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#i am so tired after writing this but i hope it was cute

wordbunch · 1 year

Text

how the fellowship reacts to you singing...

a/n: this was requested - how the fellowship members react to you singing for the first time. It will include the fellowship boys + Faramir, because I adore him and he needs more love. let me know how you liked it! 💗💗💗 (it will be longer than you think lol)

+ tagging my beloved @entishramblings

ARAGORN

at first he wasn’t sure whether his ears were deceiving him

but he stopped and listened carefully, eventually realizing it was you

then all his attention went into listening to you

he very much enjoyed it, but waited for you to finish your little performance before saying anything (didn’t want to interrupt you, nor make you feel awkward)

he wouldn’t be giving you elaborate compliments and praise, just something short and to the point, but you’d see in his face that he genuinely loved it

he likes to listen to you sing, but also sometimes loves to join you and sing together!!!

wants to learn all the songs you know

💫

LEGOLAS

with his excellent hearing, he picked up on you humming tunes quietly as you walked, many times

and he found even that very pleasant

but when he heard you fully singing for the first time he had heart eyes, basically

he thought you have the most angelic, soothing yet powerful voice

he would never ask you to sing anything for him and wouldn’t want to push you, but he would enjoy it so much when you do

he wants to know where you picked up all the songs that you know

his absolute favorite thing is when you quietly sing while braiding his hair!!!!!

💫

GIMLI

an absolute fanboy of yours, openly

as soon as he hears you singing, he wouldn’t only divert his attention only to that...

but he’d make sure to point it out to everyone else as well

I diagnose him with singing off-key, butttt he still wants to share some dwarf songs with you, and you appreciate it

would be the kind of person to be like “now [Y/N] will sing something for all of us” skhssdhgsh

you know it’s all with the best intentions even if you feel self-conscious about your singing

but this guy right here would hype you up so much that eventually you wouldn’t even care how your voice sounds to others

💫

BOROMIR

he compliments the heck out of you (for singing and everything else)

however he would try not to openly praise you for it to everyone everywhere bc he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

keyword: he would try not to

he cannot sing so he appreciates your talent all the more

can’t help smilingggg whenever he hears you!

very grateful that you’re comfortable with sharing that part of yourself with him

if you ever actually sang in front of a crowd at some celebration or special occasion, this man would combust of pride

💫

FRODO

can’t help smiling as soon as he hears you, and he immediately recognizes that it’s your singing voice, even from further away

will sneakily approach you so as not to startle you

but he definitely wants to hear more

very curious about where you learned to sing and how you picked up all the songs

it’s a safe haven when you sing something to him, he will literally be in seventh heaven

loves to write and he would be beyond thrilled if you sang some poem that he wrote, but he wouldn’t actually ask you to

enjoys singing together with you

💫

SAM

is generally easily captivated by beautiful and magical things, your voice absolutely being one of them

will ask you countless times to sing again (but he will be quite shy about it every time)

gives you ideas on what you could sing about

he gives you cute little compliments but wishes he could express all that in a much more elaborate way

it brings him incredible joy to hear you singing from somewhere while he’s gardening

he swear it makes everything grow bigger and more luscious

God forbid anyone makes even a slightly negative comment about your singing, he is ready to throw hands

💫

MERRY

jaw drops to the floor when he hears your singing voice

this boy is captivated

smooth compliments that make you blush

why can I see him dancing/trying to dance to whatever you’re singing

potentially he’s not THE best singer out there but oh my does he love singing with you

especially spontaneously, out of nowhere

yes actually he would totally dance around when you sing, and he would dance around with you and spin you around until you’re so out of breath that you can’t sing anymore but instead just laugh heartily

💫

PIPPIN

generally worships the ground that you walk on, and that also implies all your talents and abilities

absolute heart eyes as soon as he hears you singing

(he already loves just listening to you talk, let alone anything else)

ADORES when you two sing together, but initially just a bit shy to suggest it, or to just spontaneously join you

will he come up with songs for you? absolutely

songs for you two to sing together? ABSOLUTELY

would never, in any way, push you to sing in front of everyone else, he actually enjoys it being like a lil thing between the two of you

💫

+ bonus FARAMIR

he heard your voice echoing in the Gondorian halls as you were carrying out some tasks

he was almost convinced it was a sound from heaven

but he followed the sound of it and found you!

you were a tiny bit embarrassed but he complimented you immediately

he finds it very relaxing when you sing to him and it’s so intimate to him

he will occasionally write poems and cautiously ask you whether you can make up some melody for them and turn them into songs

not the best singer, but loves to join you sometimes

💫

+ bonus bonus character GANDALF

“[Y/N], stop with the unnecessary noise, I am trying to think”

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hwalovs · 6 months

Text

Days and Nights (M)

Pairing; Mike Schmidt x reader Word count; 2635 Warnings; this is pure smut, maybe a little plot. Kissing, whining, dom/sub themes, unprotected sex (wrap it you freaks), they get right to it, breeding kink? kind of?, they'reliterallyinloveshutupbro

Description; Being the day shift guard has its perks, you get to leave at midnight, you get to leave for lunch while all the fast food restaurants were still open, and you get to see the cute night shift guard before you leave.

A/N; i am feral for this man, I don't know what happened. one day i watched the movie, the next im frothing at the mouth for another white boy. this is so short i might write something longer for him.

after finding my fic reposted on wattpad, I'm going to make clear; DO NOT REPOST THIS WITHOUT ASKING OR WITHOUT PROPER CREDIT.

I will only let this pass once, as for my other fics, DO NOT REPOST THEM.

THIS IS NOT EDITED

Mike was hired two months before you, first seeing you before he started his nightly shift at the pizzeria. You were standing outside, reading through a book before looking up when you heard his car door shut. You smiled, and dropped your book back into your bag before walking over. Your car was parked further away from his, but you went out of your way to walk up to him.

From then on, you two were friends, always seeing each other after your shift and before his. You always made sure his badge was straight, and he always made sure to tell you to get home safe. Sometimes you both would stop to ask each other about your days, he talked about his sister, and you talked about your cats.

One day, he got there a little early, wanting to get in and use his time to sleep, to try and find more clues about what happened to his brother. He found you asleep at the security desk. Snoring softly, the monitors flickering in and out. He smiled, setting his stuff down besides yours before walking closer, bending down so he could see you more clearly. One of your cheeks was squished against your arm, your breathing even.

“(Y/n),” he cooed, reaching up to move a piece of your hair. You stir, slowly opening your eyes before realizing who it was in front of you. Shooting up, you rub your eyes and stutter, looking at him, and then the clock.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize I fell asleep!”

He smiles, standing back up and leaning against the desk. He watched you rush around with tired eyes, collecting your stuff while rattling on how active the animatronics were.

He found you like once or twice, but never regularly. Sometimes he would find a forgotten coffee cup, and he would smile before throwing it away. It was the little things about you that he was slowly picking up on. He remembered each one, and wanted to learn more about you.

Mike knew he was in too deep when you were getting ready to leave one day, packing up the rest of your stuff and flashing him that dazzling smile you always did. It made him forget the Dream Theory book resting in his bag, or the pills that accompany it. He forgot for just a second why he was there so early, why he was itching to fall asleep at the desk in the first place.

You stand from the chair, badge catching the light, and when you sigh and roll your neck, whimpering at the tight knot, he shivers. He shouldn't, he knows that, you're his coworker, someone who endures the same nightmare he did- but he couldn’t stop the thoughts of you underneath him, whimpering as he sunk deeper inside you, stopping when his hips were flush against-

“Mike!”

Your voice felt like ice water, rattling him until he was back in reality. He shifts, hoping that his sweatshirt covers how hard he was. There was a small part of him, deep within his brain, that did hope you saw, that you’d offer to help him.

“Yeah?” He clears his throat, swallowing when his mouth waters. Smiling, you tilt your head, and he feels his stomach drop.

“Did you hear me?”

He curses himself, “yeah! Yeah.”

Your eyes narrow, “what did I say, then?”

You were teasing him. You had to be, you were smiling again, and as you walked closer, he tried to rack his brain, trying to remember what you were saying.

“Cat got your tongue?” Your voice is quiet, and you’re right in front of him. He can smell your perfume, can see the shine of your chapstick that's on your lips.

“I- uh-”

“You’re so cute,” you chuckle, and it throws him off balance. He almost falls from the whiplash you’ve given him. You usually don’t stop to talk to him like this, you usually pack up and bid your goodbyes, warning him on the animatronics movement- but with how close you were, that he could smell your perfume, he realized he didn’t care. You were here, in front of him, calling him cute.

“What?”

You lean in close this time, your breath tickling his ear.

“You heard me, Mike. Or are you lost in your thoughts again?”

Your lips press against his and it's the only thing he can think about. Your lips taste like strawberries, and your mouth tastes exactly like he thought it would. Your hands are in his hair, and his are gripping your waist tightly.

He wonders when he’ll wake up, if this is a dream. When you lightly bite his lip, he moans, and comes to the conclusion that you’re real, and you’re kissing him.

Pushing you both from the doorway, he backs you up to the desk. Kicking the chair away, he blindly reaches behind you to push away the small controllers that litter the top. He hears something crash onto the floor, but pays it no mind when you're sucking on his tongue.

His hands reach under your thighs, lifting you onto the desk, and your hands fumble at his belt, the fog that settled on his mind clears for a moment, and he pulls away.

“Here?”

You furrow your eyebrows, before smirking and leaning forwards, “you don’t want it?”

“I do- I really do-”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He tries to think, but can’t when it's only youyouyou on his mind. Flooding his senses, invading his thoughts and making him feel crazy ever since the day he met you. His jeans are tight, and he can feel the precum that's pooling in his underwear.

“Fuck,” he surges to kiss you again, reaching down to unbutton your jeans. He slides his hands into the waistband, and you use the edge of the desk to push yourself up, letting him yank the jeans off in one fluid motion, your panties going with it.

The desk was cold on your skin, but you didn’t care when Mike lifted his shirt, biting into the fabric and pushing his pants down far enough to free his cock.

In any other situation, Mike would have you in his bed, pillow under your hips while he eats you out for hours on end. He knew you would taste amazing, just like he knew your mouth would taste amazing. You were perfect to him, and that's the only thing on his mind when he was pressing into you.

Mike's cock was thick, stretching you out perfectly, a slight burn following. You didn’t stop him, though, because his eyes were locked onto where his cock was slowly sinking into you, and his hands were shaking at the warmth you brought him.

The monitors behind you continued to show the empty space of the Pizzaria, but it was at the back of both of your minds. Mike’s shirt was still caught between his teeth, his stomach smooth and perfect. He didn’t make a sound until his hips were flush against yours, and the whine he let out made you clench around him.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he finally looked up at you, pupils dilated, curly hair a mess. Reaching up, you pull the shirt from between his teeth, the fabric wet, and grab the back of his head to drag him into a kiss. His lips are hot against yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth desperately. He moans as he tastes you again, and you grab his hips, trying to pull him further.

When you pull away, you suck onto his bottom lip, looking at him through your lashes, “look at you,” you coo, “you’re so pretty, baby.”

He whines, blushing as he grinds against you. Finally finding a slow rhythm of deep thrusts. It lets you feel all of him, and lets him feel all of you. He stretched you out so well, and it almost felt like you could feel him in your stomach. He was perfect.

“You’re so warm,” he whimpers, forehead resting against yours. Pulling at your vest, you manage to throw it to the floor with his, the metal badge chiming against the linoleum. He seems to understand what you’re doing, reaching for the end of your t-shirt, pulling it up quickly. The office was cold, your nipples hardening underneath your bra. You grab at his shirt next, his arms raising so you’re able to throw the shirt to the floor. His hips falter, but he continues.

Mike begins to leave kisses down your neck, biting your bra strap to push it to the side, letting it fall down your arm. He grabs the top of your bra, yanking it down and groaning at the sight of your exposed chest.

“Fuck,” he curses, licking his lips before surging forwards, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, tongue swirling the bud. Your head falls back against the top of the monitor, moaning loudly.

Mike pulls away, a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to your nipple, but you lift your head to move closer, licking the spit from his lip to kiss him again.

There was a heat slowly building in your gut, and you wrap an arm around Mike’s shoulders, trying to make him go harder, to go faster, but he just looks at you with a smirk.

“What is it? Huh?” He asks, his breath heavy. You whine, nails scratching at his skin.

“Mike-”

He tsks, “common, baby,” he coos, “talk to me.”

“Please- Mike please- harder, fuck me harder,” theres a heat in your cheeks, and you feel your eyes burn at the building coil in your gut.

Yet, Mike only looks at you with a growing smile, “Harder? You want me to fuck you harder, baby? But why?” He whines, “You feel so good like this.”

“Oh my god,” you moan in frustration, hand reaching in between you both to reach your clit, but his hand grabs your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“What is it, baby?”

There's that teasing smirk again, and you can feel your eyes burn. Your orgasm was right there, yet he was slowing down, causing it to be pushed further away.

“I wanna cum, please, Mike- Please make me cum,” a sob threatens to spill from your lips, but Mike shushes you, kissing you softly. His stubble tickles your cheeks as he lays kisses onto your skin. He bites onto your neck, moaning as you clench around him again, sucking until the skin is bright red.

He grabs onto your hips, leaning back to look down at where he disappears into you, and begins thrusting harder, letting go of your wrist to allow you to grab onto his shoulders once more. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he licks the pad of his thumb before snaking it between your bodies, rubbing tight circles around your clit.

Throwing your head back, you almost cry at the hot coil in your stomach threatening to snap, and you can feel the tears that roll down your cheeks.

“Please- Please, make me cum- wanna cum so bad-” you begging, pleading, in jumbled words that Mike can barely make out. Your legs are locked around his waist, pulling him closer.

When you cum, your thighs tense around his waist, almost stopping him. Your mouth drops open, and a soft whine falls from your lips. You're clenching so tight around him, Mike almost cums himself, but bends down to bite onto your shoulder to stop himself. He refuses to cum yet, he wants to keep making you feel good. To see you fall apart around him again.

He leaves another kiss where he was biting down on you, pulling away to leave kisses across your cheeks, before finally stopping to kiss you once more. You're breathing heavily, thighs shaking from the intense orgasm.

Sliding out of you, he whines softly, pulling you from the desk so you’re standing, he only smiles at your confused face, grabbing your neck softly to pull you into another kiss, tongue licking into your mouth.

“Turn around, baby,” he sighs, holding your hips as you do. The table digs into your hips as you bend down, breasts pressing flat against the cold surface, but he tsks, grabbing your neck once more to pull you back up. His thumb was below your jaw, pressing against your pulse point just enough to feel your heart race.

He uses his other hand to press onto your lower back, making you arch, then reaching down to grab his cock once more and slide through your folds. You were so wet, cum slowly beginning to drip down your thighs. In one smooth thrust, Mike presses his hips flush against your ass, his hand still lightly gripping your neck to keep you against his chest.

“There you go,” he whimpers, pressing kisses along your shoulders. He starts to thrust again, and you have to bite your lip to stop from moaning loudly.

He felt so much deeper like this, hitting the spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back.

There was still a buzz from your orgasm, but it was quickly building into another. Your thighs were shaking, and your palms were flat on the desk, nails digging into the wood.

“M’gonna cum again-” you moan, knees almost buckling as the rapidly building heat. Mike smiles from behind you, but moves his hand from your waist again, snaking it down once more to circle his fingers around your swollen clit.

“Again? You gonna cum for me again, pretty girl?”

“Oh my god- Mike-” You’re cumming before you even realize it. Head blank except for the thought of him-

His grip on your throat tightens just slightly, and you reach up to grab his wrist. His hips falter, breathy moans filling your ears as he presses your hips harder into the desk. You knew there would be bruising, but at the moment you didn’t care. You would let Mike do anything he wanted to you, as long as he kept making those heavenly noises for you.

“You feel so fuckin’ good baby,” he slurs, “my pretty baby- you’re just perfect f’me- Perfect fuckin’ pussy too-”

“Mike, please” you whimper, arching your back more for him.

He hums, thrusting harder into you, “that's right baby-” he leans forwards to tilt your head, locking eyes with you, “say my name.”

“Mike-”

He groans, head rolling until your noses touch, “again, say it again baby- please-”

“Mike!-”

“I’m gonna cum- fuck-”

Your hand is wrapping around the grab onto him, nails dragging across his skin, “Inside me- please cum inside me- wanna feel you so bad-”

Mike’s thrusts stop, grinding against you as he spills inside of you. Uttering your name under his breath like it's the only thing he’s ever known.

You were everything he’s ever wanted. To have you clenching so tight around him, to be able to have you like this was like a dream to him. He never wanted to wake, he wanted to stay here with you forever, but as you both collected yourselves, his cum sliding down your thighs and dripping onto the floor, he knew better than that. He’s sitting in that uncomfortable chair again, watching as you slide your jeans on. You forgo your panties, reaching down to unzip his bag, smiling as you let them drop inside.

“Do you wanna go on a date?”

You laugh, and it fills the room with a brightness he knew only you could bring.

“I think we’re way past going on a date.”

“Then how about dinner? I make a mean Spaghetti and meatballs,” he smiles, and feels like his world is complete when you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, “I’d love that.”

#fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #five night at freddys movie #five nights at freddys imagine

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avis-writeshq · 3 months

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heyyy omg I love your writings so much! congrats on your latest milestone, it's DESERVED 👏 can I pls request track one with spencer reid where he gets an epiphany and decides that he wants to propose to his girlfriend? just superrrr cute and fluffy 😍 thanks a lot!!

glue song – spencer reid

summary: “but you’re here, and so i love you.” in which spencer realises that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. pairing: s5!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: spencer in a knee brace (tell me why that’s attractive. why does he look good at his worst. face card never declines), he’s genuinely obsessed with you, not proof read oops a/n: thank you so much anon !!!! i’m so sorry it took so long to post; i kept changing and editing it hahaha i hope you enjoy it !! wc: 1.05k

“Careful watch your– no, pivot a little, pivot–”

“I am pivoting! There’s nowhere to pivot to! Why is it so messy?”

You suppress a grimace as you manage to somehow squeeze your way through Spencer’s tiny doorway and into his apartment, the shoe rack on the side dangerously close to his damaged knee. You stumble a little as Spencer grips your shoulders tightly for support, his other hand holding onto a crutch.

“Maybe we should move into a bigger apartment,” you muse, helping him to the couch. Your gaze shifts to his injured knee, your face falling. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I think about it. Which is pretty much all the time,” Spencer says, wincing as he finally collapses against the cool leather cushions. “Thank you for doing this.”

You look almost offended at his words as you brush his hair out of his face and into a makeshift ponytail. “Did you think that I wouldn’t?”

He hums as he feels the way your fingers pull lightly at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. “Thought you’d get tired of me. After, you know, everything.”

“None of that was your fault,” you remind him swiftly. “This–” you gesture to his knee– “isn’t either.”

He softens, leaning his cheek on your shoulder. You’ve been there for him through everything and he knows what specifically it is you’re referring to. He could see it from the moment his doctors informed you that he wouldn’t take the vicodin they had prescribed to him to soothe his discomfort. His thought process makes sense; he didn’t want to risk it. Regardless, he was left with a growing pain in his leg that didn’t shake even after taking toradol.

“I’d never get tired of you,” you clarify, squeezing his hands. “You’re too pretty to get tired of.”

He lets out a proper laugh as he squeezes back. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

He laughs again, shaking his head adamantly. “Liar.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Spencer beams in your direction, pressing kisses against the soft of your jaw. “You’re right.”

A triumphant smile spreads across your face at his words. “Exactly.”

***

From his spot on the couch, Spencer watches guiltily as you hustle and bustle about in the kitchen, grabbing plates and filling them to the brim with the food you ordered from the Chinese place he loves. He feels bad seeing you work so hard looking after him; especially when you have your own workload to take care of. He doesn’t even notice that you’ve already placed his portion of food in front of him until you whack him lightly on his head with some napkins.

“Stop it. I know what you’re thinking.” You shoot him a half-hearted glare as you snap open your chopsticks. “I want to do this. I truly don’t mind.”

“You’re already doing so much,” he insists, “I’m okay, angel, I swear.”

You are not easily convinced and you point to the list of things the doctor suggested you to do in order to ensure Spencer’s speedy recovery. “I have a responsibility, Walter. What will your team do without you?”

“They’ll live,” he assures, reaching a hand out to massage the muscles by your shoulders. “I think you’ve seen me naked more the past two weeks than you have our entire relationship.”

“Well it’s not my fault that you need to bathe,” you argue, stabbing at your noodles. “You love it really.”

His cheeks burn with embarrassment at the accusation. “I do not! It’s humiliating.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you soothe, smiling at him. “Besides, it’ll only be like this for a little while longer.”

“If you consider five months to be ‘a little while longer’,” he quips as he shovels food into his mouth.

You let out a laugh, not finding offence is his sarcastic blow. He thinks you’re a blessing and he figures that you definitely are. Who else can deal with the problems of him being, well, him aside from you? Spencer doesn’t know what he would do without you. How could he when you manage to push all the darkness and negativity away?

“I’m lucky to have you,” he says finally, his gaze on your face. “You’re so good to me.”

You hum in response, wiping your mouth and curling into his good side, draping an arm over his middle. “That’s true. You’re good to me, too.”

He brings his hand over your waist and kisses the side of your face in an act of reciprocation. “You’re beautiful.”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears at the sudden compliment and you can’t help the silly bashful smile that pulls at your lips. Your mouth opens and closes, deciding on what to respond with before you settle with a simple, “Thank you.”

It’s the honest truth. There’s a look about you that tells him that you don’t believe it, but he doesn’t say anything more to try and convince you. He tells it to you everyday; he’s sure that you’ll end up accepting the compliments more readily. Your being beautiful might have been what had drawn him to you in the first place. Although he isn’t entirely sure. He recalls a certain folktale about invisible stings and how it was tying him to you. There’s something pretty about that thought, the mere idea that you were made for him and he was lucky enough to actually hold you in his arms.

You’ve turned the television on now, a romance movie playing on the screen with familiar actors. It’s supposed to be a comedy, at least that was what the description on the DVD said, about the main male lead reminiscing about his year that he spent with some manic pixie dream girl. Spencer doesn’t understand how that could be comedic but you seem to enjoy it.

Spencer has tuned out the movie now, finding entertainment in the reactions you have. Your face morphs into different emotions with each dramatic scene and in that moment Spencer realises one very important thing.

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“What was that?” you ask obliviously and you lift your eyes to look up at him.

“Nothing,” he dismisses, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Just keep watching the movie, angel.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

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stariekis · 3 months

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a room for two

🛋️ pairing : 엔하이픈 ot7 + gn!reader . genre : fluff . cw : kisses + skinship

— synopsis : visiting their room for the first time <3

— note : finally i had the inspiration to write smt 🙌🏻 sorry for being inactive lately babies but here you have more ot7 content ! hope you enjoy reading it, as always reposts and feedback are so welcome <3 sending the biggest kiss ^3^

heeseung :

we all know how big of a gamer he is so i know that he would have one of those professional gamer set ups in his room, the one that streamers usually have. and, as he has shown us, he collect figures too so a big shelf full of them is a must in his room. — 'this is were i spend most of my time' he said, sitting on his chair — 'now i know where you are when you don't answer my text am i right?' you answered, joking obviously. he rolled his eyes at your comment, taking you hand on his and making you sit on his lap, his hands now resting on you thighs. you admired his room, he didn't have a lot of decoration but it was so like him. — 'i think i like your room more than mine, i might come over more' you said turning to him. he giggled at your comment, you just made him the happiest boy ever. pecking your lips he answered — 'you are more than welcome doll' giving you another kiss, this one lasting more than the other one you both just shared.

jay :

i've always imagine him having the tidiest room ever. but, because it was the first time sleeping with you, he wanted his room to look ten times better. he cleaned everything up, light up candles and changed his sheets, it needs to be perfect. when you entered his room for the first time you were welcomed by the coziest room you've ever been, the aroma of vanilla flooded your nose —'you like it love?' jay said, standing on the door frame while looking at your curious figure eyeing up his room. — 'hope you do because you will spend a lot of time here from now on' he was now hugging your waist from behind. — 'i like that idea actually' you answer him, receiving a kiss on your neck from him.

jake :

his room was, to your surprise, very organized. you thought that his room would be kind of messy but everything was perfectly placed, not a single dust speck visible. — 'don't be fooled, his room is not always this tidy' you heard jay say as he passed in front of jake's room — 'WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT MAN' he shouted stepping out of his room, hearing jay laugh down the hallway right after. taking his arm and pulling him inside again you hold both of his hands — 'baby it's fine, i wouldn't mind at all' you pecked his pouty lips, he didn't want you to know (even though you would end up discovering it, but not know at least) — 'now that you know my secret i don't have to clean every time, is tiring you know?' grabbing you by the waist he lifted you off the ground and sat the both of you on his bed, spending the rest of the day in each other's embrace.

sunghoon :

he would have the most minimalist room out of them. lots of framed pics perfectly placed on his walls — 'you took all of them?' you said sitting on his desk chair, they were the first thing that caught your attention — 'each and every one of them yeah' a smile plastered on his face as he answered your question, feeling proud that you liked his pics that much. you turned around on his chair now facing him who was sitting in his bed with his camera on his hand — 'wait baby i want to take a picture of you stay there' you smile at the camera, the flash appearing right after —'why do you want a picture of me here hoon?' you asked him, getting up from his chair and making your way towards him, standing in between his open legs. he put his camera aside and grabbed your hips looking up at you — 'because i like to take pictures of pretty views and you are the prettiest one i've ever seen'.

sunoo :

i just know that sunoo would have tons of cute plushies on his bed ): so as soon as you opened the door you were welcomed by a pile of plushie on top of his bed — 'you put them away when you sleep right?' you said, he looked at you with a shocked expression — 'no i don't, how could you say something like that?' your expression changed into a shocked one — 'how are we going to fit in your bed then my love?' you said putting your hand on you hips while looking at his bed. — we will make it work don't worry' he concluded, smiling at you. the next morning you found all of his beloved "friends" on the floor, a reminder to put them aside the next time.

jungwon :

like sunoo i thing he might have tons of plushie on top of his bed, mostly fan gifts. when you entered his room and saw all the cat plushies you smiled turning towards him — 't-they are not mine they are from jay i'm just keeping them here... yeah' you laugh at his reaction, sitting on his bed and taking one on you hand you out it next to you boyfriend's face — 'they look like you thought' he took from your hands the plushie and looked at him with a smile adoring his face. sitting next to you in his bed he looked at you, sighing — 'you didn't believe it right?' you shook your head hearing him laugh as he lay on his bed, you followed right after. — 'but having that many plushie of yourself is a bit self-centered don't you think' you jokingly said, looking at his side profile. he pinched your side while mouthing a 'shut up', hearing you giggling right after.

ni-ki :

he would be a nervous wreck my baby </3 and i know for a fact that he would hide all his plushie in his closet so you won't see them, he thought that you might find it ridiculous. the idea was fine at first but his secret was soon to be discovered when you opened his wardrobe and a tiny duck plushie felt in front of you. he was laying on his bad looking at his phone so he didn't realize what just happened. you made your way towards him with the little duck on your hand — 'this is so cute why was him on your closet' he looked up from his phone but as soon as he made eye contact with the thing on your hands he rolled on his back and hid his face on his hands — 'you weren't supposed to see that babe' laughing at him you sat down on top of him putting the stuffed animal up in his face telling him how similar they were. a long night was ahead for the both of you.

1K notes · View notes

love-belle · 8 months

Text

today and tomorrow and every day after that !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them pretending as if they haven't already made it till forever.

for when it'll be them today, tomorrow and then a day after that. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // max verstappen x fem!reader

prequel - i should hate you ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - it's 3am and im tired. thank u and i hope u like it <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, carmenmmundt and 789,416 others

yourusername his big wet eyes and loser personality have captivated me

tagged maxverstappen1

7,628 comments

username STFU OMG

username NO WAY SHE POSTED HIM AFTER MONTHS FOR RADIO SILENCE

username GIRL WHAT

username kinda hypocritical of u to go back to ur ex after yelling at us to fuck him (figuratively)

-> yourusername sorry bb he cried until i gave in

-> maxverstappen1 stop spreading lies

username the way i js relaxed and it wasn't even my relationship like DAMN

username im a child of TOGETHER parents

username i need this

danielricciardo i better be the godfather of your vaginal demons

-> yourusername pls take back ur bf heidiberger_

-> heidiberger_ timeout. NOW.

-> maxverstappen1 why only HER vaginal demons. i helped too

-> danielricciardo yeah for like 2 seconds

-> yourusername STOP TALKING ABT MT VAGINAL DEMONS

-> yourusername oh god

-> username "i helped too" LMFAOAOAOAN WTF

maxverstappen1 this is cyber bullying

-> yourusername stfu i love those photos like fetus maximus ❤️

-> maxverstappen1 that's not my name and you know it

-> yourusername honestly u should he HONOURED that u share a name with maximus the horse 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

username who needs reality tv when u have this comments section

username everyday i discover something entirely new about this whole group and atp im not even surprised

username don't post me unless the caption is "his big wet eyes and loser personality have captivated me"

maxverstappen1 i don't have a loser personality

-> yourusername u wear skinny jeans

-> username gagged him

-> username no bc they need to GO

maxverstappen1 okay but i could be your loser boyfriend, you ever think of that?

-> yourusername ur already my loser husband wdym

-> danielricciardo GIRL

-> maxverstappen1 wow

-> yourusername oh

-> yourusername haha surprise people

-> username say what the fuck now

-> username istg if i find out that they're MARRIED after WEEKS of agony and pain i will riot

maxverstappen1 you suck at keeping secrets

-> yourusername u suck in general

-> maxverstappen1 real mature

username i'd die for them and they don't even know me

username WHATTHEFYCK

username i did not see this coming wtfff

username WHEN WAS THIS.

username no bc the fact that they STILL don't follow each other is HILARIOUS

username giggling rn he's so babygirl i love him

lilymhe run away with me

-> yourusername absolutely

-> maxverstappen1 aren't you MY wife

-> lilymhe divorce exists

-> yourusername she has a point

username im paralysed like WHAT DO U MEAN THEY'RE MARRIED

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 895,315 others

maxverstappen1 something about how i'd marry you with paper rings and in this case, a string (or $1 rings from vending machine)

tagged yourusername

9,628 comments

maxverstappen1 i did not write the caption

-> maxverstappen1 y/n wrote this caption

-> yourusername i did not write this caption

username bitches be crying bc two people who do not know her at all are being cute and parents i am bitches

username she can spit on me

-> username she can ruin me actually

username nah ur not ginna distract us w this post WE NEED ANSWERS

-> username FRRRR LIKE WDYM UR HER HUSBAND

username pretty people (max and y/n) ruining it for the others (me)

username last slide made my heart crack

charles_leclerc i have heard you sing that little song to yourself. you wrote this caption.

-> maxverstappen1 i hope you like my rear

-> yourusername no bc he actually does

-> charles_leclerc i mean...

-> maxverstappen1 are we about to kiss right now?

-> alexandrasaintmleux does this mean......yourusername

-> yourusername babe come over ❤️

-> username what in the world is happening in this comments section

username everyday i wake up against my will and lose a part of myself knowing that my wife was snatched up by a vroom vroom mutation

username max it's ok to love ur wife!!!!!!!! we do too!!!!!!!!

-> maxverstappen1 she's not my wife. referring to her as such damages my reputation

-> yourusername i hope u like the doghouse

-> maxverstappen1 fun fact! we don't have a dog

-> yourusername new fact! now we do

-> maxverstappen1 uh

-> username i live for y/n terrorizing max every moment of the day

username nah my eyes are js overflowing with fluid im not crying 😂😂😂😂😂

username someone sedate me...........is max being romantic (?????????) on the main

username this is the peak of my existence

username lord what have i done wrong

danielricciardo as if you're not literally sitting on her lap right now

-> maxverstappen1 she tripped me

-> yourusername u literally told me that u would commit heinous crimes if i didn't let u sit on my lap

-> maxverstappen1 you tripped me

-> username i need to put his brain under a microscope and js SEE

-> username no bc how he goes from point a to point b needs to be scientifically studied

username don't mind me js going crazy over the fact that my parents MAY be married

yourusername u told me that i was the one who should propose

-> maxverstappen1 yes

-> yourusername and then snatched my ring and proposed to ME with MY ring

-> maxverstappen1 yes

-> yourusername yeah lemme js 🧠🔬

yourusername in any case, the answer would be fuck no ❤️

-> maxverstappen1 i'm calling christian and telling him that you're bullying his first driver.

yourusername IT'S A LOVE STORY BABY JS SAY YES!!!!!!!! (yes)

-> maxverstappen1 uh, i already asked charles_leclerc so...

