!” You plead, trying to reason with the very unimpressed looking man in front of you. You’ve been stuck in Mike's kitchen for the past half hour trying to convince him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding next Saturday. Clearly, your convincing hasn’t been successful so far. 

“The last time I did a favour for you was supposed to be the last time.” Mike says with a knowing smirk, and you roll your eyes. A few weeks ago, you went out to a bar with some friends and you may have had a few too many long island iced teas. The owner had forced your hand into calling someone to pick you up, and it was Mike's number you had dialled that night. As he drove you back to your apartment with an unpleasant look on his face, you swore to him that that would be the last favour you'd ever ask of him. How you wish you could take that back right about now. 

“Okay, well, I was drunk when I said that. So it doesn't count.” You say with a frown, crossing your arms against your chest like a child who was denied candy. 

You can’t really blame Mike for not wanting to go. Your family is…a lot. You love your family, you really do (most of the time). But, they can be judgemental. You were the kid in school who always got the hottest new toys for Christmas, and had big themed parties for your birthday every year. It had never really dawned on you that you were more well off than other kids until you had met Mike. You became friends with Mike when you were both 15. When you first brought Mike over to your house to hang out, you heard your parents whispering about him that night when you were supposed to be in bed. Your parents gossiped about the kidnapping of his brother, the suicide of his mother, and how Mike and his sister were essentially left to their own devices with their father paralyzed and consumed by grief. It made you sick to hear your parents nitpick and discuss Mike's life like it was a reality tv show. Your parents never really approved of your friendship with Mike, and they tend to not-so-subtly make that known whenever you make the mistake of bringing him up in a conversation. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works. Besides, when your sister offered you a plus one, I really don’t think she had me in mind.” Mike says as he reaches into his fridge for a beer. “In fact, I think she’d prefer you to invite that guy who works at the convenience store and catcalls you everytime you go in, instead of me.” He says, cracking open his beer and offering you a smile before he takes a sip. 

“Well now you’re just being dramatic.” You huff as you walk over to the couch in Mike's living room and take a seat. Mike follows you from the kitchen and sits down in his armchair, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Mike sticks his tongue out at you and you have to restrain yourself from strangling the man. If it were any other wedding you would’ve just gone on your own. However, your family events tend to…take a turn for the worst. Your family's gatherings usually end with drama, and you know that even though it’s your sister's wedding, this will be no different. That’s why you're insistent on bringing Mike as your plus one, so you can have a little support if things go awry. 

“Very mature.” You say with a shake of your head, once again rolling your eyes at the rude gesture.

“Listen, I’ll go. But, on one condition.” Mike says, and you sit up straight at his words.

“What’s the condition?” You ask suspiciously, but at this point you think you’d agree to almost anything.

“You babysit Abby for a month,”

“Deal.”

“And do my laundry for a month.” Mike adds.

“That’s two conditions actually, Mike.” You scoff as you get off the couch to leave.

“So you’re inviting the guy from the convenience store then?” Mike teases, knowing he's your only option.

You turn around to face Mike, squinting your eyes at him. God, you hate that cocky smirk he does when he knows he's winning. Bastard.

“Have a suit by Saturday. I’ll be over at 10am.” You sigh, flipping Mike off as you leave through his front door.

“Very mature.” You hear him mumble on your way out.

—-----------------------------------------

“Mike, it looks like you just came back from a bachelor party. Not like you’re going to a wedding.” You say, noting the way Mike’s tie hangs loosely around his neck and the first couple buttons on his white button up are left undone. Mike runs his hands through his hair and you quickly bat them away, scolding him for ruining the hair you had just attempted to fix in the car only moments before you arrived. You can’t deny that he looks handsome. He surely looks charming with the way his gelled hair falls messily on his forehead, and the way his dads old suit fits him almost perfectly.

“Well, hopefully your sister doesn’t mind.” Mike says sarcastically as he adjusts the cuff links on the ends of his sleeves and steps out of your car and towards the church where your sister is getting married. 

The first half of the wedding went pretty smoothly. You and your sister have never really been close, so It wasn’t a surprise to you when she didn’t ask you to be a bridesmaid. You and Mike sat a few rows down, occasionally playing footsies under the pew when you’d accidentally bump feet. A kiss was shared between the bride and groom, and everyone left to go to the reception. 

You were nervous about the reception, to be quite honest. Mike could tell, and he put his hand on your lower back, resting it there as you both walked into the banquet hall. You nearly faint when you see the sheer amount of people that fill the room. There have to be about 200 people minimum. It seemed like way less in the church, you think.

“I need a drink.” You mumble to Mike, dragging him over to the bar. 

Both you and Mike order a drink, and you want to be swallowed by the ground when you hear your mothers shrill, sing-songy voice behind you. 

“Darling! I didn’t see you during the ceremony, I thought you hadn’t come.” You turn around and she pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to both of your cheeks. She pulls away from you and you notice her eyes immediately land on Mike. “Oh, and what a surprise. Mike, how are you and your sister?” Your mother continues, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

You watch as Mike plasters a big, albeit fake, smile on his face and shakes your mothers hand. 

“Abby and I are doing well, thank you for asking.” Mike says, and you almost laugh at his cordial tone. Mike sends you a ‘help me’ look and you mouth a ‘sorry’ to him.

“Gosh, it just devastated me to hear about your fathers passing.” Your mother says, clutching her chest like she's in pain, and you think she deserves an Oscar for the way she acts like she gives a shit. “I’m sure it must be so hard for you to provide for your sister alone.” Your mother adds and you watch the smile slowly slide off of Mike’s face.

“Why do you say that?” He asks, and you suddenly regret ever asking Mike to be your plus one. 

“Mom-,” You start to say, but she disregards your voice, raising her hand as you speak to stop you.

“Well, I know you struggle keeping a job. You know, not everyone is cut out to raise a child.” If you could see yourself, you’re sure all the colour would be drained from your face. You’re left speechless, mouth half hung open at your mothers words. How could she say that? She doesn’t know him like you do. She doesn’t know how much Mike sacrifices to provide for Abby.

You look over at Mike and his jaw is tightly clenched. You brace yourself for Mike's next words, but they don’t come. Instead, you watch as he excuses himself and walks towards the mens bathroom.

“Well, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Your mother jokes once Mike is out of earshot.

“Jesus Christ, mom.” You say incredulously as you turn to go find Mike. 

You walk towards the bathrooms, entering the men’s restroom with only one thing on your mind. Mike. Luckily the restroom is empty, save for Mike who is leaning over the counter. You slowly reach behind yourself, locking the bathroom door. You begin to step towards Mike, but you stop when you hear his voice.

“Do you think I'm not fit to raise Abby?” Mike asks you angrily, not even turning to look at you. You just stand there like an idiot, reaching down to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“I-, no. Of course not.” You say, and the music that was loud in the hall, is now only a low hum in the bathroom. 

It’s silent for a moment, and you’re not really sure what to say, or how to make things better. You resume taking slow, tentative steps towards Mike and you stop once you’re behind him. You place an uncertain hand on his back, softly rubbing it up and down to comfort him. He lets you touch him and you hear him let out a breath. He turns around to face you and you look up to meet his eyes. He studies your face for a moment, and you inch even closer to him. 

“I’m sorry about my mom. That was inexcusable.” You sigh. If you were in Mike’s shoes, you probably would’ve left the reception entirely, and you’re not entirely opposed to that idea right now. 

“Your mother doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” Mike finally says, and there’s distaste in his tone. You don’t say anything, you know it's true. Your family, especially your mother, has never approved of your friendship with Mike. 

“Do you think that?” Mike asks you, and you’re just now realising how close Mike’s face is to your own. You look up at him with furrowed brows and shake your head.

“No, Mike. I don’t think that.” You say quietly, and you swear the tension between Mike and you is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. You look down, but you feel Mike's hand grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look back up at him.

“You can’t even look at me when you say it. Pathetic.” Mike seethed. You let out a hushed whimper at his words..

“Sorry.” You say, but your voice sounds small. “I know you are.” He coos, rubbing his thumb back on fourth on your cheek.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” Mike says, leaning down to speak in your ear. His voice is sweet and the switch in moods makes your head spin.

“Okay.” You nod and Mike pulls away from your ear to look you in the eyes.

“Be fucking quiet.” He says, and he presses his lips to yours. You softly gasp in shock, but quickly kiss him back as he turns you around to hoist you up onto the counter. He grabs both of your knees, opening them to make space for him to stand between your legs. He grips your thighs harshly, and you sigh when he sucks on your bottom lip. He puts one of his hands under your jaw, using it to hold your head in place as he kisses you. His lips are slightly chapped, but you don’t mind. He kisses you with fever, and you can’t deny that you haven’t thought about this. 

He kisses down to your jaw and neck, sucking the skin in a way where you know there will be bruises. Jerk. You run your hands through his hair, throwing your head back at the pleasurable feeling of his lips gliding over your skin. The hand that was on your thigh is now trailing up your leg and under your skirt. You clench your legs around his hand and he softly bites your neck, wordlessly scolding you for your actions. You reopen your legs and his hand comes up to make contact with your clothed clit. He rubs slow circles and you let out a soft whimper.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He slurs in your ear, and his fingers move from your clit to the waistband on your panties, pulling it back and slapping it against your skin. You nod and he’s pulling you off of the counter and flipping you around. Mike bends you over and your chest meets the cold granite. You look in front of you and you can see Mike behind you in the mirror on the wall. He pushes your knee length skirt up and around your hips, and groans at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You okay?” He asks genuinely, running his hands along the sides of your body in a comforting manor.

“Yeah, keep going.” You breathe out and he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling them down. You clench around nothing as the cold air hits your cunt. You moan softly as Mike spreads your pussy open with his thumbs, groaning at how wet you are. Without warning, he inserts his pointer and middle finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds of Mike fingering you fill the bathroom and you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers curl up into your sweet spot. 

“Apparently your pussy thinks I’m good enough.” Mike says and you look up into the mirror to see his jaw slack, watching the way his fingers move in and out of you. You can feel Mike's erection brushing against the back of your thigh as he rocks his hips with every thrust of his fingers. 

