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myosotisa · 1 year

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i'm starvin, darlin - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

ǁ summary: Since coming back from the Upside Down, Eddie has slowly been changing. Each week seems to bring something different and he finds himself doing things he never thought he would.

ǁ tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no y/n. nickname used (sweetheart). mentions of season 4 final episode and what occurred. canon divergent (every one lived). it's not smut, but smut adjacent. it's sexy

ǁ word count: 2k

ǁ notes: i sat down and wrote an entire one shot in one sitting again. and i am also not going to edit this one. and i do not feel bad for lowercase hozier title, so don't even try me like that. if y'all really like it, i can add a part 2 with smut, but this is it for now

There are still a lot of things Eddie is having to come to terms with since the night his heart stopped.

That night in the Upside Down, laying in Dustin’s arms, he had died. Without a doubt. Dustin had felt his pulse and there was nothing there. And though he didn’t know CPR, had no idea what he was doing, Dustin had laid him down on the ground and started to beat against his chest. Like maybe if he hit hard enough and in the right place, his friend would come back to life.

Somehow it worked. No one bothered to ask why.

But they all knew something was wrong two days later. Eddie, barely breathing and with a weak heartbeat, had been dragged back to the surface and hidden away in the RV they had stolen. Someone watched him round the clock as they debated what to do. If they should try to get him to a hospital, how they’d be able to explain it. But then something miraculous began to happen:

Eddie started healing. All on his own. Way faster than any person should have been able to.

His skin stitched itself back together faster than should be possible, leaving less scar tissue than it should have behind. His chest began to rise and fall in more steady breaths, his heart beat getting stronger, bones resetting themselves with slow and quiet creaks as he laid in that RV bed and slept. He’d been asleep since they brought him back.

The day he woke up, his body had almost entirely healed itself. From the brink of death, having even stepped over to the other side, and now he was almost back to before it ever happened. It had only been a week.

Everyone rejoiced, refusing to question anything weird that may have happened in the Upside Down and just thinking they finally won for once. Max had casts on both her arms but was otherwise unharmed, Steve had recovered from his own injuries at the rate of a normal human and now sported a scar around his throat that he sometimes felt self conscious about. Dustin was on crutches with his broken leg for another month at least. Eddie was alive and whole and back to himself. They’d made it, everyone had made it.

He began to notice more and more things that were different as the days went on.

The first thing he caught on to was that he had the capability to be strong. Way stronger than someone who had recently been bed ridden should be. It was like in the comic books with the Hulk – if he wasn’t paying attention or if he got too emotional, he could easily break anything. A walkman destroyed, a ceramic bowl reduced to shards, a metal pipe bent beyond fixing, the wooden handle of a hammer shattered in his grip. The boys were all present for the hammer incident and sighted it as one of the coolest things they had ever seen. They swarmed him, asking him how he did it, what else he could do, how strong he really was.

Only the other teens, Steve, Nancy, Robin, you, started to look a little bit closer.

When the next few changes became apparent, it was clear something unnatural had happened to Eddie that night in the Upside Down. He could feel other people's feelings. They brushed against his consciousness like ghosts whenever he looked at someone. Happiness like warm rays of sunshine, fear like a shuddering gust of wind, anger like hot coals pressed to his skin. It wasn’t a conscious effort – in fact, there were a lot of times he wished he could turn it off. Whenever he looked too hard at someone, it’s like his brain adjusted to a different frequency and their emotions reached out to him, no matter what they were. And he didn’t struggle to make sense of the sensations like he thought he might, his brain completed the dots easily at first, but then he began to recognize them consciously. It was certainly useful sometimes, especially when it came to you, but it still felt a bit invasive. When he’d explained it to a few people, he assured he tried to ignore it whenever he could, but sometimes he couldn’t help but react. The icey spike of terror he felt when you woke up next to him from a nightmare. The velvet comfort that enveloped you and him when he held you after.

The first time he spoke into someone’s mind it was an accident. Steve had whipped toward him, breath catching in his chest, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp. Eddie felt it like ice down his spine. “Did you… You did that?” He’d asked breathlessly. It had been so shocking, Eddie wasn’t even sure what’d he said, or projected, or whatever it was.

“I - I don’t know.”

Steve stepped closer, suddenly looking determined. “Try to do it again.”

It was a slithering feeling when he dipped back into Steve’s mind. Like sliding his way in between cracks to a place he didn’t belong, seeping into the forefront of his thoughts to plant one of his own. It made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and wrong. But it worked. Steve explained it as having a thought like his own but it came out in Eddie’s voice instead. An intrusive thought but not an uncomfortable one.

As with all of the other discoveries, a meeting was called. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, El, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and you. Steve did most of the talking while Eddie sat and looked at his hands. These meetings, while he acknowledged were important for everyone to keep track of his progression into… something, it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal in a cage. A magician with a magic trick. All the boys immediately begged him to do it to them, they wanted to see what it felt like, wanted to see how easy it was for him to do it.

Nancy and Jonathan had shooed them, catching on to how overwhelmed Eddie was, their excitement and curiosity battering against him like a whipping wind of too much. Once it was just the older people in the room, you crossed over to where he was, kneeled down in front of him, reached out to hold his hand.

Pity felt like someone was pissing in his pants.

“Are you okay?”

How could he say no? How could he admit that he was scared, confused, and feeling more and more like a monster with the passing days? “It’s just a lot. To deal with.”

Your smile was pained as you pushed yourself up onto your calves and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His came around your waist on instinct, the breath feeling like a wheeze in his lungs as he held tight. Face pressed into your hair with his eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled deep in relief.

That was when the next thing changed.

It was a desire. A need. One he couldn’t place a name to. Like he was desperately missing something, desperately craving something and he didn’t know it was. It crawled under his skin like ants and sent him scratching for a feeling that couldn’t be satiated. No matter what he tried: eating, drinking, masturbating, exercising. The feeling wouldn’t go away. It got stronger day after day, his mind focusing more and more on the void it left behind until it was all he could think about.

Steve threw a little get together at his house once a month or so. Just time for everyone to get together, eat some food, listen to music, play board games, maybe watch a movie. This was the first get together since his hunger began.

He was sitting on the couch on his own, decompressing. While normally he was right in the middle of everything, today it was a lot to handle when he was hyperfocused on the crawling beneath his skin. He had his legs spread wide, hands resting on them, leaning deep into the cushions of the couch in Steve’s basement. While he had initially tried to close his eyes, hang his head back, maybe stare at the ceiling – he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting back to you.

You and Eddie had been friends for a long time. Understandably, you’d gotten much closer after the events in March. The two of you had helped each other through hard nights of nightmares, panic attacks in parking lots, flashbacks in public. You’d been a great comfort to him since he came back. But today your laugh sounded like music. The smell of your perfume hit him even across the room. Each emotion crashed over him in waves, pushing and receding like the tide as he tried to get off your frequency, unentangle himself from you before he did something he didn’t mean to do.

I’m starving.

Your back stiffened, the grip on your plastic cup getting just a bit tighter. A moment of fear quickly shifted to mellowed surprise, curiosity. He’d never spoken into your mind before, hadn’t meant to do so now. But you still shifted, your eyes slowly coasting across the room until you caught sight of him on the couch.

A shock of electricity shot down his spine as you made eye contact, his hands tightening over his thighs in reaction. Unsure exactly what to do, he settled for projecting again. Slithered his way into your ears and settled a respectful distance from the area he’d never been brave enough to venture. Sorry, he offered with a wince, didn’t mean to.

What he didn’t expect was the utter flood of feeling that hit him next. Like a drip of warm honey settling into the space between his hips, pooling there in a subtle swirl as the warmth from it started to diffuse outward. You realized you’d been staring and your eyes flit away, but the feeling didn’t cease. In fact, it only got stronger. Your lower lip caught on your teeth as you shifted between your feet. Things that would be completely normal to see, wouldn’t have anyone looking twice, but Eddie could. Your desire. The want that poured from you like water when your eyes first met his.

Was this the first time? Had something changed between you and him? Or had he just never caught on before?

The ants beneath his skin began to vibrate as he narrowed in on the feeling, on you. Like the part of him that had slithered into your thoughts was now bearing down, digging in for purchase, wanting to stay awhile and feed on this new feeling, what you were offering. It didn’t even occur to him what he was doing, how invasive it might be, how wrong he normally would have felt. All he knew is that it felt like licking at the thing he’d been craving for so long and he was helpless to chase after it.

Sweetheart. It came easy as breathing now, teeth sunk into your consciousness from where you stood across the room. You whirled on him again, another flood of warmth hitting him deep as you leaned your hip against the counter you were standing next to and focused on him. What’s got you so worked up?

He couldn’t even consider how bold he was suddenly being, the fear that he might ruin this friendship well out of his grasp. Especially when your embarrassment spiked along with the want, the pool of warmth now suddenly coming to life to have a heartbeat of its own. Your eyes widened, shifting on your feet again as you broke eye contact. It only took a few moments before you couldn’t help but look back at him again. The buzzing settled further, now like a purr beneath his skin. It was bearable as long as you kept your eyes on him.

You wanna do something about it?

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adventuringblind · 6 months

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Possessive

Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Dialouge: "You are ours and ours only."

Summary: Oscar gets possessive during a night out.

Warnings: downright Filthy smut, marking, dom/sub, double penatration,

Notes: This is part of my 1000 follower celebration

Masterlist

Neither Lando nor Oscar would say they are possessive men. They love each other and their girlfriend, and they know she loves them. It's very difficult, however, to remain neutral while watching another man flirt with her.

He started a conversation while she was dancing with Lily and Carmen during their post race celebrations. She'd politely tried to get away from him but the man is annoyingly persistent.

"Should we help her?"

"Can we do it without punching him is the real question."

"But it would be so satisfying if we did."

"Osc, you scoop the spiders up and take them outside. There is no way you can punch that guy."

The Australian whips around to face Lando. A smug look plastered on his face. "Wanna bet?"

Lando, with no alcohol in his system since he Despises the stuff, agrees. The Brit would soon come to learn never to challenge Oscar again.

The woman in question still looks highly unlikely comfortable and getting more agitated by the second. Relief, however, hits her as Oscar appears behind the man pursuing her and taps him on the shoulder.

"Pretty sure she wants to be left alone." His arms cross over his chest but he still looks as unassuming as ever.

Most people would assume Oscar doesn't know the definition of the word violence. She knows better, though. Her and Oscar had been together before Lando. If it's in the name of defense, he won't hesitate to swing.

"I don't see a boyfriend anywhere. Maybe you should go where you are wanted." The stupid man who can't take a hint seethes.

Oscar takes a step closer, invading the others space. "Seeing as I am one of two boyfriends she has, I think you should step away."

There is silence on the other end. Then a brutal look of disgust. "Well if she's used goods then you can have her, pal."

The look she hasn't seen for years only appears on Oscar for a second. The one that has is inner demons raging. The unflappable, sweet, gentle Oscar is seeing Red.

Only a second before the Aussies fist collides with the other man's jaw, sending him reeling backwards. He's always had a nasty right hook.

She says nothing as Oscar promptly takes her hand and guide her to the entrance. Lando trailing them from where he was watching. The Brit looks a mixture of terror and turned on.

The car ride is silent apart from the loud expressions passed between her and Lando and Oscar's fingers wandering occasionally. The last time he was like this neither of them could walk the next day.

The thing about Oscar, the incredibly calm and unfazed Australian, is that he takes all those emotions and puts them elsewhere. Into sex, specifically. Lando learned this the hard way. His teasing went one toe over the line. He ran out Oscar's patience in a series of events over the course of a week to test the limits.

So Oscar likes control more then he shows. It gives him an outlet, per say. He times and calculates and gets some kind of high off it. Plus it resets him to where he can take whatever shit people throw his way without losing his mind.

Oscar doesn't let go even after they are saftley back in their flat. Instead her body is slammed into wall of the entry way.

"Why don't you tell her what you said Lando. What got you into this mess." The voice he pulls out is the condescending one. The one that makes her knees weak.

"I said you wouldn't punch the guy."

"And if I proved you wrong?"

Lando swallows hard enough for her to hear it. Probably see it also, but her eyes are stuck staring at brown ones that are eating her alive.

"That I would do whatever you wanted tonight. No questions asked."

Lando screwing himself is not shocking. Now, Lando actually doing what he's told? That is even more shocking then when he got drunk. Only once before he decided he hated it for sure.

"Then I want you stripped and on the floor in the bedroom." Silently, the Birt pads away to do as told. Oscar loosens his hold on her body and give her some space. "Seriously though, are you okay? We won't do this if you were any kind if put off by that."

"And miss this opportunity? Absolutely not. If anything to sight of you actually punching somebody has me feral."

"Good. Then let's go find Lando."

Lando, to his credit, is following through. He just looks wicked sad about it.

"Lando? You alright love?"

"Doing what you're told is much less fun."

Oscar rolls his eyes at the pouting boy on the floor.