-> charles_leclerc sorry

-> yourusername homwrecker

-> charles_leclerc there was no home to wreck

-> yourusername yeah i'll js sing boyfriend by dove cameron to alex instead

username this comments section is what keeps me up at night

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by maxverstappen1, carmenmmundt, landonorris and 1,527,278 others

yourusername babygirl u are a very freak and strange. i am deeply in love with u. all jokes aside, we made it. i know we got married like weeks ago but marrying u like FOR REAL has been the most beautiful moment of my life. i wanna spend everyday with u, in this life and all the others. vegas was a trip but even then, it was perfect with u, the one i was marrying and as taylor swift said "i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings" or in our case, $1 rings from the vending machine. i wanna go to museums with u and point to pictures with weird guys and say "that's u". i wanna dance in the kitchen with u. i wanna look back after decades at all these memories and laugh, knowing that my now-self made the best decision. i love u even if u have me saved as "DO NOT ANSWER ❌" in ur phone. i think forever would be nice with u or till death do us apart (or someone in a suit if this escalates to a divorce).

tagged maxverstappen1

11,628 comments

username give me a minute. or a year

username hahahahahahaha PAUSE.

username no bc i missed the WHOLE BOOK instead of chapters

username and this is how they managed to break the f1 fandom

username PLEASE IM CRYING WHATCTYENFUCK

username they 😭 got 😭 married 😭

username IM CRYING WHATTTEYEGDHDJD

carmenmmundt all my love to both of you !! i love you and you deserve nothing but happiness 🤍 thank you so much for letting me be a part of your special day

-> yourusername carmen 🤍🤍🤍 u own my heart and thank UUUUUU for being a part of my big day

username "i think forever would be nice with u or till death do us apart (or someone in a suit if this escalates to a divorce)" y/n y/l/n how does it feel to be the most hilarious person ever 🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

username im in SHAMBLES rn what the fuck

username someone sedate me bc there's NO way this is real

landonorris good luck because he's with you till you decompose

-> maxverstappen1 i'll go with her into the afterlife too like who the fuck she trying to meet there

-> yourusername bold of u to assume you'd even get in

-> maxverstappen1 is this what married life is like???

username i am unwell

username "i wanna go to museums with u and point to pictures with weird guys and say "that's u"" THIS IS TRUE LOVE

username and adding onto my 262728292 reasons

username the caption has me shaking on the floor gasping for breath

username i have PRAYED for times like these

username FUCJ YESHSHHSJSJSJS

danielricciardo the best night even though i don't remember any of it

-> yourusername u tried to set our marriage certificate on fire saying "it's set in stone now"

-> danielricciardo doing god's work

-> username no bc y/nmax nation would be in RUINS if it weren't for daniel

username sobbing they're soooo parents now it's crazy

username i js woke up whatcthebfufk

username AHSHSJJKKSSKAKSJSJKS

maxverstappen1 never changing your contact name

-> yourusername this is so not sexie new husband of u

maxverstappen1 we look lovely

-> yourusername yes we do

maxverstappen1 mrs. y/l/n-verstappen

-> yourusername mr. verstappen-y/l/n

username YELLING THIS IS REVOLUTIONARY

username screeching when will it be my turn

username never ever ever getting over this caption

username this will go down in history for YEARS to come

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, danielricciardo and 2,128,268 others

maxverstappen1 never really did sappy posts but this means the world to me and i guess there's a first (???) time for everything. all i can say is that i truly cannot wait to spend all my days with you and go to sleep thinking that i can't wait to do it again tomorrow. and i think, there's nothing more lovelier than that. you once told me that i deserved the world, i hope we get to see it together. i wanna hear how your day was, today and tomorrow and every day after that. but before getting to all those tomorrows, here's to our forever that's summed up for me in a small moment.

tagged yourusername

13,628 comments

username shut up and think about what u did

username i can't cry im in class WHY WOULD U DO THIS TO ME

username no bc this is literally my last straw ENOUGH

username "here's to our forever that's summed up for me in a small moment" THIS DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE AND IT MADE ME SOB

username no bc he had no RIGHT to post this

username girlypop im still recovering from y/n's post give me 4-5 business years

username not cool max verstappen not COOL.

username tears are streaming down my face what the actual fuck

landonorris okay i shed a few tears

-> maxverstappen1 mate you were sobbing while giving your speech

-> landonorris I SUFFERED THE MOST OKAY

-> username no bc lando is their ACTUAL child of divorce

username this is ASTRONOMICAL like this is INSANE

username the bar is so high it js looks like a dash at this point

username everyone go home. max js won

-> maxverstappen1 winning on and off track

-> yourusername u cried when i beat u in mario kart

-> maxverstappen1 I CAN'T DRIVE

-> yourusername UR A PROFESSIONAL DRIVER

username further proof of if he wanted to he would

username "i truly cannot wait to spend all my days with you and go to sleep thinking that i can't wait to do it again tomorrow" js take me swiftly and now

username IN LOVE WITH THEIR WEDDING AESTHETIC LIKE IT EATS SO HARD

username i've prayed for times like these ❤️

charles_leclerc can't believe you would cheat on me

-> maxverstappen1 might just leave her for you

-> yourusername is this a bad time to tell u both that im already seeing someone???? alexandrasaintmleux

-> alexandrasaintmleux my angel ❤️

-> charles_leclerc wait a minute

-> maxverstappen1 now hold on

username live for men are unapologetically in love with their partners like there's nothing more sexy than that

username liar every single post abt y/n has been a sappy post

-> maxverstappen1 she holds me hostage every time

-> yourusername divorce papers look so sexy rn

username IT'S BEEN SUCH A LONG JOURNEY Y'ALL WE MADE IT

username my babies ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo tell lando i'm the godfather

-> landonorris he WON'T because you're NOT

-> maxverstappen1 guys we don't even have a baby

-> danielricciardo obviously we're talking about the future. your swimmers ain't THAT competitive unlike you

-> yourusername BAHAHAHAHA PLEASE UR SO WRONG FOR THAT

-> maxverstappen1 and you're officially out of the godfather contestants

username need a documentary on this like my life depends on this bc it DOES

username i never will be moving on from this post

yourusername i love u i love u i love u i love u i love u i love u

-> maxverstappen1 likewise

-> yourusername yeah i'll just

*yourusername deleted this comment*

yourusername ty

-> maxverstappen1 have a sense of humour

-> yourusername i married u what's funnier than THAT

-> username CLEARED HIM

-> username LFMSOAOAOAO

yourusername nice caption, wonder who edited it 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

-> maxverstappen1 i don't know, this girl who follows me everywhere and calls me maximus

-> yourusername she sounds cute

-> maxverstappen1 yeah, she really is

yourusername nvm idgaf I LOVEEEEEE YOU

-> maxverstappen1 i love you more

yourusername husband

-> maxverstappen1 wife

username giggling rn im sooooo happy

username i will show this to my kids

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #max verstappen fluff #fake social media #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen instagram au

2K notes · View notes

wonwoosthetic · 1 year

Note

Hi, I was wondering if I could get a Joel x reader pre - outbreak maybe they get in a fight and are giving each other the silent treatment .. I know it’s stupid sorry

Cold Brownies

pairing - pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x female!reader

word count - 6.9k (I got a bit carried away😅)

warnings - a bit of jealousy, fighting, mention of an age gap if you squint, and just a quick mention of smut but nothing explicit, but still very domestic and cute and fluffy ˙ᵕ˙

a/n: aaaaaah, my very first piece about Joel Miller hihi 🤗🫣 and your request was anything BUT stupid!!!! thank you so much for the request! 🤍🤍 I hope you enjoy it ˙ᵕ˙ I loved writing this soooo much, I'm such a sucker for domestic pre-outbreak!Joel😭

series masterlist

2003

“All I’m asking is that you could maybe tone it down a bit, alright?"

You were making your way to the front of the house, Sarah ahead of the two of you with the keys in her hands, ready to open the door, while you were hot on Joel's tracks.

“What- you want me to be rude to them?” He stopped to turn around and glare at you with confusion written across his face. In his right hand, he carried his daughter's bag from the football match you had just come home from, along with the football in his left hold.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!" You threw your hands up in the air in desperation, hoping to bring some sense into his head after noticing this discussion was not going where you had wanted it to go. "No, not rude! I just don’t need to see you all flirty and cute around the single mothers there!”

“They’re not single, Y/N!”

“That makes it even worse!”

With a huff, he turned back around to continue his way into the house. He threw the bag into the corner of the hallway before walking straight ahead past the living room to enter the kitchen. You followed him, closing the front door behind you with a sigh, shaking your head along with it.

It had been evident to you that he wouldn't react to your complaint amazingly, but it was still something you had wanted to bring up after noticing the hungry looks of the women standing by the field. It hadn't been the first time today, and you knew it wouldn't be the last time. And you were tired of just being the side-chick of Joel Miller that would come along on Sundays to cheer on your daughter's football team during their match. Because that's what you felt like. His side-chick. Not his wife. At least not in the eyes of the other mothers.

The two of you were usually known for having little to no fights. You had always been good at communicating, but this time it just seemed to hit you a little deeper and a lot harder.

Once you had caught up with him, your eyes found Tommy sitting at the dining table, munching on what was left of your lunch. Sarah had stopped to stand by one of the chairs right next to him to start a conversation, but they were quickly interrupted by Joel and you.

While you stood in the dining room, your arms crossed, staring at his moving form, he poured himself a cup of probably already cold coffee. “Do you seriously have such little faith in me whenever you see me talking to another woman?” He squinted at you.

Your hands found their way to your hair, brushing it out of your face hastily as you tried to clear your head. “No, God… please, it’s not you that I don’t trust-“

“But those women?! Why?! They just want to talk!” At this point, Tommy and Sarah shared a quick glance, immediately recognizing they shouldn't be in the room with you anymore. They quickly stood up and rushed out, leaving you two in the heated argument that filled the room with anger and tension, as well as frustration and pleads.

You could feel your throat starting to close up, but you swallowed it down, hoping it would buy you some time before you would have to let loose of your emotions. “Because I used to be one of those women that ‘just wants to talk to you’!" You mocked his comment, "And look at where I am now!”

“You gotta be kidding me. You can’t have that little trust in others. OR in me.” Why he wasn't hearing you was still a mystery to you. He used to be so good at communicating.

“It's not that!" You argued, "I just know exactly what these women think of when they come up to you a-and don’t even acknowledge me standing next to you." The emotions started showing earlier than you would've liked to. You had to sniffle, catching Joel's attention as his head shot towards you. He sighed.

“They realise you’re right there, they talk to you just as much.” The man had lowered his voice, hoping a softer tone would make the situation easier. But it wasn't the volume of the discussion that was the problem.

You scuffed, “Yeah, to ask me how you’re doing and if you’ve gotten even more handsome over the last week.”

In any other situation, Joel would've smirked at your statement. Hell, you probably would've delivered it with a proud smirk, knowing exactly that yes, he would in fact get more good-looking with each week passing. You had been trying to convince him of his looks ever since you could remember, for a good four years that you had been together, but there was still a wall in front of him that wouldn't accept any compliment that easily. And that made you all that madder because it seemed like receiving complimenting words from the mothers back at the football field affected him more than yours ever did.

Joel clearly had enough of the scene you were playing out,

"This is getting ridiculous." He raised his hands in defence. “It’s alright, we can talk about this later," walking past you once again to walk into the living room, not finding his daughter nor his brother there, making him wonder where they had gone to.

“No, we can’t.” You fought back, following him with your eyes, only taking a few steps into the other room.

After throwing himself onto the cushioned sofa, he put the mug on the coffee table in front of him. With his hands now free, he was able to lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees he rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Y/N, I really can’t do this right now-“

“You don’t wanna talk about it?" You scoffed, "Fine. Then- Then let’s just not. You’re right. Let’s just pretend this never happened, and I’m overreacting because everything’s fucking fine.” Not wasting another second, you moved your body to the stairs leading to the upper floor.

“Darlin'-“

But you stopped him by shouting down.

“Everything’s fine!”

Everything was in fact not fine. And every single person in the Miller household could tell.

The night before, you were able to avoid your partner most of the time. When Sarah had asked if you'd come to the dining table for dinner, you used work as an excuse to stay in the office corner your husband had built in the garage, sitting at the desk, deep in some documents that you could not concentrate on. Not even for a second.

Before Joel had made his way up to bed, you had already taken a shower and cuddled yourself up into the bed, hiding most of your body under the covers. You weren't asleep when he joined you. But you pretended to be. And it worked. For the entire night, the two of you didn't touch each other, not even with your feet by accident - maybe in your sleep, but how would you have been able to tell.

But still in the morning, while both of you were rushing through the kitchen, getting breakfast, coffee and orange juice ready, while also tugging on your clothing and fixing your hair, moving around the room frantically, you didn't share a word with each other. Not a single one.

Sarah and Tommy eyed you suspiciously from their spots at the dining table. The uncle was slurping on his coffee while the girl had a piece of bacon in her mouth.

"Damn..." the man whispered, receiving a nod from his niece right next to him. "How long has this been going on for?" The silence was something highly unusual for this household. Joel and you were known to be a quite melodic couple. Filling early mornings with chatter and laughter while you tried to brighten up the older man's face, knowing he wasn't the biggest fan of that time of the day. But there you were. Silently moving around each other.

Sarah picked up some eggs with her fork, "Since yesterday. I don't think they've talked through their argument yet," before stuffing her mouth with it.

"You don't say," the man sent her a side-eye, going back to the hot liquid in his mug. "What do you call?" He leaned back.

The girl shrugged, "He did something wrong."

"Well, obviously," Tommy rolled his eyes, "but what?"

"I think it was something about him not realising he's being flirted with and just going along with it because he wants to be nice."

He scoffed, "Idiot..."

"Blind idiot," his niece corrected him, only to get told off by her father.

"Hey," he pointed at her, "Watch your mouth." He didn't have the energy to comment on the other words he had heard coming from them.

Before she was able to say something smart back at him, he continued, "Hurry up eating, I'll be outside in the car." And left the room through the backdoor leading to the garage without another word.

The moment he closed the door, you let out a deep sigh you had held in the entire time the two of you shared a kitchen.

"He'll come back to his senses," the voice of your step-daughter made you walk over to the table, taking a seat in front of your two family members.

The cup of tea in your hands warmed your palm. "I don't know..." you mumbled before bringing the mug up to your lips.

"He's just acting stubborn as fuck," Tommy shook his head.

Sarah gasped, "Don't curse, there are children here." Receiving a subtle chuckle from you.

For a second, you shared a quick moment of silence before you put the mug down, "But am I over-reacting?" You asked them, "Like... am I looking too much into this?" But the shake of their head assured you, making you lean back into the chair with a huff.

"You think I enjoy watching these women gawking over him? It's disgusting. You should be the only one allowed to do that," Sarah explained, tickling a smile out of you.

"Shouldn't you be disgusted by me doing that?"

But she just shrugged, "It's kinda cute," before looking you dead in the eyes, "But don't tell him that."

You chuckled, "I won't. It's not like we're talking to each other these days anyways."

"Look," Tommy had had enough, "Like Sarah said, once Joel gets that stick out of his ass-"

"I never said that."

"Whatever," he jokingly brushed her off, "Once that happens. He'll start apologising. Joel's always been a little oblivious about that stuff. You don’t remember how it was with you?"

"But how?" You wondered, "They're literally undressing him with their eyes!"

"EW, gross!" The young girl exclaimed, making you send her an apologetic smile,

"Sorry..."

"We were taught to be nice and respectful to all kinds of women, Y/N. I don't know what else to tell you," Tommy got up at the sound of his brother's car honking, tapping Sarah on the arm to copy his actions. You watched her disappear back upstairs to grab her backpack while you stood back up to start cleaning the mess that had been left behind from making breakfast.

When you were about to walk past Tommy, his soft grasp on her lower arm stopped you. You looked up to meet his eyes.

"Don't you dare even think that Joel would ever leave you for one of those chicks," he told you quietly, but sternly, "He knows you're way out of his league." His first statement made you smile fondly while the second one made you chuckle and slap his chest.

"Tommy!"

"I'm being serious, Y/N," his hand brushed over the back of your head. He took a few steps back, a smirk still plastered on his lips, "But hey, you know, I still have quite a good amount of friends that would DIE to get to know you."

"Stop it!" You looked around for a cloth to throw at him, doing so once you found a wet one right by the sink. He jumped back, letting it hit the floor, continuing his laughing as he walked towards the back door. "Just saying," he raised his hands, "My brother's an old fuck, you might want to relocate."

You could only shake your head in disbelief, "You're unbelievable, you know that?" Earning yourself a mischievous grin from the younger Miller brother.

You had known Tommy for longer than you had known Joel. You met him at a night out, hitting on one of your friends after you realised that that dude used to be the same guy that had given your parents multiple headaches with that friend group of his in their old restaurant. You remembered them tumbling in some late evenings when you helped out after school, or even just wanted to do your homework in a corner. They pretended to not be drunk, when they definitely were, as best as they could. As much as it annoyed you and your family back then, they did bring a lot of other young people in and within only a few months, you had more visitors than ever. The memory made both of you laugh out loud in the bar and your friendship developed from then on. He even tried setting you up with multiple of his so-called other friends 'that would DIE to get to know you'. But he had failed. HARD. Every single time. His friends were… just not it...

That‘s because you had met his brother, and well... everything fell into place afterwards, leading to you now standing in the kitchen.

"What did you do now?" Sarah wondered, finding the piece of fabric on the floor, glancing at her uncle with her arms crossed.

You shook your head, "Nothing, don't worry about it. He's just trying to be funny."

She rolled her eyes overdramatically, "Ugh... again?" Getting a soft tap on the head from the man in question.

You sent them off with a smile and a goodbye wave, wishing both a good day as they left you alone in the house. All by yourself, along with your thoughts and worries and a good amount of chores to get done.

After Sarah had come back from school, you offered her a serving of the lunch you had prepared on your day off, giving yourself one as well. You sat together by the dining table, chatting about your day while listening to her ranting about her school and her teachers - her English teacher in particular. There was just something she didn't like about that guy.

Before you knew it, the evening had arrived as you got done hoovering the living room, letting yourself fall back into the couch with a heavy breath tumbling from your lips.

The argument from the day before had been haunting you the entire day, draining you of every last bit of energy you had left. You went over everything you had said and all the things you'd want to tell Joel once you were back on speaking terms. And yeah... about that too. How long could the two of you go without talking to each other? You never went longer than a day, so you already broke that record. In all honesty, you didn't want to drag it out for much longer. You hated it. As much as you were still annoyed at your husband and the oblivion he was in, the love and care you felt for him were much stronger than that.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the young girl coming down the stairs slowly. You only looked up at the sound of the stairs creaking underneath her feet.

"Mom?" She softly called out for you, staying behind the wall while searching for your eyes in the softly dimmed room. It had already gotten dark outside and the only light in the room came from the small lamp on the side table to your right.

"Hm?"

Sarah looked down at her feet, her fingers drawing circles on the wallpaper, "I-ehm... so..." you patiently waited for her to continue, "You know how we have bake sales every now and then at school?"

You scrunched your eyebrows at the random question, "Of course... why?"

Then a sheepish smile made its way to her face, "Weeelll..."

"Well?"

"I may or may not have a bake sale tomorrow morning and need something for it," she quickly spilt out, only daring to look up at the end of her statement.

Your hands immediately came up to hide your face, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose, "Sarah... please tell me you're kidding."

"No...," she hugged herself shyly, "Sorry..." Coming a few steps closer, she stopped next to you, joining you on the sofa, the sly grin still on her face.

You sighed, looking at her, "You know, you're gonna be the death of me, right?" But she just showed you her teeth with a wide smile.

"Well..." you collected your thoughts, "Your dad has the car... and if I go to the store now, it'll be closed when I arrive. So... let's see if Tommy can go get some stuff because we have absolutely nothing in this house." You leaned over to reach for your phone that was laying on top of the coffee table.

"No!" The girl beat you and got a hold of your phone first, holding it tightly to her chest.

You looked at her in confusion, "What?"

"Eh... I- Why uncle Tommy? Dad should be on his way back from work now. It'll be way more practical if he buys it."

With a sigh and a nod, you gave in, "Well then, go on. Call him." But she shook her head. Her hand reached out to hand you back the device.

"Why not?" You wondered, slightly worried about the way she was acting.

"...I don't want him to be mad at me." You wanted to say something, but she continued, "If you call him, he won't get mad."

"Sarah..." another sigh of yours rang through your ears as you blinked at her. But she defeated you. With those goddamn puppy eyes, she inherited from her father, that neither you nor Joel could say no to - you more than him usually, but you were in a vulnerable place, so giving in came easily.

"Pleeaase, mom." The small word still brought a smile to your face - she knew exactly how to get you. You may not have been there her entire life, but for a good important chunk of it, and she appreciated that very much. It was on your wedding day when she asked you if she could call you 'mom' from now on. And it made you cry right at that exact moment.

You snatched the phone out of her hands and shook your head with a soft smile on your lips. She knew just how cute she was. After all, she was a very smart little girl.

You got up from the sofa and made your way over to the kitchen, already clicking on the number you had gotten so familiar with. Only two rings later, the deep voice of your partner erupted,

"Hey, everything okay?" You almost smiled at the concern in his voice. He knew you rarely ever called but prefered to send quick texts.

You scratched the back of your neck, "Hi, yeah... ehm... where are you?"

"Just got into the truck, why?"

"So... Sarah just remembered that she has a bake sale tomorrow," you explained, already hearing the deep sigh, along with a cruse word, coming from him, "But I can't make it to the store in-"

"What do you wanna bake, darlin'? What do you need?" You didn't ignore the way your body reacted to the nickname. You couldn't just let it pass like that. Even after all the years of being with him, his sweet tongue still made you feel like a little college girl. The heat rose up to your cheeks, painting them beautifully red as you ushered around the kitchen.

"Eh... wait a second," you opened the refrigerator, "We have eggs, we... don't have butter, so butter. We should have some flour and sugar. But we'd definitely need chocolate or-"

"What about a brownie mix?"

You perked up, "You really want to send your daughter to a baking sale with brownies from a pre-made mix?"

"Why not," he probably shrugged, "I can guarantee you, sweetheart, no one cares," the engine of the car roared in the background.

Unknowingly, your eyes drifted over the counter to the corner where a picture of the three of you was placed. Taken by Tommy, it showed you and Joel hugging the sweet girl in the middle while her face was covered in cake frosting. It was your, back then, boyfriend's idea to make her laugh, and boy, did he accomplish that. The echoes of her high-pitched giggles still roamed your brain as you were brought back to the day of her birthday party when she had turned 11 years old. Already then, the older Miller brother knew he was going to ask you to marry him one day. Never ever had either one of you been that happy when with another person.

That's when the memory of his proposal speech came back to you. Joel was a big romantic. Whether he wanted to admit it or not. But his plans of the original proposal were thrown out the window when a massive storm surprised the entire city, forcing you to stay inside the comfort of your own home.

Since Sarah was over at Tommy's place after the older man had begged him to do so, you had the house to yourself and you better bet, you made the best out of it. After multiple rounds in each other's embrace, exchanging passion and lust for each other, you found yourself in your bed, on his lap, still not tired of kissing the hell out of him. You were surprised when he stopped you for a second with,

"I have something to ask you," whispering it against your mouth before he leaned back to stretch his arm to get whatever he was looking for out of the drawer of his nightstand. You eyed him suspiciously, your fingers still intertwined behind his neck. You could feel your heart genuinely stop for a second or two when your gaze got stuck on the small red velvet box.

"Joel..." The topic of marriage had come up before, of course. But only because he wanted to make sure that the two of you were on the same page, and after doing that, he just had to find the right time to find a ring and actually propose.

He lifted a hand to stop you, "Just wait. Just for a minute," interlocking your eyes with his as he breathed out, "I had this whole thing planned," he shook his head, "I wanted it to be much more romantic than this. But God... I-I can't wait anymore."

Once his actual speech started, you couldn't help the tears in your eyes to well up. You had heard him say 'I love you' so many times before, but that love confession of his was something you had never ever received before. You felt safe with him. Loved, like no one else. How could you have said no? You knew he was the one for you. The one whose arms you wanted to fall asleep in for the rest of your life, only to wake up in a completely different position due to his restless sleeping habit. You wanted to forever hear Sarah remind him of his terrible eating habits, joining forces with her by making him drink more orange juice. You didn't even think you could live without Tommy barging into the house at the most inconvenient times, disturbing any romantic moment you'd get with your partner. That was the future you so desperately prayed for. And now you were finally going to get it.

You snapped back into the present.

"Have we really become those parents?" A soft chuckle dared to escape your lips, but Joel stole it.

"It had to happen someday."

Forty minutes later, the front door opened, making you look up to the left, only to direct your eyes back on the TV as soon his met yours.

"Hey," he talked quietly, finding Sarah asleep in your lap as he passed you.

"Hi," you greeted him back, the tension suddenly thick in the room. You followed him into the kitchen, careful about putting your daughter's head down gently.

You stopped by the fridge, leaning on it, your gaze travelling along with his moving figure while he put away the groceries he had just bought. Even though you were still not in the mood of talking to him, the words from yesterday still lingering with you, you decided to swallow at least a little bit of your pride.

"Thank you," you cleared your throat softly, "for... getting the stuff." He turned his entire body to look at you, eyes slightly wider than usual, sending you a somewhat subtle surprised facial expression.

"‘Course," he nodded.

"Well then... I'll..." Jesus, when did talking become so hard, "I'll let Sarah know we can start."

Just as you were about to walk back into the living room, the voice of your husband took you back, "No, let her sleep."

You moved towards him, "But she needs them for tomorrow, we-"

"I'll do it. I'll make the brownies," he sighed, finishing putting everything away, and leaving the few ingredients he'd need on the counter.

"Joel, no... that's her responsibility," you ignored his body coming towards you as you tried not to raise your voice, keeping it low since the girl was still asleep.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, only to turn you with a gentle touch, making you face the living room, attention immediately on the little girl. A few seconds of silence passed.

"Look at her," the man whispered into your ear, too close for the current tension that was still between you, "You really want to wake her up?"

You shrugged out of his grasp, "Don't make me the bad guy now," brushing past him into the kitchen.

Joel huffed out a deep breath, slightly shaking his head, "I'll get her upstairs." He didn't wait for a response from you, knowing he wouldn't get one anyway and walked over to pick his daughter up into his arms, carrying her upstairs into her bedroom.

In the meantime, you decided to get to work, reading the instructions on the brownie-mix packaging. You preheated the oven and made sure the eggs weren't too cold before looking for the fitting bowl, which wasn't where it was supposed to be. A sigh fell from your lips. Joel had a habit of putting stuff into new places and not where you had insisted they should be.

"In the cupboard next to the dishwasher," his deep voice suddenly spoke up from behind you, "I forgot where you usually put it."

With a quiet, almost silent 'thanks' you went to grab it before putting it next to the rest of the stuff. Joel was next to you within the blink of an eye, taking the bowl from your grasp.

"I can-"

"Let me," he softly argued back, bringing the eggs closer to him before starting by opening up the brownie mix and pouring the powder into the bowl.

"Joel-" you wanted to talk back, but his hand on top of yours on the counter stopped you,

"I wanna help," he gazed down at you, while you had to look up to meet his eye. It only lasted for a second, before you moved again, on the look for the next thing you'd need: a brownie baking dish. Thankfully, it was where you remembered you had put it.

The two of you worked separately from each other. You, just as much as Joel, were still very aware of the weight on both of your shoulders. The argument was still undiscussed and it was weighing you down. Both of you. The only interaction you shared was putting the baking tin in front of him to pour the batter in.

After you shoved it into the oven, with a quiet "careful" from your partner as he opened the oven door for you, there was no longer any sound that accompanied the silence between you two. Now it was just true stillness. No clinker, no whisk hitting the bowl, or anything else.

Neither one of you wanted to be in this position as you stood opposite of each other, each leaning back on the counter. You wanted to scream to break the tension. Thankfully, Joel took the lead.

"Darlin'," still that soft tone lacing his voice, "I'm-"

"No, Joel-"

"Please," he looked up at you, hoping to meet your eyes, only for you to find the same ones that had begged for you to call him your husband. The same puppy-eyed look. "May I?" He was so gentle, just how you knew him. You nodded, followed by crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

"I'm sorry." He spoke honestly, standing up straighter, "I'm sorry for what I said and... I'm sorry for being a blind idiot."

Your eyes fell down to your feet, running your toes along the wood as a smile crept its way onto your face at the mention of Sarah's choice of words.

"You're not an idiot," the sudden sound of your voice reaching his ear made him take a deep breath. You looked back up at him. "Maybe blind, but not an idiot."

But he shook his head, "No, I am." He started playing with his hands, "But can you blame me?" The scrunch of your eyebrows in confusion made him continue, "For four years, my eyes have only been on you. All I care about is you. And Sarah, of course," he added quickly, making you grin. He smiled at the sight, daring to take a step closer to you, noticing you warming up at his words, "I could not give less of a fuck about those other women. You're the only one that has been occupying my mind. I promise you that." They were small steps, but soon enough, he stopped right in front of you, keeping one foot between you two, and meeting your glassy eyes with his soft ones. "I haven't had to flirt with anyone in forever. How am I supposed to notice it then, when someone else is doing it to me? Especially, when it's not my wife. I don't care. I might continue being nice because that's just the human thing to do, but God... I..." he took a deep breath, taking that last step to be all that much closer to you. He trapped you in between his arms, resting his palms against the counter on either side of you. His left hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently moving against your skin. "I only have eyes for the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I, the lucky bastard that I am, got to marry her." He caught the tear falling from your eye, leaning forward to kiss the wet stain before it could roll down your cheek. But his action just brought more tears into your eyes as your brain ran through the words you had just heard. You couldn't hold back a sniffle.

"Don't make me cry," you tried to free yourself from his grasp, bringing your hands to your face, trying to hide your weeping face from your husband, but he was having none of that, immediately getting a hold of your hands and pulling them down.

"I'm sorry, Gorgeous," Joel replaced your hands with his, wiping away every falling tear while gazing lovingly at you, catching your eyes never leaving his face.

You sniffled again, "I'm sorry, Joel." Both of his hands held onto your face. "I... I trust you with my life, I really do," you tried to speak through your tears, making the corners of his lips curl up, "B-But those women... at the match-"

"It's okay," he leaned forward once again, peppering your cheeks with gentle kisses over and over again, while a small smile appeared on your face at the feeling of his close touch again. "I get it," he kept on holding onto your face, making sure you kept your eyes on him, "I don't trust other men either. I know you're way too good for me. I'm a blind idiot that doesn't deserve you."

You started giggling as you hit his chest, "Stop, no," sniffling one last time when the tears had stopped falling from your eyes.

"No, I am. I realise that now," he assured you, shaking his head, "Jesus... I had to listen to Sarah calling me that like... a dozen times. And that was just on the way to school. Plus I got a big fat scolding from Tommy. He threatened to hook you up with his friends." Joel followed you with laughter after you erupted in giggles from his story, your forehead falling to his chest while your arms came up around his lower torso as his wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you to him as tightly as he possibly could, breathing in the beautiful scent of your hair.

You decided to enjoy a few moments of comfortable silence, staying engulfed in each other's arms before you leaned back a bit to lift your head, making him look down at you. The same smile on his face as it was present on yours.

"No one could ever replace you," you assured him. In the next moment, not giving your husband any time to react, you stood up on your tippy toes and puckered your lips, indicating for him to lean down, which he did without even thinking for a second. It was a natural reaction.

You only gifted him a quick peck before pulling back again.

"I love you, Joel." Followed by another quick kiss.

"I love you so much more, darlin'," he spoke against your lips, his finger tracing down the side of your face.

You squinted your eyes at him, "Mmmm... I don't think that's possible." Your comment made his eyebrows shoot up, "Oh?" He teased you, "You want me to show you that it is in fact possible?"

The not-so-subtle blush was evident on your cheeks as you pressed your lips together, "You know I'd never say no to getting dicked down."

Joel wanted to grin, SO BADLY. But he kept up his act, just staring down at you in confusion. "Getting dicked down? The hell you talkin' about, woman?" Unknowingly, the two of you started gently swaying side to side as he looked around the room, "I was thinkin' 'bout making you a nice dinner, a bit of cuddlin' maybe-"

You pinched his side, getting his attention back to you. He glanced at you with a wicked smile decorating his face. He leaned down closer to you, stopping just as your lips were about to touch, "But I can work with your idea as well.“

You were first down in the kitchen the following morning. Dressed and styled for work, with a pleased look never leaving your face. You felt good again. The invisible weight had clearly been lifted off you as you swiftly moved through the kitchen. The smell of pancakes filled the room when the cute familiar voice of your daughter made you turn around.

"Mornin'."

You smiled as she walked up to you, hugging your side, hiding her still sleepy face in your shoulder, "Good morning, sweetie," you patted her unruly, yet beautiful curly hair.

She went to grab her beloved orange juice from the fridge before settling down at the dining table just like every other morning. Finally, a normal morning again. A comfortable small talk erupted between the two of you as you asked her about the school day she had ahead of herself.

In the middle of it, you brought a plate of pancakes to her, placing it right under her nose, along with a fork and the maple syrup she enjoyed so much. As soon as your back was turned towards her, eyes on the other pancakes sizzling in the pan, the third and final person in the house came down the stairs. You would be able to recognize those heavy footsteps from a mile away.

Joel greeted his daughter first, kissing the top of her head, "Mornin', baby girl." Before he joined you next to the stove, his arm immediately wrapping around you, to turn you towards him, "And a good mornin' to you too, gorgeous," smashing his lips onto yours. Your hand found its way to his cheek while his stopped at your ass.

"Children are present!" Making you lean back with a chuckle, slapping his hand to move from his position.

He turned around to jokingly glare at the girl, "Look away!" To which she just rolled her eyes.

Joel brought you back into his arms, giving you a few more kisses before getting interrupted another time, making him groan and you giggle.

"Oooooooh, well don't you two look adorable!" The younger Miller brother exclaimed, entering the house with a wide smile plastered on his face. He took his signature seat next to Sarah, stelling a piece of pancake from her, "Mom and dad getting along again?"

She nodded, "Looks like it."

Your husband wanted to get one more kiss from you, but a plate being shoved into his chest stopped him. He looked down before gazing into your eyes again, "Chocolate chip?"

"Blueberry." Your answer made him look at you with scrunched eyebrows. "Vitamin C," you grinned, giving his cheek one last peck before ushering him out of the kitchen.

You watched the three sitting at the table, smiling at the little family in front of you when you remembered something.

"Oh!" You moved back into the kitchen, snatching the Tupperware box from the counter, and bringing it into the dining room with you. "Here, sweetie, don't forget these."

"Ah, thanks, mom," she smiled at you, taking the box and placing it right next to her.

Tommy eyed the box, "What's that?"

"Brownies," you simply answered, taking a seat on the only other free chair, "We baked them for her last night."

"What are you celebrating?" His question was directed at his niece but you answered him.

"Nothing, her school's having a bake sale." Joel nudged your arm, his fork right in front of you, waiting for you to open your mouth, so he could feed you a piece of his pancakes. You knew better than to say no, remembering all the times you had tried to do that and he'd basically won and made you take the food in one way or another.

The younger brother glanced at you in question, "No, she doesn't?"

"Yes, she does, she forgot and told me yesterday."

But he just shook his head again, taking a quick look at his niece, "No, you don't. I know whenever those bake sales are." As soon as he saw the looks on your and Joel's faces, he quickly continued, "All the pretty teachers are outside during them, and I... you know... just happen to be there coincidentally. Buying them all that stuff from those kids."

You closed your eyes in disbelief, shaking your head, "Jesus..."

The older brother shrugged, "Can't say I'm surprised about that."

Tommy moved his attention towards Sarah again, "So what the heck were you talking about?"

All eyes were on the little girl, giggling in her seat as she leaned back in the chair, the curls on her head bouncing along with her laughs. "Yeah... so ehm... maybe that was a bit of a lie," sending you a sheepish smile.

"What?!" You exclaimed, switching between looking at her and your partner to your right.

She immediately raised her hands, "But you two are talking again!"

"What does that have to do-"

"OOOOOH," Tommy shot up from his seat, engulfing his niece in a tight hug, "You smart little girl, oh I love you," kissing the top of your head multiple times. All while Joel and you sat there, at least sharing the confusion between each other.

Your husband put his fork down, "Are we morons? What am I not getting here?"

His brother grinned at him, walking past him to slap the back of his head, "Your amazing daughter tricked the two of you into talking to each other again," he sang and stopped to stand in between the two of you, throwing his arms around you, pulling you in close, "She got all that smartness from me."

"Sarah!" You couldn't believe your ears. That little 13-year-old girl... you knew she was smart... but damn... Where did she learn how to read people that well?

She smiled, standing up to bring her plate into the kitchen, "It worked though!"

Tommy released you to follow her, finally looking for his mug to get his morning cup of coffee.

The two of you stayed seated, still in disbelief at what you had just found out. You got tricked. Tricked you into putting your guard down and giving into the sweet mouth of your husband. She knows both of you too well.

"That's your kid," you pointed at the girl by the dishwasher while looking at Joel, who grinned at you, his hand now on your thigh.

His other hand wrapped around your finger, pushing it down and pulling you into him. "That's our kid. Our very smart kid," he smiled against your lips, making you do so as well before the soft touch of his mouth against yours sent a tingle through your body once again. You could never get tired of that, that was for sure.

There was the future you had always dreamed of.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

#Joel miller x reader #Joel miller #imagine #imagines #one shot #Pedro pascal #x reader #the last of us #pre-outbreak!Joel x reader #domestic #fluff #pre-outbreak #joel x wife!reader #x wife!reader

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thecreelhouse · 2 months

Text

crystal clear

Paring: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

WC: 14k (i am so sorry)

Summary: What started as friends “helping” one another out, turns into something much more than either of you anticipated. Secrets are revealed, mistakes are made, and confessions are confessed.