“Mike, fuck me.” You whine, and Mike takes his fingers out of you. He brings them to your lips, pushing them inside your mouth, and you can hear him undoing his belt with his other hand. 

“Thought I told you to be fucking quiet.” He murmurs and you watch in the mirror as he shoves his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock out. He removes his fingers from your lips, using your spit as lube to pump his cock a few times before lining it up with your pussy. He slowly inches himself inside of you, pushing you down onto the counter. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you hear Mike let out a whine at the feeling of being in you. 

He starts to pump himself in and out of you, and he pulls you up by your shirt into his chest to make you watch yourself in the mirror. He fucks into you like he can’t get enough of you. Like being inside of you isn’t close enough.

“What would your mother think? Hm? About her sweet little angel getting fucked in the bathroom?” Mike says in your ear, with a sickeningly sweet tone. It's like he just knows how to push your buttons. You let out a low moan at his words. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Mike adds and your legs shake when he uses the hand that was holding you up to rub your clit. You drop back down on the counter and Mike grabs your hip with his free hand, using it as leverage to bottom out in you with every single thrust. He throws his head back in ecstasy and you clench around him, signalling your impending orgasm. 

“You wanna cum?” Mike asks, and his voice is raspy and fucked out. You nod your head ‘yes’. 

“No, want you to say it.” Mike says, and you can tell he’s close by his sloppy, less rhythmic thrusts.

“Please, Mike. Please, can I cum?” You beg, your voice hoarse. The filthy sounds of skin against skin echo throughout the bathroom, and if someone has tried to enter the bathroom since you’ve been in here, you’ve been too fucked out to hear it. Thank god I locked the door, you think.

“Cum, baby, Fuck.” Mike chokes out. Your legs shake as you cum around his cock, your orgasm only heightened by the feeling of him filling you up. You bite down on your hand to muffle yourself and you swear to god you hear Mike whimper, pussy drunk as he continues to ride his high thrusting in and out of your sloppy pussy.

After catching his breath, you feel Mike pull out of you and you wince at the feeling of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. You slowly tilt your head up as you watch Mike get some toilet paper to clean himself up. He tucks himself back inside his boxers and pulls his pants up. You flinch a little as you feel him come up behind you, cleaning you up with more toilet paper. 

“Sorry, was I too rough?” He asks softly, looking at you through the mirror and you shake your head.

“No, just sensitive.” You say as Mike finishes cleaning you. You pull your panties back up, letting your skirt fall back over your legs. Your knees buckle a little bit as you try to stand straight and Mike rushes over to you, lending you a hand.

“You know, I actually think you’re one of the only people who genuinely thinks I am good enough.” Mike says, and you look up at him.

“Of course I do. I always have.” You say softly, gently touching Mike’s cheek.

#smut #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #fnaf #fnafmovie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut

[igotanidea]

Family rules: Damian Wayne x reader

Christmas bingo day 23 : midnight kiss

The first time she truly understood the meaning of the proverb heart over mind was on a school trip in September.

He was just standing by the wall, doing nothing except staring into space with those piercing green eyes.

Such pretty eyes

Such devilish, snake eyes.

Acting like he was who knows who.

Arrogant, cold, keeping his distant, rough, self-absorbed, not caring about anything or anyone.

Just like his father.

Damian Wayne.

***

Y/N had the misfortune of being born into a technological company family. Obviously she didn’t know it when she was a kid, but the word Wayne was inflected in her home on all occasions.

Wayne this, Wayne that...

 sort of spell or- more likely - a curse.

Damn it!

She was 12 when she gathered enough courage to ask her father what this was about. A mistake she only made once, cause even the mention of the Bruce Wayne and his famous, profitable company made her father see red.

That's how she found about the on-going competition between her father and Damian's one.

Obviously it was not like she was excluded from family rules and allowed to live in a bubble. Y/N was supposed to hate the entire Wayne family, the progenitor, his adopted kids and everyone who even came close to them. The only blood son included.

The only problem?

Said blood son was attending the same school, the same class as Y/N was. Which meant a lot of time spend together.

And you just command a teenager to do something and hope they'll listen. It's pretty much impossible, if not foolish belief.

***

In her defence - she tried.

She really tried to hate Damian.

But for five years, his name has been coming to her from every way on every occasion.

Wayne this, Wayne that.

Damn it!!

She could tear her hair out in utter desperation. How was she supposed to not think about him when all the world seemed to be dead set to remind her of his existence.

Of his stupid, unnecessary existence.

With his stupid, idiotic smile and his ridiculous handsome face and infuriating behaviour and the tendency to just be mean all the fucking time.

The internal fight between what she felt and how she acted made her clench her fist and grit her teeth every time Damian came into her view. The little bastard has been doing it on purpose just to see her flustered and enraged. It was like he was trying this best to show his superiority and just rub it into her face.

„L/N.”

„The hell you want Wayne?”

„Will you be attending this year’s New Year's Eve?”

„Will I what now?” she raised her gaze, unable to hide the confusion.

„want me to spell it out for you or something”?”

„Hm.” she muttered „I had no idea you knew how to do that Wayne.”

„I;m only telling you because I know you have problems with reading.”

„Clearly you have a problem with understanding simple things.”

„What I understand is that your father was left out when the invitations were being send. Are you finally going bankrupt”

„You little piece of-!” before she could stop herself her palm met with his cheek with a loud slap.

Shit.

He got exactly what he wanted. Provoked her and got the awaited reaction. She exposed herself, cause acting so dramatically only proved her contradictory, violent emotions he evoked in her.

„Nice one. Didn’t think you had it in you.” he wiped the little drop of blood she drew with her nails.

„Trust me I had it in me ever since you invaded the class.”

„I’ll let you make it even when you invade Wayne Manor for the party.”

„Though you said my family wasn’t invited?”

„It’s a charitable thing to open the door for the poor. I’ll see to it personally.”

„Such a generosity on your part, Mr. Wayne.” she rolled her eyes. „You can take your fake bounty and shove it up-”

„I can’t wait till you meet Todd. You two have so much in common.”

„Your older brother? Yeah, from what I heard you two have quite a rocky relationship. Maybe we’ll gang up on you.”

„Can’t wait.” Damian laughed dryly and with a mischievious glint in his eyes walked away not bothering to say another word.

***

„I;m not going.”

„You;re going.”

„I am so not going!”

„You don’t have a say in the matter!”

„Last year you said that new year’s party is not a place for kids!”

„You’re not a kid!”

„I’m 17! I;m a kid!”

„You ran away from home few months ago. You’re not a kid. You’re going. End of discussion.”

„If I’m not a kid then how come I can’t make a decision on this?” she smiled at her father with absolutely innocent eyes, pointing out all the holes in his logic.

Well-

He didn’t take her defiance in a good way.

Almost dragging her to the wayne manor, but dragging nevertheless.

***

Vomiting.

That’s how she felt entering the place,

Running away.

That’s how she felt walking up the steps and being thrown to the sharks when all the gazes landed on her and her father.

Hiding.

That’s how she felt when the gravity of being judged only based on her clothes and outlook sunk in.

Instead Y/N was forced to fake a smile, dance and do the rounds pretending to have fun.

All for the glory and good publicity of her father’s company.

Worst part?

He has been watching.

Like a predator in the darkness, waiting to strike when she was least suspecting it.

„Mr L/N.” Damian crept behind the girl and her father and she was sure he only did it on purpose to startle her. „Would you mind if I steal your daughter for a dance.

The tragicomic of the situation was truly poetic.

Her father went pale. Then red. His jaw got tense. Then loose. And then he smiled forcefully nodding his head, unable to say the dreaded yes. Apparently being torn between the devil (his daughter dancing with the son of his archenemy) and the deep blue sea (offending the host) was too much to handle.,

Too bad, Y/N had no chance to object or get away before Damian led her to the dancefloor.

„It’s not XVIth century Wayne, women can make their own decisions.” she hissed not really happy about his hands circling around her waist.

„Then run away if that’s what you want. I dare you.”

„I’m not going to make a scene here!”

„thought so.” he chuckled, capably leading her in the dance.

„what the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

„absolutely nothing.”

„I’ve known you for five years. There’s never nothing with you Damian.”

‘You used my name, Y/N.”

‘And you repeated my mistake.”

„Maybe it’s not a mistake?” he pulled her slightly closer, causing her to let out an involuntarily gasp. „I’m just saying-”

„I’m supposed to hate you.” she whispered making a turn and then a swirl

„So you don’t.” this was not a question but a statement, his hands trembling slightly. It was hard for him to keep the attitude while dealing with a whirlwind inside. He was 17 and liked a girl, having no idea how to behave to not make a fool out of himself, get embarrassed and lose in her eyes.

„don’t let it get into your head.” she whispered pressing herself closer to his body. They were dancing and it was only because of that.

„Me?” Damian smiled but it came unnoticed due to her head leaning on his shoulder „I think you’re the one who’s fantasising.”

„You sure you’re not hoping for a midnight kiss?” she mocked

„Are you?”

„no.”

„me neither.”

Bruce and f/n were carefully watching their kids.

Damian and Y/n couldn’t care less.

Family drama and conflicts seemed light years away at that moment.

 Future could be figured out later.

Part 2: moment of weakness

#damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #robin x you #robin x y/n #damian wayne fluff #christmas bingo #batfamily x reader

[headkiss]

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

-

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

-

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

-

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

-

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

-

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

-

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

-

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

-

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

hey you! if you enjoyed please consider leaving a reblog, it would mean a lot and helps a ton more than you’d think! help support creators like me <3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington request #steve harrington requests #steve harrington story #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #stranger things steve #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[sunnitheapollokid]

✴️ ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。GO ON AND PUT THAT RING ON MY FINGER!

how the heroes of olympus would react to you accidentally calling them “husband”! <3

characters in this thread : leo valdez, percy jackson, jason grace, frank zhang.