She was going to ask for instructions. But as she opens her mouth she finds there is no need. Oscar is dragging her to bed. Her clothes are litterally (and unfortunately) ripped from her body. The room is cold without layers, but it won't be for long.

Oscar's lips are everywhere. He kisses, sucks, licks, and bites every inch of skin on her body. Every peice of her knows the feeling of the Aussies warm lips. Every kiss leaves her tingly and every bite leaves her wanting.

"Lando, come here. I think people need to be reminded that she is ours. Would you like that baby? Do you want people to know you are ours and only ours?"

Her brain is too far gone to respond coherently. Lando has already got to work, claiming her where Oscar hasn't already. The Australians voice is gentle, but it's demanding. There is a need burried within it that says he needs people to know she's taken.

"I swear you're just too pretty. Everybody wants you. I'm tired of them not knowing you're already spoken for." Oscar is the next to shed his clothes. Lando's hands have gone from stagnant to touching her like she is the air he breathes. Both males are staking their claim on her tonight. A shared feeling of want for people to know she chose them passes between the two.

Mumbled pleads escape her. Some kind of contact where she's sensitive needs to happen or she might combust.

"Think you can take both of us in the same hole love?" Back to gentle. His need to care for her outweighed the need and desire to have her like this. It makes her agree so fast she gets dizzy from nodding her head so much.

Lando gets to be underneath her. His lips are still attached to her skin. It muffled the moans and tiny whines he's letting out as she sinks down onto him.

"Yiu know, Lando. That guy said our girl is used goods. What do you think? Do you agree with him?"

Lando detaches, his mouth agape. "I can barely get into her mate. I don't know how you're going to. Feels good to me."

"But aren't I used?" She whimpers.

Lando's hand reaches around her front to play with her clit. His large nimble fingers send shockwaves through her body.

"You are not 'used goods' baby." Lando says into her skin. His warm breath sticks to her shoulder. "We love you. We're keeping you. Fuck anyone who says shot like that."

To say she's gushing at this point is an understatement, despite that fact Oscar decideds lube is a smart idea. Now she's even more wet and sticky that she was with just her own self made lubricant.

Oscar takes it incredibly slow. To slow for her liking. But the second he's sliding into her, the friction with Lando, the stretch and positioning of everything. Yeah - it hurts.

Her teeth sink into Oscar's shoulder. Lando's hand is caressing her cheek and wiping away the stray tears that slip down the sides of her face.

It is ridiculous, really, the situation she's in right now. But she can't think as Oscar is cooing praises in her ear and Lando is meticulously puting his hands on her.

They spiral quickly after that. The tension that was in Oscar's shoulders releases as he is finally able to take what he needs. Lando has decended into a mess of moans and thrusting hips.

She is completely at their mercy. A mess of movment. The symphonic melodies of their voices fill the space of the bedroom. Hot breaths stick to her skin over the already present layer of sweat.

The ache in her bones and coil in her stomach rapidly approach a breaking point. She can't even warn them as everything in her snaps and leave her body a flailing mess. The two boys stutter and sink further into the mattress.

Then a silence. An amazing thread connecting all three bodies together.

They stay like that for the next ten minutes. Unmoving. Listening to the sounds of breathing and heartbeats.

"That was eventful."

"No kidding."

"Sorry if I was to rough."

All of them laugh. "Maybe you should apoligize to the guy at the club."

Oscar pulls out slowly, and then Lando lifts her gently off him. Then they actually collapse. Arms outstretched to hold each other close. "We need to clean up."

"We also need to look at your knuckles, Osc."

"I still can't believe you punched him."

Oscar rolls his eyes. "Well it ended well didn't it? I don't hear you complaining."

"Remind me to never challenge you again."

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tigertales9 · 2 months

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Hard Reset XI

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Fluff / Angst

Description: This chapter covers the week 9 win against the Bills and the week 10 loss against the Texans with a couple of flashbacks thrown in.

Time/Place: Tuesday, Nov. 7, 2023 - Tuesday, Nov. 14, 2023 / Cincinnati, Ohio (with flashbacks to New Orleans & NYC)

A/N: This is the eleventh fic in the Hard Reset series.

This chapter got totally out of hand, y'all. It jumps around a bit due to the flashbacks, so I hope it's not too hard to follow. It's also long as hell even though I tried to condense it as much as possible.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, a proud smile gracing your lips as a blizzard of purple and gold confetti rains down on you from the roof of the Superdome in New Orleans.

"He did it," you whisper, brushing away happy tears as you return your attention to the field where Joe and his LSU teammates are celebrating one of the most impressive undefeated seasons in college football history. You take a deep breath and exchange hugs and high fives with everyone around you, never taking your eyes off of Joe for more than a few seconds while you wait for him to hoist the Championship trophy.

~ A month ago, you watched him hoist another trophy, the Heisman, at a ceremony in NYC. It was the largest margin of victory in the history of the award, and his speech was still being talked about. You knew the exact moment he went off script because he'd practiced the speech with you over and over, nervous that he'd forget to thank someone or somehow embarrass himself. Instead, he spoke from the heart and delivered an emotional Heisman speech that folks will be talking about for years to come. The impact of his heartfelt words -- bringing attention to the high poverty rate and food insecurity in Athens County -- was evident in the amount of donations pouring into the local food bank. The Joe Burrow Hunger Relief Fund was just getting started but showed no sign of slowing down anytime soon.

Joe was surprised at the outpouring of support, but it wasn't the only time he spoke something into existence. He spoke this Natty into existence when he transferred from Ohio State to LSU; from day one he told his new teammates that all they had to do was work harder than everyone else and the results would follow. He led by example, as always, first to arrive and last to leave, never asking for more effort from others than he was willing to give. The buy-in came swiftly for some and a little slower for others. By the end of his first season at LSU -- a very respectable 10-3 record culminating in a victory over UCF in the Fiesta Bowl (snapping UCF's 25-game winning streak, the longest in the nation at the time) -- even the most hardcore doubters were begrudgingly starting to admit that something special was brewing in Baton Rouge.

At the start of his final season at LSU, optimism was at an all-time high, but a few folks were still a little hesitant to believe that this team might catch lightning in a bottle and prove the naysayers wrong. One by one the dominoes fell, and by mid-season, even the skeptical were made into believers as one of the most dominant offenses in college football history rolled through opponents with an unrivaled flair and swagger. ~

Silent tears roll down your cheeks as you watch Joe lift the Championship trophy that he and his teammates worked so hard for, his expression showing equal parts accomplishment and relief; you take a deep breath as you soak in the moment, the love you feel for him -- your fiancé since about a month ago, although nobody knows it yet -- creating a visceral ache in your chest. You close your eyes and hear words from his Heisman speech in your head … "Just a kid from Ohio, coming down chasing a dream …"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Tuesday, 11/7/23 - Cincinnati, Ohio

You flutter your eyes open, disoriented for a few seconds before you realize you were dreaming about Joe's Natty; you turn your head and look at him sleeping peacefully beside you, the bed covers pushed down below his waist revealing a delicious amount of bare skin since he's shirtless. You check the clock on the bedside table -- 3:33 am -- before returning your attention to Joe as you push up onto an arm and look down at him in the dim light filtering in from the bathroom. You both hated to sleep in total darkness, so there was just enough light for you to appreciate the view.

And what an amazing view it is, you think to yourself, your gaze slowly moving from his beautiful face to his broad shoulders, down his muscular chest and sculpted abs, lingering for several seconds where his dirty-blonde treasure trail disappears beneath the sheet. You lean a little closer and take inventory of all the scrapes, scratches and bruises from his most recent game -- a 24-18 victory at home over the Bills on Sunday Night Football day before yesterday.

Joe stirs in his sleep, rolling onto his side to face you before letting out the tiniest snore from between his parted lips. How can one man be so damn adorable and hot as fuck at the same time? you muse, a smile gracing your lips as you let your gaze slide back down to his treasure trail.

"Like what you see?" Joe purrs, causing you to jump and let out a squeal.

"Damn it, Joseph! You scared me!" you scold, softening your tone with a smile. "I was just looking at your boo-boos," you deflect, ignoring his dirty grin that tells you he knows exactly what you were looking at. You clear your throat and run your fingers over a couple of bright red scratches on his left forearm. "Do they hurt?"

"Nah, that's football, baby."

You roll your eyes playfully as he continues.

"Besides, you put way more scratches on my back during our post-game victory sex."

"You asked for those," you remind him.

He gives you a wink. "I didn't ask; I ordered."

"Exactly," you agree, biting your lip as you think back to the intense sex y'all had when he got home from the game early Monday morning (yesterday); it was a fairly quick session by your usual standards, with Joe feeling himself for the prime-time win over a major conference rival, and your arousal red-lining due to the fifteen minutes of filthy talk he teased you with on the phone during his drive home from the stadium. The result was pure, concentrated pleasure, frantic and feral, more raw need than finesse.

His voice interrupts your thoughts. "Why are you awake at this ungodly hour?"

"I had a really vivid dream about you, and I guess it woke me up."

"Mmmm, a really vivid dream, huh?" He gives you a naughty smile while dropping a hand beneath the sheet to squeeze your bare thigh. "That sounds promising."

"It wasn't that kind of dream, horndog," you chuckle, shaking your head when he pokes his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

"Dang," he mutters, heaving a sigh while keeping his hand firmly wrapped around your leg. "What was the dream about?"

"You winning the Natty. We were back in the Superdome with confetti raining down."

"Sounds like an awesome dream."

"It really was."

"Did you dream about the crazy-hot victory sex we had that night?"

"You mean the next morning?" you tease, since it was well into the wee hours of the next day before you were finally alone with him.

"You know what I mean," he states, licking his lips and inching his hand higher up your thigh, stopping just before reaching your crotch.

"I actually woke up before that part," you admit. "The last thing I remember is a quote from your Heisman speech."

"You dreamed about the Heisman, too?"

"Yeah. The quote was 'Just a kid from Ohio, coming down chasing a dream'." You give him a smile as you continue. "It occured to me in the dream that you sometimes speak things into existence."

His eyebrows inch toward his hairline. "Like what?"

"Like the Hunger Relief Fund that eventually morphed into the Joe Burrow Foundation. You spoke that into existence by mentioning the food insecurity in Athens County in your Heisman speech. That started all the donations rolling in." He studies your earnest expression in the dim light as you continue. "Plus you kind of spoke the Natty into existence. You told anyone who would listen that y'all had the right stuff to go all the way, as long as you worked like hell for it."

"Half of doing something is believing you can," he states, sounding every bit like a coach's son. "But make no mistake, that speech only worked because our Championship team was loaded with talent. If I ended up just about anywhere else, there would be no Natty. Fiery speeches and pep talks only work if you've got the goods to back 'em up."

"And the work ethic?" you ask.

"Yes."

"And the insane team chemistry?"

"Yes."

You smile at each other for several heartbeats before a thought hits you. "It's been a while since I thought about this but … it's crazy to me that we came so close to never meeting. You really wanted to transfer to Nebraska, and …"

"And thank God they didn't want me," he finishes, giving your thigh another squeeze.

You roll over onto your back and stare at the ceiling, a little surprised that this is still messing with your head after all this time. "Do you ever think about it?" you ask.

"Think about what?" He scoots closer and pushes up onto an arm to look down at you.

"About how close we came to never meeting?"

"No, I don't ever think about it because what was supposed to happen happened. Me transferring to LSU was meant to be, not just for football but also for you. -- For us. -- It was fate."

You take a deep breath and let his words soothe you; it's not the first time he's had to talk you down off of this particular ledge.

"Also," he forges ahead. "Just so you know, I spoke our relationship into existence."

"How so?"

"Mainly pep talks after all of the many times you shot me down before finally agreeing to go out with me; sometimes the pep talks were just in my head, sometimes they were out loud while staring at myself in a mirror like a huge dork."

"What did you say?"

He thinks for a few seconds before answering. "Don't give up. Be respectful but also relentless. Prove to her that you want more than a quick fuck."

"You were def relentless," you chuckle. "I figured you were chasing me so hard because you'd never been told no before, and it hurt your ego."

He's shaking his head no before you finish your sentence. "I chased you so hard because I wanted you more than anything. I thought if I could prove I wasn't a fuck boy, you'd hopefully give me a chance."

"I'm glad you didn't give up."

"Me too." He leans down and presses a quick kiss on your lips before continuing. "Speaking of the Heisman, you scared the shit out of me Heisman week-end when I thought you were gonna break up with me, but it all worked out in the end."

"Heisman week-end will always be extra special for your acceptance speech, and also for the amazing marriage proposal you surprised me with."

"I was persuasive as fuck, wasn't I?" he grins.

"Very persuasive."

His grin levels up from cute to cocky. "I guess you might say I spoke our engagement into existence?"

"You might say that," you agree, rolling your eyes playfully at his cocky demeanor.

"Okay, but on a serious note …" he clears his throat before continuing. "Remember when I said -- 'Death Valley, where opponents dreams come to die, but where mine came true?'"

"Yeah."

"I know I've told you this before, but I want to say it again. When I said that, I wasn't just talking about football. I was also talking about you. You're a dream come true for me."