This is the 3rd and final part of this lil unnamed roommate trilogy! You can find part one and part two here!

CW/Tags: language, smut, PiV sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), cum play, super brief anal play, free use, praise kink, humiliation kink, switch!steve & switch!reader, cockwarming, choking, jealousy, angst. Lots. Of. Angst., hurt/comfort everywhere, internalized biphobia, weed mention, happy ending i promise!!

A/N: this took way longer to write than I expected, and apologies for the late post, I had too many technical difficulties 😭 major thanks to @stevenose for hyping this up and helping me on some parts<3 this one’s long as hell, and there’s a LOT going on, but I hope y’all that enjoyed the first two like this one as well. thank you for the support on the others!! <3 title is from a hayley williams’ song by the same name lol.

“Is it weird yet?”

The first time either of you asked the question in the backs of both of your minds, Steve had you bent over the bathroom sink, pulling your hair, forcing you to watch as he railed into you relentlessly.

You can’t remember who asked first, but neither of you answered it. Not out loud, at least. You were too busy moaning Steve’s name to worry about the question.

“Isn’t this kinda weird?”

The question came from you, after Steve came home from a failed date, a failure you silently celebrated. He was in a funk, not expecting anything, but you offered, so how could he say no?

Because turning down the offer of you riding him until he cried—his request, comfortably carried out by you enjoying the mini power trip over your roommate, seemed foolish. You did your best to hide how smug you felt that Steve’s date didn’t work out, so when you offered to cheer him up, and he begged on his knees to touch you, you’d be insane to turn down the opportunity.

“People do this? But that’s… weird, isn’t it?”

“So… what if you’re not in the mood? ‘Cause I don’t wanna initiate anything when you’re not feeling it. Like, I get that’s the whole point, but I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable—”

You’re laying on Steve’s bed, the morning after fucking around when you got home from the bar. It didn’t last long, with the two of you too drunk, too tired, getting handsy but being clumsy messes while laughing and falling over one another multiple times.

Instead, you fell asleep in his arms, and you wanted to kick yourself for it.

You’ve been trying to distance your feelings from whatever kind of roommates-with-benefits dynamic had appeared between the two of you, but fuck it wasn’t easy.

“What if I wear something specific when I’m cool with it?” You suggest, tugging on the scrunchie on your wrist. “If I have this on my wrist, you’re free to do whatever.”

Steve was leaning against his dresser, arms crossed as his eyes were glued to your figure, barely covered by an old shirt of his while it clung to the softest parts of you.

He wishes you didn’t look so goddamn cute in his clothes.

“Uh— yeah. Yeah, that works, I guess— ” Steve pauses to overthink. Again. “Are you sure this isn’t too weird?”

“Babe,” It slips out, making you stall as you sit up, clearing your throat to brush past it. “If I thought it was too weird, would I be the one to suggest this?”

Steve blushes, in the way where it’s so much red across his face, it blooms to the tips of his ears. He can feel it, brushing his hair over his ears, ignoring the look you give him.

“Right… Uh, so what should I do? Like, to show you I’m cool with it?” Steve’s puzzled on how this even works, or who would find this hot to begin with. Yet with each confession of what turns you on, the quicker it is for him to get harder with every, and probably any fantasy.

“You want a scrunchie too?” Steve rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t dim the red hue across his face. You giggle at how flustered he is while pulling a thin, black hairband from your other wrist, holding it out. “Would this work?”

Hesitantly, Steve takes the hairband before slipping it over his hand. “Okay, but… What if someone says something?”

You snort, “First of all, it’s just an elastic band. People won’t know. And if anyone’s inspecting your wrists that closely, they’re just fucking weird.” He slips it onto the other wrist, the one his watch is always on, hoping it blends in better. “Steve, now I can’t see it.”

He rolls it over his hand before stretching it between his fingers, playfully shooting it back your way. “Fuck it, I won’t use anything.”

“You sure? That’s— what if I did something when you’re not in the mood?”

“I’ll tell you.”

“Immediately?”

“Immediately. I swear.”

You’ve appreciated how easy it’s been to talk about whatever either of you want, or don’t want. This roommates-with-benefits thing might’ve been awkward, still is if you’re being honest, but talking about boundaries from the start with Steve gave one less thing for the two of you to worry about.

He rubs his jaw, lost in thought. “What’s it called again?”

“Free use, but If you’re not comfortable, or just want it to be one sided, don’t be afraid to tell me.”

“N- no! ” Steve shouts quickly, immediately embarrassed by how desperate he sounds. “I mean… what’s off limits for you?”

You smirk, twirling the scrunchie between your fingers. “Nothin’. You?”

Steve exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Uh… I wanna say nothing, but… if something happens that I’m not cool with, or you’re not cool with, we can stop, right?”

“Yeah, Stevie. We’re not doing this if either of us aren’t into it. If I do something to you that you don’t like, tell me, okay? It’s just like fucking around any other time, but a lil’ more… exciting.”

With a scoff, he sits next to you on the bed, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were bored when we fuck. You never sound like you’re bored when you’re shouting my name.”

You elbow his side, ignoring the way your stomach flips, “Shut up, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How’d you even find out this was a thing?” His curiosity’s going to kill him someday, he just knows it, but he can’t stop himself from asking. “I doubt those romance novels get that filthy.”

“Um…” You retreat into yourself, growing shy. “I might have, like, a teensy tiny stash of some… movies… and stuff.”

Steve’s face lights up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“You? Since when?!” He’s smirking while regret sets in; should’ve kept that one to yourself. “Wait. Why haven’t I seen you in the back at work?”

Laughing, you admit, “Steve, why the hell would I go where you work to rent porn? I’m not that much of an idiot.”

“Well— I- I wouldn’t make fun of you, y’know.”

Again, you bark out a laugh, “Bullshit, you totally would, especially if you saw wh—” You freeze eyes darting away as your laughter dies in your throat. Steve’s lit up like a fucking city skyline now.

Why, oh why did you have to be cursed with such a big mouth?

“Say it,” He taunts, a smirk growing on his face. “Tell me.”

“Harrington, I’m not telling you a damn thing.”

Steve nods a few times, like he understands, then shoots a mischievous look. “Where’s the tapes?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“Neither was your vibrator dying, but look, it brought us to some good things, right?”

“Th- that’s different, Steve.” You can feel your face heating up, your skin prickling as he puts you on the spot, hand resting on your thigh as he studies your expression.

Leaning in, his voice drops low as he asks, “How different are we talkin’?” His palm is warm, long fingers already close to your heat without even trying.

“Steve…” The warning tone in your voice means nothing to him right now; your gaze follows the direction his hand heads in, inching closer to where you want him most. Where you always want him. Where you always need him.

You expect him to stop, but his fingers ghost over your cunt, covered by the sweet, heart-patterned fabric of your panties— his favorite pair. You shiver as he adds some pressure, slowly rubbing along your sensitive core.

“What, did talking about being used like a slut make you wet already?” Steve taunts, chuckling as you roll your hips forward, trying to chase the feeling he’s barely giving you. “Tell me where the tapes are, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You shake your head, biting your lip to hold back any noises that might give him satisfaction and an ego boost. He mocks you with a pout and a whine.

“Well, guess I’ll have to find ‘em myself,” Before you can register what Steve says, he’s out the door and rushing to your room, while you’re left to shake yourself out of the fog of lust he left you in.

“H- hey! Don’t you fucking dare!”

When you make it to your room, Steve’s on his hands and knees, snooping under your bed. “Not there…”

“Steve, please, ju- just drop it.”

“Why?” He’s having way too much fun teasing you like this, but you’re embarrassed, wishing you could take your confession back. He’s casually opening drawers in your dresser, peeking inside each one with no success. “You wouldn’t have told me if you didn’t want me to see.”

“I— there’s some stuff I wanna keep to myself, I didn’t mean to say anything.” You’re digging your nails into your palms as they roll into clenched fists.

“Thought you liked being humiliated?” When Steve brings it up, it’s part of the teasing, until he looks up to see your uncomfortable body language. He steps away from the drawer he was digging through before making his way to you.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” He comes over to you, cautious as he watches the way your fingers curl into your palms and tense into fists, while you look at the floor, trying not to cry. “I promise I didn’t see anything. And I- I’m sorry for invading your space.”

Steve looks ashamed, and you feel bad. He didn’t know your tears were serious, but you’re already consumed by your own emotions.

You finally look at him, bottom lip curled into a wobbling pout, eyes glassy, “Can I be alone for a bit?”

“You- Yeah, f’course,” Steve automatically wants to comfort you, but he fights it off, just like the time you came home after your awful day, giving you the space you need. “I’ll be…y’know… yeah.”

Steve gently shuts the door behind him, leaving you to cry in the comfort of your own solitude.

···························

A few hours pass, with Steve spending most of it curled up on the couch, trying to mindlessly watch a movie, but he can’t get his mind off of you. He feels horrible that he didn’t catch onto your emotions earlier. He was hoping you’d come out by now, but you’ve been holed up in your room since you asked him to leave.

In the few moments he wasn’t consumed by his guilt, Steve’s thoughts would be spinning, trying to figure out what was on those tapes that would make you so upset if he saw them. Maybe you were just into kink. He wouldn’t judge you for that, everyone’s got their own… interests.

What if they contained something violent, or dark? Again, he wouldn’t judge you, but he’d be concerned for you and your safety. Then again, if it’s between two consenting adults, it’s none of his business.

Still doesn’t stop him from wishing it was his business.

All this time, up until the vibrator incident, Steve had every right to believe you were such a sweet, innocent person. Now, he’s not so sure, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Steve’s so wrapped up in his own spiraling thoughts, he doesn’t hear you open the door, or walk into the room. Instead, he notices you when you drop a cardboard box on the floor near him, startling him out of his layered overthinking.

“Holy fu— ” He sits up and rubs his eyes before locking his view with yours, heart sinking over how tear stained your face is. How swollen your eyes are. Had you been crying this whole time? “… Hi. What’s— are you— ” Steve’s unsure what to ask first: “what’s in there?” or “are you okay?”

You make it a point to sit on the floor, far from Steve. Crossing your legs underneath you, you’re beginning to pick at your nails nervously, unable to look at him.

“That’s what you were looking for earlier,” You rasp, fighting off another wave of tears.

Steve’s tempted to rip the box open immediately, but he restrains himself. “Honey, if you don’t want me to see, it’s okay. I had no right to dig around earlier, even if I was just joking. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I- I’m so sorry I did. And if it makes you feel better to keep this to yourself, we can forget about all of this. I’ll never bring it up ever again.”

His sweet, apologetic rambling just makes this heavier for you to bear. You lean into your hands, face buried in your palms as you groan, frustrated. “Steve, sometimes I wish you were a dick, because it’d make shit like this so much easier.”

“What are you talking about?”

“At this point it’s just… look, it’s probably for the best you know about this, since we’re fucking around.” You murmur into your hands. “Let me know when you’re disgusted and want me to move out.”

Steve’s brows furrow, really concerned now. “I’d never… I don’t want you to leave. Why would you think that?”

You sit up but look away from him, giving a weak gesture towards the box. “You’ll see.”

Again, Steve hesitates, but you look at the box as you still avoid his gaze, nodding in reassurance. “This isn’t a trick, or anything. I’m letting you— I’m showing you what you should know.”

So, carefully, he opens the box’s flaps one by one before peering inside; Steve slides off the couch and to the floor next to the box, pulling out a tape.

It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before; some tacky porno, with sleazy cover art and a corny title. It’s got your standard, generic shot of a man fucking a woman from behind, with her hands bound in front of her and a blindfold over her eyes.

“This…” He stops himself before finishing with ‘is nothing’, because maybe it’s still a big deal to you. “It’s not worth getting yourself upset over. Why’d you think I’d hate you for this?”

You shake your head. “That’s not the one I’m worried about. I didn’t take anything out, figured I might as well show you everything. Keep going.”

Steve sets the tape on the coffee table before reaching into the box again, pulling out another tape. Similar design layout, but the cover photo is of a woman sitting back, pulling her legs up and back with her, while a man slips a plug into her ass. Steve flips the case over, finding the same couple, positions switched while the woman rims the man.

Steve chokes down a moan, thrown off that you’d be into this, and yet, it’s still not shocking enough to him to warrant kicking you out.

“Y’know this isn’t that bad either, right?”

“Yeah, that’s not the one I’m— you’ll know it when you see it.” You murmur, looking over at Steve, clearing his throat as he adjusts himself on the floor, playing it off like he’s finding a comfy position to sit in. You wish you could tease him over this, but you hold off, knowing he’s going to hate you any minute.

Steve continues plucking tapes out of the box, examining each one, still unsure what would have you so distraught if he were to find out.

Bondage? No big deal. Choking? He kind of figured out you liked that the first time the two of you fucked. It’s common. Free use? You just broke that down for him, so it can’t be what has you upset.

One of the tapes has a few kinks sprinkled throughout; gangbangs, exhibitionism/voyeurism, orgasm denial, femdom—

“Jesus, this one’s got everything, huh?” Steve tries to break the tension, but you don’t laugh. “This… this was the one, right?”

You huff out a mirthless laugh, pulling your knees to your chest before resting your head on them. “I fucking wish, Steve.”

He can’t stand how hard this is hitting you right now. “I don’t need to know, not if it’s going to hurt you. Seriously, it’s your business, whatever it is, and that’s okay. We all have our secrets, right?”

“Jesus fucking christ, Steve.” You scoot over to him and the box, digging to find the one you’re worried about.

“Hey, wait— ” He holds your arms softly, looking into your cry-worn eyes, only making your bottom lip quiver again. “Seriously, you don’t… whatever you’re hiding isn’t for me to know, clearly. And I’m not going to take something that personal to use as leverage to kick you out— why would you even think that? I love living with you. No weird kink is gonna change that.”

The last part almost makes you laugh. Almost.

You wish the way he said he loves living with you didn’t make your stomach flip, either. Any other conversation, that'd be one of the sweetest things he’s ever told you, but you know that’s going to change once he’s too disgusted with you.

When Steve stopped you, your hands had already grabbed the tape. You pull it out, tossing it on the table before pushing yourself back, away from him as you anticipate the worst.

He’s quiet for a bit as you watch his eyes fall on the cover, taking in every detail, flipping it over to read whatever the corny summary says. He looks back at you and just shrugs.

Steve just fucking shrugs.

“Threesomes are… not a big deal. Like, at all.” He doesn’t say this to belittle you or your feelings, more to assure you that there’s worse to worry about than liking porn about threesomes.

You start crying again, silently, as you hug your knees to your chest again. “God, Steve, please don’t make me spell it out.”

As his brows furrow while looking over the tape again, he gives another shrug. “I feel stupid— ”

“You’re not stupid, I promise. I’m just scared to say it out loud to you.”

“Okay, two girls, one guy, having consensual sex together. I genuinely don’t g— ” It hits him, and he feels a little sick, not from your silent confession, not from the topic itself, but the fact he didn’t get it sooner. He hates how he dragged this out, only making you more upset. “... Oh.”

You’re not straight. You clearly still like men, but attraction doesn’t stop there for you. He glances down into the box, finding another tape, one of just two women together. It looks like the one peeking out under that is similar, too.

“Yeah. Yep, okay, there it is.” You push off the floor to your feet, sniffling. “Well, it was cool being friends and… whatever the fuck, but I’ll pack and get myself out as soon as I can.”

Steve scrambles to get up, following you down the hall as you head towards your room, beating you to the doorway. He stops in the frame, blocking you from retreating to the bedroom.

“We’re talking about this. You can’t just… you can’t just drop that and expect me to brush it off, or be disgusted with you. Neither are happening.” Steve’s tone is firm, but everything he says is with care. Your eyes well up with inevitable tears. “Hey, honey, look at me.”

You try pushing past him, but he refuses to let you in. “Stevie, p- please— ”

“No, enough with the hiding. I know this is scary to talk about, but please, don’t shut me out.” He moves into your room, gently pulling you in with him to sit on your bed. “Can I be cheesy and thank you for sharing something so personal? That’s not easy for anyone, but you still did. Even if you thought you had to, that took guts.”

You reach for a pillow to cry into, and Steve doesn’t stop you, just lightly hangs his arm across your shoulders. You lean into him instantly, hugging the pillow for a moment before abandoning it, wrapping your arms around him instead.

“I thought you’d hate me,” Your voice is so small and shattered; it kills Steve that your fear has been weighing so heavy on your mind and heart. “That’s why I was so scared for you to find the box.”

“Nothing could ever make me hate you, angel. I’m sorry I caused so much stress for you.” He hugs you tighter, wishing he could take back these last few hours.

“It’s not like you knew. I’m not mad at you, Steve. I should’ve told you sooner.”

That shouldn’t make Steve huff out a laugh, but it does. The noise he makes turns into a silent, shoulder shaking laugh as he holds you. You’re so confused.

“Steve, what the fuck? You just told me— th- this- none of this is funny.”

He tries to control his laughter, and he does, but only for a moment. A quick pause to kiss your forehead. You push him back, reading his expression, still bewildered.

”I’m sorry, I— ” He runs a hand through his hair as he stifles his laughter, more successful this time. “— lemme grab something quick, okay?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer, just gets up and rushes to his room, snickering a few times to himself. You’re left baffled.

What the fuck just happened? And what the hell is so funny?

There’s sounds of some movement floating out of Steve’s room, soft grumbles of “where the hell did I put that?” and “jesus this is heavy”, making you smile, ever so slightly. He’s only gone for a moment before he returns with an old milk crate, carrying VHS tapes and magazines, it looks like.

Steve sets it on the bed next to you. “This… this is funny.”

Your brows furrow, still trying to understand what the hell he’s talking about.

“You can look, y’know.”

Most of the content is tacky porn, just like yours, mostly straight couples—

Wait.

You’re about to grab a tape, one similar to the film you showed Steve; another threesome porno, but this one has two men, one woman. It doesn’t take you more than a second to get it.

You snap your head up to look at him, holding the tape up, lost for words. “Are you— shut up. You’re joking.”

Steve leans back against your headboard, hands behind his head, almost appearing smug, but he just finds the coincidence really fucking funny. Sure enough, he starts laughing again. It’s not cruel, nor does it have a sharp edge. It’s just his usual warm, sweet laugh.

“I’d never joke about this. I swear.” His smile is like sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds on a stormy day, making you feel comfortable, happy, even. You’re not alone in this, you don’t have to be. Feelings aside, Steve proves time and time again how thoughtful and kindhearted he is as a friend; a completely different person from who he tried so hard to be back in high school.

“You didn’t have to tell me— n- not that I’m upset you did, just hope I didn’t pressure you to say something by being such a crybaby.”

“No, no way. When you said you should’ve told me sooner, I figured well, shit, I might as well come out to you, too.” Steve admits, “Honestly, I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I was scared you’d hate me.”

Your heart sinks; why does coming out have to be such a nerve-wracking event? Sometimes even dangerous if you confide in the wrong person. You’re grateful that’s far from the case here.

“I could never hate you, Steve. Never ever.” Though sincere, your attention falls back on the crate, eyes dancing over all of the tapes and magazines when a certain photo sticks out like a sore thumb.

He notices the way you pause, eyes falling on the familiar white border of a Polaroid, peeking out among the mess of filth. He lunges to grab it, but you beat him to it. Your jaw drops with a gasp at the lewd image.

“Steve, this is— ” He reaches out to grab it, but you push back, stumbling as you stand before rushing across the room, Polaroid in your hands. You stare at the photo in awe.

Striding across the room, Steve makes his way to you, about to grab the photo from your grip, “Give it back— ” You hide it behind your back while you’re against the wall, tucked in the corner with a smirk.

“Fuck no, this is karma for making me cry,” You giggle, causing relief to wash over Steve. He’s not even mad about this. He’s just happy to hear you laughing after today. You spin around, head ducked against the wall, studying the photo. “You’re so pretty on your knees, Stevie.”

Steve ignores how your comment makes his stomach flip, sneaking his hands around you to snatch the photo back. Eyes rolling, he jokingly grumbles, “Yeah, yeah, you had your fun.” You twirl around, attempting to grab it back, but he effortlessly holds it high above your head. He tries playing off the blush that rises up his neck and to his cheeks over your comment.

You can’t help thinking, How’d you even fit that into your mouth?

Steve chokes on air, eyes wide, “W- what?”

Apparently, you think out loud now.

“M’sorry,” You whisper, cringing at yourself. Steve just shakes his head as he clears his throat between laughs. He ends up sitting at the edge of your bed, tugging you closer to him, hands in yours.

Glancing up, he locks eyes with you while softly asking, “Are you disgusted by me?”

You stare at Steve, unsure if he’s joking or serious. “What? Because you’re not straight? No way, why would you even ask— ”

He holds his arms out with a lazy shrug. “There ya’ go, there’s my answer to you, too.” It takes a minute for you to understand what he means.

Why does he always have to be a smug little shit when he’s right?

“Okay, wait. Why the fuck were either of us worried? We’re both still friends with Robin, even after she came out.” You and Steve lock eyes before bursting out into laughter.

“It- it’s different when it’s just a friend!”

“Thought we were just friends.” Steve forces a teasing tone to his words, but maybe you’d answer differently this time.

“Well, yeah, but— it’s different since we’re fucking.”

So much for that.

It’s silent for a beat before Steve mutters, “We’re both morons.”

You smirk, “Now, that picture on the other hand, disgusts me,” Steve’s smile falters, your words making him nervous. “Because it looks like you’re totally better at deepthroating than I am.”

His jaw drops, face flushing red. “Okay, listen—”

“That’s a compliment, I promise!”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Steve plucks the scrunchie on your wrist back, letting go to softly snap against your skin. “This still okay?” Your breath hitches as you nod, feeling a hand slide to the small of your back, bringing you even closer to him.

“You- you don’t have to ask, that’s the whole point,” You rasp, trying to suppress the breathy, light groan threatening to break.

“Oh, I know,” Steve gets up, smirking down at you over how flustered you look. “Just wanted to make sure.” He slides past you to reach for the crate of filth before leaving the room.

Resisting the urge to let out a disappointed groan, you mutter under your breath, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not,” Steve quips as he walks by your room. Now you groan dramatically, and he just laughs while making his way down the hall.

Two can play that game.

You find Steve in the kitchen, looking around in a drawer, until you come up behind him and slam it shut. Startled, he jumps, and you take the opportunity to flip him around to face you, hands grabbing his hips before pinning him to the counter.

“Whoa— ” Steve’s eyes are wide at the abrupt maneuver, “—what are y- you- oh, shit.”

In the blur of manhandling him, Steve didn’t realize his pants are already around his ankles, not until you begin stroking him slowly. He grips the edge of the counter as a shuddered breath slips out, watching you from under hooded eyes.

You spit onto his length, coating his skin for a smoother glide, one that makes his hips buck roughly, challenging the grip you still have on one of them. When he settles down, you lick slowly along the underside of his cock, eyes locked on his as your tongue makes its way to the base, then down to his balls.

As you begin lapping and sucking, Steve’s head falls back against the cabinet, a classic move you usually make; halfway through one of the prettiest moans he’s made yet , he grumbles an “Ow, what the fuck?”

Naturally, you laugh, but with him in your mouth, the sensation of your muffled sound replaces his ruined moan with another. “Fuck, fuck— honey, I- god, I need you.”

His words bring you back to his shaft, one hand toying with his balls, while another reaches around to squeeze his ass, all while you take him into your mouth fully. “H- ohmyfuckinggod,” Steve’s face contorts into an expression at the crossroads of being pained and absolutely blissed out.

While you bob up and down on his cock, making him rasp out an airy cry when he hits the back of your throat, your hand on his backside inches towards his taut, sensitive hole.

He shivers, overstimulated by all three of your actions, “H- hey, angel, you… fuck… y’don’t gotta do th—” His words die on his lips, replaced by a throaty groan as your finger gently circles the tight ring; you moan around him, and he’s a goner, spilling into your throat without much warning.

You were going to leave him with a ruined orgasm, but another idea pops into your head.

“Fuck, fuck m’so sorry,” He’s babbling apologies as his hands fly to your head, holding you down onto his cock, still using your mouth as a personal cum dump. His chest heaves as his high winds down, hands letting up on your head, too.

Back on your feet, you kiss him roughly, but as he allows you in, you’re swapping spit with cum; surprised, he whines into your mouth as he pulls you against him, kissing back with a desperate, pathetic fervor. His fingers dig into your hips, tongue gliding along yours while he tastes himself. As you break the kiss, you murmur against his lips, glistening with the lewd slick, “Swallow.”

With a wicked smile, you step back and watch as he follows your command, adam’s apple bobbing before his mouth falls open with heavy pants.

You stretch up to kiss his cheek, whispering, “Good boy,” before turning on heel, leaving the room quiet, and a breathless Steve who feels filthy.

···························

The next day, you’re up early to catch up on some priorities, including some chores. You’ve got your headphones on while vacuuming, bopping around and (poorly) singing along to I Wanna Dance With Somebody while sweeping the hallway. Both the music and high pitched, droning suction of the vacuum block out any sound, especially Steve sneaking up behind you.

In one swift motion, he pulls your shorts down and pushes into you immediately. The surprise stretch makes you cry out in a little bit of agony, and a whole lotta’ bliss. You’ve got one hand on the nearest wall, while the other keeps you balanced on the vacuum handle as he lifts your leg to go deeper.

Steve rips your headphones off, “Are you always this fucking wet?”

You can’t answer, not with words, not when every and any thought has been fucked out of your head already. All you can do is whimper as your eyes roll back further with each rough slam into you.

The harder he thrusts, the closer you move to the wall, until you’re completely shoved against it. One hand wraps around your hip, the other tangles into your hair to pull you out and bend you over even more. All that holds you up is the wall against your chest, shoulders, and head, along with his grip, departing from their original spots to tug your arms behind your back and restrain them.

“Stevie…”

“This what y’wanted? With your gross, little fantasy?”

You shake your head— not the easiest when you’re shoved against the wall— pouting, and Steve immediately slows down, almost completely. “What’s wrong?”

“More,” is all you can rasp out.

“More… what?” Ever so slowly, he begins to move again. It’s still not enough.

“H- harder,” You murmur, and Steve mockingly hums in understanding, shoving himself to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you.

“Was that it?” He’s asking but he knows the answer.

“Faster,” Your needy little whine is just what he wanted to hear.

His pace picks up, unforgiving while railing into you, “That’s my girl.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Steve to climax, leaving you dripping, without release as he pulls out, satisfied. He swipes two fingers between your folds before they slip inside you, pushing his cum back into your entrance, laughing cruelly at the way you clench around him and groan tiredly.

Steve pulls his fingers out and brings them to your face, tapping your lips with the sticky, pearly slick covered fingers. “Open.” You obey, and gag as he shoves his fingers back farther. They slip back out, and he squeezes your face, mocking you from the night before, “Good girl.”

As he retreats to his room, you’re left alone, still an aroused mess, barely holding yourself up against the wall while trying to catch your breath.

···························

In the last few weeks, you’ve grown more comfortable with less clothing around Steve at home. He’s not complaining, especially later that night, when Steve watches you pass his room with the infamous vibrator in hand. Your outfit of a comfy bralette and shorts earns a double take from him.

“Hey, where ya’ goin’ with that?” He smirks at the bothered look on your face, probably still wound up from being used like a toy earlier, abandoned without your own climax.

“Shut up, Steve.” You grumble, but still stop in his doorway, flicking the switch on the wand on and off. Nothing happens, and you pout. “I think it died.”

“So… put new batteries in?”

“No, it’s like, dead dead. This was the third round of new batteries I put in, and still, nothin’.” You sigh with a shrug, “Eh, good riddance, I guess.”

You’re about to leave when Steve murmurs, “Not like you need it now.” Your face heats up and something pulls in your lower stomach.

“I mean… I do.” You walk away, and Steve follows you out the door.

“Huh? Why? You’ve got me.” It’s supposed to be a teasing joke, but it comes out more sincere than Steve intended.

“I- I’m not gonna just expect you to be in the mood whenever I am and need to… y’know.” Flipping the garbage can lid open, you drop the defunct sex toy into the trash. “Thanks for the memories, you stupid, janky wand.”

Steve snickers, “Yeah, the best memory being the day you needed my help.”

Ignoring him, you grab a glass from one of the cabinets, heading to the sink, but he leans against the edge to block you from the faucet.

Steve smirks; this could be fun. “And no, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

“See, that’s why I like my vibrator. It can’t sass back like a certain someone.”

“There’s many ways to shut a certain someone up.” You shove Steve aside and he scoffs. “Alright, well, next time you need to get off, don’t come crying to me.”

When he leaves, he ends up in the living room, turning the TV on before flopping onto the couch.

You frown and crinkle your brows as you shut the faucet off, muttering in a mocking tone, “Don’t come crying to me. Blah blah blah.”

“Heard that,” Steve flips you off, and from where you’re standing in the kitchen all you see is his arm shooting up above the couch, making you giggle.

“Wasn’t trying to hide it.” You shuffle over to the couch, about to sit on the opposite end of Steve, but he lets his arms fall open lazily, looking at you expectedly. “What?”

“C’mere,” He whines, forcing a pout.

You narrow your gaze, setting your glass on the table. “My vibrator wasn’t this needy, either.”

Steve leans forward, grabbing your hand as he pulls you back down near him. You yelp, landing next to him, fidgeting a bit to get comfortable. “Yeah, well, your vibrator wasn’t this hot, so is it really that much of a loss?” His arm hangs over your hip, while the other reaches for your back; he traces mindless patterns along your exposed skin, prickling as you shiver.

With your back to the TV, its glow slips over you and onto Steve, illuminating his features as the two of you grow into a comfortable silence, as your hands lazily wander his body. It’s only sweet, gentle caresses from the both of you, something you wish you could get used to. Something, a small, mundane detail you wish the two of you had in a relationship.

Except, there is no relationship, and you have to remind yourself often you can’t become more attached and attracted to Steve than you already are.

You’re just friends.

“This is… kinda nice,” He murmurs as you duck your head under his chin, cuddling closer.

Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.

“Y’know, if you ever just wanted to, like, hang out like this… I’m cool with it if you are.”

“‘Hang out’, I didn’t know cuddling had a new name,” He softly teases, embracing your frame. “Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask you something, you got a minute?”

“No, Harrington, I’m actually late for a meeting at…” You turn over to read the wall clock, glancing back at Steve, “… 8:36 p.m. We can reschedule for tomorrow though!”

“You’re the worst.”

“But I’m the best at being the worst, right?”

He doesn’t answer, just gives a drawn out, exasperated sigh before letting his head fall forward, onto your shoulders while he sneakily pushes his pants down. Just enough to free himself. He rests there for a few moments before he pulls the fabric of your shorts aside, teasing the head of his cock at your entrance. You whimper and push back against him right as he guides himself into you. The stretch, as always, renders you silent as you adjust to his size.

“Is this what I have to do when you won’t shut up?” His arm winds around your neck, bringing your back flush against his chest; he’s not choking you, but when his arm flexes around your throat, your walls constrict around him. “Yeah, thought so.”

You wait, but no movement comes. No rocking his hips into you, no slow, teasing thrusts; Steve just lays behind you, buried deep in you, enjoying the way you squirm.

“I wanted to get you off to make up for earlier, y’know, just trying to be a good friend,” The last two words came out with an edge. “Trying to reward you for being such a good little fuck toy,” His arm tightens a bit, adding the tiniest bit of pressure; you throb around him, shuddering. “But now, I think you can just keep me warm instead.”

“Steve, please… I- I‘ll be good, I’ll be so good,” You babble, desperate for some kind of movement, some kind of friction, anything. He tightens his hold on you a little more, laughing breathily into your ear as you try moving. You gasp, “Touch me, p- please?”

“I’m already touching you.”

“That’s not what I mean!” You’ve got a short fuse when he riles you up just to drag out the teasing.

Just like the first time, neither of you know when to quit.

“Okay, so what do you mean?”

Whether it’s from the teasing now, or being used earlier. Maybe it’s both, mixed with the feelings you have for Steve that are getting too overwhelming. Whatever the case, you get pissed off enough to touch yourself instead.

“I didn’t say— ”

“I don’t fucking care what you didn’t say, if you’re not gonna do it, I will.”

Sometimes the tension makes you mean, and it’s something Steve likes, but refuses to admit, with his words, at least.

His throbbing cock inside of you, on the other hand, has no problem telling the truth.

“Well, fine, guess you don’t need me then,” Steve’s arm loosens from your neck as he begins to slip out, but with all of your strength, you reach back to hold him in place. It’s an awkward position, sure to make your arm sore tomorrow. You open yourself up a little more, throwing a leg back over his.

“You’ve been teasing me non-fucking-stop, asshole. Least you can do is stay while I get off.” Your fingers try finding a satisfying pattern to tease your clit with, but you’ve been so spoiled with your stupid toys, and Steve, it doesn’t feel the same. Doesn’t feel as good.

You can feel the smirk Steve makes as he leans against your shoulder, looking over to watch your hand and fingers struggle to keep you blissed out.

“Aw, honey, is it too hard for you?” He kisses the back of your shoulder, then slowly makes his way with more up your neck. Your breath shudders as you clench around Steve, just from his words alone. “Doesn’t feel as good as that toy, huh?”

You can feel hot tears begin to surface; you’re angry that you can’t make yourself feel good, angry that he’s taunting you after trying to take over and show him you didn’t need him.

But you do need Steve, and that’s been fucking with you so much since the first time the two of you kissed. That alone had you soaked, but right now, your own fucking hand isn’t cutting it, and you’re angry at how embarrassing this is.

Sure doesn’t stop Steve from humiliating you, though. “Doesn’t feel as good as my hands, hm?”

You bite your lip, holding back groans of frustration, but Steve can feel how tense you are.

“Must not feel the same as my tongue. Not even close,” he murmurs into your ear, kissing the skin behind it, then back down to your jaw. “No way those fingers can ever feel like my cock.” He nips at your jawline, “I bet you can’t get rid of that ache between your legs, not without my help. You need me, don’t you?”

Steve slides his hands onto your chest, tugging the bralette down before roughly, yet slowly, grabbing you. He pinches your nipples, enjoying the view of you arching into his touch, whimpering as your hand slows down on yourself, defeated.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what, Steve?” You spit through gritted teeth. He grabs your face to bring your attention to him. Something flashes across his eyes at the sight of you near tears, not lust, not desire, but you can’t figure out exactly what it is.

“That you need me.” You tighten around him, already giving your answer. He smirks, but again, something’s hidden behind that dominant exterior, past the pleasure over humiliating you.

What the fuck is he hiding?

“I d- don’t,” You lie, but your wobbling pout gives you away immediately.

“Angel, the sooner you tell me, the sooner I can help you.”

You’ve abandoned touching yourself completely, exhausted and embarrassed. Holding one another’s gaze, there’s a softness in Steve’s eyes that makes you finally break. “I- I need you, Steve. Please?”

One hand still teases your nipple while the other slides down, down, down, reaching your waistband before he pulls out completely, causing you to whine in protest.

“Hang on, angel,” He pulls your shorts off completely, leaving you bare before gently sliding back into you, groaning, “Wanted t’really feel you.”