📬 sunni’s notes : hey sunni nation school is biting me in the ass but i am thriving (barely) ANYWAAAY i was thinking of some fic ideas and this had crossed my mind and thought it would be fun!! lowkey breaking my silence because i haven’t gone far enough to write about our boy frank so if he’s a little out of character then i apologize </3 okay happy reading bebis! sunkisses!!! >3<

ʚ PERCY JACKSON ɞ . . .

⊹ you and percy spent christmas break at sally’s apartment!

⊹ it was a snowy new york city day, and y’all decided to stay in and just bake some cookies with his mom, while paul was out for work.

⊹ “hell yeah!! cookies!!” percy yelled, grabbing the ingredients from the apartment pantry, a bag of flour, sugar, and white chocolate chips in his arms.

⊹ sally clapped her hands, “(name), honey, grab the powdered sugar please?” you nodded, on your way to the pantry.

⊹ you scanned the small room, percy walking beside you, his hands on his hips. he hit your hips with his own sassily, “come on babe, it’s right there.” he teased.

⊹ rolling your eyes you reply,

⊹ “hubba, i’m trying—“ you cut yourself off. “i.. i mean— ah.. i-“

⊹ percy, silent for a bit, burst into laughter, holding his stomach.

⊹ your cheeks growing a shade of pink, he helf you by the waist and peppered you with wet kisses. “awww, my dear ‘ol wife!” he said in a posh-accent.

⊹ you tried to get out of his embrace, but he kept his grip, “perce! stop!!” you laughed with him, percy continued his kisses before you two got scolded at by sally.

⊹ “love birds! hurry with the powdered sugar!”

⊹ before leaving back for school, percy asked his mom for engagement ring ideas.

⊹ this man did not want to waste time.

ʚ LEO VALDEZ ɞ . . .

⊹ spending your time back in leo’s cabin, everybody was gone for the end of summer break, and leo was the only one left back at the heph cabin.

⊹ you laid on his bed while he worked on a few projects, tossing a piece of metal in the air and catching it, letting it keep you distracted.

⊹ leo hummed, “mami, you okay?” he kept his eyes glued to the small machine infront of him.

⊹ you hummed back, “yeah. i’m peachy hubba.”

⊹ your eyes widen.

⊹ his eyes widen.

⊹ “wh.. whAT’D YOU SAY??” leo jumped, his goggles falling from his face.

⊹ “I MEANT BUBBA! NOT HUBBA!”

⊹ despite your efforts in justifying the accidental nickname, leo had twinkles in his eyes.

⊹ “i definitely heard you call me your husband.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

⊹ you folded i’m afraid.

⊹ “when did we have a wedding? i’m sure i’d remember you in white mami.”

⊹ gods, the wink. he gave you a wink.

⊹ HE DEFINITELY FLEXED IT AT THE SEVENS GANG.

⊹ “oh, i don’t know about you guys but i’m pretty sure (name) just called me her husband.”

⊹ “oh shut up you already told us that.”

ʚ JASON GRACE ɞ . . .

⊹ sunny day out!

⊹ y’all were out in new york for a totally normal mortal date, which you guys think you deserved by the way.

⊹ you guys we’re just out window shopping and coo’ing at old dogs that their owners had walked them out for, your hands interwined.

⊹ jason always caught a glimpse of your beaming smile whenever you waved at a dog passing by.

⊹ “where do you wanna go next honey?” he spoke softly, continuing your walking.

⊹ “mm.. coffee shop?”

⊹ the blondie shrugging his shoulders, mirroring the same grin his girlfriend had, he nodded.

⊹ excited to get some coffee, you don’t truly realize your choice of words,

⊹ “thanks hubba!—“

⊹ at first, jason and you don’t really realize it since at this point, you two we’re a married couple by the way you act.

⊹ the intimacy and the pure comfort of you guys.

⊹ from the rest of the sevens point of few, you two we’re like parents to them.

⊹ but he brings it up the minute you guys inhale the aroma of fresh brewed coffee.

⊹ “hubba?” he said in-between soft chuckles, a pink blush growing on his face as his nervousness starts to creep up his spine.

⊹ she grinned, “you like it?”

⊹ “love it.” and he kissed your cheek longingly.

ʚ FRANK ZHANG ɞ . . .

⊹ frank tackled you gently into a bear hug.

⊹ the poor boy was training until sunrise.

⊹ you giggled under your breath as he basically enveloped you in his embrace.

⊹ “you sleepy, baby?” you whispered, the giggles unable to be kept.

⊹ frank nodded while he nuzzled his face in your shoulder, just savoring the moment you guys we’re having together under the sunrise of camp.

⊹ “just sleep hubba.” you slipped out, but frank was unable to overhear. though, he truly, truly, did overhear.

⊹ he was too tired to react, keeping his face in your shoulder, but he let out a hum, a faint smile on his face.

⊹ “thank you love.”

⊹ “anything for you.”

⊹ though the moment he woke up, unsure to bring it up, he came up to you,

⊹ “you uh.. called me something, when i fell asleep.”

⊹ you cocked a brow, confused, then it hit you.

⊹ “OH! sorry— force of habit.” you grinned.

⊹ frank melted at your gaze, kissing your forehead, “maybe we should make it a normal habit.”

#sunni does not sleep #sunni's sunkisses ☼ *. #pjoverse #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez x reader #jason grace x reader #frank zhang x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson headcanons #leo valdez headcanons #jason grace headcanons #frank zhang headcanons

[hysterotic]

𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 𝑵𝑬𝑿𝑻 𝑫𝑶𝑶𝑹 ✩ 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑩𝑨𝑱𝑰 𝑲𝑬𝑰𝑺𝑼𝑲𝑬

𝑺𝑯𝑬’𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 𝑵𝑬𝑿𝑻 𝑫𝑶𝑶𝑹,

𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑬 𝑩𝑼𝑻 𝑵𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝒀, 𝑨 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻’𝑺 𝑷𝑼𝑹𝑬

baji’s placed under house-arrest after setting a cop car on fire and prior to that his mom cut off the internet as punishment, he thought it was gonna be a torturous 3 months until he finds a new source of entertainment through stalking the new girl next door, who turns out to be a former pornstar?

⤷ disturbia (2007) the girl next door (2004)

⚠︎ : stalker themes but not really, usage of weed, college!au, non-consensual filming (at first), 80% plot 20% porn, unprotected sex, baji is mean and naaaasty, breeding kink, gag kink, face slapping (once), pussy slapping, he records you two fuckinnnn

proofread by my sexy bf & my bsf who were BOTH high when they read this so if this is shitty blame them lmao

one week of house arrest almost drove him crazy. actually, almost is an understatement; he had completely lost his mind.

the judge did cut him a break by making it a 3 month house arrest instead of 2 years in jail due to his constant arson, all thanks to his mom pulling a few strings, insisting that “it’s technically not aggravated arson” and “wouldn’t do any harm, he’s just a bit impulsive”.

but at this point, he would rather do time than be facing her wrath.

he tried to cheat the ankle monitor’s alarms a couple times, thinking he could just walk out the house like he did once before when he was under house arrest, forgetting that the only reason why they let him go in the first place is because they didn’t strap an ankle monitor on him, since he was just a teen at the time.

the number of times baji was handcuffed this week had cops expecting a call about him almost everyday; sometimes, they didn’t even bother to pick up at all.

hell, this is christmas to criminals. they have their chance to do whatever their hearts desire now without worrying about authorities, all thanks to baji keisuke.

but lately? he’s been leeching off of kazutora, calling him two to three times a day.

“kazutora, you have no fuckin’ idea how much this thing itches.”

kazutora could hear baji shuffling around on his bed, even though he couldn’t see him, he knew he’s elbow deep in some bag of chips.

baji continues to speak with a mouthful, “plus my mom fuckin’ transformed, she’s a dictator now. she took my goddamn xbox– can’t even watch no TV. i’m losing it, i’m losin’ my mind just give me any information anythin’ at all what’s goin’ on out there?”

he could hear kazutora walking outside from the cars driving by and the wind blowing against the speaker, making his voice barely audible. “just say you want us to come over, you don’t gotta complain’ in my ear all the time.”

baji shoves another handful of chips in his mouth, “come over?” he looks around his hellhole of a room. “seriously?” he starts scratching the ankle monitor aggressively and running his fingers under the band.

he hears more shuffling from the speaker, as if someone had grabbed the phone from kazutora, “it’s been almost two weeks, and you didn’t miss any of our faces? i’m hurt, keisuke.” ryousei says, his voice filled with theatrical passion and intensity, he could sense him posing with his hand on his chest dramatically.

baji rolls his eyes, “you guys comin’ or what?”

he could hear another voice coming through the phone, he couldn’t make out what they said since they were heavily inaudible.

“who else is with you-“ baji questions before kazutora quickly cuts him off, “we’re almost there gotta go byeeee”

and with that, kazutora hangs up.

he clicks his tongue, throwing the phone across the room and falling back onto the bed.

no way is he gonna handle being at home for the entirety of summer break, especially since his mom decided to take away every little thing remotely entertaining in the name of “learning his lesson” and to “quit being involved with hoodlums.” as if that’s not making him want to get twice as violent–

a slight jingle interrupts his train of thought.

he furrows his brows at the sound, sticking his head up to look around his room for the source. his eyes land on a long, fluffy black tail trotting around the area where he threw the phone. he sits up seeing the rest of it’s body, catching it playfully pawing at the phone.

baji’s brows twitch, confused about how the cat managed to climb up to his room. he stands up from the bed, slowly walking towards it, “how’d y’get in here.. huh?” he questions it softly.

the cat whips it’s head towards the voice, responding to his presence, it emits soft chirps and trills, immediately striding towards his legs, going in between them to rub itself on the ankle monitor. baji steps back, feeling something sharp against his ankle.

he hums curiously at the unusual feeling, noticing something shining on the cat’s neck, he couldn’t tell what it was from how fluffy the cat is.

he crouches down for a closer look, seeing that it’s wearing a small spiked black collar with a little skull charm in the front, he tilts the charm up and turns it around seeing “nightmare” engraved in the back.