You close your eyes as you feel that familiar visceral ache in your chest; you always thought the saying "I love you so much it hurts" was just hyperbole until you met Joe.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"I love you so much it hurts," you admit, pressing a hand against your chest. He drops a kiss against your hand before gently moving it aside to drop another kiss between your breasts, his lips warm through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. He slowly kisses his way up from your chest to your neck, his breath tickling your ear when he finally speaks.

"I love you more than anything. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," you whisper, your pulse picking up as he kisses and nuzzles the sensitive spot behind your ear for several heartbeats before capturing your lips, treating you to the kind of slow-burn kiss that always makes your pulse race and your toes curl. You lean into him, your body craving more contact as he deepens the kiss, a thrill shooting through you when you feel his erection against your thigh.

Before you have time to grind against his obvious hard-on, he pulls his hips back and breaks the kiss, giving you a sheepish smile before speaking. "I'm trying really hard not to be a horndog right now."

"Why?" you giggle at the look on his face before scooting closer.

"Because we just had a soft, tender moment, and I don't wanna ruin it with a raging boner."

"Nothing wrong with a soft moment being followed by a hard one," you purr, dropping a hand down to tease him through his boxer briefs.

"Who's the horndog now?" he asks, hissing when you slide a hand inside his undies to grip his hard length.

"Both of us," you whisper, spreading your legs to accommodate his big body as he crawls on top of you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sunday, 11/12/23 - Cincinnati, Ohio (after the home loss against the Texans)

Joe finishes brushing his teeth and does a swish-and-spit of mouthwash; he pats his lips dry with a washcloth and throws you a look that you can't quite read as he strides from the bathroom.

He's in a hurry to get in bed. That seems promising, you think to yourself, your pulse picking up as you quickly finish your nightly skincare routine before following him into the bedroom, making a face at the sight of the empty bed. "Guess I was wrong," you mumble, taking a deep breath as you step out into the hallway, the faint sounds of game film drawing you toward his office.

He'd been grumpy as hell ever since he got home from the game -- a 30-27 home loss against the Texans. Since it was an early game -- 1:00 pm kickoff -- his parents headed back to Athens before Joe got back from the stadium.

"Lucky fuckers," you mumble under your breath as you plaster a smile on your face and breeze into his office. "Hey babe," you chirp, leaning down to drop a kiss on his cheek as he watches one of the four sacks he took.

"Hey," he grunts without taking his eyes off the computer screen.

"You almost done?" you ask. "You've watched a lot of film at this point. Maybe it's time to take a break."

"I took a break for dinner," he states, giving a derisive snort as he watches himself throw an interception. "Dumbass," he seethes, quickly turning his head to lock eyes with you. "I was talking about me not you. I'm the dumbass."

"You're not a dumbass," you soothe, running your fingers through his tousled curls. "And I appreciate you taking a break to have dinner with me, but let's go to bed, okay? You can watch more film tomorrow."

"I'm not sleepy," he grumps, closing his eyes as you massage his throwing shoulder.

"Who said anything about sleep?" you tease, giving him a dirty wink when he opens one eye to check your expression.

"I don't want pity sex," he mutters, hissing when you hit just the right spot on his sore shoulder; he threw for 347 yards, so you know that thing is barking.

Not this 'pity sex' shit again, you think to yourself. This is the first time he lost a game since y'all got secretly married, so you decide to use that as leverage. "Did you just accuse your wife of offering you pity sex?"

"Sorry," he mumbles, raking a hand through his hair before turning his attention back to his computer; you step behind him and continue the shoulder massage, your mind running through options to get his mind off the game so he can get a good night's sleep.

Food and sex, you think to yourself. That's pretty much it. A full belly and empty balls. You lean down and press a kiss against the nape of his neck. Full belly is a done deal, just gotta finish him off.

"You can go to bed," he grumbles. "I have more film to watch."

Fuck that, you muse, knowing that the film watching is just self-flagellation at this point. You watch as he rewinds a play a couple times before scribbling a note in a small spiral notebook. A thought forms in your mind, and you smile as you give it some consideration. "Perfect idea," you whisper.

"Huh?" Joe asks, spinning his desk chair around to face you.

"Nothing," you shrug, reaching past him to snatch his precious spiral notebook before retreating a few steps.

He rolls his eyes when you waggle it at him. "Give it back," he orders.

"Come and get it," you purr, backing toward the door as he narrows his eyes at you.

He spins his chair back around, and you think he's going to ignore you, but instead he shuts his computer down and slowly stands up; he gives you a thorough once-over, taking in your bare legs and purple t-shirt -- one of his -- that hits you mid-thigh. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he states, giving you a loaded look while yanking his socks off, leaving him wearing slinky black shorts and a gray t-shirt.

Ohhh, he means business, you muse, a little thrill shooting through you at his obvious intention -- he knows you're going to run, and he's getting ready to chase you. "You know I'm gonna pick the hard way," you tease, putting as much sexual innuendo in your voice as possible. You watch in fascination as his nostrils flare, like a predator catching the scent of his prey; you give him a dirty grin before spinning around and running for the door.

You let out a squeal when you hear him pounding down the hallway right behind you, literally inches away when you finally bust into the bedroom and spin around to face him, holding a hand up as words spill from your lips. "Okay, okay, okay," you pant, your pulse racing way more from excitement than exertion as you continue to back away from him. "Stop right there and I'll give you what you want." You hold the notebook out toward him like a peace offering, giving him an innocent smile as he steps forward and reaches a hand out to take it. You let out a naughty giggle as you snatch the notebook back at the last second and dance away from him.

"You better stop playin'," he warns, the husky tone of his voice setting off a steady throb of arousal deep inside you. "Or what?" you chirp, sticking your tongue out as he takes a step toward you. He doesn't answer; instead he continues to walk toward you, his gaze dropping to your chest where your hard nipples are very visible through the thin fabric of your shirt. "Hold on a sec," you say breathlessly, giving him a smile when he drags his gaze from your breasts to your face. "Let's play a game."

He gives you a skeptical look as he stops about a foot away from you. "What kind of game?"

"Guess which hand it's in, and I'll give it to you." You wave the notebook at him before hiding it behind your back.

"I think I'll just come and take it," he smirks, closing the distance between you in one long stride and reaching a hand behind your back; you transfer the notebook from one hand to the other before lifting it over your head and rising up onto your tiptoes. He gives you a bemused look before easily plucking the notebook out of your upstretched hand. "Should've gone low, shorty," he gloats, his eyebrows rising as you give him a wink while dropping to your knees at his feet.

"Good idea," you purr, holding eye contact while palming his erection through his slinky shorts; you eventually slide your hands up and sink your fingers in the waistband of his shorts, pulling them plus his undies to mid-thigh. You catch his hard cock as it springs free, your tongue immediately lapping at the precum on his tip.

"Fuck," he hisses, his gaze locked on your mouth as you continue to tease him. "I just got played, huh?" he asks, more than a little admiration evident in his tone. "Like a motherfucker," you admit, giving him a cocky smile before tracing your tongue over a prominent vein, base to tip, finishing it off with a slow swirl and thorough suck. "Just consider this my victory formation," you purr, relishing the angle as he towers over you, his feel and taste on your tongue causing a gush of liquid heat in your mouth and core; he makes a sound low in his throat as he drops the notebook on the floor and wraps a hand around the nape of your neck, his grunts of approval spurring you on as you hit a rhythm that has his hips thrusting forward, dirty praise spilling from his pretty lips as you continue to pleasure him.

"Hold on a sec," he rasps after several minutes. "Let's get naked."

You pull off of him and give a quick nod before shoving his shorts and undies all the way down; he steps out of them before stripping his shirt off, dropping it on the floor as he backs up a few steps and sits on the bed, his thick thighs falling open in his usual manspread. "Come here," he orders, giving you a dirty grin when you strip your shirt off and walk toward him, your eyes dropping down to his impressive erection as you lick your lips in anticipation of finishing what you started.

"Hold on," he stops you as you start to kneel between his thighs. "Lose the panties."

You slide your thong off, your eyebrows rising when he reaches a hand out to grab it before quickly bringing the scrap of black lace to his face; he takes a deep breath and then another, his cock twitching at the scent of your arousal. You feel a gush of wetness between your thighs as you sink to your knees, your lips barely making contact with his shaft before he reaches down and picks you up. "What are you doing? I wasn't finished sucking you," you yelp, spreading your legs so you end up straddling his waist with him flat on his back on the bed.

"I'm calling an audible," he states, gripping your ass in both hands and sliding you up his body toward his face. "I need to taste you."

"I need to taste you, too," you whine. "Don't get me wrong, I love the manhandling, but I wanna finish you with my mouth."

He laughs at your pouty expression. "There's a way we can both get what we want."

"How?"

He raises one eyebrow, smiling when a look of realization hits your face.

"Sixty-nine?" you mumble, sticking your tongue out at his 'well, duh' expression. "It's your fault I didn't think of that sooner," you grump, trying and failing to keep a stern look on your face.

"How is it my fault?" he asks, helping you spin around and get into position.

"You got me so dickmatized I can't think straight."

"Ohhh, I love that. I'm gonna get you a t-shirt that says that."

"Shut up," you giggle, gasping when he grips your hips and pulls you toward his face.

"Don't worry," he purrs, licking a long stripe up the length of your wet slit. "I know better than to talk with my mouth full."

The last coherent thought you have is thank goodness y'all are alone in the house, since there's a 100% chance of you getting loud as hell.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You watch the play unfold in slow motion on your TV screen, your heart skipping a beat as two defenders converge on Joe; you gasp in horror as they wrap him up and twist him to the ground, his body language and grimace of pain speaking volumes as he grabs his knee. "Oh no!" you yelp, tears streaming down your face when you realize how much pain he's in. "Noooooo!" ~

"Babe, wake up! You're having a bad dream!"

Joe's voice snaps you out of your nightmare; you take one look at his concerned face and break down crying. "What day is it?" you ask between sobs.

He throws a quick glance at the bedside clock before answering. "It's Tuesday, November 14th, 2023. 1:44 am to be precise."

"Thank goodness," you whisper as you collapse against him. "I thought I was still dreaming for a sec."

"You're awake," he soothes, pulling you tight against him, your hot tears falling on his bare chest as he cradles your head in one big hand, his other hand rubbing your back. "It's okay, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss on top of your head.

"It's not okay," you sniff. "I was dreaming about your knee injury. That awful dream where it happens in slow motion and I can't look away."

"Damn," he mutters, pressing a couple more kisses against you as your tears continue to fall. "That's def a nightmare."

"I felt so helpless since I couldn't be at the game because of Covid," you sputter, grinding your face against his chest as your emotions overwhelm you.

"You got to me as soon as you could," he murmurs. "And you helped me through that hideous rehab. I couldn't have done it without you."

You cry for a few more minutes before your tears finally taper off; you take a deep breath before speaking, your words muffled against him. "Sorry for crying all over you," you sniff.

"It's okay. I'm waterproof," he says, dropping another kiss on your head before hopping up to grab some tissues for you. You blow your nose, cringing at the loud noise before placing the soiled tissues in his outstretched hand; he disappears into the bathroom to toss the tissues before rejoining you in bed.

"Booger check," you urge, tilting your head back for him to inspect your nostrils. "You're good," he assures you, stretching out beside you and pulling you against him. You bury your face in his neck, his warmth and familiar scent soothing your frazzled nerves.

Several minutes pass before he breaks the silence. "You haven't had that dream in a while. I was hoping you'd never have it again."

"Me too," you mumble. "I think I had it again because I'm worried about you."

He tries to pull back and look at you, but you burrow your face deeper into his neck; you feel him take a deep breath, hold it for several seconds, then slowly let it out. He repeats the action before speaking up. "Talk to me."

"It's just …" you scramble to organize your thoughts before continuing. "The short week has me worried. Playing Sunday the 12th then Thursday the 16th seems crazy. That's basically no time for your body to recover."

"I'll be fine," he murmurs. "My calf's been feeling damn near 100%."

You finally pull back and lock eyes with him. "What about your arm?"

"What about it?"

"You've been wearing the compression sleeve pretty regularly lately."

"My arm is fine. The compression sleeve is just precautionary to keep the normal swelling down that most QBs experience at this point in the season."

You study his face for several seconds before speaking. "You'd tell me if something was actually wrong, right?"

"Of course I would."

"This week just feels so rushed, doesn't it? You just played a game two days ago, and you've got a night practice tonight at 6:00 pm, then you're on the team flight tomorrow headed to Baltimore. I also hate that it's a late game. You're gonna be dead tired by that 8:15 pm kickoff."

"Kickoff could be at midnight, and I'd be ready to go." He gives you a cocky grin as he continues. "Don't you think I might have a little extra adrenaline flowing going up against a division rival?"

"Obvi," you concede, returning his grin even though you still have a vague sense of dread. "Sorry for waking you up," you continue, snuggling against him. "Let's try to go back to sleep. You need all the sleep you can get."

"I wasn't actually sleeping when you had the nightmare."