Sex with Steve has usually been rough, or fast, or both. It’s usually needy with desperation to get off. Sometimes there’s a fantasy one or both of you want to fulfill.

This… this is different. Just like the look Steve held, you can’t figure out what is different, but it’s not bad.

In fact, you might like this the most.

“You want me to move?” Steve asks, and it’s not cocky. It’s not the demeanor he was teasing you with before.

“I don’t— do whatever, just need you to touch me,” Your whining is pathetic, but at least he finally reaches down to where you need him. His fingers slide between your folds, groaning when he meets the slick of your arousal. He’s slow, not painfully slow, rather careful as he thrusts into you. It’s soft, and you can feel every inch of him, really feel him.

“This okay?” His breathy question is just above your ear while he kisses along the shell of it.

“So, so okay.” This position might be your favorite, with the way he’s so deep in you, forcing your eyes to roll back into your head as he fills you completely. You lean back into him, and he takes one look at you before leaning in to kiss you, like he knew what you were silently asking for.

It’s soft, languid, the kind of kisses that make you squirm with a certain need, one he’s fulfilling right now.

Pulling back, his lips barely touch yours when he teases, “You’re s- so tight… y’really like it soft, huh?”

You only answer with a nod and a whimper, leaning in to kiss him again, but he moves back with a smirk. It’s not taunting, for once. He’s just really enjoying how turned on you are right now. How much he’s turning you on.

“I like it w- when we— god, fuck— when it’s…” You’re struggling to find the right words, fucked out already. Steve still watches you, listening intently as he can feel your walls pulse around him “… Intense, but this is s- so— oh!”

It’d almost be embarrassing how fast he can push you over the edge, but it feels far too good to care. You shake against him, tensing up as your head lolls back against his chest, jaw dropped in a silent moan. Then, it finally slips out, and it’s loud.

“Good girl,” Steve murmurs, kissing your temple. “Doing so— fuck— s- so good for me.”

Before you can even rest, he convinces you to let him keep going, give you more pleasure, murmuring how you’re ‘his girl’, how you can take one more, just ‘one more’.

By the third round, Steve’s question is long forgotten by both of you.

···························

“Why am I taking the backroads again?”

“It’s a… nicer ride. Just trust me.”

Steve drove along the lonely, winding road. The sunset began to blanket the sky in hues of oranges, purples, and pinks.

“Okay, but… you know it’s a longer drive this way, right?”

You’re leaning over the seat to unzip his pants, and Steve freezes, but not before hitting the gas by accident. He only speeds up a little before catching himself. “Are you trying to kill us?!”

“I only touched your pants. Are you really that sensitive?”

“I- I just didn’t expect it— I’m driving and trying to be safe.”

“Yeah, and I bet you look both ways before making a turn, too.”

“I do!”

You pull his cock out, half hard already, and waste no time leaning down to lick up the precum already beginning to seep out.

“H- hey!”

You pull off. “What? Don’t want this? I can stop.”

“This- it’s just— unsafe.”

“Is that your only complaint?”

“Well… yeah, I gu— shit- ” Steve tries suppressing a moan as you take him in completely without hesitation, and the sound that leaves him just sounds strangled and pained. He white knuckles the steering wheel while your eyes water, gagging around him.

Not a soul to be found on the roads, and Steve’s still nervous he’ll hit something. Or someone. But you’re humming around him, and making these sweet, little gagging noises, he has to remove a hand from the wheel to pull you off of him.

With his strong hand, he yanks you back, still focusing on driving. “I thought you’d like this,” You pout, backing off as you settle back in your seat. “I’m sorry.”

“I do, but I- I think I like it a little too much. As much as I want you to finish, I need to make sure we get to Robin’s... Um, alive.”

“Okay, well… What are y’gonna do about that,” You point to his crotch, cock still hanging out of his pants, flushed red with need with precum still pearling at the tip.

Steve sighs, exhaling roughly through his nose, thinking for a moment as he drives on. He mutters a quick ‘fuck it’ before grabbing you by the hair to pull you back onto him. He doesn’t miss the mischievous smirk that flashes on your face before he shoves your mouth onto his cock.

“You— mnfph— that’s it, just— oh, g- god— relax, angel, relax that p- pretty throat f’me,” His cock twitches against your tongue, making you moan. “Wish I could fuck your face right now.”

Popping your mouth off of Steve, he catches a quick glance of your lips covered in your spit and some of his own mess, “Fuck…” You wrap your hand around his length, stroking him slowly.

“Kinda wish we did this on the highway instead,” You murmur as your lips attach to his neck, sucking the sensitive skin softly. Steve’s eyes almost flutter shut, but he forces himself to grip the wheel and keep his eyes on the road. “It’d be kinda hot, huh? Trying to do this without gettin’ caught.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Soooooo… If I keep going, can you finish before we get there?”

Steve’s answer comes in the form of his hand on your head, twisting his fingers into your hair before shoving you back down on his cock.

···························

It’s under an hour since you and Steve got to Robin and Vickie’s new place, where she said it’d just be a small, casual housewarming party, and two things have you incredibly bothered right now:

This party is anything but small— you didn’t think Robin even cared about this many people to invite them over.

Steve’s kissing someone else right now.

While wandering around to find Steve and ask if you could leave early, you stumbled upon Steve playing goddamn tongue hockey with someone else.

If it happened when you and Steve were just friends, you’d be happy for him, genuinely. Hell, even if the two of you were FWBs and you had no feelings for him, you’d be thrilled he felt comfortable enough to kiss someone tonight that wasn’t a cis woman.

Shit, you’d even be a solid wing-woman and cheer him on for any action. Yet your feelings for him just turned it all into envy. Nothing but envy coursing through your veins. You had no right to say anything in the first place, because it’s not like the two of you were actually together.

It still didn’t settle your jealousy, or the overthinking triggered by the mixed signals he’s given over the last few weeks. The audacity, too, for Steve to pull this only hours after you fucked… just one hour after you gave him road head—

Yeah, you had to leave, ASAP.

“Hey, where ya’ goin’?!” Robin slurred after you, too drunk to get up and check if you were okay.

So you just call over your shoulder, “This was fun, but I gotta go home!” And you knew damn well you weren’t fooling anyone with the way your voice wavered; you hoped everyone was too drunk or distracted.

The front door creaked open as you hurried down the porch steps, relieved to breathe some fresh air, at the very least. The soft song of the crickets in the woods kept you company.

Your arms are crossed over your chest, shielding yourself from the breezy spring air. You wish you didn’t leave your jacket in Steve’s car, but this was better than having to see him kiss someone else.

Until a familiar BMW pulls up alongside you on the empty street.

Harder to shake than a cold.

Rolling the window down, Steve calls out, “Angel, why are you trying to walk home?”

“Don’t you have a throat to shove your tongue down, or something?”

Steve taps the breaks as he mutters, “Fuck.”

“Surprised y’all didn’t do that, either.” You continue on, and he continues following you in the car.

“Please, just let me drive you back? Don’t have to talk to me or anything.”

“No thanks, I can get home on my own just fine.”

Steve hits the breaks, sighing as he throws the car in park. He steps out of the car, leaning on the roof. “Yeah? What direction is home?” You spin around, walking backwards as you throw your arms out, exasperated.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

He bites his tongue, resisting the urge to say some stupid shit like “Already did”; riling you up wasn’t the answer right now. You angrily point in the direction you’ve been walking, continuing on with all the confidence in your body.

“Try again.” His remark makes you whip around, flipping him off, before marching on in the wrong direction again.

Okay, he deserved that, at the very least.

Steve jogs to catch up to you, though it’s not like you made it very far, stumbling over your own feet. You’re about to lose your balance when Steve makes it to you, just in time, catching you mid-fall.

“Alright, c’mon,” He groans as he attempts to get you stable on both feet, before slinging your arm around his shoulders, and yours around his waist. He guides you back to the car, not giving into your little grumbles and protests as he helps you into the passenger seat.

An agonizing silence settles between the two of you on the ride home, and you’re not sure if you can break the silence without crying. So you don’t. Steve has no problem speaking up first anyway, otherwise, the silence will just send his anxiety skyrocketing.

“I’m sorry,” He sounds sincere, as always. He tears his eyes from the road for a moment to glance at you, only feeling worse when he can really see how hurt you are. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it was like… that. With us, I mean. And I’m sorry.”

“S’fine,” Your voice wavers with weakness, “I know what this was. I- I knew what we were getting into. If anyone should apologize, it’s me, ‘cause I had no right getting jealous.”

Steve forgets his response immediately, pausing a moment to take your words in.

“You were jealous?” He almost sounds pleased to hear you admit this.

Oh, god fucking dam—

“….. No?”

“You literally just said you got jealous.”

“I- I don’t— shut up. You misheard me.”

“Oh, I did?” Steve Harrington can be such a smug and snarky motherfucker sometimes. “What’d you say then? Just wanna make sure I hear you correctly this time, honey.”

You fire back, “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Should I just call you a brat instead?”

“You know what, Steve?” You glance over and he’s still smirking like an asshole. “Don’t talk to me for the rest of the ride. Or the rest of the night.”

His face falls. “Why not?”

You don’t answer, just cross your arms and tilt your view to the window, watching the world pass by.

“Are you really gonna shut me out? Over this?”

Again, you hold back any responses. Let him dig his own grave at this point.

“You’re the one who kept saying we’re just friends.” As he reminds you, his fingers are clutching the wheel tightly, eyes glued to the road. “You’re the one—“

“No, Steve. You are the one who said from the start friends can fuck around. You said ‘what are friends for?’ after you went down on me.”

So much for your petty silence.

“You continued it! You said ‘this is what good friends do for each other’, and that fuckin’ around is just helping each other out. How was I supposed to know you wanted more?”

Steve had a point. You tried lying to yourself that you ended up sending the wrong signals his way.

“I— Look, I’m sorry I kissed someone else. And this doesn’t excuse hurting you, but did you ever think maybe I was doing my best not to fall for you?” As he pulls up to the apartments, he sinks into his seat, sighing. “I should’ve been honest from the start, or maybe should’ve ran out for batteries instead of fucking around with you and both of our feelings to begin with. I’m sorry.”

You’re exhausted and intoxicated, out of energy to continue this. Unable to look at Steve, you mutter, “Can we just… talk about this tomorrow?” There’s no chance for him to answer, because you’re already out of the car and making your way through the lobby and to the stairs.

···························

Steve took his time returning to the apartment, wanting to give you space, but also in case he got upset enough to cry, too.

He was so, so fucked, and now… he fucked everything up. Sure, you didn’t make it crystal clear how you felt about Steve when you could’ve so much earlier. But it’s not like he did any better.

When he enters the shared space, everything’s dark, and quiet. He figures you went to sleep, since your bedroom’s door is closed. To his shock, though, he finds you asleep in his bed.

Maybe you mistook his bed for yours while being drunk and tired. Steve’s unsure if he should sleep on the couch, to give you more space. But maybe you fell asleep here purposefully. Or maybe you waited here for him and eventually passed out, too tired and upset to keep yourself awake.

You’re half covered by the blankets, wearing only your panties and his shirt again, the one you’ve practically stolen at this point. Steve notices your scrunchie still on your wrist, the subtle symbol you’d give if you were in the mood for free use play. He also notices the way your skin is prickling up; you’re definitely cold, but you’re too drunk to wake up and do something about it.

Steve reaches down and slips the scrunchie over your wrist, setting it on the nightstand, then pulls the covers over you. Immediately, you curl into the blankets, making the softest hum of contentment, falling deeper into sleep.

Or so he thought.

As he changes and strips just to his boxers, Steve hesitates, questioning again if he should sleep here, or the couch. Consumed by trying to make the best choice, mainly for you, your hand reaches out and grabs his leg weakly.

“Stay?”

Your eyes are red, both from exhaustion and crying. Steve feels awful.

He also can’t pass up an opportunity to tease you lovingly. “Honey, I appreciate the invite, but this is my room.” Your hand lifts to flip him off. “Yeah, there she is.” He huffs a quick laugh out, before double checking, “Are you sure you want me to stay? I- I can give you space if you need.”

“I need you, not space.” You roll to the other side of the bed, throwing the covers back. “Please?”

Steve felt his heart ache; this wouldn’t make the dreaded conversation any easier by morning, but he didn’t want to say no, because in some backwards way, the two of you need one another right now.

He crawls in next to you, pulling the covers back up over both of you. He holds himself back from reaching out for you, an action that’s become second nature over the last few weeks.

Instead, he asks, “Can I hold you?” Steve hates the way his voice cracks with longing, giving away how awful he felt. For himself. For you. For the both of you. It wasn’t supposed to end up in this strange suspension between lust and love. It should’ve stayed a one time thing, if at all.

Only silence comes from your side of the bed as you’re already falling back asleep. Steve turns over and hopes sleep can come that quick for him, too.

····································

When morning arrives, you wake up peacefully, naturally, and with a major headache.

“Fucking christ.”

You roll over, realizing the other side of Steve’s bed is empty.

Wait. Why am I here?

You didn’t forget last night, but you can’t come up with a good reason as to why you decided to fall asleep in Steve’s bed instead of your own. Not a justifiable reason in sight after the car ride home.

Blinking a few times as you adjust to the bright light, something on the nightstand catches your eye.

It’s a note, with a water bottle and your cute little pipe with a packed bowl. A smile joins your features as you read the note.

hey, angel. figured you might need these for the rough hangover.

if you still wanna talk when I get home, we can. if not, we can do whatever makes you feel comfortable about us. either way, you better stay hydrated today. or else. not sure what the ‘or else’ is yet, but I mean it. drink your damn water.

— steve ♡

While the note, the tiny heart near his name, and kindness behind it made your smile grow, your heart aches at one line.

We can do whatever makes you feel comfortable about us.

It’s sincere and considerate, like Steve is, other than last night, but he didn’t know. He didn’t know you fell for him during all of this, so could you even count that against him?

Steve’s more worried about your comfort in all of this than his own; he always does this, he always puts everyone’s needs and feelings first.

Before you can even fully wake up, you’re reaching for the phone on the table, dialing without much thought. It rings twice before a familiar voice answers.

“Family Vi— ”

“Robin! Is Steve there? Can I talk to him?”

“Yeah, hi to you too,” She deadpans.

“Sorry. Hi. Hi Robin. Hello. Please give Steve the phone, pleaaaaaasssseeeeeee— ”

She scoffs, and you can hear the eye roll she makes, “Oh my god, shut up, shut up. I’ll get him.”

“Thank you!” You’re a little too enthusiastic in your reply. It’s quiet for a minute until you hear someone pick up the other end’s receiver.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve’s immediately jumping into worry mode.

“Nothing’s wrong, why would something be wrong?”

“You never call here. Just… surprised me, is all.”

“Oh… well, look, I- I just wanted to say, about the note—” ”

“Was it too much? I’m sorry if I— ”

“Steve, shut up for a minute. Please.” He pushes a soft, quiet laugh through the phone. You can picture him with his arms crossed, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, leaning against the counter. Robin’s probably rolling her eyes. “We can… we can talk tonight. I didn’t want you to go the whole day worried about it.”

It’s silent on his end, other than distant, soft breaths. “You didn’t have to call. N- not that I don’t appreciate it! Just… y’know. I kinda have an idea of what’s coming. And it’s okay. I just want you to be—”

“Steve, I’m grateful you’re always looking out for me and my feelings, but that’s why I called. I want you to feel comfortable too, okay? Whatever works for you, works for me.”

“I— ”

“Steve, get off the phone! You can talk to your girlfriend later!”

Steve lazily covers the mic, but you can still hear him quip back, “She’s not my— whatever. Give me a minute.”

“Thirty seconds!”

“Jesus, what bug crawled up Keith’s ass?” You joke, earning a sigh from Steve.

“Definitely something annoying, like a mosquito.” He snickers back into the phone before clearing his throat. “Um… can we talk in… two hours? I can come back on my bre— ”

You cut him off anxiously. “Yes. Please. Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Okay, two hours. Yeah. Okay. See ya’ then.” Steve sounds nervous, rushing off the phone before hanging up first.

Two hours. Not that long. You should be fine.

Totally fine.

········································································

It’s been an hour, and you’re ready to move on from chewing your nails nervously, to gnawing your entire arm off.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit much. You’re still nervous as fuck, though. How can you last another hour like this?

You passed up the weed, wanting to be as sober as possible for the conversation, but you hate taking painkillers, so you keep the lights off and throw a pair of sunglasses on; the light is the worst for you with hangovers, but this barely helps.

Even worse, your head’s spinning and the constant stream of thoughts revolving around you and Steve make you dizzy. You stay in his bed, covers pulled up and blinds drawn to keep out the light, with your headphones on to block out any noise outside the apartment. They’re not even plugged into your Walkman, you’re just hoping the barrier of silence helps.

It doesn’t. You hear no sound, but your head is still pounding. Maybe you should’ve smoked after all.

The blankets are yanked back, startling you into a scream. It stops as soon as it starts when you see Steve. He’s chuckling at your reaction, and though you’re relieved to see it’s him and not some monster or masked intruder, your heart’s about to jump out of your chest.

Gently, he pulls the headphones off of you. “Sorry, honey. Uh… why are you wearing sunglasses inside?”

Every time he calls you that, or angel, you feel yourself melt. The hold this man has on you is insane.

“Hangover, lights suck, all that stuff.” You grumble, falling back onto the bed. Steve sits next to you. “I- I thought you said two hours?”

“Yeah… waiting was driving me nuts. So, I, uh, I left for the day.” He rubs the back of his neck, gaze shying away, but not before he notices you’re still wearing his shirt, and not wearing pants.

You’re shocked he pulled that off. “What’d you tell Keith to leave early?!”

“My great aunt’s in the hospital.”

You stifle a laugh, “Steve, didn’t you use that excuse a few months ago?”

His eyes grow wide. “Shit, did I?”

“Oh my god, yeah! You had me call to pretend— whatever,” You crack up, head falling back with a loud laugh. “You gotta keep track of these excuses!” You cradle your own head, wincing from the pain your own loudness brings.

“Hey, you didn’t— ” Steve’s eyes darted to the nightstand, about to tease you for not smoking yet, but you haven't touched the bottle of water either. “Jesus, no wonder your head hurts.”

“I didn’t wanna be high when we talked,” You grumble, about to lay back down, but Steve holds you upward, handing you the water. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You take a sip. “Happy?”

Steve lets you go, running a hand down his face with a sigh. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You’re mid-sip before choking on water, struggling through a cough to ask, “I- I- did you— what did you just say?”

“Uh… good question. You heard that? I said that? Out loud?” Steve rambles a lot, but he’s great at it when nervous. “I think you’re imagining things.”

“Would’ve worked if I was high, but nice try.”

He groans with an eye roll, flopping onto the bed, landing on his back. His hands come up to cover his face, but you pull them back.

“I didn’t want to say it like that.” His admission comes without eye contact as his face burns red. “I wasn’t gonna say it at all, honestly. I kinda figured out this is the end of things anyway.”

“Wait, what? Steve—”

“N- not that it’s a bad thing!” You haven’t let go of his hand, and he’s either completely oblivious or doesn’t want to let go. “I’m— whatever you decide, I’ll respect. We can go back to being friends, or even just… boring roommates, if you want.”

“Okay, but— ”

“And since it’s all out there— not saying this to make you feel guilty, or bad, or anything, but I- I thought these feelings were new, and it turns out I’ve felt this way about you since… probably the first week we lived here.”

Your heart aches, but in the best ways; you need to tell Steve you feel the same.

“Stevie, listen—”

“But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I can move out, if that’s easier.”

If only he’d shut the fuck up.

He’s getting himself worked up, and you wish he’d just take a minute to breathe. “Not, like, forcing that either, because if you just wanna be friends still, I- I’d be more than happy… and lucky to have you in my life still. But that’s- it’s— I’m not trying to—”

You’re growing agitated, wishing he’d give himself some grace. “Steve, take a second to— ”

“And I mean what I said last night, I’m so sorry for hurting you. I thought maybe it’d help distract me, but it just hurt you instead… I just fucked everything up—”

“Oh, for the love of— ” You swing a leg over his lap to straddle him, throwing your sunglasses off in the process. Leaning down, tone dripping with adoration, you murmur, “Steve, shut up.”

You kiss him, hoping this pauses the overthinking. He’s stunned, expecting anything but this. The two of you have kissed plenty of times by now, but this one is everything to him.

Finally, Steve kisses back, earning a smile from you against his lips. You cradle his face in your hands as you feel his run along your back, holding you against him as any uncertainty floats away. Breaking the kiss, you don’t pull away, just admit softly against his lips, “I love you, too.”

He sits up, leaning back on his arms with eyes wide in disbelief, “You- are you- you mean it?”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t suffer through a hangover for just anyone, you know. I wish it didn’t take the whole battery incident— ”

“You mean vibrator incident—”

“Oh, will you shut— it’s all the same! Anyway,” You giggle, a sound Steve adores, one that pulls a smile across his face every time he hears you. “That’s when I realized I had feelings for you. A- and you coming out just to make me feel better about coming out, that really woke me up… and, uh, do not let this get to your big head—”

“My head is not big!”

You narrow your stare, shutting him up. “… When I saw you with someone else, and it made me so jealous, I’ve never felt that with anyone before. I didn’t think it was love until you came looking for my dumb, drunk ass on the street.”

“Someone had to, you were on your way to fucking Canada if you kept walking in that direction.” Steve snickers, but kisses your cheek, softening the blow. You can’t help huffing out a laugh with him; honestly, he had every right to poke fun at your little stunt.

Your voice falls quiet, turns small, “I’m sorry I never said anything earlier, and that I kept pushing that ‘just friends’ bullshit.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” Steve tries steering you away from taking the blame, “You’re a way better kisser than they were.”

You snort, “You’re just saying that.” It doesn’t stop your skin from prickling up, or the heat that blooms across your face.

“I’m not, I promise. You weren’t kidding, they literally shoved their tongue down my throat. You running off gave me an excuse to leave, so… thanks.”

You can’t help teasing him, “What are friends for?”

Steve rolls his eyes for the millionth time before sitting up to push you back onto the bed. He climbs on top, and you tug at the ugly Family Video vest he still has on.

“Babe, get this stupid thing off,” You giggle, tugging it down his arms. He pouts.

“What? You’re not into it? I thought it was kinda sexy,” His brows wiggle with his joke, and you throw it onto the floor, glaring at him. “What if I wore that, and nothing else? Just the vest.”

You’re pulling his shirt off, throwing that to the floor, too. “Then I’d definitely kick you out.”

Steve leans down to you, murmuring, “You’d never.” His lips brush against your jaw, kissing along your face to reach your neck.

“You’re right, but— ” Your breath hitches, holding your words back as he continues to kiss down your neck. “—w-we definitely wouldn’t fuck for a long time.”

“Now that’s a threat I take seriously,” His words against your skin vibrate and tickle, sending shivers up your spine. Then, he stops, and sits back up.

“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” You instantly cringe at how pathetic you sound, but Steve doesn’t tease you for it, just kisses your forehead quickly before leaning over you.

“Sit up,” Confused, you listen as he takes all the pillows around you, cushioning and covering the headboard. As he comes back to you, he pushes you back softly. “Okay— ”

Now it clicks. “Oh my god, I’m not gonna hit my head this time, I swear!”

He smirks, “Better safe than sorry.” Stealing your chance to quip back, his lips are back on yours, and it’s the kind of tender kiss where he likes to draw it out, take his time. The kind that only makes you squirm from the start.

“Hey, what’s got you so worked up?” Steve pulls back, resting his hand on your face; he can feel the goosebumps on your face prickle up against his palm. His touch is warm, soothing, and easy to gravitate to; you’re certainly not immune to leaning into his hand whenever he does this.

“Need you, Steve,” You breathe, legs closing underneath him to try and subside the ache between your legs.

“I wish I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that,” He teases, pushing your legs apart, fixated on the damp patch on the fabric between your legs. You whine, rolling your hips against nothing, only showing how needy you are. “‘Cause if I did, I’d have enough to get you a new vibrator.”

You feign offense with a loud gasp, “I thought you said I wouldn’t need it anymore, ‘cause I have you instead.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just hooks his fingers under your waistband, pulling your panties down. His hands run up your legs, pinning you to the bed as he reaches your hips. It’s not like you were going anywhere to begin with, but the pressure and possessiveness feels… nice.

“You do have me,” The meaning behind his affirmation spreads far beyond sex. “Always.”

You reach for his pants as he leans over you again, “Don’t have you in me yet, though,” You grumble, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. Steve stifles a laugh while you struggle. “Who designed this fuckin’ thing anyway?”

“I thought we were having a sweet moment, but your sailor mouth’s ruining it,” His joke doesn’t make you laugh like he hoped. Instead, you just look frustrated, finally loosening his belt. “Whoa, hey— honey, look at me.”

A sharp exhale escapes your lips while you glance up at Steve, but only for a moment before staring off, “M’sorry.”

“We don’t have to do this, you know that, right?” A finger slips under your chin, gently tilting your face up towards his. Your eyes meet his again, and he gives you the same soft, caring look he gave you a few nights ago. “I’m perfectly content with just hanging out the rest of the day, doing whatever you want.”

“I want to, I really do, I just… ” You try forcing your voice to come out stronger, more certain, but it just cracks as you admit, “I think I’m scared it’ll end so fast.”

Steve thinks back to the first time the two of you kissed, the first time you were fully exposed to him, the first time he went down on you— the first time anyone went down on you, how disappointed you sounded when it was almost over. He remembers telling you it could happen again, that it didn’t have to be a one time thing.

He remembers the way you hit your head against the wall, again, the first time the two of you fucked, and how he told you next time it’d be in a bed, helping you laugh off the clumsiness. You sounded so surprised that you even talked about the possibility of a ‘next time’.

Almost every time after either of you initiated anything sexual, your reaction was always shock and surprise when Steve talked about fucking around again in the future. There were more times where you begged him to not let it end yet, but he thought it was just in the moment.

Steve didn’t realize you meant you didn’t want things between the two of you to end. It wasn’t ever really in the moment. It was a fear you’ve had since the first time he’s touched you, and it’s a fear of Steve’s, too.

“Angel, I’m not going anywhere,” You move up against the pillows as he speaks softly to you, shifting with you to keep you comfortable while staying close. “I can’t speak for you, but on my end, I don’t plan on ending this fast. Or ever… but that- that’s another conversation for another day, okay?”

You nod, slipping your hand into his, “Okay.”

“Point is, this isn’t a one time thing. You really do have me. And when I say always, I mean it.”

There’s no hesitation in your response, “You have me, too, Steve. Always.”

“Let me take care of you,” His hand is cupping your face again, thumb sweeping along your cheek softly. “Get those awful thoughts out of that pretty head of yours. How’s that sound?”

You nod against his palm, hands coming up to hold his forearm as he holds you. “Please, Stevie.” Your eyes fall to his belt before reaching for it. You pull it off, adding it to the pile of his clothes. “That thing is the worst.”

“Won’t wear that one around you anymore, promise,” Steve chuckles as the two of you strip each other from any remaining clothing.

His lips find their way back to your neck, picking up where he left off with the gentle kisses. Your hands wander his body, tracing along the dips and curves of his toned arms. It’s easy to lose yourself in the scattered freckles and moles all over, making up constellations, a galaxy of his own. What brings you back is the breathy moan made from his touch along your folds.

It’s one finger, then two, and you’re arching your back, pressing yourself against him, dizzy from shallow breaths as he finds your sweet spot. His long fingers have no problem reaching where you need him most, not struggling the way you do when you touch yourself.

Steve starts kissing down your body, but you grab him by the shoulders. “You okay?”

“Stay with me,” You gasp as he continues fucking you on his fingers. “I- I don’t— it feels good, but I wanna cum with you instead.”

A blush creeps along Steve’s face as a lazy smile curls up. He makes his way back to you, retracing his kisses with new ones, of course. When he rests his forehead against yours, his hand’s still between your legs.

“Still wanna make y’feel good first,” Steve’s thumb softly swipes over your clit while he continues working his fingers, curling them just right. “You can cum twice, you’ve done it before.”

Your fingers twist through his hair, bringing him towards you as you close the gap, trying to kiss him the way he was kissing you. Your hips roll onto his fingers, feeling your legs shake and your walls constrict around him.

Steve pulls back, admiring the way your face twists in an expression of beautiful agony, so, so close to the edge. He leans down to murmur into your ear, “That’s it, angel, let go for me”. Other praises follow, but you’re just at the point of no return, unable to hear him as you finally reach your high, a strangled moan slipping between your lips with ease.

Aftershocks roll through your body while you pant shallow breaths, vision a little fuzzy from your eyes squeezing shut, and Steve kissing your temple, then your cheek, with more gentle praises, ones you can faintly make out.

You’re barely settled, still in the comedown, but you’re pulling Steve closer, “Fuck, I love you.” He beams, knowing already he’ll never get tired of hearing that from you.

He spreads your legs, but stops to study your expression. Checking on you, he asks, “Are you sure you can handle one more?”

“Uh-huh,” You try to giggle, still breathless as you nod. “As long as it’s with you.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but you know him, he loves the corny little remarks you shoot back and forth. You know him. You know him so well by now, because he’s yours. And you’re his.

“Hey, angel?” He’s admiring your figure, still catching your breath, already blissed out with hooded eyes, and the sweetest smile he’s ever seen on your face. He lines up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he leans back down to you with a lingering forehead kiss.

“Y- yeah?” You shudder out, adjusting to him all over again. His hand slips into yours, fingers lacing together before he gives a gentle squeeze.

“I love you, too.”

The first night you had together, when Steve offered to help, it wasn’t meant to just be a one and done kind of fling. Maybe it felt like it back then, and maybe even last night, while the two of you fought over your feelings, it felt like it should’ve been an arrangement that ended long ago. But now? Now, everything’s so sure. Everything’s so certain.

With Steve, everything’s crystal clear.

It only takes the first thrust for the two of you to meld together with ease. It’s almost effortless, the way you and Steve can flow into and with one another. You’ve never felt like this with anyone else, never felt so comfortable, so at home within someone’s embrace, never felt such safety to be yourself completely.

At the same time, both you and Steve give each other the same, cheesy line, “feels like you’re made for me.” While neither of your movements stop, the two of you burst into a fit of laughter. Steve buries his head into your shoulder, while his shoulders shake along with the noise. Your arms wrap around him, laughing even harder when he realizes he can feel you laugh while deep in you.

“Hey- h- hey wait, waitwaitwait!” He can’t control his laughter, and neither can you. “Every time you do that it— fuck!” He’s trying his hardest to calm down, hoping you can, too. “You gotta stop doing that, I can- you- fuck, you’re so tight.”

You cover your face with your hands, trying to kill your giggles, and slowly it works, leading Steve to calm down, too. With a quick kiss to his chin as he lifts his head, you flip on top, riding him immediately.

Any laughter still at the back of Steve’s throat dies instantly as you grind down onto him. You finally find a steady, slow pace to roll your hips; there’s no rush, there’s no fear it’ll all disappear when the two of you finish. It’s just you and Steve, nothing else, no one else.

No distractions or kinks or secrets, just the two of you, together.

“Honey, m’not gonna last if you k- keep this up,” he breathes, strong hands on your hips, gently guiding you along.

“S’okay, I- I’m close,” You whimper, hand splayed against Steve’s chest. “A- and we can just— ” You sharply gasp, walls constricting around him. “we got all the time in the world, Stevie. You have me, always.” Your head tilts back as pleasure consumes you both, feeling him throb while your legs shake.

Before the two of you reach that sweet high together, you faintly hear Steve respond, “Y’have me, too, angel. Always.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #my fics #crystal clear #*slaps post* this baby can fit SOOOOOOO much angst in it

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

Text

She’s Trouble

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: Tired of trailing behind, feeling like you don’t matter much, you decide that 86’ isn’t only going to be your bestfriend’s year.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word count: 16,185

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of drug usage, blood, NSFW, smut, drinking, Eddie is angry and sad in this, masturbation, slight voyeurism, breeding kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, angry sex, creampie, angst, fighting, rough sex, Dom!Eddie, and MORE!

A/N: I started writing this based off the scene of Eddie smirking at the cheerleaders he lets by after his cafeteria speech. And, well… it’s spawned itself a new life and turned into a whole lot more than I planned. But so is the life of an author, am I right? ;) Eddie is a dick in this, Reader is a lot more vocal than I’ve written before. I wanted to do something a bit different and I hope this accomplishes my mission?

I wanna thank @littledemondani for helping me out of my brain fart on which direction to take this! Also, do check out her masterlist, which is pinned at the top of her blog (it won’t let me link it here). She’s an incredible author and a fellow Eddie Munson slut, and one of my longtime best-friends! ♥️

Side note: I’ve also shifted a few things in the timeline of the show, for obvious reasons. The whole Eddie/Chrissy thing doesn’t happen on the same night as in the series. Chrissy and the reader have a good interaction and Eddie is a dickhead, but his reasoning will be explained. Also, while the reader is wearing a bustier top, this is an all inclusive fic, where the reader can be anything you imagine! I believe anyone can wear anything that they choose to—regardless of their size, so don’t let that bit of the story deter your perception, as I’ve left it open-ended! ;)

Enjoy! I’ve got a lot coming up soon! Part twos of multiple fics, prompts, plus other goodies! <3 - Kristen

~*~

You watch the way that he tries to be cute and coy towards them, attempts to impress with a dramatic wave through of his hand. Short skirts, tight little tops, bouncing ponytails, and a shitload of generic gossip on their painted lips—they pass by, everything included but those damned pom poms. Apparently they are giddy at his little show of calling out every group but your own in the cafeteria. Your eyes roll so hard that you feel a protesting sting, ignoring it to stab your fork into whatever creation is wiggling on your lunch tray. All the guys—freshman to seniors, and you—the only girl since founding, and Hellfire Club’s treasurer/manager to Corroded Coffin—make up the outsider table.

This year, however, you’ve felt so fucking off base with this group and their antics that you’re getting exhausted pretending to care about their shit when they don’t respect you or yours. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are always the sweetest to you, even with Lucas joining a sport, he’s still quick to always give you a smile and a nod whenever you pass him in the halls. They’re young, unlike Eddie and the older guys. You’re finally a senior this year, but still behind your bestfriend by a year in age. All this used to be okay, Eddie multiplying how much he repeats the grade, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy without any brain of her own, but now—it’s unbearably smothering.

And thus, it’s been building. You’re over bringing chips that are from your personal stash and using your gas to go buy smokes with your small work paycheck, or clean equipment for Eddie’s band, or stay up all night just to design campaign posters for Eddie, only for him to be so fucking stoned that he doesn’t even appreciate it, nor remember it.

“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.

“So fake,” Gareth agrees, both looking towards Eddie as he settles himself back down, wiggling his brows at you.

It’s an unsettling pressure that boils inside you, crackling, and as soon as you look into your best-friend’s brown doe eyes—it all comes apart. “You wanna talk about fake?” Your chest pumps a rush of adrenaline, helping careen the words off your tongue before you can stop them. Everyone’s attention snaps quicker than you’re prepared for, eyes wide and shocked. Sure, you’re vocal and sassy, but never outwardly angry. “The fact that all of you will condemn the basketball players, but would give up any of your seats at our table for one of the bitches in a skirt that they chase, if they popped their gum or batted an eyelash. You’d all be a bunch of drooling, little horndogs.” You can feel your heart racing with each pronunciation of a word, rising from your seat, knuckles white from gripping the edges of your yellow tray so hard.