“nightmare?” a subtle grin appears on his lips, he uses his finger to tilt its chin up so he can get a better look at the cat’s face. nightmare sniffs his finger and leans it’s cheek against his hand affectionately.

he gently scratches underneath it’s chin, watching it purr softly with contentment at his affections, until the voice of a girl who sounded like she was calling out for the cat disrupts the moment.

“nai-nai? where are youuu?” you call out, making kissing sounds as an attempt to lure the cat in. your voice gets louder and louder, getting closer to his house, almost as if you were irritatingly yelling by his window.

his lips curls down into a frown as he huffs in annoyance. the cat quickly hops on baji’s shoulder as he stands back up. he peers over the window, looking at you yelling around his house’s fence while he continues scratching nightmare’s cheek. he pauses, his irked expression calms as his eyes meet your distressed face.

the face he was met with threw him for a loop, how come he has never seen you before, “has she just moved in?”

he slowly walks closer to the window to get a better look of you.

beep beep beep

he looks in the direction the noise came from, seeing a big van moving backwards towards the house next door.

he glances at another car from behind after hearing the car doors opening and closing, though he can barely see because of the van blocking his view.

he glances back at you again, seeing you run towards the car, watching your short short skirt that barely covers your ass flow every step you take til you disappear out of view.

. ˳⁺⁎˚ ༺ ♰ ༻ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

“has anybody seen nightmare?” you ask your parents who were walking away from the van, carrying moving boxes.

your mom sighs, her voice laced with irritation, “didn’t i tell you to not let her out of the carrier while we’re moving?”

“but she needed to pee–“

“that’s your problem now. go help your siblings with the boxes; we don’t have all day.”

“i’m not gonna help until i find her!” you whine, following behind your mom into house.

. ˳⁺⁎˚ ༺ ♰ ༻ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

baji sighs disappointingly at the thought of returning the cat, slightly turning his head towards nightmare while still keeping his eye on the front door from where you disappeared. “guess y’gotta go home.. c’mon.” he gently picks her up with one hand and sets her on the window, watching her bolt towards the house next door.

. ˳⁺⁎˚ ༺ ♰ ༻ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

the moment you heard nightmare’s collar jingle, you ran outside, sighing with relief at the sight of her, baji could see your worries melt away from your body as you crouch to pick her up and hug her. he leans his arms atop the window frames, observing the scene quietly.

“where were you?” you coo, kissing her head, noticing that she has an unfamiliar scent clinging to her. “were you snooping in people’s houses?” you turn her body to face you so you could scold her, seeing that she was distracted, staring up at something. you assumed it was a bird until you followed her gaze, eyes locking with brown ones.

his big, muscled arms were visible for you to drool over, seeing his body leaned atop the window frame, staring down at you. you feel the intensity of his gaze as it raked itself up your form, eyes darting between you and the cat. the way he –basically— checked you out made your head spin, making you weak in the knees.

he looked tall, and strong. you could see his big shoulders bulging out of his wife beater, with a couple of black rings on his hand too. and that long, jet black hair.. the cross layered necklace he was wearing.. is he seriously your new neighbor?

“good taste, nai.” you whisper in her ear as she purrs in your arms, you hesitantly bring your hand up to wave at him with a gentle smile. he nods his head at you, seemingly distracted by his thoughts.

. ˳⁺⁎˚ ༺ ♰ ༻ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

It’s an insignificant interaction; he was just greeting his new neighbor, and yet something about you had his body growing hot in a way he’s never felt before, he didn’t wanna take his eyes off of you; he nearly gets lost in a trance until he hears the ringing sound of his doorbell, crushing the tension.

he clicks his tongue, pushing himself off the window frame, looking back to where the front door is, contemplating if he should answer it or not, he slowly turns his head back to look at you again, staring at your figure that is now walking away, slowly growing smaller the farther you go, walking back inside the house.

he keeps his eyes glued to your front door, hoping that you’d come out, maybe flash him that smile again. at this point, he might even kidnap the cat just to get you to come out once more–

ding dong ding dong

the doorbell rings again, annoyingly on repeat this time.

“fucking hell, i’m comin’ i’m comin..” he quickly runs downstairs towards the front door, yanking it open irritably. his eyes are met by none other than dumb, dumber and dumbest.

“damn, you really are going through it.” ryusei greets, chuckling at baji’s disheveled look. his amusement gets cut off by chifuyu elbowing him in his stomach, wincing in pain.

kazutora walks in between the two and pushes the zip to baji’s chest, brushing past him to walk up the stairs.

baji quickly shoves it in his pocket in a panic, “don’t be openly showin’ that around! i got my mom up my ass enough.” he yells at kazutora.

“whatever! you down to roll one right now or what?” kazutora replies, completely ignoring him as he walks into baji’s room.

baji feels a pat on his shoulder, turning to face ryusei. “surprised you actually stayed home this time.” ryusei remarks, referring to the last house arrest he was in. ryusei starts walking up the stairs following behind kazutora.

he rolls his eyes and turns his head back at chifuyu, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“after kazutora told me about what happened, i felt bad leaving you be all alone, the gang misses you by the way.” chifuyu says with a smile.

a shy grin tugs at the corners of baji’s mouth, “c’mon. i’ll be fine; this ain’t a charity.” he says, turning his back towards the door, leaving it open, and walking up the stairs towards his room, with chifuyu following.

he locks the bedroom door behind him after finding kazutora on his bed, openly prepping to roll a joint, with a tray set, and ryusei sitting beside him with a remote, flicking through apple music tracks. kazutora sticks his hand out for baji to throw the zip.

“damn, she even locked apple music from you? how are you even alive right now.” ryusei mutters to himself.

baji reaches for his pocket and throws it at kazutora, “don’t be stinkin’ up my room with that; smoke out the window,” he says in a low, gravelly tone.

kazutora hums in response, continuing to pack a joint, “not worried about the cops who’re watchin’ over you seeing that from the window?” chifuyu questions.

“my mom s’worse.” he sits down on his gaming chair, leaning back, slowly rolling it towards the window where he last saw you.

he didn’t mean to stare at the house next door again; he did it subconsciously. it’s like there was something about you that pulled him in. he thought to himself; it’s none of my business, but he can’t help the need to be curious about what you were doing right now.

his eyes flick towards a figure on the room right across his. coincidentally, your room windows are aligned towards one another, he could see almost everything without trying, almost like it was there for him to look. he sees you digging through your suitcase, throwing your clothes around, searching for something.

you finally pull out a swimsuit and set it aside, you start to tug on the hem of your shirt, pulling it up slowly to reveal your bare back. you weren’t wearing a bra this entire time.

you seem unaware, and yet with the way your body moves, the way you smoothly took off your clothes, the way everything was perfectly angled, teasing him, it was like you knew he was watching, knew that he won’t be able to do shit with the annoying cuff on his ankle.

you walk out of your room with a swimsuit on and towel draped on your arm, disappearing from his sight. he rests his arm on the window sill, pinching his lip between two fingers, patiently waiting for your appearance again, his eyes darting between the metal band posters you already set around your room, the more he looks around, the more he learns about you.. the more intrigued he is.

a couple minutes later, his eyes flick at the back door, seeing you walk outside in your hot pink swimsuit, dipping your foot in the brand new pool, slightly shivering at how cold it is, you slowly start walking down into the water, trying to adjust to the temperature.

you begin swimming under, he sees glimpses of what looks like a tramp stamp and two bows exactly under your ass. he leans closer, trying to get a better look until he hears a loud, aggressive cough right by his ear.

he looks in his peripheral vision, seeing kazutora and ryusei smoking right behind him, with chifuyu crouched on the floor coughing, holding the back of baji’s chair for balance.

“did you even inhale it?” ryusei snickers at the sight of chifuyu struggling.

chifuyu stands up and spits out the window, clearing his throat. “that shit tastes disgusting, i’m not inhaling that!”

“quit pressurin’ him to smoke,” baji turns the chair around to face the two. “grab the wuss some beer- uh, redbull to get rid of the taste, i got a pack right there” he points with his finger, snatching the joint from kazutora in the process.

kazutora turns his head to the direction baji pointed at and walks towards it with ryusei following behind. baji spins the chair back to look at you once more and takes a puff, fully leaning against the window sill, seeing you still swimming. he seems to forget chifuyu’s still there until he hears him clear his throat, baji snaps his head to look at him.

“you know her?” chifuyu questions, raising his arm up to rest it against the wall, leaning his head on it.

baji shakes his head, putting the roach out. “she just moved in next door” he says after a few minutes of silence.

chifuyu forms an “o” with his mouth, he continues staring at you peacefully swimming then looking back at baji again. a mischievous smirk forms on his lips, “think she’s cute?”

“what the fuck, matsuno!”

“your staring at her too much, you’ve never done that with anybody!”

“so? doesn’t mean shit,” baji scoffs.

“who’re you two arguing about” kazutora pops up from behind, holding three bottles of beer and a can of redbull.

“nobody,” baji grumbles.

“nah, nah, nah—she’s not a nobody if she got baji drooling like this. he’s checking out his new neighbor.” chifuyu points at you with his chin.

baji's jaw clenched, crossing his arms irritatedly. kazutora pushes both of them aside to get a better look at you, he mutters, “hold on,” and turns around, walking towards baji’s drawers, looking through them and finally pulling out old, dusty binoculars.

“this is getting fucking creepy,” baji mumbles lowly.

“what is?” ryusei raises a brow, looking from chifuyu’s shoulders, catching you in his eyesight.

kazutora blows the dust away from the lenses, placing the binoculars on his eyes and pointing them at you, he walks closer to the window. his sight reaches your tramp stamp, “huh.. that tattoo looks familiar.”

“let me see, give me that,” ryusei snatches the binoculars from kazutora, he points the lenses towards your tramp stamp, taking a sip of his drink, seemingly deep in thought.