"You weren't?"

"Nope. I'd been awake for about thirty minutes. I tried to go back to sleep, but I was having a hard time turning my brain off."

"Thinking about the upcoming game?"

"Obvi," he admits, scrunching up his adorable nose when you push up into a sitting position and look down at him.

"What will help you sleep?" you ask. "Maybe a snack? How about a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie?"

"I was thinking of a different kind of snack," he purrs, licking his lips and dropping his gaze down to your crotch.

"Marriage has turned you into a shameless horndog," you chuckle, raising your arms as he sits up and strips your t-shirt off.

"That's a good thing, though, right?" he asks, tossing your shirt on the floor.

You nod, giving him a wink as you lie back. "That's a very good thing."

"Good. 'Cause I can't help that I'm perpetually horny," he teases, giving you a dirty grin as he slides your panties down your legs before crawling between your spread thighs. "I mean, have you seen my wife? She's smoking hot."

Your giggles turn into groans as he lowers his head, your vague sense of dread quickly disappearing with every stroke of his talented tongue.

~ ~ ~

An hour later, you gently ease out of bed and look down at Joe sleeping peacefully, the last words he said before he drifted off echoing in your head. Get some sleep, babe. I promise there's nothing to worry about.

You grab your t-shirt and panties and creep out into the hallway, quickly shimmying into the articles of clothing before tiptoeing downstairs to the kitchen; you pour a glass of water and grab a cookie, savoring a few bites before rolling your shoulders to ease some tension. "There's plenty to worry about," you mumble under your breath. "Football is violent as fuck, and a bunch of players get hurt every week."

You hadn't said that to Joe earlier because he needed sleep more than you needed to make a point, so you held your tongue. "It is what it is," you mutter, "no reason to argue about it." You finish your cookie as you try to put the negative thoughts out of your mind; you heave a weary sigh as you walk to the living room and plop down on the sofa. "I'm not sleepy," you grumble, trying to decide what to do to take your mind off of things. You don't feel like watching TV or reading or scrolling your phone, so what does that leave?

After a few minutes, an idea hits you, and you open a drawer on the end table and pull out a book bound in black leather. You tuck a plush blanket around your legs before you flip the book open, reading the title out loud. "The Story of Us - Volume One." A smile immediately graces your lips as you peruse the pics of you and Joe, and you laugh quietly at how awkward y'all look in some of the pics from when you first started dating.

You slowly flip several pages before stopping on a page dedicated to Joe's Heisman win. There are pics of him on stage accepting the award, in Times Square with his face and name in flashing lights, and pics of both of you the following night at the gala dinner where everyone in attendance couldn't get enough of him. "Especially the women," you mutter, shaking your head as you close your eyes and let your mind rewind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ December 15, 2019 - Marriott Marquis Times Square NYC

You take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds as Joe follows you into the elevator and presses the button for the 18th floor. He gives you a smile as the door slides closed, cutting you off from the crowd of people still mingling after the Heisman gala dinner. "Alone at last," he murmurs, leaning down to drop a kiss on your lips as the elevator whisks you upward.

A few seconds later, the elevator slows to a halt, and Joe throws a look over his shoulder to see what floor you're on. "Six," he mutters, spinning around and using one big hand to tuck you behind him as three very loud and rowdy guys join you in the elevator.

"Oh shit!" one of them yelps. "It's Joe Burrow, right? I mean, I know it's you since your face is all over Times Square right now."

"Yeah, it's me," Joe mutters, exchanging greetings with the very inebriated guys while you stay firmly hidden behind his large frame.

"Dude," one of the drunks slurs. "You're about to be living the life! Heisman winner and soon to be first pick in the NFL is no joke, bro. You're gonna be absolutely drowning in pussy."

"No shit!" another drunk chimes in. "Hot chicks will be throwing themselves at you!"

Before Joe has a chance to respond, the elevator crawls to a stop and the door swishes open, the trio of loud-mouths cackling as they stumble out into the corridor. You stare at your feet as the door slides closed, encapsulating you and Joe in a very tense silence; he turns to face you and you swallow hard, fighting back tears as the elevator continues its ascent.

"Bunch of drunk idiots," he mumbles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as you continue to stare at your feet. "You okay?" he inquires, turning to look at the floor number as the elevator grinds to a halt. "This is our floor."

The words are barely out of his mouth before you dart around him and exit the elevator, hiking the hem of your dress up and legging it down the long hallway toward your suite; you swipe the key card and sling the door open, immediately rushing through the lounge area into the bedroom then into the en suite bathroom as Joe follows close behind.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, his voice slightly frantic.

"I'm fine. I just need to pee," you lie, shutting the bathroom door in his face before locking it. You toss your tiny, sparkly bag on the counter and stare at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, a wave of nausea rolling through you as you replay the words said in the elevator. "Drowning in pussy, indeed," you sneer under your breath, yanking the sleeves of your slinky black dress down your arms, relishing the ripping sound as you roughly shove the gossamer fabric over your plump butt. "Fuck it," you grit out, kicking the dress off and stomping on it a few times, literally grinding it under your stiletto heels for several seconds before catching a glimpse of yourself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door.

"Calm down," you whisper, taking several deep breaths while studying your reflection, your gaze raking over the purple lace teddy you wore under your dress because you knew Joe would love it, especially the way your breasts spill out of the demi cups and the snap crotch just waiting to be unsnapped.

"So much for that," you mutter, kicking your heels off and reaching for one of the plush hotel bathrobes hanging beside the door. You shrug the robe on and gather up your dress and heels, slinging the door open and giving Joe a bland smile as you walk into the bedroom. You notice he's changed out of his tux into a pair of gray sweatpants and a black long-sleeve t-shirt. He's sitting on the bed looking nervous as hell.

"You okay?" he asks for the third time, quickly standing up as you walk in the room.

"I'm fine," you mutter, jamming your dress and heels in your suitcase before breezing past Joe to walk into the lounge area; you head straight to the bar and grab a glass, dropping a couple of fat ice cubes in it before adding a mini bottle of vodka. "Fuck it," you mumble under your breath, grabbing a mini bottle of silver tequila and adding it to the glass with the vodka, swirling it around for a few seconds before taking a sip, the potent elixir burning all the way down just like you hoped it would.

"Can I have a taste?" Joe asks, giving you a smile when you turn your head to look at him.

"Sure," you answer, walking to where he's sitting on the leather sofa before offering him the glass; you watch closely as he takes a hearty gulp, his eyes immediately going wide.

"Got damn! What kind of cocktail is this?" he wheezes, making a face as he hands the glass back to you.

"Fuck boy repellant," you state, your full lips curling into a cunty sneer as you drop into an armchair directly across from him, the hotel robe you're wearing -- which is too big for you -- sliding off of one shoulder far enough to reveal a strap of your teddy. His eyes are drawn to the wisp of purple, lingering there for several seconds before you part the robe just below your crotch, letting it fall open to reveal your bare legs. You take a small sip of your drink and watch in annoyed amusement as his gaze drops down to your smooth legs, slowly sliding from your feet -- toenails painted LSU purple -- all the way up to your barely-concealed crotch. Men are so fucking predictable, you think to yourself. Even the decent ones are constantly thinking with their dicks.

He eventually clears his throat and meets your eyes. "Are you mad at me?" he asks, nervously picking at his thumbnail in a way you wish you didn't find endearing.

"I'm mad at the situation."

He nods vigorously. "Because of those rude drunks spouting bullshit in the elevator, right?"

"They may have been drunk, but they were 100% correct," you state, taking another sip of your godawful drink before sitting it on a coaster on the side table. "No bullshit detected."

He opens his mouth to argue, but you beat him to the punch. "I wouldn't try to deny it if I were you. At best you come off as an oblivious doofus, and at worst you come off as a manipulative liar." He snaps his mouth closed as you plow ahead. "Having said that, I don't really want to have this convo tonight. You've had an amazing couple of days, and I don't want to ruin that. Let's save this heavy topic for some other time."

"I prefer to have the conversation now," he urges, swallowing hard when you raise an eyebrow at him. "Please?" he adds. "I won't be able to sleep or think or anything until we clear this up."

"Fine," you state, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Remember when we first met just after you transferred to LSU in the summer of 2018?"

"Yeah."

"And remember how I refused to go out with you for several weeks before you finally convinced me?"

"Yeah."

"This shit right here is the reason I was so reluctant."

He furrows his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean … once I found out you were a football player, I promised myself I'd stay away, even though I was super attracted to you."

"Because you thought I was a fuck boy."

"Exactly. And now -- after being with you for almost 18 months -- my worst fears are about to be realized."

"I don't understand. You know I'm not a fuck boy, so what's the problem?"

You take a deep breath as you struggle to find the words to say, fighting back tears as your mood shifts from mad to sad. "Look … I don't think you're a fuck boy, but you're only human, and you have women throwing themselves at you left and right. I lost count of how many women propositioned you right in front of my face tonight."

"And damn near every man in the place was eye-fucking you, but I know you'd never cheat on me. Don't you trust me?"

"That's a loaded question," you mutter. "I mean … you're a Heisman winner, and unless an asteroid destroys the Earth before January 13, 2020, you're gonna be a National Champion." You wipe a tear before continuing. "Then you're gonna be a number one pick in the NFL draft and an instant multi-millionaire. There's a saying about how a man is only as faithful as his options." You shrug as you continue. "And you're about to be drowning in options."

"I don't want options; I want you! I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you!"

You give him a sad smile. "I want you, too, but I also want to live a normal, quiet life. I had no idea when we started dating that you were gonna have one of the most amazing college football seasons of all time and end up in the NFL."

"Are you breaking up with me?" he grits out, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm … not sure."

"Oh my God," he snaps, leaping off the sofa like he got poked with a cattle prod; he paces back and forth several times, raking a hand through his hair while muttering under his breath. You watch him with equal parts fascination and trepidation, not exactly sure where this is going.

He eventually stops right in front of your chair and stares at you for several seconds before grabbing the lethal drink; he takes two gulps before slamming it back down. "Fucking hell, that's awful," he gasps, his gaze locking onto yours as he drops to his knees at your feet. "Have I done something wrong?" he asks, his earnest expression breaking your heart.

"You haven't done anything wrong. I just … I don't want you to feel like you're stuck with me."

"Stuck with you? Are you serious?" He shakes his head as he continues. "These last 18 months have been the best of my life, and football is part of that, but you're also a huge part. You're a dream come true for me."

You chew on your bottom lip as he scoots closer and forges ahead.

"And you're right, this season has been absolutely crazy. You've been the eye of the storm for me. My safe space." He reaches a hand out toward you, waiting for you to grasp it before continuing. "I'm not sure we can have a normal, quiet life for however long I'm in the NFL, but I promise I'll do everything I can to shield you from the bullshit."

"I feel like I'm already waist deep in bullshit," you mutter, "and I think you're being a little naive to think you can shield me from it."

"You're right," he admits, "all I can do is try my best. Whatever you need from me, I'll do it." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "Football is gonna be one chapter in our story, but there are so many other things I'm looking forward to experiencing with you."

"Like what?" you ask.

"Like house hunting when I finally know which team is gonna draft me, finally living together so we can go to sleep and wake up in the same bed all the time, vacations, marriage, kids, stuff like that."

"Stuff like that?" you laugh. "You threw marriage and kids in there pretty nonchalantly."

"I kind of got ahead of myself," he grins. "It's probably not the right time for this because I'm totally unprepared but fuck it, I'm calling an audible. Hold on a sec," he continues, hopping up and striding to the coat closet in the entryway; he pulls out his LSU letterman jacket and shrugs it on as he walks back into the lounge, dropping to one knee in front of you and reaching both of his hands out. Your heart skips a beat at the look on his face as you place your hands in his.

He swallows hard and licks his lips before speaking. "Coming to LSU was my destiny, not just for football but also for you. I was gonna wait until I signed my rookie contract to do this so I could give you the engagement ring you deserve, but right here, right now, I need you to know that I want you by my side for this journey. It's our journey, not just my journey. Will you marry me?"

It takes you a few heartbeats to be able to speak, so you nod your head as tears roll down your cheeks. "Yes," you finally manage, burying your face in his neck when he pulls you close. "I love you," he murmurs. "I love you, too," you sniff, relaxing into his embrace for several minutes before he pulls back and stands up.

"Take your robe off," he urges as he shrugs out of his letterman jacket. You stand up and do his bidding, smiling when his eyes go wide at the sight of your purple lace teddy. "Damn," he mumbles, "hope I get to see more of that later. But for now I want to give you my jacket." He holds the jacket for you while you slip into it. "We need something symbolic since I don't have a ring yet."

"Thank you, babe," you whisper, rising up on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips. "It's a little big, huh?" you giggle, spinning in a circle to show off the fit.

"It's perfect," he grins, engulfing you in a hug for several heartbeats before pulling back. "We need a pic," he mutters, grabbing his phone before plopping into the armchair and patting his lap; you dab the tears off of your cheeks as you sit in his lap. "Do I look okay?" you ask. "You look gorgeous," he answers, waiting for you to get settled before snapping the selfie.