You hear Dustin whisper a ‘whoa’, but your vocal vomit doesn’t stop.

“Frankly? I’m fucking sick of all this.” You pick the tray up and slam it down for good measure, unwrapping your messenger bag from around your seat, and you leave the table of gaping young men behind you, not even indulging yourself in Eddie’s bugged out, concerned stare.

You don’t even have time to throw your bag across your chest, when Jason Carver shouts out from behind you, “Damn, look at Munson’s slut go!”

It seems your group aren’t the only ones taking an interest in your outburst. Your breath is engorged in jagged pants of pitiful air, a fire coursing through you faster than you can handle, your skin singing, prickling with goosebumps. Your cheeks redden in humiliation, your feet swiveling and carrying you, fast and quick to their table, you throw your bag off, body like some damned slow motion track. Everyone notices Eddie’s antics, but you’ve never garnered any attention. It’s a surreal high.

Your combat boots click across the cement flooring, your hair like a dead weight across your back. Carver and his entire group are expectant, chairs scraping across to get out of your way. It’s all such a blur that you don’t even know your fist has collided with Jason’s face until you feel the pressure bite into your knuckles, a crunch beneath your force. He shrieks, his friends jumping to his aid, your stance shifting, ready to take anyone on. Your ears are bubbling with a murky static, applause in some direction, shouts in others.

Your name is being shouted from two different directions, the one you see stomping angrily towards you belonging to principal Higgins. He’s calling for help, shoving his finger in your face, motioning to your shirt. “This Hellfire Club does nothing but cause trouble!”

You snort, completely coming off your hinges, shaking the ends of your shirt, before stepping back and flinging it over your head, leaving you clad in your jeans and a leather bustier top no one could ever picture you owning. You’ve always kept your shit to a minimum to draw less attention, but you liked the support it provided your breasts with. You spin around, hands in the air, using the shirt as a lasso, tossing it at your old table. You begin to giggle, honestly wondering if you should visit the school nurse, but uncaring. Higgins is literally sputtering, making you snort, waving a hand. “I’m a slut, I’m trouble. Anyone have anything else to add? No? Yes?”

You bend back over to snatch your nap sack up, motioning to Higgins. “Lead the way to your office, Sir! Please fucking do.”

The pep in your step as your principal is angrily leading you from the masses is such a euphoric feeling, you’re sure you’ll never feel again in your life. You can taste the drama on your tongue’s tip. You don’t even spare your friends a glance, not wanting Eddie to have a morsel of satisfaction. This is your moment. Not as Eddie Munson’s best-friend, not as his groupie. As Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.

~*~

Eddie Munson has been clutching your discarded Hellfire shirt, doused in your perfume that is brimming his nostrils full, damn near trembling for the past twenty minutes that finish up lunch. He can’t move, that swelling between his legs keeping him glued to his seat, all the images of your fist soaring into Jason Carver’s face, ripping off your clothing in front of Higgins and the entire damned school. He went from concerned, angry at how you acted, to so fucking turned on that his stomach knotted up, sucking him to where he’s seated, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He’s never seen you like this.

The guys are silent, unsure what to say, how to even go about comprehending the you they just saw, that even Eddie himself has never heard of. He knows one thing for sure—okay—two. He has to find out if you’re okay and what’s going on.

~*~

You roll your eyes at the lovely note, signature of a three day suspension secured by Higgins at the bottom. Crumbling it up, you slide it into your back pocket, rifling through your pin tattered bag for a cigarette. You already know where you’re gonna go, and it sure as hell isn’t home. No one is there and no one is gonna care about your minor indecency. You can forge your mom’s signature, much like you do every good grade you bring home that she’s never around to see, or every comment from a teacher about how your folks are missing out.

It’s quiet at your house, your space. You parents more or less sleep there when they’re not gone on business. Pinching the filter, you cup Eddie’s stolen Zippo, that ashy hiss helping beckon that sweet bitter taste in past your lips. You don’t desire that home front solace right now, craving different scenery.

Maybe I’ll get lost…

You feel like Hawkins is your oyster, and you’re eager to explore on your own terms, by yourself. You’ve got your smokes, your pocket knife, and a pen and paper. That’s enough for you to make a decision.

Skull Rock it is.

~*~

One thing about Indiana is the ever predictable bite of hot weather that March brings. Spring is automatically Summer in the Midwest, and this is no different. Your leather top had stuck to your skin in an uncomfortable crunching press, making you eventually discard it, leaving you topless, your only accessories a chain with your birthstone pendant and a thicker silver chain, with a cheesy little guitar charm (a present from Eddie) nestled between your breasts. Your form is shaped against the rock behind your bare shoulder blades, a cool sensation that has you tilting your head back, stretching your neck, treetops breezing above you—tall and luscious. You smile softly, undoing the flap on your bag and seeking out your Walkman and sunglasses.

In moments your eyelids are fluttering closed, shielded from sun rays, your Walkman clicking in place, readying Heart’s Barracuda to nick your ears, coasting in welcomed caresses. It’s not thick heavy metal, but it’s you. And in the serenity of these woods, another cigarette you allow yourself—you begin to drift off in a galactic solitude that is solely your own. You’d learnt how to count beats, read sheet music, even sing a few notes from Eddie, so getting into your song’s groove isn’t hard for you, your fingers wrapping around your chain, tapping underneath the swell of your breast along with the chorus. You’re off the precipice and gone, demolished to the point you don’t hear the familiar footsteps, the sound of your name, or leaves and dirt crunching beneath white Reeboks, nor do you hear a throat-deep groan at his discovery.

~*~

Eddie and you always share this in synch kinda shit, which creeps a lot of people in your circle out. Eddie, however, welcomes it today. When he couldn’t find you after abandoning his lunch, spent what was left of the day attempting, only for Henderson to tell him he’d heard you’d been suspended for a few days—he made it his personal goal to find you. Your parents are gone so he knows the times you do and don’t like to be at home by yourself. And with the way you lashed out at everyone, you won’t go anywhere he has easy access to.

That leaves one place. Skull Rock.

~*~

The drive feels shorter to Eddie this time, but the walk longer. He has to shed himself of his denim and leather, tossing it over his shoulder and clambering up the path towards finding you, keeping your club tee in his back pocket. The more he walks, the more he wishes he brought a drink or his smokes, which remain on his dash. If he’s wrong and you’re not here, he isn’t sure if this is reality anymore. This day has been one big mindfuck.

Thankfully, as he hears a loud tone droning over the clearing, a soft hum, his heart patters in his chest, nostrils inhaling sharply. He rounds the corner’s pathway, already calling your name, his eyes widening, jaw unhinged, fists clenching at his sides. You’re reclining against the boulder’s curve, black shades perched over your eyes, hair draped across your neck, your boot clad ankle crossed over the other, a cigarette perched into your puckering pair of lips, your layered chains swaying, slumbering against your skin, and fuck—your tits, Eddie winces, gripping himself to adjust—frozen.

He can’t not notice how your nipples are reacting to the air. He can’t not detail your shape, how your waist is formed, zeroing in on the baby bat you’d gotten to match his larger ones, inked into your ribcage, and he certainly isn’t forgetting your jeans that are settled over your hips. His eyes glaze over, heat prodding his flesh, shrouding him a veil of desire and raw ache. You don’t notice him, calls of your name falling on mainstream rock’s ears. He doesn’t think approaching you is smart, like a cat and mouse, your behavior for once—unpredictable.

Has Eddie just not been paying attention to you that much lately?

Suddenly, when he’s debating a cowardly retreat, baiting his internal monologue for an excuse, your audible gasp is heard, his name crushed between your gritted teeth.

Fuck.

~*~

In all of his glory—stands your best-friend. He’s balling and un-balling his fists, eyes darting rapidly, tongue sucking against his teeth, feet ready to carry him far away. And the more he avoids your stare, the angrier you get. So what, you’re not good enough to look at because your breasts are out? Modesty to a back burner, you take your crossed arms off your chest, scraping your smoke out on the rock, pushing your glasses into a perch upon your head, body facing Eddie as you stand.

I dare you.

Your eyes complicate a challenge—craving him in your proximity, and hating his grunge blanketed sight. Eddie’s neck is a really pretty thing when he tenses, his jugular agitated against a harsh gulp of air. He answers you by meeting you in the clearing, palms sweaty, scrubbing over his back pockets. It’s a cool damned drink of water, as if you’ve been without, making thee Eddie Munson squirm. But he’s still your best-friend, and you are half naked.

Covering yourself back up so he will look you in the eye, you tuck your arms into a push beneath your sternum, forearms shielding your nipples. It’ll have to do.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” You snap before he can voice a concern or a question.

Tethered to deep breathing techniques, Eddie is insulted, and is biting back in his acidic response. “After your own personal talent show antics at school, I was worried about you. Excuse-the-fuck-outta-me, Y/N.”

A bitter laugh comes from you. “Oh, you’re focused enough on my shit to actually be worried about me? How kind of you, Edward Munson.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Eddie is raising his voice, sizzling in a cautious rage. He’s usually happy-go-lucky with you, but you’re pushing these fucking buttons he isn’t aware he’s been hiding.

“You really need a list of reasons? Wait,” you say, moving to circle him, pinching your thumb between your teeth, “you’re probably, completely oblivious, because I’m just Y/N. I’m not your club, not your band, not one of your groupies that flounce around for an ounce from you, then leave your ass for their jock boyfriends.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raises a hand, rings clattering together. “When the fuck did all this start, Y/N?”

Your arms fall back at your sides with a loud ‘thump’. The heating has settled, your high wearing off, truth remaining as to why you’ve been upset in the first place. A caverning hurt carves its place into your chest, igniting an anguish that drowns you. You’re defeated. “It started when my best-friend forgot that I’m my own person and not his servant. Or maybe it began when my person was so stoned that he barely acknowledged a test I fucking flunked to stay up and make his campaign posters—which, may I add—he also gave zero fucks about-“

“So all this is because I didn’t kiss the very ground you walk on for some posters that you practically begged me to make, and wow—your A+ average went to an A. Curse me into the deepest depths of hell, please.” His bracelet slides down his wrist as he palms his heart.

Maybe you’re not the only one who is changing. Eddie hasn’t ever disregarded you in such a crude manner. Your tongue is practically salivating in need to layer on biting and cruel words, things you won’t be able to come back from. You remain silent, mulling over what to say, glaring, docked, stinging prickles of tears. It’s an elating elevation when the words do come. “I’m your best-friend, Eddie. Not your little groupie. I’m tired of you preaching about conformity, when all I do is conform to you. You don’t ever let me pick music, you always take for granted I’ll give you and the guys rides when your van isn’t working, despite if I might have something to do that doesn’t involve an all male ensemble. I spend my money to buy you cigarettes and snacks for the meetings. I manage gigs, I clean your band’s equipment.”

Eddie sniffs, looking pointedly at you, doe eyes dark and growing increasingly fed up. “Didn’t know you were keeping a tally, Y/N.”

“That’s… That’s all you’re taking from everything I just said to you, Eddie?” You can’t keep that hurt out of your tone this time.

Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms, coldly spitting out, “Seems to me like you’re sick of me. And that’s not my problem, that’s yours.”

Your head is swimming in turmoil, all your acting out and emotions swirling into a mindfuck. He doesn’t care. You’re standing here finally pouring your entire soul out in heaps and your person is pouring gasoline on the pieces, dangling a match.

“I’ve never kept a tally, Eddie. I do these things because they make you happy, and that makes me happy, but it fucking sucks when you don’t appreciate them or care about anything in my life, either.”

“That’s what you really think, Y/N?” There’s a flatline in how he’s speaking to you.

“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He kicks at the ground with the toe of his shoe, brows raising. “Breaking Jason Carver’s nose and my cold, dead heart.” He splays a hand across his chest. Those rings, which are always a comfort to you, reflecting off the sunlight, dripping in judgement.

Your trembling wavers, crackling sentence structure falling apart. “Eddie. Don’t.”

“No. Fuck you, Y/N. Seriously, fuck you!” He shouts, snapping a finger in your direction.

Your hands rub up and down your goosebump soaked skin, finalizing what you need to do. Heaving in a deep breath, a sentence escapes your lips. And you pray, pray Eddie will heed this warning and value what you have enough to understand, to work it out. “Maybe it’s time to fess up to the fact that 86’ needs to be a bigger year for us both.”

Mind reader. A power you’ve never wanted more than in this moment as you claw at the cusp of your best-friend’s reaction. Outwardly, Eddie shifts, Adam’s apple bobbing, thumb swiping underneath his nose. Your mouth waters, throat reflexes threatening a fountain of vomit. And Eddie takes your warning, slaying through it, every bit of ground beneath your boots threatening to cave in.

“You’re right. Hell, Carver is right. You do act like my slut. And you have every right to change it, because it’s only holding us both back. And it probably has been for a long time.”

Kicking you would’ve hurt less. You’re unable to see Eddie’s form longer, muddled to a watery silhouette, your brave bravado dissipating. You won’t beg him. You’re nothing to him anymore, he’s just confirmed. You try not to think about the first time he taught you how to dance before your first snowball, or how you both snuck Jim Hopper’s cigarettes when you’d get in trouble at school and be sent to see him for minor misdemeanors, or Eddie’s pride when he managed to get you on stage to sing one song with the band, rubbing circles on your back the whole time you both sang to a trio of drunks, or splitting beers on his van’s roof and nearly breaking limbs when it started raining and you had to climb down, how he taught you to drive in the fancy neighborhood and you knocked over the mayor’s mailbox, when you watched him buy his ‘sweetheart’, tears in his eyes at a possession so gorgeous and all his own, his hands gentle as they held you the nights you cried from one stupid thing that felt massive to you, when he was your person and you were his.

Your wet, quivering breaths are what you hear. Birds chirping, wind rustling, even Eddie’s heavy breathing drowned out. It takes what feels like eternity, before Eddie is slashing the quiet, guarded and stoic. “You need to put a fucking shirt on.”

Your jeans are covered in tear drops from a bowed head, fingers shaking hard enough that your knuckles roll into a crack at the motions. You wipe your tears in time to see Eddie hold out your Hellfire shirt—second edition—his being the first. His reverie breaks briefly, and you think… maybe. It’s gone in those brown eyes that you can no longer read or recognize. Filled with loathing and disgust at you, his last words imprinting on your psyche, a physical recoil.

“On second thought. You won’t be needing this anymore.” Eddie makes his way around you and finds his lighter atop your bag, flicking a flame to life and nudging it at the end of your shirt. It catches quick, burns fast, like every fiber of friendship with Eddie Munson.

Eddie tosses the tattered, charred remains to the forrest floor, pocketing his lighter, walking away from you and out of your life.

~*~

He can’t stay any longer and watch you fall apart, not when he’s running away from his cowardice. And he does, run. He moves and clambers, stumbles until he’s from you and the cries that he hears pour off your lips. His chest is thumping sporadically, pulse in his blurry vision. His five fingers catch a tree, slamming, splintering, a sob breaking free of his tear soaked lips.

Eddie Munson forces himself to remember how unsure you looked in your dress when he held you around your waist, never feeling more himself in his entire life than he did with you— at thirteen—during some cheesy school dance, how you entertained his tunes so he could teach you the counting method he uses for his music to move your feet to the beat, all your encouragement every time he hit a new note, or your midnight phone calls to ask what he’d like on his posters, your body trusting him to keep you safe on those nights when everything became too much for you in your life, but you had tried to hide it, or when you both snuck in to see Carrie when you were pre-teens and you couldn’t sleep without him, so he made a makeshift mattress next to your bed for a month, about that time you were so tired from an all nighter that he had walked into his room and found you curled up in his bed, using his vest as a makeshift pillow, your nagging him to study more, because he’s always capable of anything he sets his mind to, and those cookies—the only thing you can bake without having to call for Hawkins fire department—a container you’d brought for him and his Uncle, still sitting on his kitchen counter.

He was your person and you were his. And now? You’re gone. Eddie runs away. He keeps running, leaving you to your own miserable anguish, drowning in his own, getting himself in his rust bucket and going back to his trailer to get completely fucked outta his not-so-right mind.

~*~

By the time your suspension is over and you can no longer barricade yourself into your room and finish off another bottle from your dad’s liquor cabinet—it’s sheer dread. You’re not only the freak who broke Hawkins Highschool’s Prom King’s nose, but you’re the freak without anyone by your side—a true and thorough outsider. As you stand outside your school, nails pinching into already weakened threads dedicated to your bag’s strap, you’re really regretting those couple of drinks this morning and how you’d poured more vodka into a flask to take your Tylenol with. Hell, it’s not like you can get a fix from the school dealer anymore, is it?

Those damned double doors are louder, a jolt to your already throbbing headache, fluorescent lights sparkling in your retinas through your shades that cover a nursing hangover and distraught, red and puffy eyes from a three day sob fest. Each step your boots make sounds like you’re walking to your death, your outfit—sans any Hellfire related attire—is all yours. Your two chains limited to one, Eddie’s gift waiting in a cardboard box you’d half-assed assembled, and tossed in random shit he’d given you. The deeper you get into every hallway, making simple turns you know like the back of your hand, your nausea grows as to what might be awaiting around each corner. Or who. It’s a short lived relief upon arrival at your locker.

You pinch your shades off, raw eyes protesting the moment fresh tears staple your skin in brushes. In red letters, diagonally capitalized across your door contains what you haven’t wanted to face since it happened.

The freak got dumped

You choke on your salvia, throat wet and enduring a suffocation strong enough to have you gagging on the piece of toast and water you’d forced your famished form to consume this morning. You barely make it into the toilets before double over and expelling everything, diaphragm on fire, bones vibrating through tosses. Hair dangling in your face, plastered to your mouth, you sniffle and tremble, vision blurring. You ponder getting yourself fucking expelled, but you made this whole ordeal about it being your year. If you retreat now, what will that do? Mustering all your strength, your courage, you flush your bile, clean off your mouth and face, pop a mint, take a swig out of your flask, and make your way to your first class.

~*~

By the ever popular lunch time, you have managed to clean your locker and pinpoint the culprit (an ashamed that a girl broke his nose, Jason Carver), but neither of you speak on it. You keep your head down, you focus on your school work, you take your Tylenol, and you sip on your vodka. Enough to keep an edge off, but not enough to send you down a despairing hole filled with regret and torment. You know you’re being stared at as soon as you hit the line to get your tray. It’s fake smiles and refusal to acknowledge it that gets you in search of an aisle, and hopefully out of sight. You aren’t so lucky…

“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You hear an all too cheery voice belonging to Dustin Henderson. It halts you in your tracks, a wince causing a physical recoil.

It’s not his fault you and Eddie no longer have anything resembling a relationship, and he apparently has not told them, and they’ve not seen Jason Carver’s masterpiece.

Good.

What isn’t good is that Eddie is very much at your old table and you know it’s unavoidable. You wished you had borrowed some concealer for your under eyes, but it’s too late. There’s a grand staircase cloaked in invisibility beneath your feet, your stomach knotting in crushing vices, your cheeks stained with red. You walk to your former friend group, trying like hell not to side eye Eddie Munson. Keeping a steady focal point without blinking against your scratchy lower lids is damn near impossible. And guys are going to be guys—much to your chagrin. Gareth is drawing further attention where nothing needs to be, popping off with a, “Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.

Biting the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you shrug a shoulder. Better them having knowledge of your binge drinking celebration than knowing about how messed up you are.

Don’t look at Eddie. Is your mantra for today.

He, on the other two hands, is not prioritizing that same aspect.

“So what if I did? I know of about ten girls who can drink your asses under the table, myself included.” You smirk, gripping your tray’s edge.

“Been holding back on us?” Gareth is grinning from ear to ear. It eases your shouldered weight tremendously, breaking tension in your table’s ranks.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” Mike Wheeler interrupts, his hands flipping towards a desired target, one that you wish you could keep pretending you never knew.

Fuck it.

You really crave for some divine intervention to help you, because meeting those chocolate brown eyes that are distraught, angry, and rimmed red—your heart constricts to painful blows, windpipes crushed beyond speaking capabilities. Eddie’s been somewhere off planet earth with that kinda high, you remember seeing his demeanor that way only a handful of times, including this one. Maybe he does care? No, doesn’t matter, don’t go there. It’s over and done.

Still, that idiotic, massively moronic part that Eddie owns of you—it’s billowing hope. Eddie Munson dashes it in seconds flat.

“No.”

You glance away, jaw twitching to control an automatic quiver. Dustin is laughing it off as a joke, someone else asking why. Eddie reclines his legs in your empty chair, loud enough to get your attention back. He wants me to see.

“No traitors.” It’s a simplistic answer, aggressive, no room to argue.

Ever-the-curious-freshmen, Dustin and Mike peg their leader for questions. You halt it, tone breaking apart, fingers tucking into your shirtsleeve as you balance your lunch on one hand and wipe across raw flesh to clean fresh tears from your eyeline. That’s when Eddie does look away.

Coward.

“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.

“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.

“I won’t be around meetings or practices anymore, but I’m still here if anyone needs anything, okay? You know where my locker is, and where I live.” You pat yourself on the back for that robotic but truthful statement.

“Unless you’re sick of everyone else too…” His deep voice rumbles.

Like a deer in headlights— you’re frozen, a blinding rage of hurt and red hot anger pouring over you in a storm. You explode. Picking up the first thing in your sight, which happens to be on your plate—a glob of some chocolate goop (possibly a brownie)—it’s slung directly at your former best-friend’s crisp white Hellfire shirt. Your second cafeteria incident that, yet again, everyone notices. Eddie yelps, shouting out your name in brisk spits.

You further it, abandoning your food in a repeat of days ago, floating to his side and shoving him back two steps. Eddie stops his rapid shirt swipes and immediately presses his form into yours, chests smashed, food squishing through your top. His hair is frazzled from the humidity, his toffee colored irises slowly polishing into a thick black gloss of dilated pupils. He sucks his tongue against his teeth, swaying into you, not touching you with those hands, an air about him that is beginning to swarm your initial reaction and bend it over, fucking it into the next decade. He’s taller than you remember, but you latch onto your own, tasting that cigarette soaked breath, lips hovering over his, hot tears matting your lashes.

Whether it’s regarding his inability to respond to your reasoning for this whole situation, his lack of expression, your self-disappointment for something roused inside you at his huffing proximity, you crown him with a title off a jagged voice box, damp in her sorrows, just as Dustin steps between you two, gently prying. “You’re a fucking coward, Eddie Munson.”

Teachers are starting to flock in, and you shake your head, hand over your eyes briefly, before sprinting in strides from the room in search of a place to collapse.

~*~

If you had told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you’d be in a camaraderie with the girl’s bathroom—you would have laughed. And if your mind had convinced you otherwise, you’d have expected Eddie to be right beside you, arm around your shoulders, sharing his lunch, making stupid jokes, coming up with lame ideas to make you feel better, but in that endearing Eddie Munson kinda way. You let out a soft cry, giving up on that stinging beneath your lids. You’re a hot mess and the whole building probably knows how alone you really are now. When the outcasts cast you out, where else can you go?

Clenching onto the sides of the ceramic sink, bag slipping off your shoulder and onto the floor, you keep your head bowed between your shoulder blades, not noticing someone come in and approach you, a gentle set of fingers laying upon your shoulder. Through foggy vision you can make out the green colors of her uniform and her perfectly straight ponytail, her face seemingly concerned. Your laugh is exhaustion on steroids, expression bombarded with emotion. “Okay, what the fuck is next? A girl craves some independence and the whole school turns against her. Let me guess, your boyfriend sent you to get even? Why don’t I make it easy for you and you can call your friends in here, and… and—“

Great.

Your lungs start to burn, your ribcage pounding with an erratic heartbeat, throat feeling like it’s been dusted with a thick blanket of ash. You’re panicking in front of Chrissy Cunningham. That alone has you feeling more pathetic than ever before in your life, and it worsens your heaving sobs—broken and unguarded. Chrissy’s eyes are drinking you in, irises glossing over with tears of her own. She grasps your other shoulder and squeezes, not releasing her hold on you, her soft voice strong when she speaks, but gentle enough between the expanse of your shared airspace.

“One, two, three, four. Okay, now deep breath in, and release it for me, Y/N.” She’s actually calming you, keeping you steady on your feet, which feel as if they’re sinking into the flooring below like led weights.

“Chrissy…” You aren’t sure how to articulate, still alarmed and attempting to breathe with her.

“I’m right here. Just keep breathing and counting with me.” And you do. And that’s when it hits you.

She has experience with this mind numbing panic too. That otherworldly anxiety. You feel a connective pull towards the cheerleader—seeing—not this persona you’d imagined, but her calming features, her easy going manner towards you, how she lets you find your lifeline, but also lends you her own in case you need it. When your breathing slows, she gives you a look, a silent communication of question. You may be able to breathe a little easier now, but it doesn’t stop the weight of your situation from crashing down and demolishing what’s left of you.

“Can I… I’m gonna hug you, is that okay?” At this point, if she’s going to put a sign on your back you don’t care. You need the human connection, the comfort. You agree and your schoolmate takes you into a light grip, but folds her arms around you and lets you bury your cheek against her perfumed sweater.

You both stand in the embrace, no trace of awkwardness, a sense of kinship and knowing. It’s when you pull back that hint of a questionable concern with her, wiping your sore eyes with a hiss. She notices.

“Are you here because of Jason? I just need to know.”

“Jason was a dick, Y/N.” Her language shocks you, having only heard her be proper before.

You laugh, your first genuine giggle in days. It’s contagious, as she joins in, hip jutting against the sink. “No, I’m here on my own terms. I promise. I saw what happened with your friends…”

“Yeah, I can imagine how everyone must be amused right now.” You bite your lip, facing away.

Chrissy gives you a saddened smile, but attempts to reassure. “I know this is gonna sound incredibly lame coming from me, but you’re stronger than all this, Y/N. The way you’ve stood up for yourself these past several days… I admire it.”

You frown deeply, wondering if this is a trick, because no way is Chrissy Cunningham admiring someone like you.

“You admire a loser that can’t even manage her own newfound independence?”

“No,” she says with a pause, looking down at her French tip manicure, before facing your curious gaze once more. “I admire your ability to stand up for yourself, despite what everyone is saying or doing to you. It’s a good quality to have, one that many of us are afraid of, you know?”

There’s this hollow pain in her eyes and your continued recognition has you pulling her in for another hug—this time for her benefit, rather than yours.

“Looks like we’ve fallen into the cliché trap, Cunningham.” You grin, pulling back.

Chrissy tilts her head, curious. “What do you mean?”

“A freak and a cheerleader thinking the same as what their peers think, and getting each other totally wrong.”

Her sweet eyes light up, her head nodding. “That’s exactly it.”

You share a knowing smile, a newfound bond forming. Chrissy situates her small shoulder bag, pulling out a compact and tugging you by your sleeve. “C’mhere. Let me fix that.”

She takes a gentle hand, not rushing as she speckles your sore under eyes with her own stash of makeup. After she blends it with soft fingertips, she snaps the lid closed and places it back in her bag, turning you to the bathroom mirror, brushing some of your hair through, giving your back a rub. “Is that any better, Y/N?”

Your circles are mostly covered, puffiness disguised enough where you won’t be embarrassed. You look and feel much better, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the blonde at your side. You incline yourself into a swivel, leaning in her direction. “Chrissy Cunningham, I think you’re one of the sweetest people I now kinda, sort of know.”

Her giggle is infectious, and she gives you another squeeze. You drop down to swoop your messenger bag into your arms, grabbing out a your notebook and a pen, scribbling your home phone on it, hesitating, before handing it over. “If you ever need to talk to someone about all the bullshit, whatever it is, consider me your new confidant.”

She holds the simple sheet paper as if it’s another lifeline and you’ve just given her a treasure. Going back into her own bag, she has a cute little pink embroidered stationary paper that she jots her number on, and uses a smiley face to dot the i in Chrissy. Seconds later, her friends and a group of other girls burst into the bathroom, gossip on their lips. You and Chrissy flash each other a secret smile, and you make another hasty retreat.

~*~

Eddie had to hear a bunch of shit from the guys, overly bearing questions sounded off by Henderson and Wheeler. The eventual revealing by a passerby group of cheerleaders about your specially decorated locker, had surprised him too. As if there’s not already a weighted dagger wedged into his ribcage, one interlocking into his heart muscle—he lost control with his bitter mouth again, and it fueled your temper. But deep down, deeper into those subconscious recesses, you both felt that ignition start, a kind of coercing heat that is waging an internal war in Eddie’s head. His sole reason for blocking you out and refusing to talk about anything with you in the woods.

Eddie Munson is in love with you. Eddie Munson needs to fuck you.

It’s something he’s always done—built walls, got high, stayed drunk, coped with humor, hid behind his guitar or his campaigns. And without his right hand woman, he feels naked, too vulnerable to all the bullshit he’s tried to keep out. And your absence has become a set course for his weakening concentration on anything that isn’t you. His ultimate warrior princess is also his Achilles heel. Your feelings in wanting to branch out, they scare Eddie.

His brain is flipping logic into thinking you are seeing what everyone else sees in him: freak, failure, piece of shit, a nobody, a criminal. He pushed you out before he could pull you back in—easy, abrupt. And it’s not just changing him—no—he could smell your vodka soaked breath across the table, see your eyes swollen and glazed—absent. For the first time in years you weren’t wearing your limited edition shirt (thanks to him), and Eddie isn’t sure why he expected you to still have his chain around your neck. It fucking hurts.

As the room slowly falls back into their daily routine, Eddie loses his appetite and leaves his herd behind, urgent to get the fuck outta this building, out of Hawkins. Hell, maybe even the country. Like you, however, Eddie Munson’s retreat isn’t one that is unscathed. In his urgency, he smacks straight into you, stumbling over his own clumsy ass feet, gripping your forearms to keep you both steady. He’s processed your scent before he even takes in your beautiful features.

Fuck…

You look less like you’ve been partying all weekend, but Eddie knows better. Your pupils are dilated to the bright overhead lights of the hallways, making your sclera more visible. It’s bloodshot red, lower lids swollen and tinged a rough crimson beneath the fresh makeup that Eddie now sees. He swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip isn’t harsh, it’s simply what it’s always been with you two. Easy and sturdy, safe.

You’re the first to downcast your gaze, focusing more on your shoe wear than on Eddie. It kills him. Even through these notions, this fear, whatever anger you’re both harboring, it’s as if this whole damned school and everyone passing you two are mere bodies, Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N floating, tethered. His stomach churns its lunch contents, teeth clenching tightly. You make a brisk dart off, but Eddie attempts to catch you, instead tugging too hard on your shoulder strap, causing your bag to dump and spread out its contents at his sneaker clad feet.

Eddie’s eyes are quick to see it before you realize. Shining underneath hallway lights, scattered amongst notebooks and pens, is a small flask. His brows perch, he crouches first, scooping it away from your jutting hands. Gareth’s words rewind and play on repeat in his head.

“Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

The way his heart rate spikes, hostilely spitting that acid all over his lungs, battering his throat muscles with a pummeling storm. He’s already sure what he’ll smell if he presses the lid to his nostrils, but Eddie has to feed his anxious curiosity, unscrewing the cap with nervous hands, sniffing, shrugging off your grabs. It burns his mouth from its strength, his distraction giving you enough leeway to wrap your hands over his fingers and pull. Eddie locks your digits within his own, second thoughts gone. Against everything inside him he is getting angrier by the second, the anger masking itself, easier than being petrified and scared in front of you.

And Eddie is scared. Is he really so fucking stupid to think you weren’t at all affected by any of this?

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Your fingers sliding through his own, flood him, prickling every vein running beneath his skin, cutting off his blood flow—scorching.

~*~

Having Eddie’s hands on you again, his body so close, despite your shame at his discovery, it’s a feeling that comes more natural than breathing. You avoid his question, feeble grasping docked.

“Why do you have a flask full of fucking vodka?”

“Will you keep your voice down!” You hiss the words, finally breaking off him and retrieving the rest of your items on the scuffed up floor, and securing them back into your bag, Eddie holding back your liquor.

“Did you drive to school drinking this crap? Tell me you didn’t, Y/N, cause’ I swear to god—“

You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.

“Eddie, this faux best-friend act is getting old. Your on and off switch is enough to drive anyone to drastic measures. But don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be an idiot and drive drunk. Not even for you.”

His irises that are glossy with concern, they cave to dilating pupils, an animalistic rage priming them. “Oh, you have got to be the most clueless bitch alive, Y/N.” He steps towards you, frame towering slightly. You’re not afraid, never fearing if he’ll do something, because that is not Eddie, no matter what. But, you are very much dripping with rage at his words.

He pockets your flask in his left back pocket, rings clinking against it as he pats it for good measure. You try to dive around him, beneath his arm, but he swoops in on his own, using that strength for his slender frame, literally scooping you into a half bring-away, only discarding you back onto your feet once you’re both outside. You try to shove at him, palms resting on his stained club shirt. The bell has rang to signal your free period, but you don’t give two fucks, giving up and being the one to leave.

“Who’s the coward now, huh? You’re gonna walk away from me when I call you on your shit, Y/N?”

You spin on your heel, dirt and gravel specks crunched beneath your step. “I thought I was a clueless bitch, Eddie? A traitor? Or, your slut.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Guilt briefly flickers across his features, but he shuts it down tenfold. “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I want you to destroy your fucking liver or your life. Jesus Christ, you really think I’m that big of an asshole?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore!” You fling your hands into the air. “One minute we’re at each other’s throats, the next you’re up my ass. I don’t know what to do here, Eddie.”

“Thought you craved some individuality and independence.” Though there’s meant to be flare behind the words, Eddie’s tone has splintered across each word, voice breaking apart. Your guts sink into your ass, as does a particularly pointed swallow that stabs at your jugular.

“Didn’t say I wanted to be completely independent from my best-friend.” Your own response is gentle, voice soaked with impending emotion.

Fuck. Stupid fucking tears burning again. Not right now.

Eddie’s attention snaps back on you, proximity closing in. His jaw clenches, he moves it from side to side with a closed mouth, sniffing, whistling air through a wet breath. “Feels like you’re leavin’ me and I can’t do anything to stop it…”

It makes sense suddenly. A catapult of truth slamming right into your chest, spreading throughout your body.

He thinks I’m leaving him. That I want to leave him.

As if the last seventy two hours haven’t happened, better yet, as if they haven’t mattered in the grand scheme of things—you’re the one that meets Eddie, reaching to push that curly hair from his eyes, his head downcast and posture sullen. His brown eyes are brimmed with tears that spill over his lash line, a permanent frown creased between his brows, mouth red and spit slick. Those freckles on his nose are suddenly very prominent to you. You’ve never seen Eddie Munson this vulnerable. Your heart shatters, the ache so physically strong that you have to remain close to him to hold on and find that strength again.

How could you have gotten this so monumentally wrong? Maybe if you’d have expressed what you meant more instead of feeding off Eddie’s anger. His communication and yours both need nurturing, but your sudden shift in mood must’ve made him feel like you wanted to abandon him, not just do things for yourself. He may not realize that yet, but you do. And it fucking sucks.

“Eddie. I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say in the seconds that your heart heaves into your throat.