“you don’t think that’s…”

“no fuckin’ way…”

baji’s brows jump. “what? spit it out,” waiting for them to elaborate.

it finally hits them, literally.

ryusei almost chokes on his drink from kazutora’s continuous smacking on his back. “i know that tattoo—that’s that one pornstar! damn, what was her name?” he starts snapping his fingers, trying to jog his memory.

baji’s eyes almost burst out of his skull “HUH?!” baji and chifuyu said in unison. “how many pornos you gotta consume to identify a pornstar based on some tattoo? you fuckin’ fiends,” baji grimaces with disgust.

“i knew it,” ryusei said under his breath, walking back, looking around baji’s room trying to search for something. “you got a camera keisuke?”

“fuck you need that for?” baji spat.

ryusei pulls an old camcorder out from the top of his closet, “let’s get her to smile for the camera. that’ll show you, ponstars are naturals like that.” he walks up towards the window and hits record, slowly zooming in to get a close-up of you. “there’s the star,” he sultrily whispers

his filming was quickly interrupted by baji’s hand covering the lenses. “quit bein’ a creep! turn that off.” he shoves the camera away. “she just moved in your gonna freak her out,” chifuyu says, trying to take the camcorder out of ryusei’s grip until he puts his arm up out of chifuyu’s reach.

kazutora steps in between, backing up ryusei who continued to film you, “hell no this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! you got the chance to live next door to a goddamn pornstar” he said poking baji’s chest with a pointer finger.

baji swats his hand away, clicking his tongue as he sits back down on his gaming chair and pushes it away from the window with his leg, making sure he’s not in your sight when you catch them being stalkers.

“i don’t even know why he got that chance.” ryusei mumbles, zooming in on your figure, licking his lips, feeling baji’s glare burning a hole into the back of his head.

“huh, come to think of it.. i’ve never seen baji even look in the direction of a girl,” chifuyu says to himself, rubbing his chin deep in thought.

“and how do you know that? you stalkin’ me and keepin’ track of who i look at?” baji says bluntly

“i’m not the one who was ogling the girl!” chifuyu bites back.

“i’m seriously gonna kill you.” he jumps at chifuyu, accidentally bumping into ryusei, pushing him to fall forward into the window sill, causing him to flip over and fall out into the bushes.

you jerk your head at the sudden sound, seeing three men peering down into the bushes and then to you, meeting eyes with that raven-haired hunk again. your eyes wander to his friends and see binoculars in one of their hands. were they creeping on you swimming?

they immediately duck, their backs against the wall under the window.

“you two are jackasses, genuine jackasses.” baji says through gritted teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose, kazutora cackles and claps as if he’s seen the funniest thing ever.

“us two?! your the one who pushed ryusei out of the window!” chifuyu whisper screams before kazutora quickly smacks him on the head.

chifuyu looks back at kazutora in shock, seeing him holding a finger against his lip shushing him, he slowly stands up to peer out the window to see if you’re still staring at them.

he sees you swimming towards the stairs, watching you walk out while squeezing the water out of your hair, you feel somebody stare at you and you turn your head towards the window again.

he quickly sits back down, “yeah, she just saw me” he says, laughing in between.

chifuyu scoffs, now standing up to peek his head out to check for himself. his eyes dart around the swimming pool area, looking for you. he straightens himself up and peers down to check on ryusei, finding him gone too.

he looks back at both of them, lips pressed into a thin line. “i can’t find neither her nor ryusei.” he says, shaking his head, walking away from the window to pace around the room in a panic, already assuming the worst. the weed paranoia is getting to him already and he barely smoked.

“fuck you mean ryusei’s gone?” baji questions, he stands up to check, finding nobody there. shit.

“maybe she just went inside, no big deal!” chifuyu says nervously.

baji sighs, “yeah, ‘cause she caught you three stalkin’ her like a bunch of creeps.. now she’s gonna think her neighbors are perverts,” he mumbles, leaning against the wall.

before chifuyu and kazutora had the chance to react at baji’s hypocrisy, the doorbell rings.

“is that him?” kazutora runs to the front door window to check until chifuyu yanks his arm back away from the door before anyone sees him, “what if it’s her?“

“so? not like we can pretend we’re not home” baji points at his ankle monitor with his eyes and starts walking towards the door.

baji didn’t suspect a single thing, he wasn’t even nervous at the idea of you being the one ringing the doorbell, it’s just some girl, he thinks. so why is he frozen in place at the sight of you, drenched, wearing a skin-tight black button-up top with shorts underneath, practically swallowing your ass and thighs, a weak attempt to “cover up”, once again, being a fucking tease.

“i’m all wet.. can i come in?” your tone oozing with seductive intent.

chifuyu and kazutora pop out from behind baji, catching the scene. chifuyu looks at your form and then at baji repeatedly with a confused look. the sight looked like a skit from a porno. you truly are a natural.

baji’s hard-on was unfortunately stepped on when he sees ryusei pop out from the side with a camera, laughing hysterically at the scene that unfolded, clearly, this was all planned to be a prank. and yet, baji seems unfazed by it. he’s barely even listening at the three, mind drifting elsewhere, lingering over the idea of you genuinely being a pornstar, he can’t get the moment out of his head.

he kept his eyes on you, watching you giggle at the two arguing and yelling at ryusei for the prank he pulled. all baji was thinking about was how sweet and innocent your smile looked compared to your former lifestyle, how your strawberry pink lipgloss was glistening perfectly with your glittery skin that came from your sunscreen, how your shirt was unbuttoned at the top perfectly exposing your breasts– the hot pink bikini you were wearing, yeah.. that’s totally what he meant.

you hugged your form from the cold breeze, unknowingly making your tits look appealing. god, if he was a casting director for porn, he would hire you in an instant with him in it. a true succubus in the flesh.

ryusei blocks baji’s view of you with his camcorder, cackling in a way that grated on baji’s nerves, “you should’ve seen your face, keisuke,” he ends the video and fiddles with the camera to watch it again. “you don’t mind if she smokes with us right guys? she got locked out” he grins infuriatingly wide, finding amusement in torturing the raven haired man.

“yeah for sure, she can smoke with us, right baji?” kazutora speaks without a thought.

baji’s stare lingers on your form once more, especially the little cute ribbons that are peeking out of your shorts, holding your bikini bottoms against your hips before quickly breaking it away to speak.

“whatever.” he says nonchalantly. he moves out of the way, walking up to his room without another word.

you slightly pout at the interaction, you hoped you’d get the chance to talk to him more since your closer now, that’s the only reason why you even agreed to ryusei’s little prank. it was so worth the reaction though. you’ve had many eyes on you and your used to it by now but this is the first time you’ve felt a magnetic pull that ignited a flicker of excitement within you just from being checked out, especially the way he did.

it was a challenge trying not to stutter after seeing him opening the door, his wife beater hugging his form so deliciously, his exposed big shoulders that his long hair couldn’t cover had you drooling, and grey sweatpants too? he’s such a gorgeous man and he doesn’t even know it.

“don’t worry about him; he’s always like that,” kazutora comforts, gesturing his head inside, inviting you in properly. a slight jingle sound from his earring. “come on in, after you.”

“such a gentleman” you fawned, brushing beside him to walk up the stairs with the three behind, finally reaching baji’s room.

“you got locked out? you, uh, need to call someone?” chifuyu says, a note of concern evident in his tone. avoiding eye contact, trying his best to ignore your.. look.

“i’d rather stay stranded if you don’t mind..” you smile nervously, shoving your hands in your back pocket to avoid fidgeting.

you look around, checking out his hot mess of a room, he’s sitting on his gaming chair, staring at the cat who’s sitting on the window sill, actually, that looks like nightmare!

“how did you get in here?” you murmur lovingly, slowly walking towards the window, bending over to pet her, unknowingly having your ass directly infront of baji, yeah, no doubt. your most definitely teasing. and he’s not falling for it. he kicks his chair back a bit to hit the wall so he can face the cat more.

your eyes flick up towards your window seeing how it’s aligned so perfectly with his, you look down finding nightmare pawing at the binoculars.

you grab it, looking through the lenses and directing it towards baji, “sorry about her; she likes to explore sometimes, especially when it comes to our neighbors.” you tilt the binoculars down a bit to look at him better.

“no worries, cats’re usually like that with me” he says, his voice carrying a husky undertone.

cats love him too? can he get any hotter?

you both sit in silence for a bit until you feel smoke being blown directly on your cheek. you turn, now facing the guy with the tiger tatted on his neck. “here,” he hands you the joint, “you two can smoke, the three of us might play some video games.” kazutora fabricates, he stuffs his hand in his jacket pockets, “you don’t happen to have wifi, do you? ours got cut off.”

you take a puff, blowing it out the window. “of course, here.”

you connect them to your wifi, and kazutora uses it to his own advantage, putting it into baji’s computer. he sits on the bed with chifuyu and ryusei next to him, he opens up a porn site and starts searching for titles he remembers you being in.

he clicks on the first video that pops up and mutes the volume. you mostly did POV videos since it’s what you were mostly known for, hundreds of videos of you bent over, teasing the camera, every POV theme, you did.

you hand baji the joint, a wave of embarrassment takes over, now noticing how soaking wet you were,

“uhm, where’s the bathroom? i need to dry up.. or at least attempt to,” you nervously laugh.

“down the hall to the left” he rasps.

you walk out of the room, feeling baji’s eyes glued to your back as you went to where he directed.

“damn, is this your girl, keisuke?” ryusei teases, watching videos of you plastering your pussy on the internet. “quit it, she’s not my girl.” baji responds with an edge to his voice, continuing to pet nightmare, who’s now laying on his lap with her stomach up.

“not even curious enough to look?” kazutora questions, his head is facing baji, but his eyes are still glued to the screen.