Y'all are admiring the pic when his stomach growls loudly. "Those dinner portions were tiny," he grumbles. "You wanna order room service?"

"Sure," you agree. "What sounds good?"

"I'm thinking club sandwiches, fries and a bottle of champagne to celebrate."

"Sounds great."

~ ~ ~

Thirty minutes later, y'all are sitting side by side at the bistro-size table, feeding each other fries and guzzling champagne while looking out the window at the bright lights of the city that never sleeps.

"We can't tell anybody we're engaged until after the Natty," you state, accidentally wiping your salty hand on your robe before you realize it's not your napkin (the letter jacket is safely back in the closet). "Not even family," you continue. "The pressure on you is insane right now, and you don't need the distraction."

"True," he agrees. "I was actually thinking we might wait until we get your engagement ring to tell folks. The draft is April 23rd, and I should sign my rookie contract some time in July. We can tell close family and friends before that, but I want the ring on your finger before we make a public announcement. Is that okay?"

"Sounds good to me," you smile, feeling a little lightheaded from the champagne and the sheer giddyness of the moment. "Just so you know, I don't need an expensive ring."

"We'll see." He grins with a mouthful of sandwich before hopping up to root around in his duffle bag; he sits back down and places a small spiral notebook on the table. "We need to make a to-do list," he states, flipping to a blank page and brandishing a pen before continuing. "First off, next Sunday the 22nd, there's an important game between the Bengals and Dolphins. If the Dolphins win, the Bengals secure the first pick in the draft. So if that happens, we need to start looking for houses in Cincinnati, preferably close to the stadium."

"And two days before that," you interject, "you're gonna receive your master's degree. Be sure to put that on the list."

"Yes, ma'am," he grins, doing your bidding; you top off your champagne glasses as y'all continue to add items to the list:

Dec. 20, 2019 - Joe receives master's degree

Dec. 22, 2019 - if Dolphins beat Bengals, start house hunting in Cincinnati

Dec. 28, 2019 - beat Oklahoma in the Peach Bowl

Jan. 13, 2020 - win the Natty

April 23, 2020 - NFL draft

May 15, 2020 - Y/n receives bachelor's degree (you're a year and a half younger than Joe - also keep in mind spring semester was mostly done virtually b/c of Covid)

July ??, 2020 - Joe signs NFL rookie contract

July/August, 2020 - buy engagement ring & make public announcement + buy house

Joe reads the list out loud before giving you a look. "Can you think of anything else?"

"Not right now, but I'm feeling kinda lightheaded from the champagne."

"Let's finish it off," he grins, pouring the remainder of the bubbly in each of your glasses.

"You're such a bad influence," you giggle, taking the champagne flute as he hands it to you.

"Just one more sip, okay? I wanna propose a toast."

"Okay, go ahead," you snicker, busting out laughing at the look on his face.

"What's so funny?" he laughs.

"Nothing really, I'm just giddy as hell. Combination of drunk and high on life."

"Cool," he grins, holding his glass up. "Here's to happily ever after. Is that cheesy?"

"Cheesy as fuck and I love it," you giggle, clinking your glass against his before downing your entire drink.

"Am I gonna have to carry you to bed?" he asks, sliding a hand up your thigh and under your robe until it's nestled against your crotch; he makes an inquisitive face as he runs his fingers over the snap crotch of your teddy. "This feels different," he muses, his forehead wrinkling in consternation as he tries to figure out what he's feeling.

"It's a snap crotch," you state.

"Oh. -- Sooo I can just … unsnap it?" he asks, the look on his face sending a sizzle of heat through you.

"Yeah," you whisper, shrugging the robe off as he stands up and reaches for you, picking you up bridal-style as he heads for the bedroom.

~ ~ ~

Joe's voice pulls you out of your flashback.

"Hey babe," he mumbles around a mouthful of peanut butter chocolate chip cookie. "What ya looking at?"

"Our picture book," you answer, giving him a smile when he sits beside you on the sofa.

"That was an amazing night," he says, looking at the pic of you sitting in his lap wearing his letterman jacket. "I really thought we'd be married super fast, but it didn't happen that way."

"No, it didn't," you whisper, your mind thinking back to all the reasons why -- Covid -- Joe's horrible knee injury -- losing the Super Bowl -- etc. Plus, the stress of planning a big wedding was something that neither one of you wanted to deal with.

"But we're married now," he states, "even if nobody knows it yet." He takes the picture book off of your lap and places it on the coffee table. "You wanna try to get a little more sleep before we have to get up?" he asks, stretching out beside you on the oversized sofa when you say yes; he tucks the blanket around both of you as you snuggle against him, dropping a kiss on the nape of your neck as he pulls you close, your back to his chest.

You close your eyes and try to relax, but your mind has other ideas. Why do I have such an uneasy feeling, you think to yourself. I'm sure everything is gonna be just fine.

"Relax, babe," Joe mutters, dropping another kiss on your neck. "Everything's gonna be just fine."

"You really need to stop reading my mind," you chuckle. "It's getting a little crazy."

"I'm not really reading your mind, we're just always on the same wavelength."

"That sounds like something a shameless mind reader would say."

"Okay, you caught me. I always know exactly what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking right now?"

He considers the question for a few seconds before answering. "You're thinking that you wanna have super naughty shower sex before I leave for practice."

"You are such a horndog," you giggle.

"Obvi, but is that what you were thinking?"

"No, but I'm thinking it now."

"I love it when a plan comes together," he gloats, laughing along with you for a bit before quieting down; you feel the tension leave your body as he pulls you closer and drops another kiss on your neck, your eyelids fluttering closed as you drift off to sleep in his embrace.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

shoutout to @sofferaddict for the idea to incorporate more flashbacks while we wait for good news on Joe's wrist.

shoutout to @joeys-babe for requesting a flashback of Joe proposing.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine

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ezelium · 13 days

Text

I'LL BE ON MY BEST BEHAVIOUR : Boothill

CONTENT : realizing boothill can't feel on his metal plates.

WARNINGS : gn!reader, fluff, written before boothills release idk, reader is in a 😒 mood

WORD COUNT : 0.6k !

A / N : i read somewhere boothill doesn't feel anything on anywhere else except his face because he doesn't have skin to sense things there and this makes great fluff sauce so i couldn't resist.. "But don't you only write for bsd?" shhSHUSH SHUSH!!

Boothill, a mechanical robot.

One that drifts among the stars. One that you held close to your heart. You didn't meet him long ago, in fact, it was only a while ago. He was unhinged and "weird", sure.. but who could deny such a silly man from being their friend?

As far as you knew, he wasn't doing anything wrong. Nor that he thought he did. Him being impertinent wasn't bothering you, not at all. Everybody had flaws, imperfections, problems. Did that stop people from loving them? No, absolutely not. Why should he be treated differently? In fact — He should be treated specially to learn how to act more "human".

Or maybe that's just how you thought, you had hopes for him, hoped he would somewhat grow human-like feelings.

You knew he doesn't exactly 'feel", but physical touch could help him. You knew that, because whenever you caressed his cheek, he would laugh and process it. That or he'd smile and be softer for a brief minute. It was an amazing sight, really, perhaps that was one step closer him being "more human" emotion-wise.

Laying by your side was something he'd do occasionally, out of boredom or when he had nothing else to do. Getting new plates, new wires weren't exciting at all. He'd prefer to stay by your side, thank you very much. You slowly kicked your feet in the air while laying on your stomach, reading a book that you've already read a billion times. But what could you do? The plot was interesting, and you were a big fan of the author.

And now, you finished it for the zillionth time. Closing the book, you got up from the couch lazily, blinking a few times after that reading session to come to your senses. A soft sigh left your lips as you stretched for good - it was amazing, it almost felt like your brain just reset.

One thing you didn't expect though, was to find Boothill seated across the same couch with his back turned to you. He wasn't moving or anything. Eh, oh well, why not talk to him.. But you didn't want to say anything just yet. Your almost feet started moving on their own, approaching the cyborg without much care.

You didn't make any sounds whatsoever. Odd, that he didn't notice you getting up. With shallow breaths, you snaked your arm around his torso, still not saying anything while you silently hugged him from behind.

You sat there for like 3 minutes, but then you called out:

"Boothill?" you rasped out, tightening your hug even further, as much as you could. The metal was kind of hard to wrap your arms around, but you didn't bother letting go.

"[Name], ha?!" He exclaimed, looking very startled now. He even flinched, what a goofy man. "You got up, sweetums!" He added, a grin creeping up on his face, making his fangs and sharp teeth glow like a fresh pearl.

"I got up a few minutes ago. And hugged you." You replied, blinking with a slightly cocked eyebrow, looking sleepy. Speaking of sleep, it seemed that you had a fatigue today but that was off-topic..

"I- Didn't notice it. How senseless and idiotic of me. But— That just makes me cuter, doesn't it?! Ha?" He turned around off-puttingly, and that did NOT go well with your current judgy attitude. Giving him a stink eye, you pulled away.

"So you don't have sensors on these bad boys?" You asked, hand going over the silver lining on his body. He didn't even react to it, and gave a loopy chuckle, before nodding. "Should I get some sensors on them?"

"Wouldn't that make it hurt more when you get injured though?"

"True.."

edit : i noticed far too late that i forgot to add the end notes GOODNIGHT.. but anyway sorry if this is inaccurate in the future idk!

#⟡ ☕ ─ archive #boothill #boothill hsr #hsr fanfic #hsr #honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x gn reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #boothill x you #boothill x y/n #boothill fluff #what is this #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x gn reader

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elsweetheart · 1 year

Text

when the stress of your college assignments get too much, abby makes it all better.

🎀 random little smutty drabble for my babes who r stressed abt assignment szn😣

it started off with you crying, breaking down as soon as you got into her dorm. she was so fast to pick you up, letting your legs wrap around her waist with furrowed brows — concern overtaking her as she bounced you a little, rubbing your back.

“gotta talk to me, pretty girl. what happened?” her voice is low and comforting and it makes your chest hurt.

“got so much work to do n’i don’t even — i don’t know where to start. my head is a mess from my other assignments.” you hiccup into her, arms wound tightly around her neck silently begging her not to let go. she was still in her uniform from her basketball practise, having only arrived back at her dorm not long ago. “and— and i don’t understand any of my essay questions they’re all so long and confusing. m’just so stressed.” you wail, and she’s never seen you wound up like this before.

“okay, okay.” she cooes soothingly, slowly lowering the two of you down so you’re sat on her lap as she perched on the bed. “i can try and help you with your work later baby. but right now you gotta breathe for me, yeah?”

once she’s calmed you, fed you, and managed to get you to relax ever so slightly — the real therapy kicks in. she knows what you need, you need stress relief. you need a factory reset, where you get to clear your mind completely, so that you could go back to doing work as a fresh start. abby needed to quiet all the thoughts, just for a little while.

that’s how you ended up laying back against her chest, her lips pressing soft kisses to you shoulder— your bottom half completely bare, legs spread wide over hers. your cunt is soaked, and she’s slowly rubbing circles over your clit. not rushing you to cum, just slowly applying pressure — getting you to the fucked out, dumb space in your head.

“thats it.” she whispered, dropping a kiss to your temple proudly. you whined, still some fight left in you as it was hard to shake the stress this time.

“c—ant, wastin’ time… need to— mmhgm — need to do work.” you pant, throat hoarse from straining out moans as she worked them out of you.

“shh, shh, shh.” abby hushed, her middle finger dipping down to press onto your welcoming hole. it tensed and flexed around just the pad of her finger, giving her the signal to ease it in. “no thinking, baby. don’t need to do all that. i’m right here.”

she pressed up against something soft and devastating, your thighs twitching upwards as you let out a little cry, face wet once again from tears.

“there it is.” she confirmed with a small smile, thumb reaching up with each reach of her finger, brushing against your bundle of nerves. you felt the bad thoughts slip away as abby massaged your insides, so soaked that it could be heard sliding in and out. “my best girl, taking what i give you.” she spoke against your cheekbone, her hot breath making your skin bloom with warmth. “who’s my good girl? tell me.” she whispered even quieter.

“m’trying t’be.” you shake, barely coherent.

“no, you are. say it. who’s my good girl?” she was stern, but not strict or intimidating, aware of how vulnerable you were to your own emotions in that moment.

“me.” you whimpered, as if it took everything to admit.

“yeah.” you felt her nod right up beside your face, sliding in another finger making your tummy tense up. she didn’t mention it, just slid her free hand across your stomach, rubbing it soothingly to get you to relax. “my good girl, and my smart girl. and my brave girl, and my pretty girl.” she dropped a kiss to the fat of your cheek with each nickname, the pace of her fingers speeding up ever so slightly.

“abb— abby.” you mewled, and you didn’t quite know why — but she seemed to know what you needed. the hand on your stomach slid up, cupping your cheek and urging you to look at her. remind you that she’s there.

