#i’ve been able to focus more!! so

[8rujaa]

made this little painting today, im gonna did the fix the trees tomorrow but i thought it looked cute :3

#these past weeks i have been able to focus on one thing long enough to finish pieces and it’s been the best part of my days #now that i’m actually able to sit down and paint and learn more each time #i’ve realized how much i love love love love love love art #im also working on a jellyfish out of yarn #and i’m going to make me a yarn bowl out of clay tomorrow :3 just creating literally feels better than drugs #and i know it’s not great sometimes i be like ‘brother eughhhh what’s that’ but THE PROCESS of creation is so relaxing and divine #im so grateful :D #brain vomit

[drurrito]

bad habits

a/n: I wanted to see what guarded!reader looks like when reaching for connection instead of creating distance

summary: two instances when you don't succumb to bad habits

other works in this universe

warnings: drinking, angst, cursing, some suggestive themes

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

“Alright kiddos, party starts in two hours, I’ll see you probably in three,” Tony looks over at Pepper who is holding his car keys with a less than amused look on her face, “make that four.”

He leaves with a giggle while everyone else starts to move in a different direction. You’re still on the couch, feet hanging over the arm while the rest of your body is sprawled out across the cushions with your arms tucked under your head. The last few weeks have been grueling with back to back missions that seemed to never end. 

“Hey,” Wanda leans over the back of the couch to look at you, “you’re coming out tonight, right?”

“I’ll think about it,” you don’t look at her, you just keep your eyes trained on the ceiling and sigh when she doesn’t move. Eye contact isn’t fun, it’s something you only do on jobs and missions. Outside of that, you’d rather count tiles, or maybe blades of grass. It’s a bad habit, you know.

“It’ll be fun.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know these kinds of things,” you can see her proud smile in the corner of your eye. It would be annoying if she smiled all the time, but she doesn’t. She hasn’t had much reason to these days after dealing with enough loss to span across plenty of lifetimes. 

You kind of like when she does smile, not that you’d ever admit it.

“You want me to take your word for it?”

Wanda positively hums in response.

“What if you’re wrong?” You look at her this time, cocking one eyebrow and it startles Wanda. She almost forgot the color of your eyes, almost.

“Don’t you like taking risks?” 

That makes you snort, “you got jokes, little witch.” You get up from the couch with a grunt and disappear down the hall.

“I think you talked her into it,” Sam sings as he walks to the fridge.

“You think so?” 

“No, hell no,” he laughs, “I’ll bet that we don’t see her for the rest of the weekend.”

Wanda looks down the hall you just left through for a few seconds before turning back to Sam with a smirk.

“You’re on.”

----

Wanda did in fact, talk you into coming.

Tony made his entrance the same time you did, already plastered and hanging off of everyone he saw, including you.

“You made it,” Wanda says with a smile while you hand Tony off to Thor. 

“I took a risk,” you shrugged with a sheepish grin.

“Here’s your reward,” she hands you a shot and takes one for herself. You clink glasses and toss the liquor down your throat, it goes down easier than you expect.

“Green tea shot?” You ask and Wanda nods, still wiping the excess from her lips.

“My go-to,” she says.

“Mine too,” you reply, smiling. 

“Y/n,” Sam cuts in between you both, his face is split into the widest grin as he hands you a bottle of beer, “am I dreaming right now?”

“Only one way to find out,” you reach out and pretend to pinch Sam, he reels back with an exaggerated yelp before sharing a laugh with you. 

“I’m really glad you came out,” he pats your shoulder.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun tonight,” you give him a well rehearsed smirk and he leaves after that. Wanda watches the way your fingers tap at the bottle in your hand and your eyes bounce around the room to find the nearest exits. You do the same dance at every social function, Wanda knows the next steps and tries to throw you off your rhythm quickly.

“Wanna head outside?” She jerks a thumb towards the backyard but you’re focused on her hand that lands on your arm, “there’s a fire going and it’s much less crowded.”

“Sure,” you give her a curt nod. She gently tugs you by your arm through a sea of buzzed, bumbling bodies. You’re not thinking about making your escape anymore.

--------

“So, was I that convincing?” Wanda’s smiling again, you almost forget you’re supposed to give her an answer.

“I think you caught me on a good day,” you take a sip of beer, “you also didn’t threaten me like Natasha and Tony usually do so, that helped.”

That makes Wanda laugh. It’s been easier to reject invitations to parties lately. You just feel like your presence won’t make much of a difference. When you do show up, it’s usually to make your rounds before quickly disappearing to your room for the rest of the night with whatever bottle you can lift from Tony’s bar. 

You love your team, that’s why you try to keep your distance. 

“We just really like having you around,” Wanda keeps her eyes on you while she takes a drink from her glass.

“Are you speaking for the entire team?” You ask, arching an eyebrow at her. She almost chokes on her drink.