“'m not interested.” baji says with a monotone, knowing it was a flat-out lie, but he couldn’t give in, not yet, especially with you in the house.

chifuyu narrows his eyes at baji with suspicion, nobody knows how baji thinks like he does. he knows he’s not gonna bother asking them for the titles to watch privately, since he’s not gonna hear the end of it from kazutora and ryusei.

chifuyu makes sure kazutora didn’t put it in incognito mode and secretly moves the mouse to favorite the link for baji to check out later, glancing at kazutora and ryusei, hoping they didn’t notice.

you walk back into his room, who didn’t move his eyes away from nightmare the entire time you were gone, he lifts his head up to look at you, taking a long drag from the joint. you walk towards him to snatch the joint from his lips before he finishes it, you crouch down til your eye level with nightmare to pet her, who’s still on his lap. your current position not helping baji’s situation at all.

ryusei clears his throat, leaning back against the headboard, pretending he just didn’t see your entire naked body, head to toe, in every sex position ever created. “so, how’s the move going with you?”

you stand beside the window with your back facing it, you lean back slightly, placing your hand on the window sill for support, “still going..” you sigh, exhaling the smoke out, you quickly glance at baji, catching him with his head tilted upwards ever so slightly, fixated on you with unwavering intensity, his eyes conveying a sense of intrigue.

you immediately look away, breaking eye contact to hold back a smile.

“we’d help but, uh, one of us is a little spatially challenged at the moment” chifuyu points at baji’s ankle monitor with his chin.

“yeah i can tell, he got that whole lindsay lohan thing going on.”

“who?” baji questions, tilting his head as he gazed at you, the sun peeked through the window, streaming directly into his eyes, casting a warm glow over his face, he squints slightly, his eyebrows scrunching together, almost looking like he’s winking at you. his eyes are so intensely brown it’s driving you crazy.

you giggle handing baji the joint to smoke it, he pushes the chair closer towards you and places his foot on the wall right next to your thigh, trapping you between him. he takes a puff from your fingers. the coconut flavor of your lipgloss lingers on the joint, you would’ve thought he was messing with you until your eyes land on his hands, seeing that they’re a little occupied from nightmare playfully biting them.

“where’d you say you were from?” kazutora probes.

you tilted your head towards kazutora’s direction, still keeping eye-contact with baji as he continues playing with nightmare, watching the smoke curl out from his lips as he exhales. “i’m from the city!”

“the city?” he inquires.

you hum enthusiastically in response, “and now forcefully relocated..” you relax your back against the window sill, tilting your head back, letting the breeze hit your neck for a moment as the familiar sound of your mother’s voice reaches your ears, a shiver of fear creeps up your spine, tinged with the realization that you're in a place your definitely not supposed to be, especially since you snuck out without a word.

you jolt up and duck under the window, your head is now directly next to his foot, eye level at his ankle monitor, baji silently chuckles at you, watching his shoulders shake.

“could you come in here, please?”

you look back at the four, mouthing and pointing at the direction of the voice, “my mom”

baji offers a quiet “mm-hmm”, he peers out the window, looking at your mom who’s clearly staring directly at his window.

“yeah, she’s polite and always says please but she has that tone did you notice?” you say sarcastically, realizing that you're sitting on something. you sit up and find a blue marker right under you, taking the opportunity. you bite the lid off and carefully scribble your number onto the monitor that’s resting mere inches from your face, your hand trembles slightly as you add little hearts around and a cat resembling nightmare.

“uhuh, i know that tone” baji replies, you notice a knowing smirk in his tone.

the atmosphere crackles with anticipation as he watches your every move, his gaze lingering on you intently.

you finish off your scribbles on his cuff and place the lid back into the marker, “gotta go before she kills me..” you get up, dusting off your butt from the floor. you start walking towards the door, quickly saying your goodbyes, and run outside towards your mom

baji brings his leg up to his lap to check out the cuff, seeing your little cute doodles and your number in the middle, he bites back a smile hoping his friends don’t see, he leans back against the chair, pushing it closer to the window to watch you walk towards your front door with nightmare beside you.

it’s been a week since you moved in, since you came over and wrote your number on his cuff, since you became a tattoo in his mind, and he couldn’t control his urges any longer.

he thought he could ignore the fact that he’s neighbors with a goddamn former pornstar but you giving him a show every. damn. time, you undress has been nothing but hard on him, literally.

it’s no coincidence that everytime you undress you had your back facing towards the window, you do it so torturously slow and seductive, almost as if you were giving him a strip tease every night, you knew exactly what you were doing.

in rare occasions you’d catch him staring and he would play it casual, acting like he’s busy doing whatever he does. but sometimes it’s innocent and sweet, you’d catch him staring at you playing with nightmare or getting ready for bed, you’d give an innocent wave or a little nod and he’d do it back, it’s a cute interaction but it’s still not helping him avoid whatever’s in his search history.

and that’s exactly what he’s gonna be clicking on tonight.

he opens the tab, already overwhelmed by the amount of POV options he could choose from. he clicks on the last video you made, and by a freak coincidence; it’s the girl next door themed.

the video starts off with you giving your usual strip tease by the window, classic. baji leans closer to the laptop, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes flicking between your window and the laptop screen.

you reach for your panties, the camera zooms closer to your ass, catching you linking your fingers under the straps, tight around your hips, you slowly start to pull them down, then snap! the camera pans back to your face from your sudden movement, catching you looking directly at the camera, the camera-guy ducks down immediately at the sight, muttering “shit, shit, shit!” behind the camera.

after a couple seconds of him hiding he holds the camera up, checking to see if you’re still there, noticing that you’re nowhere to be seen in your room until he hears footsteps walking towards the house, he pans the camera down catching you walk towards his front door.

the doorbell starts ringing.

baji’s eyes flick towards your window again after seeing your lights turn on from his peripheral vision. seeing you throw yourself onto your bed seemingly exhausted doing god knows what.

disappearing out of his sight; he continues watching the video that was still going.

“i’ll delete the video if you suck my dick” said the camera man, your eyes lit up at the offer, already getting down on your knees to unzip his pants. you bite your lip with anticipation as you look up at him with glassy doe eyes, correction; looking at the camera lense. you jerk his pants down along with his boxers–

a fluffy feline silhouette appears, blocking the laptop screen with its presence, demanding attention with a gentle purr emanating from her throat.

“seriously nightmare? now?” he gently pushes her off the laptop, accidentally having her tap on the keys from his push, disrupting the video and making it skip to the part where you finally get fucked.

except, the volume was all the way up. filthy loud moans emitting from his laptop speakers, baji immediately shuts it in shame, and from behind the laptop screen it was you, looking directly at him with a walkie talkie in your hands.

you click on the button, “sounds like somebody’s got access to the internet again” holding back a giggle.

the sound of your voice come out from the walkie talkie on his table, seeing nightmare pawing at it, she must’ve brought it here and was trying to get his attention for it.

he grabs the walkie talkie and rolls the chair closer to the window, click, “you could say that.”

click, “what’re you watchin’?”

click, “a continuous of.. something we recorded.”

click, “we?”

he grabs the camcorder from his desk and replays the part where you teased him on his front door directly to the walkie talkie speaker.

click, you laugh at the humiliating sound of your own voice attempting to seduce the hunk next door, “oh my god i completely forgot about that!”

he tongues his inner cheek, emitting an amused scoff. click, “i didn’t.”

click, “what? you jack off to it every night?” you joke with a small laugh.

click, he licks his canines, a sly smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “maybe”

click, “don’t you got a girlfriend?”

click, “says who?”

click, “you look like a guy who would have a girlfriend”

click, he tuts “nah, i never had time.. why the sudden curiosity? y’want me or somethin’?”

you squirm in your seat, pulling up your knees to your chest and burying your face in them. click, “i didn’t mean it like that…”

click, he tilts his head slightly, leaning back against the chair. “c’mon.. be brave, just like how you were last week on my front door.” baji sways the chair side to side with his leg.

you peek your head out from your knees, resting your chin on it. click, “you’re just gonna keep bringing that up huh..”

click, “uhuh.”

click, “what did you mean by continuous by the way?” you say after a few minutes of silence.

you watch him spin his chair side by side as he ponders his answer for a bit, click, “c’mere and i’ll show you exactly what i meant.”

you bite your lip from his boldness, you didn’t expect that from him at all, then again, you didn’t expect him to be shy either, he looks like the type of guy that makes sure he gets what he wants and god does that thought make you throb.

click, “i can’t.. i’m sort of grounded for sneaking out, ever since we moved here mom’s been eyeing me like a hawk, why don’t you come here instead?”

he places his cuffed leg up on the window sill, indicating that he’s still in house arrest, you completely forgot that you’re neighbors with a criminal, another thought that has you throbbing.

click, “how’d you get that?”

click, “burnin’ a cop car for shits n giggles.”

click, “didn’t know i was neighbors with an anarchist.” you tease.

click, he mumbles “didn’t know i was neighbors with a pornstar but y’learn new shit everyday huh?”

click, “what?”

click, “don’t worry your pretty brain, gimme a sec.” he stands up from the chair and walks out of his room, disappearing from your sight, a couple minutes pass by and he comes back with a long ladder, placing it on his window and pushes it straight towards yours.

you lean your head out of the window from his action, “are you insane?! i’m not coming in like that!”

“what? too chicken shit?” he chuckles, successfully bridging the gap between your window and his. he pulls out the camcorder and clicks on the record button, panning the lenses towards you, “i’ll hold it just c’mere.”

you shake your head, incredulous. “you’re crazy–“

“you don’t trust me?” he persists, tilting his head, his gaze fixates on you with such intensity that has you breathless.

you sigh, rolling your head back. fuck it, you reluctantly step closer to the ladder. “if i break my neck it’s on you” you slowly start to climb the ladder towards him.

he grins, his eyes lingering on you, drinking in your reaction to the height as he watches you climb up with shaky hands.

he couldn’t resist fucking with you, captivated by the way your fear only seemed to enhance how gorgeous you are, he gently starts rocking the ladder back and forth, pretending to lose his grip.

you shriek, mixing with laughter, echoing in the quiet night, you bite back your screams trying to avoid your parents attention. “you fucking dickhead! stop!” your grip tightens.