“there you go. there’s that pretty face.” her breath was warm and comforting on your face, making your eyelashes flutter. “gonna cum soon, aren’t you? gonna be so proud of you baby, always am.” she was saying just about anything now, and it was working— abby’s eyes trained on the way your eyes glazed over with a fresh batch of tears and your brows furrowed. she leant in so her lips were grazing yours as she continued to finger fuck you. “take it baby. you can have it, sweet girl.”

and you did, gushing over her fingers. abby always knew how to take the stress away.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson drabble #abby anderson prompt #abby tlou2 smut

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girlfailure-smut-hour · 7 months

Text

"You Work So Hard..."

Nsfw content MDNI

Characters: Lucifer X GN!Reader

CW: Oral (Receiving,) Penetration (Receiving.) A little rough, a little romantic. Reader's gender is not mentioned.

A/N: More Luci :) Noticing that Lucifer is stressed, MC helps him vent his frustrations. ~1400 Words

Please check out my fic masterlist <3

Lucifer, like always, had been working too hard. Day after day, he was pulling overtime doing petty administrative work, crunching numbers, and of course managing his unruly relatives. You could tell he was hanging by a thread, desperate for a break, or even just a way to blow off some steam.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like this. He had a habit of overworking himself, or perhaps it was that other people had a habit of overworking him. Either way, he was in a rut again, but naturally, you had just the right idea to get him out of it.

You convinced him to let you use his shower while he was working in his study. He told you that he really didn't care, blowing you off in the way an overworked, severely stressed person might. But you knew just what to do when you got out.

Your hair still dripping wet, you put on one of his button-down shirts, leaving it open. Nothing else, just the shirt. Stepping through the door, you feel a twinge of nervousness, even though you know he'll appreciate the gesture.

You aren't trying to be quiet as you enter his study, but still he doesn't look up so you walk over to his desk, your bare feet cold on the wooden floor. He's writing feverishly, his pen flying across the page in frustrated scribbles, and he doesn't even notice when you reach his desk.

Placing a finger on it, you run it across the desk, up his arm and to his chin, tilting it up to look at you. He does good to hide the flash of emotions that fly across his face, but not good enough. He goes from annoyance to shock to excitement in a very short span before resetting to his default cool, collected demeanor.

"You work so hard Luci," You say, caressing his cheek. "Why don't you take a break?"

He looks at you for a moment, calculating his response, as well as whether or not he can even afford to take a break. "I think that can be arranged," He says, standing from his chair. He removes his cape, draping it over the chair before wrapping his arms around you and kissing you with his signature intensity. You clutch his vest tightly in your fists as he smiles against your lips.

As he pulls away, he pushes his shirt off of your arms and says, "You knew that would get me, huh?" There's a desire burning in his eyes like you’ve never seen before. Perhaps it's the excitement of breaking up his work with something so naughty, or perhaps it's just gratitude for you trying to help him. Whatever it is, it's brought out a sort of feral intensity you haven't seen in a long time, if ever.

He picks you up, and puts you on his desk. You giggle softly as he sets you down. He wastes little time unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants. His cock is rock hard already. With you sitting at waist height, he steps in front of you and pushes his cock right up against your entrance. You pull your feet up and wrap your arms around his neck as he asks, "Are you ready?"

"Please," you say. "I need you."

He pushes the tip of his cock in and you whimper a little. He continues to shove it in as you clutch tightly to him. He groans in your ear as his legs press up against yours, the base of his cock embedded within you now.

"Don't hold back," You say. You want him to blow off all of his steam. You want him to take his frustrations out on you. You want him to fuck you like he hasn't before. And he does. Pulling out, he thrusts back into you with a force that causes you to slide slightly on his desk, flinging papers aside. Wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, you have to hold on with all your strength to keep from being pushed off altogether.

Your voice is punctuated with each thrust as you moan, “Fuck. Luci. You. Feel. So. Good.”

You clutch tighter to him, burying your face in his warm neck while he thrusts into you and growls in your ear. The feeling of his breath whishing into your ear adds another sensation that’s nearly too much to handle on top of the intense pleasure of his cock repeatedly thrusting into you.

He starts to pull away somewhat unexpectedly. With your shaky legs wrapped around his waist, it takes him a second to break free. You’re quivering as he pulls out, that excitement suddenly guillotined, leaving you in a state of dazed and clingy impatience.

He sees the way you’re looking at him and sets one finger on your lips to preemptively hush you, trailing the other down your neck, then your chest, and on to your stomach, stopping just above your groin. He begins to crouch, getting onto the floor in front of you, running his hands down your body as he does so. He holds your legs as he buries his head between them. You shriek out in pleasure, the bliss that was building up before crashing suddenly back onto you.

He works his tongue expertly, swirling it and running it over every inch of you, watching you and feeling your movements to serve you the best he can. With the way he was fucking you before, it doesn’t take you long to cum on his tongue, warm pleasure flooding your body as you shake, convulse, and squeeze his head between your thighs. Characteristically, he had to make sure you came at least once before him. Even if he’s supposed to be blowing off steam.

He stands, ignoring the pain he no doubt feels in his knees and pulls you off the desk, turning you over. With his rough and strong hands, he pushes you over so that you’re bent over his desk. Your head on its side you look back at him and smile as he takes your arms and thrusts his cock back into you.

Your legs are weak from cumming already, so the desk is doing most of the work holding you up while he fucks you. Each thrust hits you hard, with your body held in place. With him holding your arms back, you're completely at his mercy, not that you'd have it any other way.

"You're doing so good," He purrs from behind you, his length repeatedly finding your deepest points. "I'm so proud of you," He continues. You want to reply, but all that escapes your mouth is whiny little moans. You don't feel like you're doing good, you feel like you're going to collapse, and it's amazing.

It surprises you that he's lasted this long already, but while your walls clench down around him, you can sense that he's getting close. His moans are getting louder and rougher as he rails you and when he can't take it anymore he moans your name, saying, "I'm getting close."

"Please Luci," You moan. "Please I need your cum. Please please cum inside me."

He pulls back on your arms bringing you onto his cock, even harder than before. Three hard thrusts then he stops and you can feel his hard length throb inside of you. It's your greatest pleasure to let him pour out his frustrations into you. "Luci can I cum?" You ask.

"Cum for me," He replies with a soft growl. You convulse and clench down on his pulsing cock as an intense orgasm floods through your body. You feel like your legs could give at any second, but you have to hold on while he pumps his hot cum into you.

When he's done, and you're nice and full of his cum, he lets go of your arms, letting them fall to your side as he pulls out. Your shaky legs give way without him to hold you, and you fall to the ground.

"Oh my god Luci," you say, feeling his cum start to slowly spill out of you, "That was so good."

"You'd better not be wasting my cum," He says.

"I'm sorry Luci," you whine. "I couldn't hold myself up anymore.

"Come on," He says, picking you up, "Let's get you to bed."

#obey me smut #obey me Lucifer X Reader #obey me Lucifer smut #Lucifer smut #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x reader #om! Lucifer #obey me Lucifer #Lucifer x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb

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v3nusxsky · 2 months

Note

hey! could I request a nsfw work for Emily prentiss / nb! reader (afab)

im really bad at requesting stuff so I’m just gonna make a list I hope that’s okay!!

After a really tough case you just need Emily to take all control and fuck you senselessly and she agrees but also she is concerned about you and makes sure you’re okay

dom Emily and sub reader (bdsm vibes) Emily is hard dom but also really soft and caring, she instantly switches from “using” the reader’s body and degrading them to showering them with kisses and compliments

safe word use (love me some good communication!)

overstimulation kink / multiple orgasms!

mommy kink

praise kink

no strap on stuff please!

aftercare (fluff :)

thank uuu <3

Mommy has you baby 18+

*Authors note~ felt like our em deserved a bit of love too Yano? Yea I'm writing fics instead of uni just to cope and then finishing it off on the train 😭*

Trigger warnings~ mommy kink praise kink degrading sub r dom Emily safe word use aftercare thigh riding eating out fingering tribbing overstim

Prompt~see aak^^^

This case was a rough one for you, it's not uncommon that a case would get an agent a little more than normal, especially when it held a personal tie to their lives or past. For you, it was poor girls who'd lost their lives just for being who they were. And by a "friend" none the less was heartbreaking. Reminding you of the time where you were almost one of those girls but thankfully you had been taught to defend yourself at your FBI academy.

The blank stare you held the entire plane ride told Emily one thing. You needed her. You needed to feel, to be pulled from the memories of the past to the present. And luckily, Emily knew just what she needed to do for you. Unfortunately , this wasn't either of your first rodeos for needing this sort of help and support. And you'd develop a code to show consent. So it was to no surprise that when Emily asked you if you wanted to "reset" that you nodded silently and made your way to the car.

After your silent drive with your girlfriend you immediately got out of the car and made your way inside to your bedroom. Emily knowing you needed space pottered around shutting the house up and preparing for what was to come. When she made her way to the room you were stripped bare, much like your emotions, on your knees for her. She loves to make you sit pretty for your mommy, head down with your hands on your knees while she stalked around the room in heels. A clear display of dominance.

"What do you need sweetheart?" She held her authoritative tone to show you she expected an answer. "Mommy to make it better" you whimpered still not moving from where you were stationed. "Well then why don't you be a good little slut and fucking earn my help" Emily growled moving to out a head in your heat and tugging it, causing you to yelp out but follow her lead. "Oh don't whine! You know you love it, a little pain slut is all you are."

Next thing you knew you were being pushed onto the bed and your lover straddling your thigh. "Flex" she demanded before starting to grind her hips downwards to seek friction. I'm a constant to her degrading words her smooth hands were constantly touching your skin. It didn't matter if it was your pretty tits or your arms the touch remains light and gentle. "Oh you are a good slut for mommy, letting mommy use your pretty body for my pleasure. Isn't that right my sweet girl?" She mewled as her hips began to lose their rhythm. Knowing she was close you sat up to latch on to her rose bud and sucked harshly. Exactly how she liked, causing her to cum hard. Like a mindless doll you allowed Emily to work her way through the first orgasm of the night, happy to serve. Emily made quick work of shredding any remaining barriers preventing you from being skin to skin.

The raven haired woman shifted to her knees before licking where she'd drenched your thigh, bitting the silky smooth skin just the right amount to draw some blood. "Mommy wants to play with her doll now baby, can you be a good girl for me?" She murmured in between soothing the bit and pressing open mouthed kisses to each thigh. "Yes mommy" you whined before Emily took a bold swipe of your soaking slit. "Oh! Mmm" you mewled giving Emily all the encouragement she needed to lap at your pussy like a starving woman.

"Let me hear those pretty moans sweet girl. Moan for mommy. I want to hear those pretty noises when you cum for me" Emily mumbled into your cunt, the vibrations sending you over the edge and rewarding her efforts as you mewled in pleasure. Only when she was sure she'd got all her reward did she pull away from your core, chin glistening in your arousal and cum mixed together. "Check in baby" she whispered coming to press sweet kisses all across your chest, up your neck, to your cheek, eyes and nose before your plump lips.

"Emerald" you panted out. Laying beneath her with your pupils blown wide and a beautiful flush over your neck and there swells of your breasts. "Greedy whore tonight" she mused before trailing her fingers south of your body to your sensitive clit. "Mommy!" You whimpered as she made contact. "Oh hush, you'll take what mommy gives you, gosh you're practically a bitch in heat with all this filth down here. A whore for your co-worker, doesn't that make you feel ashamed dirty girl" Emily teased you while her fingers trailed your folds before slamming into your awaiting hole.

The shame only aided the bubble of arousal to grow in your stomach as your love hit the right spot inside your spongy walls with each stroke. Effortlessly she had you close to the edge within minutes and begging for her to let you cum. "Such a fucking whore" she mumbled with a roll of her eyes but never slowing her pace, "be a good cumslut and cum now bitch!" Emily growled her left hand digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises for days.

"Shh darling, you did so good my love, so good. One more okay one more" she murmured over and over as you rode the pleasurable waves. "No mommy! Can't do more please" you cried well and truly on your way to where you needed to be mentally. You knew your safe word and when to use it which is why Emily manhandled your body to be on top of her own. "Such a slut. Move your fucking ass!" She grumbled smacking your thigh which caused you to adjust into the position she wanted. You couldn't help but sigh as you felt the warmth radiating from her core. "Mommy" you mewled softly as you slowly began to rock your hips against hers.

To be gracious, Emily let you have a few minutes of pathetically rutting against her before she changed the position muttering that you were no more than a useless slut who couldn't even do something so simple. From there on Emily took control of the pace and made sure you could feel everything. "Lavender!" You sobbed through gasps causing everything to halt. "Okay sweet girl, all done, no more. My good girl."

Nothing else mattered to Emily Prentiss apart from you in this moment. She had to make sure you were okay. Instinctively, she moved to cuddle you up into her bare chest and rub your back as you sobbed. Your body shook for minutes until you managed to gain a bit of control. "Mommy?" You muttered into her skin, "I'm sorry." Those two words single handedly broke her heart, "oh sweet girl, you have nothing to apologise for, mommy is so proud of her girl. You did so well for me darling, my pretty girl I couldn't be more proud or in love with you. Mommy is here okay?"