He shakes that shaggy mane. “Don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, especially you.” He backs away from you and you see his entire expression crumble, tears spilling onto his cheeks.

That pain drowns your throat, seeing him cry because of your lack of explanation and mutual avoidance. You chase after him, running around to block his view, unable to let him go, gripping onto his waist beneath his jacket to keep him planted. Another familiarity. He tenses beneath your touch before relaxing.

“Eddie, will you please listen to me? I think I know what’s going on now.”

“And look who is the one flipping her emotions this time.”

“Because, I… Eddie, I—“

“What lame ass line do you want me to buy, Y/N? You think I’m not used to worthless promises or idiotic reassurances? Yeah, good.” His sentence is fragmented, voice rough and breaking apart on each word. “You know I still care about you, but I don’t need you to lie to me, you don’t owe me a damn thing, I promise you—“

You press a finger to his quivering lips, halting him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a pause in the universe, your legs heavy, fingertip stroking along the plumpness of your best-friend’s full, lower lip. Eddie’s chest is moving up and down swiftly, tongue against his teeth, that warning look. You fail to heed it and Eddie’s hands tremble at his sides before he gives up and cups the sides of your face, bringing your foreheads together. His lips part to speak, your finger still on them. “Think we’re in trouble here.”

You can do nothing but nod as his declaring statement, inclining your head further, nose nudging his own. It doesn’t feel as if you’re standing any longer, every mean thing that Eddie has said, every disproportionate attempt of yours to communicate—obliterate, shrouding you both in the process. His breath is hot as his mouth opens and he sucks your finger inside, tongue licking its tip, biting the digit between those milky white teeth. It sends that throbbing nudge, snapping between your thighs, making you arch into your best-friend. You whisper his name and his fingers move along your jaw, across your ear, sliding through your hair and rubbing a pathway to your necks’ nape, sending an army of goosebumps across your flesh, the coolness of his rings stimulating your skin.

“Yeah, you feelin’ it too?” Your lids flutter closed, Eddie using his thumb pad to brush the corners of your lashes, signally for you to open them. “Didn’t say you could stop looking at me, did I, sweetheart?”

You grind against him, unable to stop. Your last several days, everything between you both is on hold, these buried urges able to finally win out. This dominant side of Eddie Munson has you an inward and outwardly quickening pile of mush and hormones, of fucking need. Eddie about loses his cool when you obey him, pupils blown, mouth looking parched and in need of his kisses. He leans, walls starting to slip, resolve crumbling, his pouting mood long gone.

Years of built up tension and confusion, being rightfully by one another’s sides, it all comes apart, the seams, begging to be repaired into what it has to be now.

You envelop his hold on you, hands sliding into slips beneath his jacket, around his waist, tracing over his back, before dipping under his armpits and grasping his shoulders, knuckles pushed down by his leather jacket. One more step and he’ll kiss you. He’s closing a gap, no more breaches, you tapping his shoulders right down to the blades in encouragement. It’s parted mouths hovering over one another, cigarettes and vodka, school lunch and weed, it’s—

“Hey, guys! Higgins is so pissed off right now… After that shit went down in the caf, he’s ready to expel you, Y/N! Pretty fuckin’ sure.” You hear Gareth approach, and just like, Eddie releases you.

You have to steady yourself, want simmering into a slumber in your belly, not yet gone, but still reminding you where it lives. Your glare is directed at your mutual friend. Eddie, feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water, and the moment is shattered, you see those walls rebuilding rapidly, and she shrugs off your hand, leaving you and Gareth, and that slickness that has collected in your panties.

~*~

You aren’t sure just exactly what Eddie is feeling, but you’re very aware of what you are. So driving to his place once you know Wayne has left for the night shift—it’s a no brainer. You’d debated bringing Eddie your box of treasures, even your necklace, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe, maybe your best-friend doesn’t want you to…?

Want.

A dynamic shift in your relationship, or what it used to be. You can barely sit still as you wrack your brain through all the levels of hazy blurs. So much has happened in three days, but… today, with Eddie nearly kissing you on the mouth, and you nearly grinding against him in the Hawkins High parking lot—yeah, you two have to talk about all of this. As you squirm in your seat, hands tightening around the wheel, that approaching trailer park sign signals your arrival to his residence. You can’t stop the way your heartbeat feels as if it’s ping ponging around in your throat, or that anxious twitch of your mouth’s corner—forget even attempting to deny your cascading memories of the way his chocolate irises wore an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen on Eddie Munson.

His trailer comes into your sights, that tickle swooping your guts and holding them hostage. You swallow a thick ball of anxiety, parking next to his van, cutting your engine. The lights are all on and you’ve got no excuse to chicken out. It’s your year too, right? Fucking fuck it.

With your keys clutched in your palm, you make your way to Eddie’s trailer, rasping on his door lightly. You don’t hear his music blaring, so he might be reading, planning a campaign, writing some music he’d mentioned wanting to practice with the guys soon, get a feel for its sound—just last week. You have given about three octaves of knocks and are about to give up, head pressed the door, thinking he was just lost in lust earlier, and maybe you’d fucked up on your end beyond repair. Exhausted by the stampeding pain that brings your insides, you flip the Munson’s spare key off your key ring and unlock the door. A bold move—albeit—a very stupid one.

That familiar scent of Eddie and Wayne’s shared carton of cigarettes hits your nose, along with the leftovers from dinner you see sitting out on the stove. Your cookies, which have been devoured, are missing their note. You panic, briefly thinking Eddie probably trashed it, only to come back from that brink seconds later. It’s not what you’re here for. You glance at the couch and it’s empty, not even Eddie’s usual indent on the cushion is there.

Swinging your keys from your pointer finger, you peek down the small hallway to Eddie’s closed door, light spilling out underneath. He could be sleeping, possibly ignoring you, or he snuck out the back door…

Your feet make an echoing squeak across the trailer’s flooring structure, your fingers twisting the knob and pushing, pausing, deciding to go ahead. If he wants you to leave then you’ll go, if he’s asleep, you’ll go, if he left… You can’t fathom that thought, another ignorance that you partake in. You aren’t sure exactly what you expected, but seeing your best-friend’s tallish frame, with his back facing you, lean leg propped atop his mattress, right arm bent at a very clear angle, his left propped on one of his many amps he’d apparently moved since you’d been here last—is sure as hell NOT it. Eddie’s curly hair ruffles and is jostled across his shoulders with each movement his arm makes, his delicious ass clenching as his body thrusts into his rhythm, the outline of his chain on his perspired neck and damp strands of dark hair—clear. You don’t have to hear the thick, slick and wet stroking to know what he’s doing to himself.

You cross an ankle over the other, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to bounce on the balls of your heels to get relief. Your fingers white knuckle his banged up door handle, your mouth parting. Whether it’s that bond you two share, or your very visible labored breathing, Eddie’s shoulder blades pinch together, his motions abruptly cut. He turns as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be—definitely something you aren’t prepared to handle. It’s like your mouth is speaking for you, eyes in a trance, enslaved to your lustful abiding.

Fucked out, blown up pupils shave off the color of your irises, your tongue gliding across your teeth, that take a turn to sink into your bottom lip, your toes curling in your shoes. You feel hot, body battered in melting flames that won’t cease, won’t let you get in a normal burst of air flow. You know without having to fix your posture that you’ve made a mess between your legs, panties soaked to hell—completely ruined. You’re honest to fuck not sure if you can make it out of here in an upright position, that painfully strong ache tackling your cunt, breaking off your common sense, leaving you Eddie-drunk. Helping yourself to a swiping look between his legs, he’s still got a ring clad hand wrapped around a very generous girth—shiny—a length that leaves saliva pooling on your tongue’s tip.

His chest is slick with sweat, tattoos glossed beneath, nipples hard from the cool air let into his bedroom. Which, you note, is really fucking hot, and the window is steamed up. Your eyelids flutter in rapid blinks to help you reign yourself in, but all you see are glimpses of Eddie’s fist around himself, that creamy and swollen head, full balls on either side, trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. You want to die. And oh, what a sweet and sinful death that would be.

“Mhm… fuck.” You say through the gap between your panting mouth, words take the opportunity to bust free, joining a high pitched whimper.

Eddie’s chocolate eyes are completely black, leaving no room for anything else but purely raw desire. They widen, a sharp heave in his inhaling chest, abdomen flexing as he holds himself tightly. When you don’t move Eddie takes the initiative, slowly approaching, a softness there beneath the want and knowing. He reaches your space, still giving you enough, but you’re able to still feel that radiating body heat. Neither of you speak, because what is there to say right now?

You’d be a pleading mess of profanities, apologizes, and begging to be taken and used.

Thankfully, Eddie makes another move before you. His spare hand joins your own on the door knob, fingers brushing your knuckles, encouraging, giving you one more opportunity if you’re in distress or uncomfortable. You hook onto his offer and you surprise you both by finding something to say after all, throat parched, yet still damp with wanton rasp. “Start touching yourself again, Eddie. Please?” Fuck, well there’s a beg.

Eddie, assuming you want a show, nerves being dipped in lava and left to forever sizzle and smoke—gives in, both of you shutting his door and closing the two of you off from the outside world. He doesn’t wait for you to back away, pushing his hips to a rise, his cock gliding through his closed fist. You let him lean over you, frame against his door, watching his legs spread to widen his stance, obeying your plea. He almost asks, but assumes it would be too hopeful if you would want to touch yourself in front of him too. You’re out of your mind, common sense obliterated for all eternity, watching your bestfriend practically pin you to the door and fuck himself in front of you.

Those sounds you’ve imagined, pictured, they’re even more pronounced in person. Some low enough that it’s a stifling whimper, a needy sobbing. If you don’t do something about the gnawing throbbing between your thighs, it’ll be total combustion. There’s an empowerment that winds itself around a pulsating set of nerves in one’s decision to masturbate in front of their best-friend. That coolness works itself in your palms, your fingers tossing your keys over and onto Eddie’s dresser, toeing off your shoes, his eyes steamy in their grasp on your every move.

You’d wished you had brought your camera to photograph his expression when you walk over to where he stood in front of his bed, turning to face him, your fingers undoing your jeans and the zipper, a resounding echo in the room, Eddie’s tongue poking out on his upper lip, he holds himself around the base, the urgency to fuck his hand as you take your seat on his mattress and scoot with your back to the wall, hips lifting to help you pull off your jeans and panties. You struggle momentarily, but neither of you are saying a word, gazes steady and unwavering.

Discarding your clothing with a soft thump onto his floor, you’re heartbeat thumps in your throat, ribcage taking an unsteady hammering of its resounding drumming. You heed Eddie’s silent command to continue, agreeing to this turning point between you two. Your thighs fall open and that sticky want strings to your swollen folds, glistening in the creases of your thighs, your cunt sopping wet. You’re dripping, and Eddie isn’t missing it when your arousal finally does drizzle from your neglected pussy and onto his bedsheets. You shift to get comfortable, hand cupping yourself, immediately smothered in your own juices, legs falling into a drop, toes finally able to curl without the barrier of your shoes, bunching Eddie’s sheets.

Eddie watches you from where he can see, still eager to be closer, but unable to stop himself from stroking along his length, teasing that vein that runs alongside his cock. You do it again, rubbing your palm up and down your lips, a crude squelch causing Eddie to almost black out, and you shiver. He releases himself, heavy and hot between slim thighs, and he’s moving. He puffs out a gravelly hiss from pursed lips, stalking towards you and giving a cat like crawl across his own bed, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with you to your left. He must be feeling the overwhelming change that is occurring, as he reaches for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

You gravitate towards your hand, fingers slipping through your slickness, your head bowing in embarrassment. Eddie grips your chin and tilts you his way, shaking his head, that same hand dropping to your thigh and lifting to pull up and to the side. And he looks. He fucking memorizes you between your legs with these little mewling coos of appreciation that cement themselves into your subconscious. You do the same, helping yourself to an up close and personal view of what he’s been hiding.

Eddie leans forward and cups the nap of your neck, his other hand taking your wrist and removing it from your self-touches, shushing your protesting whine. He brings it up to his mouth, which is hovering close to yours, your own fingers pressed against your lips, and he licks a straight stripe up your creamy covered palm, humming underneath his breath as he does so. You want to slap him and ride him on every available surface in this trailer. You’re the one to speak, having to.

“Eddie…” It’s a meek little trail-off.

Eddie lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to pull his cock off his stomach, a wet patch left behind in his happy trail. He still doesn’t let your neck go, his fingertips tapping an invisible beat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s laughing, tufts of air settling across your mouth. You narrow your gaze, moving to shut your legs, Eddie’s hand quickly preventing the action, stroking the meat of your inner thigh. “Only fair if I’m exposed, sweetheart.”

“But… you’re laughing.” And it hits you then, why he’s really chuckling in that Eddie Munson way. It’s an incredulous and mind boggling turn of events. Best-friends that broke up when they were never together, now side by side and in a very compromising situation.

You grin and falter into his embrace, your hand working its way into a wind around his neck, taking sweaty strands in scoops between your fingers, his pick chain draped across your knuckles. Eddie licks across his bottom lip, tapping your hips as he moves, your hands falling, and sprawls his legs into a propped spread, cock neglected and flushed, much like the rest of his skin, that you’ll die if you don’t put your marks on. He’s motioning for you to turn in a slow facing position in front of him, and that’s how you end up—vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. He’s muttering words, huddled and unintelligible, reaching out and tugging you to him by your ankles, stopping, resting, eyes dark as they do a once over to gauge your mental stability. When you don’t protest, palms splaying out to keep yourself upright behind you, Eddie lets his legs flatten against his sheets, a smirk pattering his lips, indenting its knowing presses beside his mouth.

His exhale catches on a ragged breath, a passionate declaration signing off on what’s about to occur, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulls you close, your ass resting on his hairy thighs, waiting, held, his arm wrapping around your lower back and lifting you completely into that ink splattered, silk-slick chest, his skin sticking to your long sleeved t-shirt, ruining it with sex-soaked perspiration. You think that there’s nothing—no—you know that in this entire world, no matter what, that whatever will happen to you is never going to compare to the moment when Eddie’s maneuvering hands glide your wet cunt over his cock, using your drenching heat as his own personal lubricant. Your ankles lock around his waist, no choice from the close band that your best-friend has re-tethered you to him with, leaving no room or space where you’re not touching or breathing in the other. Your arms curl around Eddie’s neck, hands draped down his back as you help yourself to pinching and clawing the flesh beneath, relishing every little grumble and groan off his pretty lips. Your face takes solace in his neck, nosing your way through his curly hair, nose bumping his chain to lift so that your mouth can claim him.

“Fuck.” His throat constricts around a swallow, your teeth sinking into a piece of Eddie’s flesh and biting, releasing, lips closing over that angry spot to soothe, tongue tasting salt, licking it off, indulging.

He lets your have your way with his neck, a particularly harsh slap landing on your ass in following of your mouth on his jugular, letting your tongue following that curvature into his jawline. You don’t stop his wandering hands, you don’t dare fight off his vice grip on the globes of your ass, his kneading, using as them leverage to place you right where he wants you. You let him take control, an unspoken agreement, a having to have. Your head falls back as Eddie rolls his hips beneath, rocking his lap, solid presses that drag his fat cock over your embarrassingly wet pussy, scattering your thick arousal and smearing it across his happy trail, getting caught in that patch of curls at the base of his shaft. You’re dripping all over him, quite literally. Caught on a trapped hum, hung in its hisses between your clenched teeth, you croon into Eddie’s neck, your stomach tightening, that velvety drag of his dick through your swollen folds making your lids flutter closed, colors dotting in their dances—translucent.

You aren’t sure where to move your hands, comfortable with having them shred Eddie’s back and empty out the past few days of frustration and desperation. Eddie encourages, palming handfuls of your ass, creating a cresting twist, a thigh trembling rub of sopping wet desire. He’s merely whimpering, appreciating, not overly vocal until his swollen head catches your neglected clit, and his head drops back, fingers pinching so tightly into your skin that it burns.

“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”

You’re simpering on a series of whimpers, agreeable and speechless. Eddie is feeding off it. “Yeah? You needing this too? Little clit feels so good rubbing on my dick, sweetheart. You want me to do it again?”

When you’re not immediately able to be vocal, Eddie pulls back a little, shoving his hand between your thighs and drags his rings directly through your arousal, coating them in a glittering shine. His first real touch where you need him the most. You both inhale sharply. It’s the pain from the cool metal of his jewelry that makes it feel so fucking good. He curses, telling you how messy you’re being, flinging his hand in your sights, dragging you in a pry off of his neck, holding your jaw and flashing his knuckles.

“See what you did, messy little angel. You gotta clean em’ now for me.”

His eyes are so fucking demolished, brown crushed beneath a midnight sea of black and insatiable attraction. You’re mewling, tongue lolling out, licking that metallic onto your tongue, sloppily sloping around his knuckles, lips suckling what your tongue can’t catch, your own taste fresh off your mouth. That’s when Eddie brushes a calloused thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose your teeth, and he brings your lips to his, a feral groan stealing your breath, sharing your juices in your first kiss. It’s a shift in the energy you share, a no going back, no running away, a fate sealed. Eddie loses all control and flips you off his lap, pinning you beneath him, kissing you with such feverish vigor that your hand tangles into his messy curls, and you pull, hard.

His tongue licks your lips open, greedily removing what’s left of your taste that remains. It’s noisy and nasty in the expanse of his small bedroom—diabolically sinful. One hand caresses your throat’s expanse, the other dropping down with a snapped wrist between your thighs, palm smacking your cunt, a guttural groan vibrating from his mouth into your own. Saliva strings on the break away, Eddie’s gaze switching to watch the hand on your cunt, out of it.

“Your pussy always this wet, baby? Or is it just for your best-friend?”

“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”

Fallen into the depths of satisfaction, Eddie permits a slender digit to drag down your slit, taking that thick honey with it, a squelch echoing in the room when his finger wiggles its way inside of you. You clamp around him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna drown my dick when you let me fuck you, aren’t you?”

You’re incoherently babbling, tapping the hand that’s on your throat, hungry for it. “Tighter.”

Eddie’s brow raise is comical, a surprise coating his features. “So miss Y/N likes it rough? Never woulda guessed.”

You gulp a pump of air that vibrates across his hold, trying to gain more depth from his finger. It’s moving in exploration of your softly wet walls, an excess of arousal being pressed out upon that squish. Eddie tightens his hold on your throat, before he taps his fingers to your jugular and releases, hand toppling down your side and caressing, bringing. “Fuck, my best-friend’s got such a perfect little pussy. S’ made to be destroyed and used.”

You’re nodding so hard that the motion causes a cracking pop in your neck, Eddie laughing that noise under a cute breath. He’s thick with it, wiggling in a second finger and causing you drop your hands back behind you and push into the sensation, chasing, hunting it.

“Desperate to get away from me all week, now look at you. What a whore.”

Eddie has a mouth on him, something you’d always wondered about in your daily daydreams and nightly fantasies. As vocal as when he’s singing with his band. He’s saying words to you, snapping your attention, you’re whining as his fingers leave your cunt, and he’s pulling you into him so hard your lips split apart, cushioning his cock, cradling him in that overwhelming slick. He must not have meant for that action to cause it, as he jumps when you do, this feral look flickering behind those heated orbs. You know… it’s time.

Eddie is barely able to stand, clumsily bringing you with him by a laced grip in your hands. He gets you upright and you’re dizzy, his hands taking purchase on your shirt (the only remaining piece of clothing on you), and rips it with gritting teeth and anger, as if he’s pissed it’s not the club shirt, or sickened with himself for destroying yours—you’re not sure. Spit pools at the corners of your mouth as you let him tear off your tattered tee and yank your bra down, impatiently yanking the clasp apart and discarding it, helping himself to your tits, closing those plush lips over a nipple. Your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers barely touching around the width, squeezing him—tugging. His hips stutter and he whines against your breast, teeth biting the flesh with a harsh precision.

Your other hand works its way through his wet curls and massages his scalp, tenderly altering in beckoning strokes, ones that switch off into root tugging pulls. Eddie’s hands keep your breast cupped, switching off to the other, whilst you dip lower and fondle his balls, letting your pinky drop off and scratch into his inner thigh. He’s doing that humming thing underneath his fucked out tone again, and you’re focusing your attention on his cock, thumb pad stroking that weeping slit, spreading it around and over that vein, enchanted with how it causes a thin bright shine over him, your own cream matted into the curls at the base of him, pathed up his stomach. His mouth leaves your chest and those big hands grip your cheeks, both of you watching as you jack him with a sticky tug.

Fuck me.

“Who’s the whore for his bestfriend now, Eds? You gonna admit that half the shit I’ve done this week has gotten your dick so hard you can’t decide what you’ve hated me for more,” You say, pausing to twist your grip, making him fold into your holding hand, “my smart mouth or how much you need this.”

Your powering dominance is short lived, hand falling off his erection, with Eddie kneeing you into a shove until your back collides with his desk, his arm reaching around to push most of its contents off and onto the floor, not caring where any of it goes. He nudges your thighs apart and slots his lean frame between, thumb catching the corner of your mouth, his instruction clear, yet awaiting your consent to cross this no back-stepping boundary. “M’ gonna fuck you right here, and you’re goin’ to watch me take you, Y/N.”

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out at any given moment.

“I’m gonna watch you, Eddie.” You agree, zoning out and sprinting after your pleasure.

“Good girl.” Eddie breaks briefly, mouth on your shoulder, hand winding your hair around his fist and tugging it back so hard that the ache inside of you becomes an inferno. He finds the underside of your chin, voice honey-hot. “Because you’re not leaving this room until there’s a puddle of me running back out of your cunt.”

You launch forward so fast that Eddie falls into you, chest smashing against your breasts, your lips crashing into his for a brutally intimate kiss. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip and tug, biting down so hard you taste copper—licking it up and making Eddie’s cock jump. His ring covered hand attaches itself to your throat and he drags you off your prop against the desk, spinning you around and securing you to it, those hairy thighs pressing into you, wet cock so close to where you need him the most. His hand wraps around your hair again and lifts your gaze to that small opening in the mirror where posters and his most prized possession hangs. You’re flushed and soaked with sweat, mouth swollen and streaked with red from biting into Eddie’s plump lip, your pussy dripping thick strings of your creamy essence, slowly slithering in dangles from your pussy and onto the floor.

“You’re so fucking messy, Y/N. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, baby?” Eddie is like the devil on your shoulder, and you, you’re his angel of eternal damnation.

You’re about to beg, but Eddie saves you the trouble, his fingers tapping in tips down your spine, caressing, stroking, before they spread your lips apart and dip inside, palm flat. “Should fuckin’ split you open, do it raw. Cum so deep inside that you end up pregnant with my baby and have no choice but to always think of me, be around me.”

Though there’s a tease behind his passionate words, there’s this primal exclamation that overtakes you and you clamp down on his fingers. A series of fast paced images are vivid in your mind. Your tummy swollen and breasts heavy, Eddie having you bent over like this—one hand on your belly, the other on your throat, feeling your pulse galavant beneath his touch.

“Y/N… Fuck, sweetheart.” He’s so fucked in his descending tone that the depth is gruff and tipping off his diaphragm, you imagine. He presses his cheek against your own, chin resting on your shoulder as you drink each other in, in the mirror’s expanse, Eddie’s tone weak. “You really willing to carry my kid?”

You meet his eyes in the cluttered mirror, nodding, a softness carving out permanent residence in your features. It’s a topic you’d never shared with anyone else, never banked too much on thinking about, but beyond the idea of how hot this all is, you can’t imagine a scenario like this that doesn’t involve Eddie Munson. Vulnerable and barely above a brisk whisper, you’re answering him with, “Yeah, Eds. Want a family with you.”

At your admission, he lets his hand go in languid thrusts. You groan and let your head shift, but Eddie is jerking you back to stare into the glass, both of you panting and on the cusp of an out of body experience. It causes you to grin, licking your lips as your best-friend pumps those experienced digits to cause a purposeful squelch, his rings clinking together. His hard cock is pressed between his own stomach and your back, that pre-cum pooling onto your lower back and smearing in streaks down your ass. You’ve had more than enough teasing and you’re well aware that Eddie has too.

His look briefly falters, turning to mouth at your chin, a silent question. It’s you who uses your words, or rather, trembles in your feeble attempt. “Eddie, just put your cock inside me, or I swear I’ll—“

He’s smirking wildly at your slack-jawed expression when his fingers slide out of you and stick together with your cum, to which he helps himself to and coats his cock, then lines himself up and presses the thick head into your opening, leaning down to bite at your shoulder and leave an exposed imprint. Your legs feel like jello and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He’s going to ask you to beg, and you’re an all in willing participant. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t. He inhales sharply, you hold your breath, and both of you watch him sink into your slick and soft cunt, inch by inch, until his balls rest against the globes of your cheeks.

You’re still holding your breath, releasing it when you feel him sigh, grip on your hair loosening a little, too caught up in the fact that he’s where he belongs, after so much time doing without this. Your legs are about to buckle, jerking, toes curling against the carpeted floor, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and by your best-friend’s cock throbbing in your aching pussy. “E-Eds…?” It’s a pathetic cry of a question.

Eddie’s brows pinch together, sweat beaded between. He grips your jaw and his fingertips tap you back to meet his mouth, hovering over your lips. “S’ okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He briefly drops the playful gimmick, reassuring you that he’s right here with you.

It’s more than enough to have you arching back into him, a brash pummeling of his hips that sends you into the dresser, having to reach out and catch yourself. Eddie is quick witted, gripping your wrists with one hand and pinning them behind your back, stepping with you in toe, elongating his arm to snatch those handcuffs on his wall, that cold metal biting into your wrist, that dull noise presenting itself as the cuffs lock you into place, Eddie gripping onto the chains’ excess expanse, using it as a leverage. A sliver of a chalky moan trickles off your kiss-swollen lips, appreciative. The way Eddie is manhandling you has you so fucking euphoric that you’re sure you’ll be in a comatose state before either of you can cum. Your best-friend’s large hand finds purchase in your hair again, drawing his hips back, the other on the chain of the cuffs—steadying himself into a rhythm, riding you like all that matters is your destruction and his ultimate ownership.

Eddie Munson has owned you since the very moment that you two met.

The way he’s executing such precise and rough thrusts, making sure you’re high on the bring up, toes pressing into the carpet, that you’re stuffed full of his fat cock until it hurts, twitching in overstimulation, sore and fluttering walls eager to be soaked in everything he has to give you, that you are taking in every inch, catching every ridge, leaving you a shambled, panting mess, in pieces only being put back together again when Eddie will allow your release. His hair is tickling your shoulder blades, his fingers leaving the cuffs to press into your mouth and curl over your tongue, relishing in how you gag around the digits. You’re weak, so fucking weak for him, and he knows it.

“Can’t wait to hear you gag on my cock, Y/N. If you have trouble with these bad boys?” He puts an emphasis, wiggling his fingers against your tongue, giving them a secondary push to over extend your gag reflexes, his dick twitching inside you.

You bite down on his fingers, sucking them in, accepting his challenge, willing it to happen. His balls slap into your ass, heavy and hot, every movement causing the metal to rut into the skin of your wrists. He’s got a steady tempo going, alternating it by dipping his hips to bring you with him, letting you nearly collide with your chest flush to his desk. He reaches up and shoves that poster back by peeling tape, revealing more of your fucked out forms. Your eyes widen at your disheveled and unrecognizable appearance, Eddie using your cuffed hands as reigns. Riding you so hard that you can’t breathe anything but his hot air curling around the shell of your ear.

“Dammit, you are such a good girl for me, Y/N. Always pictured you takin’ my cock, but you’re not even crying yet, just taking what I give you.”

Yet… Fuck me running.

Your scalp is tingling with a prickling crowd of flames from his harsh grip, his other hand reaching to smack your ass, using some mechanism on the cuffs—albeit—struggling with his spit soaked fingers that were just in your mouth, to unlatch them and discard them at your feet, and he watches the flesh of your ass cheek redden and jiggle beneath his biting palm. You fist your fingers into a strewn pair of his blue denim jeans left on the desk top, dipping your forehead down and arching your back, trying to look between your own legs from this new angle to see Eddie’s cock cradled in your puffy lips. He tuts at your unsuccessful action, forcing you back into watching him doing his hard work—the hardest he’s worked at anything (sans his band or the campaigns, if he’s being honest with himself)—to make this unforgettable for you. He hits that spot located inside, the one you have to strain an arm to barely graze, and you lose all coherent capabilities.

“Eddie… that’s, oh my god, oh FUCK. Right there!”

Eddie’s throat crumbles under a weak pant, which ends up coming out as a whimper. He remains firm, however, still using your hair to keep you right where he wants you, his other hand reaching around to pet his own shaft as he slides out just enough to make you wetter.

“Yeah, baby? That spot gonna make somethin’ happen for you?”

You don’t answer, mumbles and babbling gibberish. He shakes that precious head of his, curls tickling your back and shoulders, a sigh breaking free. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this in front of you. Both my girls right here with me, one of them at my fuckin’ mercy.” Your attentions snap over your shoulder and you see Eddie looking at his fucking guitar, that is one of the only things remaining on the mirror. You gape, but aren’t surprised in the slightest.

He continues on, pretending he doesn’t see your partial seethe. “Makin’ a mess all over me, but I bet you like to see it too, don’t you?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, still talking to the inanimate object. “Both my sweethearts are such sluts for their owner.”

You can’t help that rattle that clamps around your bones and slices through your spinal cord, seizing your abdomen, right down into your cunt. Owner? You have zero time to warn him, ask if you can, alarms unprepared, skin slapping on skin, his taste on your mouth, his breath on your flesh, that slippery glide that has cum running down your thighs, and it’s a sudden wave crashing over your insides and drowning them in your painfully interstellar-esque orgasm. Your eyes burn with tears as you watch your best-friend feel what’s happening, realizing. He’s covered in your release, and instead of being mad, he is influencing you like the little devil that he can be, plump lip pressing to your ear lobe with one continuous command. “That’s it. C’mon, Y/N. Drench my dick.”

You wish you could bottle the feeling of your first orgasm with Eddie Munson, your best-friend—forever. Finding yourself growing into that vulnerability that comes with the high, you seek to find solace in Eddie’s arms, whimpering at the overstimulation of his thick cock. With that connection still in tact, Eddie is spinning you around, dick sliding out with a messy mixture of arousals covering you both—his member completely doused in your cream, painting the trimmed curls at the base of his shaft with even more of you, slicking back some more of that happy trail. You want to be embarrassed, but as he’s red faced and struggling to breathe, you know that there’s no need to be. He steers you back onto the bed, falling easily between your spread thighs, drawing them up and around his waist.

He presses his forehead into your own, kissing each corner of your mouth, rings circling in dusting sweeps on the apex of your thighs. His voice is a shivered whisper. “Fuck, baby. You okay?”

There’s words on your tongue, Eddie’s taste on your mouth, things you’ve known for years, but are unsure if Eddie has, or if this is something he needs because he’s afraid you’ll abandon him, but that he doesn’t feel what you do. Your head is spinning and Eddie brushes sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, taking his cock through your swollen folds, pressing that spongey head into your clit—both of you crying out. “Y/N, m’ right here. Care to join me?”

And god help you, the way that you look at him. Really allow yourself to see him this way—unabashed—it stirs all those feelings Eddie has bottled down since forever. You press your thumb into his mouth, your other hand sliding down to grip onto him, gliding your hand back and forth, relishing in how his abdomen tenses, muscles flexing, body gravitating towards whatever you’re willing to bestow. He doesn’t let you touch him much longer, taking what your hand isn’t around and guiding it back into your cunt, that scrumptious burn brimming you, making your thighs drop open, back arch, only to tighten your ankles around him, digging your heels into his ass. He suckles your fingertip into his mouth, licking the digit in until it’s down to the knuckle.

Your head presses sideways, cheek on his pillow, inhaling his shaving cream and that spicy scent. He pauses his movements, making you frown in displeasure. He lets go of your spit tainted finger, gripping your chin, a possessive fire overcoming him. His irises remain completely black, putting you deeper into that comatose trance of agonizing sin. “I want you to fucking say it, Y/N.”

You start a beginning questionnaire, Eddie shaking his head and pressing in harder on your chin, fingers splaying across your jaw, rings pinching your chin in the most delightfully painful of ways. “Say you want me, tell me you fucking need me. That you’re not tired of me, and that you’re proud to be the freak’s slut.”

Your hands wind around his back and you sink your nails in as hard as you can, bearing down on him, sucking him in deeper, both of you in a state of no return. His hand tickles down from your face and grips your neck. “Still sick of me, baby?” He situates your gaze, lifting his hips to a raise so that you can see where you’re connected. You’re inconsolable, that fire already blazing your gut, turning every sense into nothingness.

When Eddie starts back up again, he slams himself into you so hard that your vision goes dark and you shred your own bottom lip open, body moving closer to his wall due to the force. He’s licking beneath your jugular, words sensual and filthy, making your entire body spike in a sudden electricity. “Gonna cum in every hole you’ve got, so you remember that they’re mine.”

This time you’re more than ready to give him a warning, body beginning to shake beyond your control, breaths stuttering in your chest. Eddie reaches down between you, calloused thumb flicking your clit. Everything is so fucking wet and the way it sounds in the expanse of Eddie’s small room, it has you opening your mouth, out of control and greedily begging for more.

“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”

He’s grinning in that special way that weakens you—heart and soul, body and mind. “So much more than a slut.” His thrusts become choppy, his own babbling tone turning into Eddie-speak. “You are way more than you know, Y/N.”

You fondle his pick chain and bring him into your immediate airspace, mouths hovering. He’s nearing his end, cock getting fuller inside you. “Need you to tell me how much you love me.”

You both completely go slack. Eddie stops himself all together, body trembling, head bowing. Your heart rate increases, feeling as if you’ve skipped a staircase thousands of feet in the air and you’re now free falling.

Love… You don’t have to think twice.

Your hands move to cup his face, holding on, your eyes shining with tears at all overloaded emotions and senses. “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

At your admission, those beautiful eyes—dark with remains of passion—they fill, and he gives you his all, driving his cock into you in calculated presses, trying like hell to get you to cum first. When he speaks, his voice cracks apart. “Let me know that you’re right here with me, Y/N.”

“I’ve always been here, Eddie.” Is what you manage, thumping your hand against his wrist and helping him bring his fingers back to your clit.

He doesn’t let you look away, noses smashed together, sticky foreheads pressing, hair curtaining the apples of pink, sex stained cheeks. Your eyes widen as that knot begins to tighten in your stomach, unraveling so violently that Eddie has to grip your quivering thigh in one hand, the other keeping steady on your clit. You dig into his back, other hand tugging on his hair, and Eddie is giving a throaty seduction. “That’s it, be my good girl and cum again for me.”

And you’re coming apart at your very core, every cell exploding and rebuilding, gluing yourself to Eddie to seize the ache that scrambles your insides and leaves you breathless. He’s cursing, keeping his finger on your clit to help you coast over the high, immediately following you with the lowest, sweetest, whimpering moan that you’ve ever heard. Both of your eyes still drinking in the other’s pleasure, tears spilling over your lash line as Eddie’s hips cease and he holds, his cock swelling and that soft, creamy warmth coating your sore walls in spurts. He collapses onto your chest and you hold him there in a vice hug, his hand still trapped between your exhausted bodies. He gently eases it out, groaning around the wetness that he’s all too eager to sample until the layer of shine is off his fingers.