“i don’t even think this fall is gonna break a neck i think it’s gonna kill me!” you whisper scream at him, laughter turning into nervous giggles.

he finds your determination cute, even after his little attempt to give you a heart attack, he relents, “alright i’ll behave, just get over here already.” he steadies the ladder.

you resume your ascent, curses punctuating the quiet of the night. you finally reach his window, breathless but wearing a triumphant grin, he offers you a hand, pulling him into his room with a subtle yet lingering touch.

you both stand face to face, the adrenaline from your little escapade still coursing through your veins, “didn’t know you had it in you.” he toys.

you roll your eyes, playfully pushing his shoulder, “you’re an asshole you know that!” a hint of a smile plays at the corners of your lips, unable to suppress it.

he zooms the camera lense at your cheek, “yeah, think i made you cry a little bit” he teases, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.

“shut up, it’s just the wind in my eye” you mutter, wiping at your cheek with the back of your hand.

“is that right?” his hand moves almost instinctively, gently cupping your cheek as he wipes the tear away with his thumb. his touch starts to linger, gaze fixating on your lips, slowly tracing his finger along your bottom lip.

you gasp softly, caught off guard by the sudden shift of the atmosphere, his touch intoxicating, sending shivers down your spine. instinctively, you lean into his touch, your tongue darting out to lick the lingering taste of your tears from his finger.

your eyes lock, lips slightly parting, taking in his thumb in your mouth as you start to suck on it.

he sighs, biting back his groan from emitting out of his throat, observing you from the camcorder as you suck on his thumb like a mindless whore, “uhuh, open that pretty mouth f’me.. all the way.” he flicks his eyes from the camera screen to look at you, you do as he says just from the look in his eyes, like a good girl would, he starts tracing his thumb around your tongue, thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth, prepping it for his cock that was already bulging out of his sweats.

“suck it just like that..” he says, drunkenly watching your eyes water as you gag around his fingers, he tuts, “already?” you whimper, drooling all over his fingers, “m’ i gonna have to prep that pussy too?” you shake your head, whining even more.

“c’mon baby, use your words.” he pinches your cheeks together smushing your face, your doe eyes flick down to his crotch before looking back up again, soft lips pushed out in a pout, you link your fingers down under at the band of his boxers, pulling him closer towards you.

his grip tightens on your cheek as he lifts your head up, the look on his face when he stares down at you makes you weak in the knees.

“you actually wet this time?” he teases, bringing up what happened last week yet again,

you tease back, “how about you touch me and find out?”

he lightly slaps your cheek shutting you up, making you yelp, rubbing your thighs together after he genuinely made your clit embarrassingly throb from the slap. his hand finds its place on your cheek again, “quit being a tease and do as i say princess” he mocks.

“what does that needy pussy want, huh?”

“wanna suck your dick.” the way you were acting so damn shy and obedient as if you weren’t whoring yourself out and plastering your pussy all over the internet makes his dick spring up in an instant.

“yeah?” he tilts his head, moving the camera away to admire you, the ends of his hair tickling your skin, you nod persistently, he grins wider, his canines poking out of his lips, his hand slides down your throat and grips around it, pulling you closer towards his face as he locks his lips with yours,

your plump coconut flavored lips kisses him back, groaning at your taste, remembering how he first tasted it when it was lingering on the joint. you deepen the kiss after feeling his grip tighten,

he pulls you closer towards his chest, making you stand on your tippy toes savoring the kiss, your hands rest atop his chest to tug on his shirt desperately, silently begging for more of him, his tongue licks at the bottom of your lips. finally breaking the kiss off to breathe, his spit string connected to your lips, your knees already growing weak from the small make out sesh as he grabs a handful of your hair, tugging it down forcing you on your knees, enough to make your pupils dilate at the subtle feeling of pain, he takes a mental note of your masochism and unlinks his sweats, sitting down on his chair, legs spread wide open for you to drool and gush over.

he points the camera towards you again, “what’re y’waitin’ for huh? suck what you’ve been beggin’ for.”

your fingers tremble with desire, squeezing your thighs together getting wetter and wetter from how deep his voice is, you curl your fingers under the boxer band and pull it down, freeing his thick fat dick out from it’s confinements, falling entranced with the bobbing of his cock that sprung upwards towards his stomach.

your hand reaches out to grab his cock, wrapping him around your delicate hand, slowly jerking him back and forth. your fingers aren’t even near touching from how thick he was, a fat flushed tip pooling with pre making you drool at the sight.

you part your lips, flattening your tongue around his tip, circling around it, toying with him– toying with his patience,

he rolls his head back holding in his groans as you bob your head up and down painfully slow, he snakes his fingers through your hair, grabbing a handful of it to push you down further, thrusting in your throat, back and forth. you moan on his dick, he grips onto the camcorder tight, your throat vibrations against it almost made him lose control, he yanks your hair pulling you back away from his dick, groaning at the loss of you.

saliva trailed from your mouth to his tip, making his dick twitch at the sight.

you teasingly kiss at the tip, giggling at his reaction as you quickly got up to walk over his bed, bending over, crawling towards the middle of it. you arch your back, ass up with your head down, you look back at him motioning him to walk over with your finger as you moved your hips back and forth.

he zooms the camcorder at your form, “there she is..” he slowly starts to walk over towards you, he grabs your hips, hooking onto your black lace shorts and tugging it back towards his crotch to grind on you, you arch against him, moaning at the friction of his hardened dick against your aching clit, pushing yourself back like a bitch in heat, “pretty fuckin’ sight, right there.”

he reaches his hand down, skimming up your thighs, spreading it apart more, the hand at your thigh slides up and cups your ass, pulling your shorts upwards to reveal the outline of your plush pussy, you silently thank god you were wearing black or you’d already have a visible wet spot.

you can’t help the blush that consumes your entire face, burying your face into his blanket from embarrassment, “stop teasing me..”

he hums in response, getting a close up of your outline on his camera, “i haven’t even seen your pussy and just from the outline of it.. jesus christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.” he says through gritted teeth as if he was straining to hold himself back from eating you,

he starts kissing your clothed clit, burying his sharp nose up the seam of your shorts. “need to taste you.” he rips off your shorts in a blink of an eye,

“w-wait-“ “i’ll buy you new ones baby, quit whinin’.’”

he pulls at the sides of your panties, letting them go to snap back against your pussy. you whimper at the sensation, greedily moving your hips against his finger trying to get him to touch you already. he tuts, moving his hand away making you miss his fingers, you feel a sharp smack against your ass, “be patient.”

he slowly starts pulling them off of you, you wish you weren’t so embarrassed from your position so you could look at his pretty face, it’s always what drove you crazy about him, feeling his eyes on you everytime you undress in-front of the window, of course you fucking did that on purpose, your neighbor is hot for god’s sakes! all you ever fantasized about was him, him, him.

and here he is, right in-between your legs from behind, recording and staring at your pretty pussy glistening around his index finger, slowly rubbing your slit up and down, his long finger slides up inside you, curling it, the bottom of his palm rubs right against your clit.

baji hovers above you, jaw clenched as he works his hand fast, shoving his ring finger to join his middle one. he whispers in your ear, “you’re so fuckin’ hot like this, so needy for me.” he kisses and bites the back of your neck, trailing his lips down your back towards your ass, lowering himself to be in direct line of sight of your pussy again.

he lightly starts sucking on your now swollen clit, burying his face in your cunt, messily eating you making the nastiest noises, which sends your hips squirming away from his lips, he circles his arms around your thighs, keeping you still enough while he tasted you.

he continues finger-fucking you, hardening his tongue to lick at your clit. he changes his thrusts to the scissoring motion. even though you told him you didn’t need prepping for his cock, something tells him that you’re not gonna be able to take it, begging him to stop.. whining about how it’s too much, the thought of hurting you like that and stretching your cunt out to only fit the form of his cock got him twitching.

seems like he’s not the only one who’s throbbing already, feeling your walls tighten up around his fingers, thighs trembling beyond your control as he holds it down with his grip that squeezes you from time to time. your moans, pleads and whimpers were music to his ears as you climax on his mouth,

you grip at the sheets feeling him spit on your pussy, sucking and tasting your juices with his eyes dilated, taking in the sight of his meal as if this is his last one, cause you truly are gonna be the fucking death of him. his fingers spread open your folds, watching his spit drip in between, clenching around nothing since you were achingly empty, he suddenly lifts his face, coming up to hover over you, continuing to work his fingers into you, fucking your own slick back into your cunt. “think she can handle my cock baby?” he gives your pussy a quick slap!

you clamp your teeth, hissing at the slap, you push yourself up with your arm to meet his eyes, biting your plump lips as you look back at him finger fucking you, the corners of his mouth glistening with your arousal, you nod persistently.

“use your words.” he gives your pussy another slap, “yes, yesyesyes..! please..” you plead pathetically, tears leaking from overwhelming pleasure already and he hasn’t even fucking started.

“atta girl, gonna give your pussy what it keeps throbbin’ for, and ‘m not gonna fuckin’ stop.” he says in between ripping off a condom from its confinement with his teeth and slides it on his cock, you moan after every promise he makes as he slowly sinks his tip in, your swollen plush lips swallowing and clenching him already, “shit.. ease up baby, you’re so goddamn tight.” his head tilts back, feeling you resist him, he hisses trying so hard to hold back from blowing his load right then and there.

he slides his hand to the back of your head, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around you as his entire length finally sinks into you, you immediately grip on his arms, nails digging into him as a whine leaves your throat.

he pulls out and slides back in, over and over, his eyes glued to the way your slick is already coating his cock, he keeps his pace slow and hard, finding your spots and avoiding hitting your cervix, as much as he loves the thought of seeing you in pain he’d rather watch you squirt from overwhelming pleasure all over his abdomen.

his head dips down into the crook of your neck, biting it to suppress his groans, holding back from pulling out the condom and snapping his hips against your ass, the thought of breeding you is slowly consuming him and he’s trying his very best to hold that back.

suddenly, the creak of the front door of the house interrupts, followed by the soft thud of it closing. baji recognizes his mom’s footsteps slowly approaching the stairs, he suddenly straightens up at the sound, turning his head towards his door expecting her to barge in like she usually would, he takes the opportunity to slide the condom off, slowly shoving his tip back in, ignoring her presence in the house.