Some time passed before Emily attempted to gently shift away from you, "mommy needs to clean her precious girl up and then we can get into bed and snuggle okay baby?" You nodded in understanding and tried to hide the whimpers when the cool wash cloth hit your over sensitive folds. "All done my girl" Emily murmured quickly ridding herself of the cloth and joining you in the warm bed. "Thank you Emi" you murmured when she gathered you in her arms again. "Always baby, no matter what you need." And that was how it would always be, no matter what you needed Emily would move heaven and earth to give it to you.

Word count ~ 1488

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #emilyprentiss #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x reader smut #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss #ssa emily prentiss #ssa prentiss #agent prentiss

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kazemi-archive · 4 months

Text

Help Wanted

Pairing: Kita Shinsuke x Reader WC: ~1.2k Genre: fluff CW: references to burnout Summary: after leaving home for the summer, hoping for some emotional reset, you find yourself on the Shinsuke farm

You wound up here by chance. In Hyogo. Your friend had stayed at a small bed and breakfast here and had taken it upon herself to book you the stay here and even pay for it. You had mentioned your exhaustion of your city the exhaustion the school year had taken on you, the constant go go go of working in this environment. The need for a break.

“Just buy the train ticket.” That’s what she had said as she gifted you the confirmation codes for the stay in the bed and breakfast.

Having just graduated from university in Tokyo and another year, another program on the horizon, you took the gift of a vacation, a slower pace of life for the summer.

The first week in the bed and breakfast did prove to be relaxing. You moved on your own time, sleeping and waking without schedule. You got to work on your own personal projects on your laptop and then mosy around town for food when you needed it. It was wonderful. For a little bit. Before you started to get restless.

The market the day before was bustling in a good way, busy but not like the city. It was a softer sort of busy here. It was where you had found the flier that you’d been mulling over all night long. Studying it and debating if it was something you could do.

It was a ‘help wanted’ flier. A newly established farm that was just on the outskirts of town. “No experience needed” was printed across the front of it.

You decided that volunteering some of your abundant amount of time couldn’t hurt, that maybe working with a farm all summer might be exactly what you needed in order to want to go back to the city at the end of your trip when the new school year started.

It was a slight struggle as you tried to find a proper outfit for the day. You’d woken early and tried to tug on the most worn pair of jeans you could find, and matched it with a loose t-shirt that you wouldn’t mind getting some dirt on. Some old sneakers and a dusty hat topped off your look.

You felt out of place on the bus there. Having already embarrassed yourself asking the bus driver if you were on the right track and which stop you’d get off on. The burning in your cheeks still hadn’t settled before you finally reached the stop, reigniting when the driver gave you a few extra directions.

Spinning around a few corners of the dirt road finally led you to a small house. The old style structure of the house was charming to you. There were plants hanging from the overhang of the porch and it seemed to radiate peace.

“Miss?” Your head snapped to the side, the form of an older woman catching your attention as she came from a small, gated garden. “Were you looking for something?”

You shuffled around to face her quickly, hands fumbling around in your bag for the paper. “Hi, I’m so sorry!” Your hand finally grasped the paper and you held it up as you ventured closer to her. “I found this in the market yesterday. I came to see if-”

“Oh!” She clasped her hands together gently as she came closer to you. She radiated warmth, her smile making you immediately feel comfortable. “You found his ad! Good!” She chuckled as she shuffled you closer to the house. “He really does need the help.” You followed her easily, smile gracing your features as her happiness was contagious. “He tries to do it all by himself, he needs some breaks.”

You laughed lightly as you followed her into the house, trailing like a little duckling. “Your husband sounds very hard working.”

“Oh!” She laughed heartily as she grabbed a glass of lemonade to hand to you. “Not my husband, dear.” She smiles as she ushers you to sit at the kitchen table with her. “My grandson runs this farm. He should be back soon, he was making a delivery out in town.”

“I’m sorry,” your cheeks flare again as you laugh nervously, “I shouldn’t have assumed I just-”

“It’s no worry, he’s a very great boy. Works very hard and always has helped out around here, I’m just getting too old to help him back.” She continues to talk about his good qualities and you quietly listen, too taken with how sweet she seems and how fondly she clearly thinks of her grandson.

“Grandmother, who’s our guest?”

Your head turns to the door and you’re sure that your heart stops in your chest. He’s toeing off his shoes at the door, eyes focused on that motion as he tips his hat off to hang on the wall. The reveal of his hair held your attention, light gray through most of it but black at the tips, unlike anything you’d seen before. Your breathing seemed to start next when he looked up at you. His soft brown eyes locked with yours and both of you seemed to freeze.

You felt heat creep back up your cheeks and broke the contact, reaching for the paper again to present it to him. “I, uh, I found your ad.”

“Right, yeah.” You didn’t notice the slight tinge to his cheeks as he sat at the table next to his grandmother, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’m Kita Shinsuke.” He held out his hand for you to shake, you put your hand in his and told him your name in response.

“I would really appreciate the chance to help out. I don’t have any experience, but I do have some free time and I’m a quick learner.” You rambled the words out quickly as you released his hand, nervously bringing your own hand back into your lap.

“It’s okay, I been told I’m a decent teacher.” He smiled softly, hoping if he spoke enough your nervous demeanor would fade. “If ya’d like, I could show ya some stuff t’day. We could start slow.” He said it while standing and nodding his head lightly towards the door.

“Yes, yes of course.” You nodded, standing quickly, ready to follow him. “Thank you so much for letting me try this out, Kita-san.” You followed after him eagerly towards the door and your shoes.

“Ya can call me Shinsuke, if ya’d like.” He said it so nonchalantly, not even looking up as he pulled his shoes back on.

“Ri-right. Thank you, Shinsuke.” Your tongue twisted around the word smoothly and it made your cheeks flush while it made Shinsuke’s heart hiccup over one of its beats.

Neither of you, too caught up in your own interactions, seemed to notice the knowing smile that creeped onto the lips of Shinsuke’s grandmother as she lifted her glass back to them. “You two have fun out there! Keep your hats on in the sun!”

a/n: selfship coded and probably will have a follow up <3

#𓇻 fics

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ultra-raging-ghost · 13 days

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Cucuhalo is so interesting, whats your take on their dynamic?

My personal take as someone who believes cucuruchos feelings are genuine is that their dynamic is "Aggressively affectionate" vs "Blissfully unaware"

To me cucuruchos feelings being genuine dont stop him from being a toxic little shit, but we love that about him!!! The vultures made bad colorblind so he doesnt mind red flags!!! All flags look the same to him now!!!/j

Cucuruchos got this very much push and pull manipulative attitude, they like to test the limits with bad which we see esp so recently. Giving bad a ton of love and outward affection and then RIPPING it away and then doing it again and again just to see if he'll still be upset, how much of an attachment bad has to him. Also with recently, cucurucho putting bad to work!! I like to think he just finds bad hot but also its a good test of what exactly bad's willing to do for him - like for instance cucurucho caught him in an obvious lie but instead of punishing him outwardly, he'd see if bad would rather just partially win while obeying than fully admitting and losing all his stuff (cucurucho let him keep 2/6 of those nukes!!!). However alongside this i believe cucurucho destroying that block of netherite was on purpose, to see if he could once again make bad bend to his word. And honestly he did!! He called cucurucho out but still conceeded to paying cucurucho back somehow (shout out to that nude calendar)

As far as bad goes, he's always been someone who forms unnecessary attachments to people, he literally is a magnet for any man around him in every universe we've seen so he takes affection readily and (as we've been told) is oblivious to anything too romantic or sexual innuendo-y (See: him being oblivious during that date with cucurucho, and also saying "oh no its alright but thank you!" when cucurucho was watching him shower and turned away apologizing, seemingly unaware of what cucurucho was so sorry for), so hes very go-with-the-flow with relationships and acts chill but falls hard and fast. While he may not have a romantic attachment to cucurucho (he does, but lets say he doesnt for this point) he definitely has some sort of emotional attachment and sees cucurucho as a companion he prefers to live with for this time.

Like for perspective, hes fresh off a reset and has been told skeppy (his soulmate) is either unable or unwilling to get to him and nobody knows why, and the only two other people he remembers (foolish, cellbit) havent been around. Cucurucho is a constant and ready emotional well for him to attach himself to, and to have it ripped away so suddenly would DEFINITELY be a blow to his emotional wellbeing. To prevent this i can see him bending to cucuruchos wants and orders just so that he isnt alone anymore, he's got a social battery that cucurucho just can never seem to fill up or exhaust so that relationship would be something he values subconciously if not explicitly

tl;dr cucuruchos feelings are genuine but his nature is to be manipulative, bad is vulnerable and has an emotional attachment to cucurucho (romantic or platonic) and puts up with the manipulation willingly to prevent being alone :D

#qsmp #cucuhalo

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sixhours · 2 months

Text

Chapter 2 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

Boston QZ March 2024

You were one of the lucky ones.

After the initial outbreak and the chaos that followed, you were protected, ushered into a covered military caravan and housed in relative safety. You were only a resident, but your medical experience made you valuable. Most doctors had been infected in the early hours.

Most of them hadn’t run.

If you had been anyone else, you think you would have been shot. Instead, the military sent you to the quarantine zone in Boston, and you were drafted into FEDRA without ever having signed your name on the line.

Your cowardice in the face of danger was your saving grace, and you will never let yourself forget it.

You’re six years into the pandemic when you’re summoned to the colonel’s office for a special request. FEDRA wants you to travel to a sparsely populated territory outside the QZ and embed yourself there, do threat assessments, and send the intel back to your higher-ups. They frame it as an outreach program for recruitment and a means to get ahead of terrorist threats, but you understand the unspoken implications.

They want you to be a spy.

You protest, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. You know they aren’t offering you a choice.

You train for combat and survival. You learn how to shoot, how to run, how to fight, and how to hide. And then FEDRA packs you up and sends you off into the wilderness of what used to be Pennsylvania, joining a small outpost east of Pittsburgh. There are no terrorist threats to be found, only starving, freezing civilians, hordes of infected, and so much desperation.

You return, six months older and with only a few bruises, so they send you out again. And again. And again.

As it turns out, you make a good soldier. You don’t ask what FEDRA does with the information you find, and they don’t tell you.

On your fourth mission, you come back with more than bruises. The burgh of Everglade, forty miles north of a ruined Jacksonville, Florida, wasn’t as welcoming as you would have hoped. You’d been savagely beaten and sent back to Boston, less weapons and supplies, a walking warning.

Don’t fuck with us, FEDRA.

But there’s a hard seed of grit in you that felt fair was fair, that you deserved whatever punishment you got. You sutured your gashes, reset your broken nose, and took your next assignment.

~*~

By the time Joel Miller and Ellie Williams are staggering across the Jackson threshold for the second time, in the spring of 2024, you’re opening the door of your Boston QZ apartment to a man in weathered FEDRA fatigues.

“Hey,” he says, barely meeting your eyes. “Waller wants to see you.”

“When?”

“0800 hours.”

“Fine,” you say. He doesn’t respond, lingering in the doorway until you’re forced to ask, “Anything else?”

He ducks his head. “Got any plans tonight?”

“I do if you have the money.”

Unsurprisingly, FEDRA doesn’t pay well–doctor, spy, or shit-shoveler. But you’ve found other ways to get by.

The man– a boy, really , you think–reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled stack of ration cards. You take your time counting them before pocketing the payment and stepping aside to let him enter.

His hands are on you before you can finish closing the door, greedy and wanting. You let him push you up against the wall, tipping your head to give him access to your neck, already tuning out his gasps and moans and clumsy thrusts.

~*~

Afterward, he’s panting on your mattress, and you’re fumbling on the nightstand for a lighter.

“You know those things’ll kill you,” he mumbles.

“Fascinating,” you respond dryly, finding the lighter and putting the cigarette to your lips. You allow yourself one long, slow inhale. You hold the smoky air in your lungs as long as you can, savoring that first and only hit, before tamping the cigarette out and rolling it up in a piece of foil for later. “You can go.”

You feel his hand slide over your ass and you flinch away, standing and gathering your clothes from the floor.

“C’mon, baby. I gave you extra.”

“Yeah, and you shorted me five last time. Go.”

He growls. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

You ignore this, slipping a clean-enough tank top over your head, pulling on your jeans, and heading for the kitchen. You’re putting a kettle of water on the hot plate when you hear the metallic snick of a blade behind you.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

You tense, listening, waiting, until you feel the hint of a blade at the side of your throat.

“How about you suck me off next time and we’ll call it even,” he whispers, breath hot in your ear.

You dive to one side, wrapping the man’s arm with your own, knocking the knife away. It skitters across the floor, lost under the radiator. Your left hand grips the man’s wrist and pulls it back as you slam your right hand into his shoulder, forcing him down against the counter. You twist his arm until you imagine you can hear the tendons creaking.