Holy shit and fuck me…

Your legs fall to the side, unable to stay upright any longer, Eddie keeping a hovering hand to soothe your shaking. He kisses your neck with a plush mouth, his chain dangling between your breasts. You’re petting his hair—which is so soaked it’s as if he’s been in the rain or come from the shower—off his forehead, wincing as he slides out and keeps himself by your side. You gasp and he joins, fascinated by your cum and his own seed pouring from your cunt. He raises up a little. “Mhm. Let me see?”

He props your thigh, sliding his fingers back and forth, zoned in on his bedsheets being ruined from the literal puddle of your shared cum that runs from you. Seconds pass and he grins widely, plopping onto his back, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, down to your arm. It’s a comfortable quiet, even with the intense meaning of the words that were spoken, until Eddie starts with a, “So..?”

And you cut him off, trying to get your uncomfortably hot body closer. “So I love you. And I have never stopped needing you, or wanting you, Eddie. I just hope all this wasn’t because we were fighting and you got scared I would leave, and —“

He doesn’t let you finish this time, that chocolate-ly brown ring swinging back around his pupil in a brisk develop, showcasing the moisture in his eyes. “I was scared because I love you so damn much that I would charge headfirst into Mordor, or some alternate dimension without any weapon or any shield, just for you. You gotta know that, Y/N.”

His softness, that glittering fragility, it makes you seal your mouth to his, kissing him full of your feelings. He cups the nape of your neck, drawing in closer, thumb coaxing a shiver from you as it passes over a certain spot behind your ear. On a wet break away, you’re nodding your head. “Guess we spent all week fighting when we should’ve been fucking and talking about our feelings.”

Eddie smirks, then is serious. “Be that as it may, I’m sorry I’ve been shit at showing you I appreciate all that you do for the guys and me. And for forgetting that you are your own person too. S’ not like I meant to, I swear. I just get so fucking caught up and I shouldn’t take for granted anything that has to do with you or with us.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my best-friend, Eddie Munson?”

While it’s still true, you’re wondering when the words leave your lips. Eddie just fucked you so hard you probably won’t be able to sit down for a week or walk upright for hours, so friendship isn’t exactly the most appropriate term anymore, is it?

Eddie taps his fingertips to your temple, drawing your dazed expression, clinging to the cosmic connection once more. “M’ yours, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, Munson?” You’re so high that you could fly out of here right now and make rounds around the whole globe. Your chest is aching with a tempo that promises new hope and ease.

Eddie is giddy too, that wide set smile, cheesing. “Just gotta get you a new shirt.”

The memory of your old club attire being one with the forest floor seems like so long ago. Eddie knuckle grazes your cheek, apologetic. You shush him. “I ruined yours, so we’re even.”

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and he’s tackling you beneath him, pinning your hands in a lace above your head. “Nah, we are just getting started on bein’ even, baby.”

~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @gothbitchshit @thisishellfire @ethereal27cereal @likedovesinthewnd

-I really need to form a bigger tag list! I’m sorry :/-

Lemme know if you want on my general tag list, please! :)

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sunflower-lilac42 · 3 months

Text

✧ 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 || quinn hughes (feat. jack + luke) ♔

summary: after a long day, y/n comes home to see her boyfriend and some visitors in her apartment

warnings: none :)

publish date: 02/08/24

notes: just a cute and funny little blurb today. this is totally inspired by my brother and i finding a playlist titled white girl music and listening to it in the car today. i was listening to 'come and get it' by selena gomez when i thought of this but literally any white girl song will work (some of my favorites i thought of include; poker face, applause, any early popular taylor hype music {wanegbt, ybwm, ikywt, shake it off, etc.}, pocket full of sunshine, lady gaga, etc). i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i had writing it. add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

It had been a long day. Nothing had gone necessarily wrong but just the amount of hours that she had put in doing paperwork and typing away on her computer had done enough to tire her out. Her walk was sluggish as she climbed up the steps and down the hallway of her and Quinn’s apartment, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

She stopped in her tracks when she noticed the mud prints on their welcome mat, Quinn had a complete off day today. He always told her when he was going out so if she needed something, he could get it for her. So if Quinn went somewhere, he didn’t tell her.

When she went to put her key in the door she heard music coming from inside. Maybe she was delirious and it was coming from the apartment next to theirs or maybe there was no music at all. Then she heard voices singing, or more like yelling. They were male and they sounded familiar. Having enough of whatever was going on she placed her key into the door and turned it, the clicking sound making its way to her ears.

She pushed the door open and was met with the sight of her boyfriend and his two brothers dancing and singing in the living room, Jack on top of their coach, listening to Selena Gomez , A smirk made its way onto her face as she threw her keys on the counter top and placed her bag on one of the chairs. She walked to the small hallway that separated the living room and kitchen and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and an amused look on her face.

They didn’t notice her until she couldn’t hold in her laughter any longer. The three of them turned around quickly, faces going completely white as they stared at her, “Hi boys.”

The two younger siblings looked at her with an embarrassed smile on their face, “Hi y/n.”

Quinn however stayed silent as she made her way towards him, a blush rising to his cheeks. Never in a million years would either of them imagine this scenario happening, much less getting caught while doing something like this.

When she reached him, she gave him a kiss on his cheek, “I come home from an exhausting day at work to find you and your two brothers listening to white girl music in my living room?:

As the three heard what they were doing through the eyes of someone else, their embarrassment got all the worse. She glanced over at Jack who was still standing on the couch, “And Jack Rowden Hughes if you do not get off my couch in the next five seconds-”

She didn’t have to say anything more as he jumped off the couch, landing on his feet with a heavy thud, causing Quinn and y/n to cringe, “Sorry y/n/n.”

“What are you two even doing here?”

They just looked at her and gave her a fake smile, “We missed Quinn?”

“Mhm, okay. Well I for one am exhausted and I will be going into the bedroom. But you three are more than okay to continue listening to your white girl playlist and singing your hearts out.”

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #luke hughes #lh43 #jack hughes #jh86

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ultimate-chickennougat · 3 months

Text

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 2)

Vol 1 (not required) Vol 3 Vol 4 Vol 5 Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader;

Waking up with Kento Nanami...

Word Count: 1.2k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, Nanami's shirtless (nondescriptive)

A/n: I hope to make a 3rd volume soon... this was so fun to write!

There was something so peaceful about the morning. Since marriage, life was full of excitement and pleasures big and small. Former causes of stress had been lifted off your shoulders, all by the love of your life, your dear husband Nanami - something that you would always be grateful for.

To say that the provided comfort was reciprocated, was certainly believed by Nanami. His disposition on work remained unchanged since you first met, and you had remained his most precious thought, making every troublesome day worth it and fade away.

Instead, it was only time that still lingered, the tick of a clock and rise and fall of the sun being your constant reminders. In the end, life is short, something that both you and Nanami understood and dreaded.

That was the reason for sleeping in that morning, in Nanami’s eyes. He knew you were both sore and tired from the day before, and it was only right that the two of you got some much needed time together, as newlyweds.

Sunlight had started to pour into the room through the large windows, decorating the dressers and chairs away from the bed. It was a sight to behold, the precious space that the two of you decorated together, and of course the face of you, sleeping softly in his arms.

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought that crossed his mind, closing his eyes. Though he could spend hours listing everything he loved about you, there was one that was particularly apparent at that moment.

Your heat.

The warm radiating heat of your body, covered in blankets after long hours of sleeping. It was such a wonderful contrast to the coolness from the night before, after you took a quick shower and hopped into bed, clean as you preferred. Feeling cold as usual, you had snuggled in close to his arms as he spooned you, hand resting on your stomach as you drifted off to sleep.

Now, you were the warm one, and Nanami wouldn’t have it any other way. It was addictive, having your heated squishy form pressed against him when he woke up. In fact, he woke up early every day, just to enjoy that without missing work.

To get started on the day's tasks, you had to wake up early as well. Nanami left for work promptly at 8:30 AM each morning, and his breakfast and lunch had to be prepared, as well as his outfit and things. Now, this didn’t take nearly as much time as was provided by waking up at 5:30, and the intention of course was so he could sleep in, but that didn’t happen, and in fact it never did.

Something about it being important for Nanami to wake his wife up, with kisses of course, was still floating around in his brain after two months of sleeping in the same bed. He got a good 7 hours of sleep anyway, and dreaming of you still wasn’t as good as the real thing.

Moving even closer to you, he started his little routine. His arms wrapped around your torso, as he gripped the pink nightgown you had on. Placing his head near your shoulder, he carefully kissed your ear, hearing small murmurs from you.

“Good morning, my cute little wife,” he smiled, kissing your jaw next as you stirred. His breathing got heavier as he felt your hands move to his. “Have I ever told you how much I love you, Y/n?” his head moved down to kiss your shoulder, and then your nose as you held onto his wrist.

You were so perfect, laying with him on your side. Surely you were tired, waking up early every morning when you could sleep in. That was why he had to do it, to wake you up himself and make it as enjoyable as possible. To have his voice be the first thing you hear every day, and to get to inform you of his love, even before you got to work. Of course he enjoyed this as well, another sight that only he has ever seen.

“Kento…” you murmured, finally awake. This time he pulled you closer to him, lazily throwing his leg over yours and turning your face to make eye contact. “Yes dear?” he whispered back, kissing your forehead. “I love you…” you mumbled incoherently, still half asleep, as you started kicking the blankets off, overheating.

He kissed the top of your head, next. “You’re so warm…” he replied, squeezing you tighter. “I love it,” he couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you squirmed, his words making you feel butterflies. “It’s too early in the morning for that…” you whined, trying to turn away from him, but he stopped you with another kiss. This time, to your lips.

It was sweet and short, only a few moments passing before he pulled away. “You’re right, my apologies,” he gave you another kiss on the nose. “I’ll save the compliments for later.” You blushed, silently enjoying his groggy voice. It was deep and rough, his tiredness was evident with every word - and you loved the sound.

“Darling, I should get up now.” You stated, starting to untangle yourself from his grip, but in response it only got tighter. Your eyes were wide, starting to feel awake. “Is it that late already?” He asked, rubbing your stomach lightly, as if he wasn’t the one with the watch.

He pulled you over to face him, holding you in a hug. Your face pressed against his bare chest, an evident blush covering your face as he kissed your head again. The lack of clothing kept him cool, making it incredibly comfortable in the morning.

He tilted your head up, meeting your eyes. “Just a few more minutes, I’m tired,” he chuckled, feeling as you pushed him away. “Okay just a few more… or else your breakfast won’t be ready,” you groaned at the thought. His lunch could be put together with leftovers in the fridge, and of course he wouldn’t complain, but all the fresh fruit you had picked up the store would go to waste if it wasn’t used up.

It felt like eternity wrapped in his arms, hearing his deep and slow breaths, the sound of his heart beating, and feeling the rise and fall of his chest as you laid your head on it.

So much so that you didn’t realize it had only been thirty minutes by the time you worked up the will to ask.

“Darling?” You spoke softly, reaching up to give him a kiss yourself. “It’s 6:08, if you’re curious.” He responded, seeing you stare at his wrist. “Thank you, for this.” He pressed his lips onto yours, still just briefly, finally allowing you to get up. The downside to this morning arrangement, in Nanami’s opinion, was that he was awake. You took care of everything he needed to do in the morning, brewing his much needed cup of coffee and picking out his clothing, so that all he had to do was get up and move around, saving his energy for work. But what was the point of being laying in bed when you were gone?

You pushed the covers off your legs, quickly standing up off the bed as to not get drawn back in. Nanami sat up as well, resting against the headboard. Luckily, he still had the view of you rummaging through his closet, still all tired and in your nightgown, asking him sweetly about his activities for that day to choose the perfect tie.

Now he was definitely not going back to sleep.

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami #jjk x reader

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eliluvschan · 2 months

Text

My Eternity

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 2.098

warnings: cutie channie explaining his relationship & like one curse word?

genre: fluff

a/n: when i tell you i've never had a boyfriend would you believe me? lmaoo i blame the 4am thoughts for this one. took me 4 hours to write this with like 7 mental breakdowns through? i was listening to WOW and i reeeaally wanted to add Jisung's; jeogiyo noona hokshi namjachingu isseoyo? but rlly didn't know how lmao + i'm addicted to this small lettertype so imma use it from now on ;) okay now i'll let you go read. enjoooooy ♡

i’ve known you ever since the day when we were kids.

- we’ve been neighbours since childhood. you moved to my hometown, went to my class and blended in. everyone liked you, how could i not?

the happiest moment to ever exist.

- i was always happy when you sat beside me and my friends, not wanting to make friends with the others in high school.

check my bucket list, oh, you were on the list.

- before i met you, i didn’t have a bucket list. you just kind of became my best friend and we made a bucket list together. i never showed you mine, cause you were on the list.

i’m living the dream, somebody heard my wish.

- it has always been my dream to have someone like you by my side, so understanding, so beautiful with such an amazing soul. my wish has been heard and i’ve been the happiest ever since.

call out your name.

- my Y/nnie, princess, little one, baby girl, sweetheart, darling, love, honey, baby, jagiya, sweetie, future wifey, koala bear, cuddle bug and many more sweet names. i can give you a million nicknames.

you do the same.

- Channie, future husband, baby, jagiya, sweetheart, cutie, sweetie, boyfriend, darling, baby boy, prince, hottie, kangaroo, Chris, Christopher, Bahng. you never run out of nicknames for me and they always make me blush, laugh and flutter.

hug you all day.

- you love hugging me and so do i. it’s the best part of when i come home after a tiring day of practice and engulf you in a big hug like it’s the last time i’ll ever hug you.

i hope this’ll never end for eternity.

- i love you like the person you are, how your nose and brows scrunch together when you can’t open something and always ask me, or how you silently hug me from behind or the side when i’m busy producing songs. i don’t ever want to leave your side.

— ❀ —

i just want all time to stop.

- time has always been an issue. whether it’s morning or evening. i won’t ever get tired of you. the way you whine in the mornings for five more minutes, or evenings when you cling to me like my little koala bear.

— ❀ —

i’m never letting go.

- i am never letting go of you. you’re stuck with me jagiya. now until eternity.

let’s go on a little walk, see the world outside.

- i always have to drag you outside, or else you want to stay inside most of the times we're together. it's cute.

don't wanna let you go.

- never ever will i leave you. my eyes always find you in a crowd, at concerts or fan-meetings. one small smile and i feel like i can achieve anything in this big, scary world.

the way that you give me your hands, i'll fly.

- the first time you gave me your hand, was when your date dumped you at prom. you were so sad and i wanted to punch the bastard right then and there. even though i wanted to be the one who took you to prom in the first place.

at times when i feel down or empty.

- the times when i'm stressed with work, or when i have writers-block, you're always there to distract me. even without me saying anything, makes me love you even more.

you're always beside me.

- you're always there to catch me at my lowest moment. when i feel like a bad leader, or when i feel like i'm not enough for you, the boys or my siblings back in australia. you're just there doing something random with Jisung or Hyunjin and it brings the hugest smile to my face, making me forget all my worries.

promise that i'll love you plenty.

- i promise that i'll always love you. even when i don't show it or say it enough, my heart only beats for you. the way you joke around with Changbin, Felix and I.N. or play savage with Lee Know or Seungmin. it just fills my heart even more than i thought it could.

i hope this'll never end for eternity.

- i'm sure i tell you this lots but the way you always fiddle with the strings of your (my) hoodie or the way you put your hands in your or my holes in our jeans when you're anxious. it's adorable.

— ❀ —

when i look at you i know that you're the only one.

- i have never been in serious relationships but this one with you is something else. i want you to know that i want you as my first and last for everything.

the only one yeah.

- you're the only one that can make me do things i usually hate and the only one that can calm me down in your own magical way.

nothing in the world could beat our little special bond.

- nothing in the world can try and break our bond. with each other we can be crazy in our own way and none of us would judge each other for that.

'cause we are one.

- we are one. you complete me just as i complete you. you know everything of me like i know everything about you.

run around and make a mess, we don't even have to rest.

- the boys are always loud and a mess so i guess i need you to help me clean after them. being a dad of 7 is a tiring job. luckily i have you and together we can do anything.

every moment is a precious memory.

- every moment together or with the boys are precious. like dancing with danceracha until the early mornings, rapping sessions with 3racha in the studio or just joking around with vocalracha when they have nothing to do.

the way you wake me up in bed, yeah, i hope this never ends.

- you always lave little kisses around my face or just stare at me, staying in my embrace. it's mainly me waking you up cause you love your sleep and always ask for 5 more minutes to lazy around in bed.

i'm lucky that you're my best friend so.

- my best friend, my lover, my soulmate, significant other, my future wife, my girlfriend, my everything. there aren't enough words to describe my love for you. guess we should thank your parents for moving right next to us when you were 10.

— ❀ —

i just want all time to stop.

- those last 16 years went by so fast, it's crazy how fast time flies. i'll never forget our first encounter at school. you bumping into me and then scolding me for accidentally dropping my juice box on your blouse. i felt bad and handed you my shirt. and had a huge smile each time i saw you wearing my shirt that day around school.

— ❀ —

i'm never letting go.

- the time i confessed, and you didn't reply, i thought you'd hate me. instead you grabbed my face and gave me a long and passionate kiss. you were barely 17. i was 20. yet it was the best decision i had made that day.

let's go on a little walk, see the world outside.

- our first date was a walk around the beach. your hand was safely in mine as it was a little over 12 am. our phones full of missed calls from our parents as we enjoyed each other's company.

don't wanna let you go.

- when we told our parents about our relationship, they were over the moon. they never expected us to end up together and your father gave me a firm handshake and told me to speak to him later. never had i feared for my life more than the glare he gave me.

the way that you'll give me your hands, i'll fly.

- the way your hands fit perfectly in mine. it's a sign huh? you're my soulmate now and forever. or how you moved to seoul for me because you couldn't stand the long distance, not realising it would be lonely for you. but then again, i forgot what a social butterfly you are and became friends with half the Kpop industry as you were a dance teacher yourself, teaching dances to little kids who were passionate about dancing.

at times when i feel down or empty.

- there's always times when i feel down or empty. like how i worry about if Berry might forget me after not seeing me for a long time and you reassuring me that she won't. because that's who you are, always reassuring me and the others if one of us is feeling stressed.

you're always beside me.

- you've always been beside me. when i was a trainee, when i debuted, when i wasn't sure about my career and all the other choices i made in these last 16 years. you could read me like an open book and knew all my struggles back then and now.

promise that i'll love you plenty.

- the boys are always complaining how mushy i get when they mention you. they've also mentioned a million times when i'll propose to you, not knowing i've started planning way ahead and am planning to ask you very soon.

i hope this'll never end for eternity.

- you always bring me and the boys lunch on your free days or in the weekend. knowing that we all love your cooked foods. and then like to hang around and even dance together with us to choreo's that Lee Know teaches us. or how you even made some changes to the dances cause you thought they could use another movement.

— ❀ —

ah-ooh (eternity)

- you'll always be my eternity.

ah-ooh

— ❀ —

you make me call out your name.

- a little after 5 pm you arrive home. immediately jumping into my arms as you dump your shoes, coat and bag somewhere in the hallway. ''i missed you jagiya.'' i smile in your neck as you hum in response, telling me you missed me too.

you do the same.

- the way you always call my name when i come back home late. telling you not to wait up, yet every time you still do, attacking me in a tight hug and whine cutely telling me to take a quick shower before we head to bed.

hug you all day.

- the door opens and a few seconds later you're in the hallway with two heavy bags of groceries that you picked up on your way home. while you're cooking, i hug you from behind and we stay in each other's presence as you cook a delicious home made dish.

i hope this'll never end.

- even after a long, tiring day at work, you never fail to amaze me with the amazing dishes you learn from the internet, my mother or yours. the praises i give you aren't enough, so i'll feed you too.

— ❀ —

i'm never letting go.

- you've teased me a lot about going to my 'side-hoes' even though i've never had eyes for someone other than you. of course in those 6 years that we've been together we've had multiple fights. but we always went and apologised even if the fight wasn't that serious. we also have an unspoken rule to never go to bed upset and always communicate things with each other before accusing without proof.

let's go on a little walk, see the world outside.

- i'm planning on asking you on the beach. the exact same one where we had our first date years ago. i've got the perfect plan in mind to get you there and the best way to ask you. i can't wait to see your reaction to this song i wrote for you and the reaction you'll have when i go down on one knee and ask you to be mine for eternity.

don't wanna let you go.

- today, i asked your parents your hand in marriage. they were thrilled to see their little girl getting married to her first boyfriend from 16 years ago. 6 years ago your father glared at me for being the boyfriend of his daughter. today, he gave me a hug and told me he trusted me as your husband.

the way that you'll give me your hands, i'll fly.

- you're never getting rid of me, jagiya. i'll always love and cherish you for who you are. and so will the boys. they were so happy when i told them i'm finally proposing and wanted to be part of the plan too.

eternity.

- you're sleeping in my arms right now, not realising that the ring i'm planning to slip on your finger soon, is safely in it's box in my right hand, while my left arm is tightly wrapped around your fragile body, holding you close to me, your head on my chest right where my heart is beating just for you.

#skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fluff #bang chan fanfic #bang chan scenarios #bang chris #christopher bang #eternity #SoundCloud

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fatuismooches · 2 years

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hi omg, I hope you don't mind me sending requests <3

I live for your writing sm, all of your fluffs gave me diabetes but healthier. I am a sucker for all of them, so thank you for putting your time and effort in your written works <3

I was thinking of headcanons with gn!reader and the fatui members but the reader is fragile, who can get easily sick or physically weak because of the unhealthy conditions during their childhood. I would love to think about those "meanies" (cough dottore or scara) would go insta worry mode if something bad happens to you because of your condition. Fluff or angst, I'm in love with both, I hope you don't mind about the request ^^ (you can decide platonic or romantic <3)

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. That is until they start worrying over your frail figure.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: I really loved this request, it made me really inspired! (Probably because they'd be extra soft in this scenario and I love that...) I hope you like this nonnie!

Pierro:

He doesn’t get to see you very often with his work and whatnot. But rest assured that you are in good hands, and that even if Pierro only has a spare twenty minutes of break, he’s coming to your room or wherever you are to check up on you. He doesn’t want you to be restrained. He wants you to go and experience Snezhnaya instead of being cooped up alone all the time (with the proper guards and company of course.) He is a very stoic but kind gentleman. You’d hide in his coat while walking together and no one would know until you pop out of it and scare the recruits. He holds the doors open, pulls up the blankets to the very top. When you’re tired due to your sickness he likes to use ancient Khaenri’ahn magic to make you smile.

If you died, Pierro would feel grief that he has not felt since the destruction of his homeland. He has already lost so much that his heart had become numb a long time ago, but your death made it come flooding back. He would have some kind of small figure similar to a chess piece made of you, and he’d keep it on him. In the battle for his heart, you were always the winner. What hurt the most was that he couldn’t even be with you in your final moments, to at least confirm how much he loved you despite everything. But he promises you, he will see you again in the “Old World” after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s dream.

Capitano:

He is really worried for you. It was such a sharp contrast - big, tall, in tip-top shape, hulking Capitano while little old you struggled to walk straight sometimes. If you sneeze or even cough once, he’s literally all over you asking you if you’re okay. He tries to do a lot of things for you by himself. He stabs the meat on your plate so hard it breaks. He accidentally spends an hour deciding what you should wear, because he didn’t realize you had this many clothes, so he needed to choose something that’d look the best on you, despite not really having any fashion sense. But at least he is very diligent with your medicine times. He literally hovers over you, unintentionally being menacing, while you drink it. It’s very cute but the first time he did it, you spat out the medicine in surprise because you opened your eyes and he was just standing there with no warning. (Don’t ask him to pour it though. Once you asked him to pour a little into the bottle’s cover. His hands were too big and it spilled on the bedsheets.) If you collapse on him, he would be internally panicking so hard. Poor guy thought he hurt you somehow. The kind of guy who paces back and forth and causes everyone around him ten times more anxiety with how he’s acting. Also, lots of rides where you hook your legs over his shoulders and your hands are on his head (I don’t know what they’re called.)

If you died, Capitano would feel like a monster. Yes, he didn’t kill you, but it still felt like your blood was on his hands. Or did he kill you? He brought ruin and destruction to everyone, did he curse you too? How did he even know you were happy with him? Did you regret it? Would you have been happier spending your days with someone else? Horrific questions dug deeper and deeper stabs into his sturdy body, weighing him down day by day. He would give up anything just to have you back in his arms, for you to reassure and caress him, that he wasn’t a demon. But it seemed like the monster part of him was taking over anyway.

Columbina:

The kind of lover who has a list of songs that remind her of you and also buys you the record so you could listen to it. Columbina thinks music can soothe and heal the soul. So everyone can frequently hear tunes coming from your room. She also has a very calming voice in general, so when you are in pain, she just talks to you. She’d gently croon you to sleep or get you to spill all of your fears about the future, and thus comfort you. Since she sings, I’m declaring that she’s pretty poetic and would write poems for you. They always include bravery, strength, and overcoming illness with love, complete with heart doodles around it.

If you died, she would create multiple songs in honor of you. At your funeral, they couldn’t go on with the proceedings for a long time because she sang for hours, thinking of you. Often, she would go to your coffin, encased in ice, and just lie on it, singing. I think she would take a piece of your clothing and attach it to her outfit or something. I just have a feeling that she has lost before, but she likes to hold that article of clothing and feel as though you are still with her. She would become lost in her thoughts a lot more than before. If you had a favorite song, Columbina could often be found humming it to herself alone.

Dottore:

He’s a doctor. A very unethical one, but Dottore’s still extremely intelligent. He knows what you can and can’t do, your possibilities and your limits, your good days and your bad days. He doesn’t trust anyone else to monitor your progress and health. When it’s time for your walks, Dottore personally comes with you, which baffles the other Fatui who knows that virtually nothing can come between him and his research. He tells you about how his medicine for you is coming along, and while you can’t really understand any of it, you like clinging to his arm for support. When it’s time for your medicine, he administers it himself despite your whining that it’s yucky. (For you though, he would find a way to make it a flavor to your liking.)

But even for him, illness can sometimes be unpredictable, despite his precise calculations. Which is why whenever your condition randomly takes a turn for the worse, his mood completely changes and he’s already running a bunch of tests and taking your pressure and all of the like, trying to figure out what triggered your illness. Everyone knows not to even look at him during these times. Doesn’t show it but even though he isn’t scared of anything, these little stunts are not good for him. Has notebooks dedicated to your condition and daily status updates. Nothing goes unnoticed by him. Oh, but he’ll have his clones piggyback you around when you’re too tired to walk <3.

If you died, Dottore wouldn’t show it, but he would never forgive himself. He has the power to create artificial Gods, clone himself, and so much more, but he couldn’t save you? Honestly, he would probably preserve your body through cryosleep, unable to accept your death and his failure. He keeps you in a room that no one else has access to, and just… stares at your naked body in the tube, ruminating about how much he wanted you back. Dottore’s efforts to research and master resurrection triple, and he won’t stop until he could hear your voice again.

Pulcinella:

When you’re at your lowest because of your illness, Pulcinella always comes in and likes to tell you some roundabout story that always has a life message at the end. He’s serious with you but also likes when you have fun. Reads you stories in different voices but it’s not very good when he sounds like a grandpa in all of them. He likes to set you up with different Harbingers. They’re also like family to him so he would want them to spend time with you. It would help your mental health too, he thinks. While some are fine with it, others are less interested, let's just say Papanella has his ways.

If you died, it really felt like he lost his own child. Pulcinella loved when you came to him asking for stories. When you sometimes left the country but came back with exciting stories. He liked to joke that if an old man like him could make it for this long, you’d have to as well. He really wanted you to go and experience the world and what it had to offer, just like he did. Planning your funeral was not something he was looking forward to.

Scaramouche:

Sometimes, he can’t help but think to himself, how much of a grip a weak, frail human like you has on him. A strong breeze could probably knock you off your feet, meanwhile, he has God-like powers. Yet he feels like a fool in your presence. He complains about how needy you are but in an instant, he is ordering someone to bring you a glass of water or extra blankets. Grumbles about how fragile you are but he holds you so gently, you wonder if it’s still Scaramouche. When you’re around, he tends to keep his voice down and not yell at others, since he doesn’t want to accidentally make you feel worse. Scaramouche is still his snarky self, but it’s noticeable how much he observes you, matching his pace to yours even if you’re walking slowly as hell, stopping with you to look at the scenery.

Despite all his whining, not gonna lie, if you collapse on him, he will probably freak out. If he had a heart, it would be thump-thump-thumping, but in its place is just an ache and unsettling feeling. Instantly catches you but his mind goes to the worse, knowing how fleeting your life was. Would move faster than the speed of lightning to get you help, and would not leave for side for anything. Waking up to Scaramouche’s hand intertwined with you and his head facing down into the sheets was not something you expected. In fact, he acts more vulnerable than you, ordering you (which, in reality, is more like a plea) to get better soon.

If you died, any remnants of love and kindness would just… extinguish. Anything in sight is being thrown, crushed, electrocuted. If the sickness was caused by the Tatarigami plaguing Inazuma, he would be especially furious. He would curse everything, everyone. The God, his creator, who abandoned him and let you get this sick. The doctors who were too useless to do anything. But he would curse himself the most, for being so weak, and not being able to do anything for the one person who actually gave a damn about him, now fated to wander Teyvat by himself for eternity. (But… reincarnation AU, anyone?)

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino is a silent yet watchful and hands-on partner. She observes you closely to see if your condition is acting up, or if you’re starting to feel ill. She is the kind of person who wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen since she picks up on your cues. Often times Arlecchino would scold the orphans for bothering you so much but you’d always reassure her that you didn’t mind. Whenever you try to lie about how well you’re feeling, she always narrows her eyes at you and makes you lie back down. Nothing can get past her. I also think she has a great soup recipe due to her experience with children, so you’ll definitely be fed some good food.

If you died, it would seem that there was no change in Arlecchino to the Fatui recruits. Same stone cold face and dead eyes. Same harsh voice that spat out orders. And they would be right, outwardly at least. Inwardly, however, was a completely different story. When a wound is healing, it hurts the most when it’s targeted. If her heart wasn’t hurt before, now it felt like it was completely broken, just when you were starting to piece it back together. When she looks at the children playing, she envisions you running after them too, but the only thing there is the shadows of the kids. When she’s walking through the halls, she anticipates you trying to creep up on her unknowingly and give her a back hug, but now all she hears is her own intense footsteps. When she’s doing paperwork, she expects to see you trying to sneak sugar into her coffee… but you won’t ever be here to do those simple things again.

La Signora:

La Signora treats you like glass. She is especially overprotective of you because she greatly fears losing you. You have the best maids and servants tending to your every need. She’d rather you not exert more energy than you have to. When she’s not around, she sends her little flame moths with sweet messages to you, in hopes of making you smile. She is scared about you going out by yourself since you could get sick so easily. So whenever you need a breath of fresh air, she makes sure to bundle you up in the finest coats. Also has her moths flutter around you for heat. Signora is very tall, so I think she would like to sit you on her lap and do simple things with her. I think she secretly craves a domestic life with her lover after she was robbed of it so long ago. She’d want to play with your hair, press you into her soft chest, make origami butterflies together.

If you died, the ice that previously surrounded her heart would swallow her up again. No more teasing you, hooking her finger under your chin, and kissing you. No more mock fashion shows where she helped to dress you in the most gorgeous clothes and the two of you would pose for pictures for the Kamera. It seemed as though the Gods would tear anyone she loved away from her without hesitation. She suffered the loss of her love once, but for it to happen twice? The pain was unbearable but Rosalyne sealed her feelings up once again. Coldness and ruthlessness returned to mask her true feelings, for if she didn’t, she feared she might not be able to handle it.

Pantalone:

Pantalone wants you to see and do anything you want. You want to go to Liyue to attend the Lantern Rite? He’s clearing his schedule to come with you. You want some obscure item? He’s searching all the markets and buying it, no matter the cost. You picked up some hobby to pass the time? He’s indulging you with the most expensive and efficient equipment to help you with it. He wants you to have the most stress-free, easy, and happy life, so you can just focus on recovering and getting better. Every day, you’ll be visited by a new doctor, repeating the same old questions about how you feel, but Pantalone reassures you that they’re working on something for your health. He’s thankful that his position in the Fatui allows him to stay in Snezhnaya most of the time because he worries about you every minute of the day. The kind of guy who would have a status report on your health sent to his office every hour.

If you died, behind closed doors, his smile would immediately drop, now feeling like it was a heavy burden just to quirk his lips. He had access to the best doctors, medicines, and even bought ancient remedies long forgotten. Yet it was all fruitless. The Mora that he once loved to feel slip through his fingers sickened him. What was all the money he had worth? It couldn’t buy your life back.

Sandrone:

If you want her to, she could probably hook you up with some robotic/prosthetic limbs. But she’ll never want to make you a full robot. You’re not one of her experiments, you’re her lovely lover. At first, she was okay with you going on walks. Well, it wasn’t really a walk because a Ruin Guard just carried you in its hand. But she never did that again when the robot returned with you collapsed and unconscious. Needless to say, the project Sandrone was working on is immediately dropped and now she’s taking extra precautions. I feel as though she would hook up a camera to her caretaker robots so she can be updated on your conditions at all times. When you’re sick, Sandrone likes to make cute robot animals, (which is something she never dreamed of wasting time on before she met you) to bring you little things. Maybe photos of some scenery she took might brighten your day. Or little short but sweet notes. The one that always makes you laugh is when it brings you a clipboard to fill out your daily assessment.

If you died, it would feel like she herself turned into a robot. Wake up, experiment in her lab for an ungodly amount of hours, forget to eat and sleep. Rinse and repeat. Her life was constant now that you, the variable, were gone. Sandrone had a bed for you in her lab so you could watch her while she tinkered with some mechanical parts. It was mostly you talking while she fiddled but your voice bouncing off the walls was pleasant. But now it was silent, only the squeaking of wrenches and screwdrivers remained. She felt emptier than any puppet.

Childe:

He’s the kind of person who excitedly grips your hand and tells you about all the fun and lively activities you two will do together when your health improves. He wakes you up every morning, sunlight pouring into the room and the smell of breakfast cooking (and him in an apron.) Loves to serve you breakfast in bed, spoon-feeding you while the two of you plan what the day will be like. You want to just stay in and relax? Great, he’s got some of Teucer’s favorite story books to read together. You want to go for a stroll? He’s already got the route marked and the picnic basket ready. Childe would manage to carry you and like ten other bags at the same time just to impress you. Also, he is your personal hype man. Even when you’re terribly sick, he’s there to motivate you and sing your praises about how strong you are.

If you died, he would feel lost. The abyss snatched a piece of his heart away already, but he felt even more hollow now. You were the only thing that made Childe forget about being a weapon for the Tsaritsa for a while. When he was away on missions, he enjoyed reading your letters about how you were supposedly getting better. In the middle of a battlefield he would flip through photos of you and his heart would swell in anticipation for the future. But as Teucer and his siblings wail and cling to his legs, and it takes all of Ajax’s strength to not break down in front of them too. When he’s alone though, he silently sobs into your old clothes and bed sheets.