“s-stop.. i think somebody’s here.. i-“ he cuts you off immediately shoving two fingers into your mouth, “suck ‘n shut the fuck up.” the worst part about all of this is that he doesn’t stop.

matter of fact, his pace is moving faster than before, sounds of his hips roughly clapping your ass echoes around his room. you try to talk with a mouthful, “she’s gonna hear-“ “i don’t give a shit.” he gags you with his fingers, rolling his waist to knock into you, soaking wet pussy coating his abdomen, strings of slick connecting the two of you as he continues to kill your guts, forcing you to swallow back your screams as you mindlessly suck on his fingers like a dumb whore.

the second he started fucking you raw, everything that was holding him back from brutally pounding you is gone, your pussy’s too damn addictive, he can’t miss it for a minute, god if he was one of your costars he would’ve grown attached to you, making the producers yell “cut” cause he just. won’t. stop. fucking you.

you plead for him to stop, trying to push him back, too overstimulated for another orgasm, you suppress more moans from escaping your lips as he shoves all of his pulsating dick inside your wet cavern. the base of his cock meets your slit to let you know just how absolutely deep he’s gone in.

you were a siren to him, whimpers and squeaks too addictive to hear that he falls in a trance, watching you suppressing your noises like he ordered you to. he’s already planning on rewarding you for being such a good girl for him, ideas about lapping on your pussy nonstop cloud his mind, yeah. he’s gonna make you his after this.

for now, you don’t care about anything else except the feeling of his intoxicating desperate thrusts as he rams more forcefully inside, tears well up your eyes along with your whimpers. slobbering over his fingers and choking on your spit, you clench around him as you feel a growing sensation in your lower abdomen, aside from butterflies.

baji finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, “speak up baby.” he taunts before tightening his hand around your neck “fuckmybrainsoutfuckmybrainsout please please..” you can barely form a word from the pressure he’s putting against your windpipe, the only words that emit from your mouth are the words of a bitch in heat who’s clit possessed her body, mind and soul, and that’s exactly who you are right now.

“shit. let me cum inside you and i will princess.”

“wh- what about the condom..”

he grunts feeling you tighten around him, “must’ve slipped out.”

he’s so fucking mean, you’d be lying if you said you hated it, especially with the way you clenched around him after finding out that he was fucking you raw this entire time.

you nod, you nod desperately and latch onto his arms when the skin slapping becomes louder and louder with each second that passes, you cry in absolute euphoria as he chases his orgasm, feeling his own climax budding inside of him.

you start clapping your ass up to meet his thrusts, your mind brainless from his constant fucking, focused on one thing and one thing only.

your tits bounces as he jerks his hips more rapidly, he cusses under his breath, catching up to an animalistic pace until you completely disintegrate under him by the time you reach your climax.

your legs shake and your lips quiver, baji takes the opportunity and coats your insides with his load, shooting thick ropes of white all over your walls as you clench your cunt around him, draining the life out of him from the tip of his dick just from your tight pussy.

gasping and whimpering as he slowly pulls out of you to direct the camcorder towards your pussy, watching how his hot seed oozes out of the hole he just destroyed. he gives your ass a smack, flesh shaking like jelly as you push out more of his seed, making it drip down your slit, he grabs your ass spreading you open to give more room for it to ooze out.

“you’re so fucking perfect.. mine. all mine..” he says softly from behind the camcorder, he pans the camera towards your face, you smile into your shoulder blissfully and giggle as he films your bruised and used cunt. “mhm.. only mine.”

#this was sitting in my drafts for MONTHS lmao #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #baji keisuke #baji keisuke smut #tokyo revengers baji keisuke #tokyo revengers baji #baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji #chifuyu matsuno #ryusei satou #tokyorev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x you #baji x you #baji x reader

[russellsppttemplates]

How about a girlfriend that does charity and she does it with the driver maybe Lando? when they’re home together (like idk buying and donating things for orphanage or women’s shelter) if you’re comfortable with he idea

"I don't mind auctioning my stuff away, but how about some of your things too?", Lando suggested as you sorted through his wardrobe and helmet and racesuits collections.

"I've been donating clothes that are still in good shape - your clothes have more value because they've been worn by you, so it brings in more money", you reasoned, "no one would buy anything from me", you shrugged your shoulders.

"We could try, though! Chat is always crazy about you and I think they would be down for that. Say this dress here - didn't you tell me that it pinched you and it hurt your boobs?", he pointed to a black dress you wore to a team Christmas dinner, "I certainly don't want you in pain and never hurting these", he cupped your boobs, smirking like a horny teenager, "so maybe it would be good to sell and then donate that money?", he suggested.

"I doubt anyone would pay good money for it, but sure, we can try! And we could throw this one in the mix too, and this shirt - if anyone's paying for anything it's because it's a good piece", you mumbled.

"Hi guys! Chat is all excited because you're here, see?", Lando kissed your temple and secured you on his lap, "today's stream is a little different, and you might have seen a little bit of it from the stories I put up earlier this week", Lando explained, "earlier this week Y/N and I made a big order of clothes and some furniture for an orphanage back home. They have an amazing program to ensure kids have a future in what they want to study or work in and we're also visiting them soon, and we thought you guys would want to help too if you wanted!", he smiled.

"This seems like we're decluttering the house - and in a way we are, to be honest, but there's this organisation here in Monaco that helps new parents in need - anything from diapers, formula, wipes, medications, clothes - and since we don't know much about that", you said as Lando chirped in, "not yet", smiling as he kissed your temple again, "since we don't know much about it, we were thinking of auctioning Lando's racesuits and a spare helmet, and all of the money would be going to that organisation", you explained, still blushing from his comment.

Lando put up the website where you had uploaded the photos and details, "someone says "there are some of Y/N's dresses here, are they for auction too?" - Yes, they are! This one wasn't so sure anyone would buy them so please buy them because a) it's for a good cause and b) I would get to tell her "I told you so" and get bragging rights for being right", he smiled smugly.

"Wow, you're really loving it", you spoke to the stream as the pieces or clothing were getting higher and higher bids, "guys, thank you so much! You have no idea how happy this makes me, us! We donate to this organisation every year and now we thought we could make a bigger contribution but never this big, thank you so much", you smiled, feeling a bit emotional and how caring and giving everyone was being, even people typing in the chat that they had made a direct money donation with the quantity they were able to give.

"What can I say? I'm always right", Lando charmed, praising himself as you cuddled closer to him, "you were", you whispered.

"Louder, baby, the chat can't hear you say I was right", he chuckled.

"Oh, the lady at the orphanage just sent us pictures of the kids doing their homework on the new desks!", you showed Lando the pictures you were sent, "I wish we could show you guys, but the little faces are showing", you said, pursing your lips and scrolling through until you found one of just the room, "this one doesn't! Look at how great their room looks now!", you gushed as you showed the camera.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

[angelltheninth]

Miguel O'Hara Being a Secret Softie

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, big tough guy is a softie, kissing, purring, cuddles, going shopping, teasing, little spoon/big spoon, soft Miguel

A/N: Spreading more of my softie Miguel agenda.

Secret softie!Miguel cuddles with you in his office chair when he needs to recharge his batteries for the rest of the day. His door is always locked so no one can walk in and interrupt, but he likes to toy with the idea during more intimate scenes that involve less clothes. When in private like this he will let you hear him purr his heart out while you're cuddling together.

"And in case you think of telling anyone of this just remember that I'm your boss okay? You can't embarrass me like this. You... wouldn't do that, would you baby? There's a reason that door is locked, my reputation could be ruined if anyone saw me be like this. You're my wife but also my secretary, I need to be professional."

Secret softie!Miguel kisses you silly before every meeting. He claims he has to do this in order to deliver a good speech. This is false of course, all his speeches are written and rehearsed in advance. Confidence is just an excuse to kiss you more. His aim is to get as many kisses as possible, but for some reason he always starts less then ten minutes before each meeting.

"Let me kiss you some more. We still have time, a few minutes. We can get a lot done in that timeframe. Do I need to make you sit on the desk in order to obey? You know there's no way you can overpower me right? Deny me? Well you can but I know you want to kiss me just as badly."

Secret softie!Miguel carries your groceries and shopping bags every time, acting as if he can hide behind them if he needs to. You can give him as many as you want, none are heavy for him. He can end up looking a little silly, with a bunch of tiny bags hanging off him like he was a big walking Christmas tree. What's in it for him though? You. In exchange he can ask you to do one thing for him, within reason of course but so far he never asked for anything that made you uncomfortable.

"Is it just me or are there more bags every time we do this? Pretty soon I won't be able to see where I'm going. You're gonna have to guide me. Speaking of not seeing things I've just had an idea of what you can do for me later. Hint: there's a blindfold involved."

Secret softie!Miguel enjoys being the little spoon when you go to sleep. This can look a little finny since he is that much taller then you are but when he feels you pressed against his back and your arms tracing patters over his chest and abs it doesn't matter how ridiculous he looks. He will bend his head down when your hands are close and kiss your fingers, biting affectionately at your ring finger for good measure.

"When you said you wanted to get behind me this wasn't exactly what I had in mind but it works. It works really well actually. Hey! That tickles! What are you writing down there? Well, I might be a little ticklish but you forget that I know many more of your weak spots then you do mine."

Secret softie!Miguel texts you every few hours, sending you updates, no matter what they are. He really enjoys texting about random, most mundane things with you and sending you photos of him eating lunch. If someone asks him who he's texting he won't say it's you every time. His friends are already picking up on how much he changes his demeanor when he's around you, so much so that they begin inviting you to come along just so he isn't as scary as usual.

"Do my texts bother you? Are you showing them to anyone? It's just that... some of my teammates, friends, have been asking about you a lot. I think they might think something's up, they want you to go with me no matter what we do. And they're always giggling about it when I tell them I'm talking to you. I bet that it's the kids fault somehow."

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderverse x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanons #marvel fluff #marvel x female reader #x reader fluff #x female reader