The man screams in pain and surprise. “Whoa no shit I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m fucking sorry don’t–”

You slam your full body weight against him and twist his arm back and up with a sharp snap , his wrist giving under your practiced hands. Another scream, this one feral, as you release the man’s arm.

“You broke my fucking wrist you fucking cunt!”

“Fuck off or I’ll break the other one,” you pant, shoving him toward the door.

“You’ll fucking hang for this!”

“Yeah?” you spit. “You say one word and I’ll make sure your dick never touches another girl in this QZ because it’ll be sitting in a jar on my fucking desk.”

He sneers, but there’s no threat in it. He slouches backward with an angry sob, cradling his broken hand and fumbling with the door, all the while trying to keep his eyes trained on you.

You lock the door behind him and slide the deadbolt home with unnecessary force.

Fuck.

~*~

Colonel Waller doesn’t look up at you when you enter his office, his greeting just a single word.

“Wyoming.”

You frown. You’ve never been west of Ohio.

“We lost an asset in Utah. Fireflies.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. ‘Shit’ is about the shape of it,” he sighs, finally looking up from his paperwork. “We had someone in KC but they’ve gone radio silent. We assume the worst.”

“So…I take it the target’s in Wyoming?”

He nods. “We suspect several Fireflies are holed up in a town called Jackson. It’s big,” he continues, sliding you a sheaf of folded maps across the desk. “Our scouts…haven’t made out so well.”

“How many came back?”

He looks at you blankly.

None.

“We need to know how many warm bodies, how much firepower, do they have patrols and when, are they collaborating with anyone else in the area. We need–”

“I got it,” you say, pocketing the map, an aching exhaustion deep in your gut. “When?”

“There’s a supply run headed west tomorrow. You’ll camp with them until KC, then make your way in on foot. We expect radio contact every six weeks; if we don’t hear anything by then–”

“You’ll assume I’m dead,” you finish.

He interlocks his fingers. “Any questions?”

You shake your head.

He nods and goes back to his work. “Dismissed.”

#the last of us hbo #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #ellie williams #fanfic

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destinygoldenstar · 8 months

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The Sims is whack, especially for Ninjago characters.

I have 3 & 4, I don't like touching 4 because no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do to keep these guys alive, they always die for the stupidest reasons.

Kai? Died from a cardiac explosion mood swing. A MOOD SWING. How do you manage that?!

Cole? Eaten alive by a plant when I leave him alone for two seconds.

Jay? Drowned. I didn't put him in the pool.

Nya? RANDOM ASS LIGHTNING STRIKE WHEN SHE GOT HOME FROM WORK.

And Lloyd and Zane... are the only survivors. Ain't that ironic.

Idk if the four were dumb as a post or they just said 'screw sim life'

I keep resetting the world, and Kai is the biggest victim of this emotion system because no matter what I do, he dies from it OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Dead from embarrassment. Dead from cardiac. Dead from cardiac AGAIN. And I cannot do anything about it because the game is so quick to decide 'nah Kai doesn't deserve to live'

And then you have 3, where they are all perfectly fine. Everyone knows what they're doing. Nobody's suffering from random emotions. Everyone knows when to not be in a pool and how to deal with fires. They want to do stuff and live Sim lives. They're all successful firefighters. Cole for some reason always wants a karaoke and I don't want to give him that. And NOBODY IS DEAD.

It goes for my other saves too, but recently I was just like, "Yeah, there's a HUGE IQ difference here."

#sims #sims 4 #sims 3 #ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago cole #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #ninjago lloyd #ninjago zane #kai jiang #kai smith #cole brookstone #jay walker #nya smith #nya jiang #lloyd garmadon #zane julien

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maddipoof · 1 year

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There is nothing like staying at home, for real comfort 🌷- pick a character or a few and come up with a prompt and I’ll write a fluff blurb <3

omg giving steve a massage when he has knots in his back from work :((

I think we've discovered I don't know how to write a blurb; also that i’m living vicariously through R with how much they kiss and hold each other….i’m touch starved, gn!reader Cw: One mention of the stomach bug, suggestive language, allusions to spice cus I wrote this in a starbucks with my mom sitting across from me and YOLO, like, the fuck do you expect with a request like this (and also because he's a who're....Accidental prude!reader because that's how I felt while writing it. And like half of it deleted two separate times so you guys better like it. Not proofread <3

Today was rough, it was real rough. Robin was out sick and with no one else to cover, Steve worked both shifts and with the extra hours he'd been picking up recently, it's been a tough week. Even Keith took it easy on him and let him go home early. "And you're getting time and a half for tonight. Just– uh take it easy, yeah?" The pleasantries obviously didn't come easy, but Steve appreciated the slack he was cutting him, and the extra pay, especially the extra pay.

"Yeah. You take care, Keith."

On top of all that, they were reflooring the store, the last few nights were spent moving shelves full of tapes across the store. Why they couldn't take them out, move the shelves, then put them back, he had no clue. But who was he to argue.

And on top of that, his back was acting up from that time he landed flat on it one ruthless basketball game.

All he wanted was to get home, to you. And maybe a bath, if he could stay awake that long.

He never felt the same relief he did when he saw your car in the parking lot, somehow getting the irrational idea that for whatever reason, you wouldn't be there when he got back.

The flight up the stairs to your shared apartment was a feat. He was dragging his feet by the time he got to the door. You didn't even give him the chance to open the door since you flipped the stopper in the second you saw his car pull in. Just to give him one less thing to do. He kicked it open and found you finishing up putting the leftovers away.

You looked up with a smile that calmed his heart as soon as his keys jingled in the bowl, that you most certainly did not steal from his mother, next to the door. You said hello but forgot to make the sound come out, like you often did when you got too used to the quiet. "I missed you today. You were gone before I even woke up."

"Blame Robin, she's the one that called out." He hung his coat up then came to hold you. His arms around your shoulders while your hands slid under his shirt and up his back.

"So rude of her. Had to spend all day without you."

"I mean, she was throwing up her guts, but yeah, so rude of her."

"How was it?" you asked and he held you a little tighter, rubbing your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your crown. Though he did lead with his nose. The smell of your conditioner bringing him back to himself a little more.

"How was what?"

You pulled your head from his chest at the strange sensation of his voice on the top of your head. Only enough so you could look at him fully. "Work? Your day?"

"Hmm. It was work. It was alright."

You hummed like a question.

"It was hard. It was horrible. Apparently all the assholes who like to use cashiers as emotional punching bags come out on Fridays, which is the same day we just reset all the shelves.”

“Your back still hurts?” A kiss to his chest and the heel of your palm up and down his spine.

“Mhm, any more questions?” Not in an irritated way, just wanting to know what he’s in for.

You nodded and continued with your cheek pressed to his chest, “Did you eat? And are you still hungry?”

“I got something on my break, thank you though.” He kissed the top of your head again.

“Mhm, you want a bath?”

“With you?”

You snorted and pressed your forehead into his sternum, “No, with the bubbles and the salts you like. The ones that help your back.”

He drew you out of hiding with a finger hooked under your chin, a kiss to your nose. “I’d love one.”

"Go lay down, I'll get it ready."

"I'll fall asleep."

"Then don't." You didn't see the what? face he made since you were already halfway to the surprisingly nice full-bath. He swears that one room alone is half the rent, you swear it's worth it. He'll never say it out loud but after the week he's had, you know he agrees. "And stop staring," he forgets the eyes in the back of your head, or maybe he just forgets how well you know him by now.

"Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go." You said at the same time he did. "Ah, so you've heard that one before?" He asked as you came back out for the lighter, he caught you by the waist before you could reach the aptly named 'everything drawer'.

"Mm, I'm quite familiar."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Now, can you go get yourself out of this stupid vest and into the bath? It's gonna overflow by the time I finish getting everything together."

"You can't do it for me?" You rolled your eyes and pushed him towards the bedroom and yourself to the drawers.

"Insatiable."

"What do you expect when you're looking like that?"

You looked down at your sweatpants and old P.E shirt on your way back to the bathroom. Yeah, ok, maybe you'd grown a little since freshman year but nothing that tight. "I rephrase, delusional."

"Then I have one hell of an imagination." You looked up from the candle you were lighting to give him another tease but the sight of his back through the mirror was enough to shut you up. All you could manage was something close to a very pathetic whine, close! But not quite, an important distinction. Either way, you're grateful he couldn't hear over the running water. Once the bubbles were practically overflowing you shut off the faucet and swirled the salts around again for good measure.

"Is it ready?" Steve poked his head in, his voice betraying his exhaustion, but he was careful to keep it from annoyance.

"Mhm." You'd like to think the heat of your face was from the hot water, but you both knew that was a lie. You cleared your throat anyway. "Perfect temperature."

And of course he had to smirk at the way you tried so very hard at keeping your eyes on his face. "Perfect, thank you baby." He tried to catch you by the waist for a kiss of gratitude but you slipped past him and his devastatingly gorgeous and despicably tempting um heh collar bones, yeah, collar bones.

"Just leaving me here?" You scurried back into the kitchen and you could hear he left the door open by the sound of the water sloshing against him as he sank down into it.

"Yell when it gets cold!"

And not even 10 seconds later, "Sweetheart?!"

"Yeah?"

"It's a little chilly. You should come in and warm me up." You looked inside and found him with his head tossed back and his eyes closed. One knee sticking out from the foam and his arms steaming from where they rested on the sides of the tub. His shoulders relaxed already, but still too tense for your taste. He looked up at you once he heard the door squeak. "Honey, I'm freezin in here."

"You're neck is read with how hot it is, but I commend your efforts, love."

He groaned dramatically, "Don't pretend with me."

"What?" You said through a laugh.

"If you really loved me, you'd get in this bath."

"Compromise?" You didn't wait for him to nod, though he did anyway. "I'll stay in here with you, and then when you get out I'll give you a massage. Hmm?"

"God, you love me too much."

"Impossible." You were about to leave to grab your book but he called you back.

"Wait! Hold my hand?"

"Of course."

You spent the rest of his bath with your head on his arm while you read and he rested. "Is it not freezing by now?"

"S'alright," he hardly mumbled.

You slid your hand into the now almost chill water. "Frigid, honey. Here," you stood and held up the biggest, fluffiest towel you owned. He let you throw it over his shoulders and wrap him up tight like a baby; then push him off towards the bed where he face planted into the comforter. "You gotta work with me here, baby. Lemme see your back."

He grunted and grumbled but still managed to pull it down to his waist. "Thank you, my love."

"Thank you for this, mmmmph," your thumbs worked into that tight spot that'd been slowly getting worse the longer he let it go, "and the bath, oooohhh."

He stopped being self conscious about his noises after the third massage you gave him, the heavenly sensation building with every pass of your thumbs over that one spot, eventually he let out the loudest, longest, most pent up moan. He was mortified. So while he was pacing your old apartment's bathroom, you were on the phone fielding calls from nosey neighbors with "Thank you for your concern, yes, yes Thank you mrs. Harris, mhm, yep. Just a stubbed toe. Yes oh absolutely, I’ll keep it in mind. So great to know I have such caring neighbors, yep buh-bye now”

You worked your way down from his shoulders where the most tension was, to his hips where you knew it hurt the most. A whole week and a half of hearing the cracking and groans every time he stood. Also all the horror stories of high school sports injuries, Russian guard injuries, inter-dimensional monster injuries….lots of injuries. Some worse than others (some just from being dumb with the kids and Eddie…Max can be very persuasive, even if it’s just by a triple dog dare).

By the time you worked your way down to kneading the muscles about his waist he. was. out. “Hmmmmff, god, you’re perfect.” “Fuck, I love you.”

“Ok, so you’re never allowed to get a massage.”

“Hmm?” He couldn’t even pretend, that was the most pathetic sound he’d made all day.

“You’re gonna start babbling to the massage therapist telling them to just marry you already or something, you’ll scare them away.”

“Mph, don’t care. Only want yours. You’re too good, oohhh, too good to me, you angel.” Everything he said was some sort of groan, lost in the feelings of being so tired and so relaxed and so so taken care of.

You got to the base of his spine and he was making the softest, sweetest little sounds. After gracing every inch of his skin, you leaned forward and kissed his shoulder. His eyes still closed and your hand in his hair, you moved up his neck to the spot just under his ear. "Stevie?"......"Honey?"......"Are you awake?"

He hummed something close to No in response.

"You wanna sleep?"

“Hmm”

Tomorrow then

“I love you.”

“‘uv you.”

Tags:@new-romqntics @sw34terw34ther @beezywriting @haydipoof @avipoof @steveharringtonlovesme @manyfandomsfanvergent @loving-and-dreaming@esperisdrunkinwonderlandwonderland @puppy-coded @babyrunsforfanfic @sp1rit-realm @nyxxxxxxxx @innerloverpainter @munsonsreputation@twl1ghtdollz@honeymunson@steveharringtonsleftshoe

(because I love you, and since I can't pull my usual schtick of giving you butter, my fics will have to suffice)

#dell’s fics #della celebrates 100 #steve harrington requests #steve harrington hc #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x gn!reader

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