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sykostyles · 28 days

Text

subject to change 1.1.1 (a check in)

wc: 2.2k summary: in which Harry shows y/n something new but it involves his store. part one part two

a/n: hi again! its been a while! I'm sorry I kinda disappeared, but I promise I have been around. After reading miss @gurugirl update the other day for bfd!Harry I needed some more breeding kink so I snuck some in here as well. I hope you all enjoy!! I’ve missed you all!!

cw: smut, use of sir, exhibitionism, breeding kink, cream pie, standing sex, brief spanking, choking if you squint, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), if there's any I missed pls let me know!

Ever since that night in the hotel with Harry, your relationship had been going strong. Every night, you’d go into his bookstore, and take claim on one of the couches in the seating area to work on your daily editing while he worked on closing down the store. He’d watch you make your concentration faces and think they’re some of the cutest things he’d ever seen. Sometimes you’d even meet a reader and have a chat with them as they perused the store. More people were stopping in lately to purchase holiday gifts for their loved ones, it helped that your latest release was always fully stocked at Harry’s House.

“You look annoyed,” Harry commented, taking a seat next to you on the couch.

“I am,” you huff, leaning into his side as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, placing a kiss atop your head. “I can’t figure out this idea, it's not anything we’ve done before so it's hard to imagine.”

“Well, Sweets, we’ve done quite a bit. Can you be more specific?” Harry always asks for the exact thing you want, making you squirm and he loves it.

“Like whe–when you get turned on from the possibility of getting caught.” your skin starts to get clammy from talking about these things out loud; it always did.

“Oh, you mean exhibitionism?” his hand runs up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps with every pass.

“Is that what it is? I thought it was voyeurism.”

“No, that’s when you get turned on from watching other people.”

“See there’s so many terms i don't understand yet,” whines leave your lips, he just chuckles at your mini meltdown.

“I can show you if you want,” he whispers in your ear in your favorite tone of his voice, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Sh–show me?” When he speaks to you in that tone, it doesn't take long for your core to throb.

He nods in response, a grin on his lips. “Mhm, but you have to be a good girl and wait until I close up. Can you do that for me, baby?” he asks, taking a hold of your chin and placing a kiss on your lips. You form a cute smile, your eyes glazed over in anticipation as you nod your head in his hold. “C’mon, baby you know better. Need words from you,” he laughs.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he gives you another kiss, “You stay here and work on your story, I’ll be back there closing down. I’ll let you know when I’m done, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” you nod excitedly, making him chuckle.

About thirty minutes have passed and you’re getting antsy. Harry’s never made you wait when you were feeling like this before, so you don’t really know how to act. You stand from the couch, and make sure the door is locked before making your way back to Harry. So what if there was still five minutes before closing? You were feeling needy.

“Thought i told you to wait?”

“Can’t sir,” you whine, leaning against the counter next to him as he counted the money in the register, not paying you any real attention.

“Too bad,” he continues slipping the bills between his fingers as he took mental note of the amounts before writing it in the book.

“Please, sir?” you begin fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, playing with the material as you look down to the floor.

No answer.

“Sir?”

Nothing. He just keeps counting the money

Your tone switches, you’re tired of being ignored. “Harry.”

He still doesn't respond, just sets the money down and looks over to you with irritation laced in his gaze. “Turn around,” he grunts, taking hold of one of your wrists. Harry walks up behind you, pressing his front into your back, making your hips dig into the counter in front of you. You hiss at the feeling. “What happened to you being my good girl? Hmm?” he takes hold of both of your hands, placing them on the counter in front of you. “Keep these here, yeah?”

Harry slides his hands down the expanse of your body, squeezing your hips as he makes his way south and gliding his hands up your skirt and tearing your panties off. The tearing sound makes you gasp. He slides the scraps of what was left into his pocket for safekeeping.

“Now, any of those people out there–” he begins to whisper in your ear. He pulls your hips back, leaving you in a slight bend, your lower half still pressed against him as he speaks.”--can look in here and see you being a little whore for me,--” he flips up the hem of your skirt exposing the skin of your ass.”--So I suggest you go back to being my good girl and be quiet.” Your eyes remain locked front; staring straight out the window as the people walk by without a clue.

He begins massaging the skin of your ass before lifting one hand off and bringing it harshly down against the surface making you jump and yelp loudly at the contact.

“Quiet,” he growls against the skin of your neck. Sliding his hand over your asscheek, he makes the journey around to your front, teasing where you want to feel him most. His other hand snaking its way around your throat, pinning your head against his shoulder as he begins to rub slow circles over your clit. Quiet pants leave your lips at every pass.

He speeds up; testing your ability to keep quiet. You take your bottom lip between your teeth when you feel him slide two of his fingers deep in your core, scissoring them inside your gummy walls. Every twist of his wrist makes you want to scream out his name, but you know the fate you’d meet if you did. Tempting, but also horrifying to be seen by all the people walking about, buying gifts for their loved ones. Your legs begin to shake once his fingers repeatedly stroke over that spot he knows you love.

“You gonna cum?” Harry asks, knowing full well you’re about to. You nod as much as you can in his hold in response. “Then cum.”

And you do, hard. The grip he kept on your neck was the only thing keeping you standing. A mixture of grunts and gargle sounds fall from your lips as you teeter over the edge and he pulls every bit of arousal from you possible.

“Which hole do you want stuffed, pet? Hm? Which hole should I stuff with my load for all of those people to look over and see?” His words feel like a dull blade running up the curves of your throat, setting your skin ablaze even more so than the fading orgasm he brought you to with just his fingers.

Harry lets go of your throat so you can speak, “My pussy please,” you choke out, leaning forward on your elbows against the counter below.

“Yeah? Wanna feel me fill you up full of my babies? Hm? Wanna be all swollen and plump for me?” his primal insticnt to mark you as his in for any passersby to see.

“Mhm! Need it so bad, Sir!” whines leave your lips faster than you can comprehend the words coming out.

“Gonna give it to you, Sweets don’t worry,” he opens the front of his pants, pulling his cock from the confines of his boxers before swiping his thumb over his tip to smear the precum around the surface. You feel him rub his length up and down your folds, tapping it against your clit making you a whiny mess underneath him. “Gonna be quiet for me or do i need to shut you up early?”

“Shut me up early,” you beg, wanting whatever he’s planning on giving you. His hand smooths up your back, wrapping it around your face, covering your mouth and pulling your head back as he pressed into you. Your eyes cross at the stretch and your muffled whines fill the air.

“Such a good pussy,” he moans softly, “always sucking me in so nicely. Think I’ll make a home in her.” you moan in response. “Yeah? Want me to make my claim for good? Knock you up?” You nod your head faster than you can process his question; you just know you want whatever he’ll give you. “Hm, do you think you deserve it?” you nod some more.

His thrusts are tantalizingly slow as hes speaking to you; never quite giving you what you want. He’s repeatedly giving you languid strokes but then switching, and pulling all the way out and then shoving just the tip back in; driving you mad. You want more. You need more.

“I don't think you do, I have to cover your mouth in order to keep you quiet so these people aren't disturbed outside. Doesn't seem like a very ‘good girl’ thing to do.” you whine at his words, wanting more.

“Please,” you try to muffle, he just repositions his hand across your mouth.

“Sorry pet, what was that?” Harry teases.

“Please!” you yell out after pulling his hand from your mouth to finally speak. An older woman hears your words, looking into the store. She just smiles at you and moves along, not thinking anything about the scandalous position you were in. A harsh smack lands on your ass in response.

“Gonna have to work on keeping you quiet,” Harry reaches down, pulling your torn panties from his pocket and balling them up. He pulls your head back again. “Open,” he demands. You lull your tongue out as your mouth falls open. He offers you a warm stream of spit before tucking your torn panties into your mouth and forcing it shut. Harry lets go of your head, coercing your upper half down on the counter, and taking hold of your hands as he finally sets a more brutal pace, driving your hips forward into the counter with every thrust.

Whimpers and whines fill the air as well as the sound of his clothed hips making contact with yours. “Fuckin tight pussy always treats me so well,” Harry grunts, “Gonna fill it up nice n’ deep for you, sweets.” Whines of approval leave your lips. The coil in your belly is pulling further and further as it gets ready to snap. “Gonna cum again, baby?” he asks. You nod your head fervently at his words, making him chuckle. “Give it all to me, pet. Cum for me,” Harry pleads.

His pleas make the coil snap; sending you over that metaphorical peak. Feeling your walls clench around him so tightly sends him into his own orgasm as he chases his own high. He buries himself inside as deep as he possibly can as he releases his load into you. “Fuck, sweets, gonna milk me dry."

Sticky sounds fill the air around you as he continues thrusting in and out of you, unable to let go of the warm feeling. He’s imagining the look of fucked out bliss across your face and he smiles as he comes down. The feeling of you still wrapped around his cock feels like heaven to him. He’d stay like this forever if it was feasible. He was addicted to hearing the whimpers fall from your lips, though he thinks he'd rather hear you call his name from now on. Nothing compared to that for him. Knowing he was the one giving you the pleasure you were feeling.

After he pulled out, harry was quick to clean the mess between your legs with his tongue. Quickly dropping to his knees behind you, deftly ignoring your pleas of “too much,”

“Just cleanin’ up our mess, baby,” he spoke against your core; the vibrations almost too much. You reach back, attempting to shove his head away but he slaps your hand away.

“So that was exhibitionism?” you asked, slipping into the bed beside Harry as he pulls you to his chest.

“Mhm, kinda hot right?” he asks, placing a kiss atop your head.

“I liked it. I was so terrified and turned on when that woman looked inside,” you admitted, pulling the covers of his bed up and over the both of you.

“I’m glad you liked it, and I’m also glad I’m the only one with access to my security cameras in the store.” he chuckled against your hair.

“Oh god, I didn’t even think about that.” you laughed. You begin thinking back to the act, and how he talked about getting you pregnant. “Would you really want a baby with me?” you asked timidly.

“Course I would. I mean, right now wouldn't be optimal timing, but I’m not against the idea. Why? Is that really sticking with you?”

“Mhm, I liked the idea of having a little bit of you with me forever.

“I like that idea too, Sweets,” he places a soft kiss against your lips.

“Now what about voyeurism?”

c/n: hello babies, if u made it this far I LOVE YOU! leave me a 😈 if u’re here :))) thank you all for the love along this couples journey. I’m not ready to let them go either. I’m thinking of just carrying on with their story? Maybe? Perhaps? But I also have a few other ideas I want to work on! We shall see my loves. Let me know what you’d like to see though! 🩵

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry edward styles

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luna0713hunter · 7 months

Note

I just saw you opened your fall prompts and I had to request you something!! Could I request prompts 3 and 15 for Zoro? Maybe the straw hats all decide to go for a night out and dress up and the reader and Zoro have a cute moment outside? Maybe some little teasing from the other crew members? Thank you so much!

Author's note : welcome to my Autumn prompt!!! you're the first request and I'm so excited to write this!!!i hope you enjoy it!!! Kick back,and wrap a warm blanket around yourself! Get cozy ^^

"I'm cold," "come here,let me warm you up."

"making you wear their jacket when you're too stubborn to dress properly."

Based on this prompt

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : none! Super fluffy,pet names,you being stubborn and Zoro being too lovesick to get tired with your shit,cute couple (you), annoying crewmates,reader is said to wear a dress but is gender neutral otherwise

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"you're seriously going out like that?"

"yes!its not too cold and I'm not changing."

"you do realize if it gets any colder, we'll have snow."

"well I'm not cold!and i love this dress,so no changing!"

Zoro grumbles something under his breath,and you grin when he finally relents. When you skip over to where he's leaning against your doorframe and cheekily wrap your arms against his (muscular) bicep,he sighs when you flutter your eyes up at him.

"why are you being so stubborn?you know it's cold outside."

"because we never have the opportunity to dress up so nicely!!and now that the guys have decided to celebrate somewhere nice,who am i to turn such a great opportunity to dress nicely, down?"

Zoro merely mutters a 'whatever' and starts walking. Even upset with you,he reaches back and wraps his bigger hand around your smaller one,and when you finally step outside,you swallow thickly;its fucking freezing.

You unconsciously press yourself closer to Zoro's warm side;feeling his leather jacket on your bare arms. The dress you've chosen has no sleeves,and the top of your chest is particularly exposed to the cold weather. You mentally curse yourself for not listening to Zoro,but you'll be damned if you admit it to his face. So instead,you swallow down the nervousness you feel for staying in such weather for the rest of the night in that dress,and wave at your crewmates who're waiting for the two of you.

"damn y/n,you look nice." You laugh at Usopp's comment and when Nami gives you a meaningful wink and looks at Zoro's direction,you feel slightly warmer.

But not enough to stop your teeth from clattering together as you start walking with your crewmates in the freezer streets. After few minutes of walking ,however,your mind starts to wonder off to how cozy and warm everyone's clothes seem to be. You only nod and hum at your friends' questions or jokes,and try to particularly melt yourself into Zoro's side. So when that's not enough and the cold becomes too unbearable,you let out a small sneeze that has everybody falling silence and turning their attention to you.

You rub your reddened nose with your numb fingers and then let out your warm breath on them. You clench and unclench them a few times so you could return some feeling to them and look up at them sheepishly.

"you alright there,dear?"

You nod kindly at Sanji's question,and then Luffy puts a comforting hand on your bare shoulder.

"we can go back if you're too cold."

"Thanks Cap," you grin, "but i can handle it."

Just as Luffy opens his mouth to respond,a sudden warmth engulfs your form.

And your hands immediately raise up to cling to the source.

When you look down,you see a familiar jacket around shoulders. Strong hands pull the front closer to one another and gentle fingers close the zipper.

The sweet scent of your boyfriend adds up to the cozy warmth and you let out small content noise.

You turn around and smile shyly up at the swordsman, watching as he raises a brow and when he sees some color returning to your cheeks,he sighs.

"warmer?"

"very." You raise on your tiptoes and presse a gentle kiss to his slightly cold nose, "thank you,babe."

When you feel his fingers interlock with yours ,you frown slightly upon feeling his cold fingers; lending you his jacket,Zoro was particularly standing there only in a thin shirt. So you tug at his hand to get his attention and when you have it,you smile again.

"I'm still cold."

Zoro only huff and with a hand on your waist,pulls you to his chest.

"come here,let me warm you up."

You're so happy to be in his embrace and bury your face in his chest to relish his natural warmth,that you completely forget about your surroundings. And then Zoro wraps his protective arms around your waist to press his lips to yours. His lips are so warm and when they move against yours,you feel warmth spreading across your core and all over your body.

And you would've continued kissing him right there,in the middle of the street,if it wasn't for the loud wolf whistling suddenly coming from behind you.

"dude,if we're interrupting just tell us!"

"get a room you two!"

"and just as i thought the mooshead had no human emotions in him."

"I'm hungry,can you continue this in the restaurant?"

When you hear Zoro scowl above you to his crewmates,you laugh happily and squeeze his waist.

"let's go."

And as Zoro drops a loving kiss to your forehead and wraps his arm around your shoulder to lead you behind the others,you feel even warmer ; Zoro wont ever let you feel cold. Not ever again

#opla zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #one piece live action x reader

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buckyalpine · 7 months

Note

The wait way universe. The one where they get married.

Ohh god it is perfect.

Please say you will write more of this?

I am begging you.

Need more of the baby.

And all the group together having fun family nights.

Another baby maybe? ;)

Aunts and uncles fighting to hold the baby.

Bucky and the reader being told the baby moved the hammer and thor really presenting him with a mini hammer?

Also I love love love love love uncle Tony’s nickname for the baby. Mini terminator love it.

Happy squealing baby is so cute.

I just love it. So much.

I will beg for more. I will. I love it. I love your writing. I love how you write the characters.

Oh god I would kill to see protective avengers. Maybe someone takes the reader and the baby, oh and even more so the reader is pregnant. :0 dun dun dun…. Protective angry Bucky, Steve, Tony,Sam ,Nat, Wanda, Bruce etc

OKAY YES. I'm here for PROTECTIVE AVENGERS OVER ALL THE BABY BUCKIES AND HIS ANGEL. You can read this piece as a stand alone. I added the links for other parts if you want to read it but you don't have to. We're all here for what happens when you mess with Bucky's family.

Wait, what?

Wait, what? 2

I do (again) Wait, what? 3

Wait, what? More Babies?

Competitive God Fathers

You smiled to yourself, carefully adding the last piece of tape to Bucky's gift, tying a perfect bow around the wrapped box before hiding it in the closet. Bucky was due to come back soon and while you missed him like crazy, his absence made it easier for you to get his surprise together. Over the last few weeks, you'd felt more tired than usual along with feeling tender and crampy. One trip to the pharmacy, a pregnancy test and a positive result later, you'd bought a custom onesie with Baby Barnes Jr #4 printed on the front.

You hoped Bucky would enjoy the surprise you were growing in your belly, especially considering how often he kept insisting he wanted just one more, adding to your growing family with Steve Jr who had just turned 5 and your 3 year old twins Samantha and Nathaniel. You hid the present under the bed before going to the playroom to tuck your littles ones into bed, the three of them unusually quiet compared to their usual mischief.

"C'mon munchkins" You smiled at the sight before you with Stevie sprawled on a large bean bag, his brother and sister on tucked on either side, their big brother reading to them while they intently looked at the pictures. "Bed time for you babies"

"Will daddy be home soon?" Samantha asked with a pout, a complete daddy's girl just like you, tucking her face into your neck as you scooped her up along with Nathaniel while Steve followed promptly behind.

"Of course bub, he'll be here first thing in the morning" You assured her, kissing her forehead before tucking her into bed followed by the other little one. "Good night loves" You turned off the lights before going back to your room where you knew Stevie was waiting with his favorite book, ready for a bedtime story. It was a special bonding time you always made sure to have with him, not wanting you first baby boy to feel like he was no longer one of your favorites after the twins were born.

"What did you pick tonight baby" You got under the covers, fluffing the pillows and propping them up while Stevie snuggled up beside you, plopping a book about science onto your lap. You chuckled at the nerdy side he'd gotten from his dad, reading through scientific discoveries that were made in the last century and theories that were still being tested. He listened with wide eyes until they grew heavy, eventually falling asleep on your lap, not having the slightest clue you'd carried him to bed and tucked him in with a kiss to his cheek. "Sleep tight my sweet boy"

You slipped back under the covers, grabbing a book for yourself while occasionally running your hands over your belly, soaking in the quiet night before the team arrived after their latest mission.

It wasn't often that the compound was empty; few missions required all hands on deck but this was one of them. You'd received a message from FRIDAY informing you the jet would be landing in a few hours and that no medical assistance would be required because no one had sustained major injures. It was the sole reason you were able to relax so easily, happy waiting for your husbands arrival so you could tell him the good news.

You settled comfortably under the covers until a faint sound from the common room pulled you from your book again. FRIDAY would have alerted you if the jet was approaching and you would've definitely heard the sound of the engine approaching anyway.

But was still eerily quiet.

Then you heard something again.

You were sure it was nothing but you pressed the button under the bedside table that locked and secured the rooms of the little ones just to be safe. Tony had added additional security for their rooms in case of emergencies, with 4 different operating systems working at once. Absolutely nothing would happen to his godchildren under his roof.

It was probably nothing.

Still.

You grabbed the knife you kept hidden behind the headboard, tucking in under the waistband of you sleep shorts before making your way down, reprimanding yourself for being paranoid over what was probably just sounds of the plumbing and vents creaking in the middle of the night.

The halls were clear, easing some of your nerves as you continued to the common room where you heard the sound. The hairs on your neck stood up when you saw the glow of the kitchen light turned on, grabbing your knife, only to find one of the new agents sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on a coffee.

"Annabeth?" Your brows were knitted together, discreetly slipping the knife away, wondering how she'd gotten into the main floor of the compound when it was restricted to others after a certain time.

"Hey y/n" She gave you a sleepy smile while you watched her warily, "Couldn't sleep. Hope you don't mind, just wanted to grab a mug before heading back to trainee wing"

"Yeah, its fine" You spoke slowly, something still not sitting right with you though you didn't show it.

"How come you're still up, waiting for Sergeant Barnes?" There was something sinister in the sweetness of her voice, cocking her head while you hummed in response, stomach churning. "You're both so cute together you know. It's nice to see how his life has come together after all he's been through as the asset"

"Excuse me?" Your eyes grew wide, heart hammering against your chest, it was rare for anyone to refer to Bucky as the asset. Most referred to him as the winter soldier, even soldat, only those deep in Hdyra had called him-

"We want our asset back" She whispered, cracking a smirk and nodding to someone behind you. Before you could turn around, a large form grasped your body, slamming a hand over your mouth muffling your screams. You didn't have any time to react, feeling a pinch to your neck and slipping into darkness immediately after.

Bucky stretched with a sleepy yawn as the jet began its descent, already waiting at the doors and ready to hop out and see his wife and babies. He smiled at the thought of them all safely tucked into bed, sleeping soundly while you probably tried to stay up with a book. He always found you dozed off, book loosely falling from your hand, still propped up against the bed every time you waited for him. Didn't matter not how many times he told you to just go to bed. You always stayed up till you saw he was safe and sound.

Sam helped Bucky put away his equipment so he could get to you faster, everyone smiling watching the soldier dash off, running to his family.

"It's nice to see him like this" Nat nodded, trudging with the rest as they entered the compound, nothing amiss while they went to the conference room.

"He deserves it" Steve smiled, happy his best friend finally had what he'd always dreamt of. A wife. Kids. A safe home for them.

Bucky made his way over to see his little ones first, stopping in front of the heavily decorated door, covered with Captain America and Iron Man posters, courtesy of the two Godfathers competing for #1. Bucky smiled, turning the knob, only to find it locked shut, which was odd considering the only way to lock the door was if the security system had been activated.

He shook his head, frowning as he made his way to your shared bedroom instead, figuring it was a glitch or mistake. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach seeing the door open ajar, with the lamp turned on, your book set aside but you were nowhere to be seen.

"Baby?" Bucky called out, struggling to keep his panic at bay when the bathroom was empty, as was the closet. "Sweetheart?"

He called down the hall way a little louder before jogging to the kitchen but there had been no sign of you there when he'd entered. He started to move quicker, running back to disable to security system, breathing a sigh of relief to find all three little ones still sleeping soundly. He softly shut the door before immediately going to the conference room.

"Y/n, has anyone seen her?" He hoped to see you sitting with the others but he was filled with dread when the others shook their head in confusion. "She's-she's not in her room. I've checked everywhere, the security system was activated for the kids' room, she wouldn't leave the compound around this hour, somethings wrong"

No one asked questions, immediately jumping into action; Tony starts to comb through security from the time they left while Nat double checks every floor and room, just to be safe. Steve and Sam help Bucky look over your bedroom for any signs of a struggle. He ran his hand along the areas they'd hidden weapons, his stomach dropping when he felt the empty space behind the headboard.

"She took the knife" Bucky swallowed thickly while Sam and Steve shared concerned glances.

"Look, she's strong Buck, whatever it is, we'll find her" Steve insisted while Bucky continued to look, checking under the bed where he'd kept a pistol, nothing out of the ordinary except-

He frowned, seeing a little gift bag hidden underneath, newly packed with a gold bow placed on top. He picked it up, brows knitted together as he pulled away the tissue paper, feeling soft material tucked at the bottom of the bag. He took it out, heart splitting into two at the words written on the little onesie,

"Fuck!" A broken sob pulled Sam and Steve from their search, finding Bucky slumped by the edge of the bed.

"Buck?" they shared concerned glances seeing him holding something small in his hands, clutching it tightly to his chest.

"She's-she's pregnant" Bucky whispered, tears welling in his eyes holding the tiny jumpsuit in his hands, his heart couldn't take it-

"Barnes, we have something!" Tony's voice echoed through the coms, the three men running back to the conference room where Tony had pulled the footage from you in the kitchen. Bucky watched in silence, jaw clenched seeing the new agent use a stolen keycard to sneak into the compound with a Hydra agent, the two of them quietly waiting for you to come down.

He had to keep from smashing the TV, watching the man grab you from behind, injecting you with something before carelessly carrying you off like ragdoll, his heart aching, wishing he'd gotten home sooner. All voices around him drowned out to a faint buzz, the sounds of Tony and Steve giving out commands all muffled as if they were underwater.

"We have the coordinates locked, everyone down down to the jet, remember your positions.

It was like a switch was flipped.

"Cap and I clear the entry ways, Nat, Clint, follow behind, Sam, surveillance from the top. Barnes, you just have to get y/n"

The former young husband and father who sat with tears streaming down his cheeks was replaced with a man who knew no remorse. No guilt. No sense of right or wrong.

"Barnes"

Steve knew of this man well.

"Barnes?"

The one they called the Winter Soldier.

"Baby" Bucky whispered, scooping his sleepy eldest son in his arms before striding over to the twins bed, tucking them in together. "Daddy's gotta go another mission but we'll be back soon, alright?"

Steve could sense something was wrong, the strain in his fathers voice making him worry.

"Again?" He asked while Samantha and Nathaniel stirred slightly, trying to tuck themselves into their daddy's warmth. "Where's mama?" He asked with a tiny whisper having heard the commotion outside of the room, his hearing enhancing more and more each day. Bucky swallowed thickly while Steve stepped into the room to check on his best friend, his heart breaking over the three little ones clinging onto him.

"We're going to get her, promise bub" Buck kissed their heads, grabbing their favorite stuffies to cuddle with.

"Let me see my favorite little soldiers" Steve strode over, giving them a brave smile. "We'll be back before you know it"

"Will mama be okay?" Nathanial whispered, grabbing onto Steve's wrist before he could leave, tears streaming down his little chubby cheek.

"Of course" Steve reassured him, kissing his forehead and tucking him back into bed, "We'll never let anything happen to your mama"

That was a promise.

"Oh fuck" Clint snorted to himself watching the black mask that had been locked away for good slip over Bucky's face, his usual leather jacket replaced with a thick black tactical vest, straps running across his chest.

"They're fucked, aren't they" Sam whispered to Tony as he put his suit on, the glancing over to the stone cold brunette who sat in silence, finger resting on the trigger. Like he doesn't actually need us"

"We're really just going for moral support, also no one hurts our y/n" Tony whispered back. The teams full focus was getting you back along with keeping your babies safe; Pepper had come to look after the littles ones till you were found safe and sound. While the team was fully ready to take apart anyone that tried to hurt you. It was more that evident Bucky wouldn't have a problem taking hydra apart by himself but they wouldn't let him go alone.

Bucky didn't speak a word as soon as the jet hit the ground hitting his targets from 100's of feet away, each bullet landing right between their eyes.

"...Did you know he could do that?" Sam called from the coms, watching agents drop while he flew across the top of the base. Tony blasted the front of the doors while Steve cleared the hall way, throwing his shield, knocking down three men that guarded the wing.

"Looks like she's down in the cells" Sam called, looking at where the heat signals were coming from. Bucky made his way down the sterile hallway, red lights suddenly flashing above when a woman charged towards him.

"Welcome back soldat" Annabeth sauntered, blocking the doors to where you were being held with a satisfied smirk on her face. "We knew you'd come back. We missed you-

"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with this" Nat smirked, stepping in front of Bucky and grabbing Annabeth by her hair, dragging her off to a corner before throwing a punch to her jaw.

Bucky continued, slamming the lab doors open, his eyes landing onto your tied up form, strapped onto the very same chair he'd been tied to every time he'd been wiped. He didn't give anyone a second to think, killing those closest to him while the others tried to escape.

"You wanted me back, didn't you" Bucky's voice was a low growl as he stepped over the bodies he shot down before running to save you. "Well, I'm back"

The ones that ran off didn't get too far, making it out of the lab, only to be met with a very angry Steve and Tony.

"You don't hurt my fucking bestfriend" Steve gritted, slamming the agent to the floor before grabbing another and throwing him to Tony.

"You are not taking away my turn at being a God father" Sam grabbed another that tried to hide behind the rubble, swooped up to the ceiling, dangling to agent in the air for a while before letting him drop. Bucky was by your side in an instant, cutting off the straps that bound your arms together.

"Baby?" Bucky scooped you up in his arms, cradling your body to his chest, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "You okay sweetheart?"

"Bucky!" You cried out, clinging onto him, trembling while he kissed you before protectively covering your face from the bloody trail he left behind him. "You're here"

"M'taking you home baby, c'mon" Bucky whispered against your hair, carrying you tucked against him with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, breathing in his scent. "I got you babygirl, it's okay"

"I was so scared" Bucky held onto you tightly on the ride back, he had never felt relief like this, his heart finally calming down. "M'so sorry sweet girl"

"S'not your fault baby" you whispered back, smiling when you felt a kiss to the back of your head.

"Glad you're okay sweetheart" Steve gave you a squeeze before leaving you and Bucky to have your privacy again, staying near the front with the rest of the team, watching over Annabeth, who had been captured for questioning. Once you'd reached the compound, you were greeted with proper hugs and kisses from the others, hearing the pitter patter of little feel seconds later.

"MAMAA" Your babies ran to you, climbing up your leg until they were all properly snuggled against you, refusing to let go until they were sure you were perfectly safe.

"Daddy and your aunts and uncles rescued me, see? I'm all okay" You reassured them while they looked at you intently, checking over you the same way you did whenever they had a fall. Once they were satisfied that you were okay, they let their daddy take you away to get cleaned up while it was Tony's turn to read them a bedtime story even if it was nearing morning.

"Right where you belong" Bucky smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist after you'd both showered, foregoing clothes as you climbed into bed, snuggled over the covers. He spooned you from behind, the feel of his warm bare skin comforting you.

"I love you so much angel" He pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder, eyes brightening when he remembered the little present he'd found earlier. His hand slipped down to softly brush over your tummy. "Both of you" He playfully whispered, smiling at your soft gasp as you wiggled to turn around and face him, growing bashfully shy when he pulled the tiny jumpsuit he'd kept on his pillow.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me mama?"

"Think you're ready for a 4th?" You giggled, burying your face into his chest while he grinned, peppering your face with kisses till you squealed.

"M'ready for a 5th and 6th if you'd let me angel" Bucky smirked, playfully nipping your jaw before shuffling down to rest his head on your tummy, kissing your soft skin while you carded your fingers through his hair. "but I can't wait to meet this little one first"

639 notes · View notes

elliespassagerprincess · 7 months

Note

Hii omg live for you're work

Could I maybe request loser ellie fluff/nsfw hcs

Headcannos: loser!ellie williams x reader

Part 1 part 2

Sfw:

☆ Loser Ellie who doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, and who gets nervous when someone she doesn’t know talks to her for longer than 5 minutes.

☆ Loser Ellie who spots you at a party and who instantly wanted to talk to you.

☆ Loser Ellie who tries talking to you the whole night but ends up on chickening out.

☆ Loser Ellie who accidently bumps into you and drops her drink on you.

☆ Loser Ellie who keeps apologizing without making eye contact.

“What the fuck you!” yelled as you felt a cold liquid run down your body. Ellie looked at you in shock.

The pretty girl. Fuck.

“i-im sorry” she stuttered as she looked at her feet, too embarrassed to make eye contact with you.

“It’s ok” you spoke softly as you put your hand on her shoulder.

Her head snapped up to where your hand was. Ellie’s jaw dropped at the touch.

“I Ellie” she spoke quickly.

You raised your eyebrows confused.

“I Ellie?” You don’t remember asking her name, and why the fuck isn’t she talking English properly?

A pink blush spread across Ellie’s cheeks. This is humiliating.

“I am Ellie- like my name. I’m Ellie. Hey!...yeah, that’s my name Ellie…” She rambled on.

☆ Loser Ellie who wants to die after that interaction, but at least she knew your name.

☆ Loser Ellie who somehow finds your Instagram and who stalks you daily.

☆ Loser Ellie who practically drools every time you post something.

☆ Loser Ellie who doesn’t have the balls to follow you on her main, so she made a separate account.

☆ Loser Ellie who almost pisses herself, when she saw you sent her a DM on her main.

☆ Loser Ellie who realized that Dina was the one who took her phone and DM’d you on her behalf because she was tired of Ellie constantly looking at your pictures.

With shaky hands Ellie opened the chat to see her message.

“Hey I’m the girl from the party! I got your Instagram from a friend, and I thought you were cute… Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Ellie groaned at the message, her eyes lowered down to see your response:

“Oh yeah! The girl that dropped some strange liquid on me:) I think you’re cute so yeah, I’d love to go”

☆ Loser Ellie who decides to take you on a picnic, and she planned the whole thing. She even made all the foods from scratch.

☆ Loser Ellie who spends 4 hours before the date on FaceTime with Dina, because she couldn’t pick an outfit.

☆ Loser Ellie who waits for you at the park and almost vomits with nerves when she sees you walking towards her.

☆ Loser Ellie who extends her hand out for a handshake, but you just rolled your eyes and brought her in for a hug.

☆ Loser Ellie who stays quiet, and barley looks at you because she was going to explode.

☆ Loser Ellie who loses her shit when you ask her about her tattoos.

☆ Loser Ellie who forgot this was a date and starts telling you all about space, tattoos and Joel.

☆ Loser Ellie who remembers this was a date and becomes all shy again.

“I’m sorry” she muttered looking down.

“For what?”

“talking so much”

“It’s ok, I like listening to you Ellie” you said with a smile.

☆ Loser Ellie who walks you all the way home.

☆ Loser Ellie who looks down to your lips hoping you’d make a move. You noticed and all you did was smirk, as you leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

☆ Loser Ellie who listened to your front door close, and she brings her fingers to the spot where you just kissed her.

☆ Loser Ellie who asks Dina to write you a texting, asking to go on another date.

Nsfw:

☆ Loser Ellie who was soaked when the two of you made out for the first time.

☆ Loser Ellie who didn’t know how to kiss you, so her hands were awkwardly on her lap as you helped her.

☆ Loser Ellie who’s hands you grab and put it on your waist.

Ellie pulled away heavily breathing, her hands still on your waist. “It’s ok if I touch you?” she asked unsure.

“Use me Ellie” you muttered as you kissed her again, and she most definitely moaned into your mouth after that.

☆ Loser Ellie who cums the first time she ate you out, and you didn’t even touch her.

☆ Loser Ellie who audibly gasped when she saw in a bra for the first time.

☆ Loser Ellie who likes to believe that she’s in charge because she’s on top, but in reality you’re telling her what to do.

☆ Loser Ellie who moans every time she gets a taste of you.

☆ Loser Ellie who loves it when you leave hickeys on her.

“My girl did this”

“yeah my girlfriend left these”

☆ Loser Ellie who’s too scared to ask for sex so she just kisses your neck and waits for you to say something.

☆ Loser Ellie who cums after 2 seconds when you first went down on her.

☆ Loser Ellie who touches herself to your pictures every night.

☆ Loser Ellie who humps her pillow imagining it was you.

☆ Loser Ellie who has a collection of your panties that she uses to get off on the nights you weren’t with her.

☆ Loser Ellie who gets wet when you smile at her.

☆ Loser Ellie who goes to the bathroom every time you come over because you were just so pretty.

☆ Loser Ellie who loves it when you praise her.

“yeah just like that baby”

“Fuck Els you’re doing great”

☆ Loser Ellie who wishes she could record your moans because they are so pretty.

Yeah she was a loser, and pathetic at times, but she was your pathetic loser.

686 notes · View notes

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