“You’re flattering yourself if you think otherwise,” she quips with a wink. Her bravado seems to be coming in waves tonight. Her fingers play with the glass she’s holding while you both just sit in silence for a few breaths. Everyone else around you is very much drunk, you’ve been nursing a buzz since you got here. You haven’t felt the need for more liquid courage since Wanda pulled you outside.

“I do like coming out with you guys,” you admit, slowly nodding.

“Then why haven’t you?” It’s an honest question, you’re just not sure if you should give an honest answer.

“I don’t know,” you lie, because you do know. You just prefer not to bore someone with your thoughts and feelings, especially at a party. “Guess this just isn’t my scene. Too many loud, sweaty people. Everyone wants to just talk-”

“You prefer being around people that want to shoot at you all day?” Wanda’s look is serious, prodding. You can’t help but feel bare under her gaze, it’s scary. It’s also what you’ve been trying to avoid all night.

“Kind of,” you nervously chuckle, “at least I know what their intentions are.”

You don’t give Wanda the chance to ask more questions, you force the conversation to ascend to someplace shallow and keep it floating there until you find the perfect opportunity to excuse yourself.

“I should go to bed,” you say with a yawn, “this was fun.”

Was it really? Wanda thinks she might have made a misstep. Her ego deflates a bit, she really thought she was going to make some progress with you.

----

Wanda slips back into her room shortly after you leave. She’s pulling on a baggy shirt when she hears a muted knock at her door. 

“Hey,” you breathe, still dressed in your outfit for the party. Your thoughts are loud. You’re really nervous, that’s a first. Wanda quirks an eyebrow at you, “hey,” she greets you back, “you okay?”

“I’m good,” you nod a little longer than you need to, “just taking another risk.”

You lean in and the first thing Wanda notices is how gentle you are when you kiss her. Your hands follow suit, carefully gliding over her body like it was made of glass. Your lips and tongue cautiously explore the boundaries of her mouth, then her jaw, then her neck.

Wanda spins you into the room and clumsily shuts the door while her lips are still locked on yours. 

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

You walk into the training room. Steve is working on a heavy bag, the thumping of his fists and grunting echo in the large room. You slide your headphones on.

Training is good, it keeps you in the moment, it keeps the hurricane of thoughts at bay. The more you move, the less you think. 

You go to work and quickly slip into a state of flow. Your muscles pleasantly burn and you’re covered in enough sweat to turn the mats into a slip n’ slide.

It’s like a record scratch when Steve taps on your shoulder.

You pull one headphone away from your ear and spin to see him, he’s almost as shiny as you are. His smile is big, a little nervous, like he’s about to ask you to dance.

“Wanna spar?” 

“With you?”  Steve laughs and looks around for a few beats.

“Since it’s just us, yeah, with me.”

You take a swig of water to buy you a few seconds to think. You like working out alone.

Maybe he caught you on a good day, because you don’t find yourself reaching for an excuse to give him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

----

Steve somehow convinces you to get a beer with him after sparring. You’re both in the kitchen laughing about something stupid Tony said the other day. Sam and Bucky join you while Natasha cooks herself dinner. You help chop some vegetables for her. You’re glad you never found an excuse.

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #steve rodgers #here for a good time not a long time universe #works #maybe if I had a nap I would have been able to punch up some more lines in this #I’ve just been hell bent on getting this out so here we are #I can fully focus on the last part of this universe now #also I dont count this as the next part in this story so #that’s why I didn’t tag anyone lol

[seventh-district]

i’m not like other girls, my “Rest” stats are a heart rate of 110bpm and a HRV of 14 fucking milliseconds. :)

#Seven’s Public Diary #vent #vent post #cw vent #cw vent post #cw health #cw heart #i’m so stressed :) i am soooo fucking stressed and my body is Suffering because of it #i want to just lay here and stare at the ceiling but. maybe a little venting will help #sighhhh wish [N]MbD Sun were here to obsessively fret over me #he can be mean about it idc. at least i’d have someone acknowledging how bad things are for me #sometimes i wonder when the last time was that my body Wasn’t in fight or flight to some degree #have i Ever actually relaxed #hhhhhhh c-ptsd is a bitch #anyways there’s so much to vent about but i’m. doing my best to be vague. i need to be more vague about things #a lot of stuff i can’t vent about anyways. it’s too personal #so instead i’m gonna complain abt how i haven’t been able to play Genshin or Star Rail for nearly a month now #and about how slowly my back is recovering. it’s like every time i re-injure/have a flare up. it heals.. worse. slower and lesser #i dunno how it’s ever gonna get better. truly better. maybe i’ll live with this forever #if being fat is the problem which is definitely partly is. then yeah i’m fucked #all of my problems just make each other worse and i don’t know where the way out of it all is #every time i think i’ve found it i’m wrong and i just make it all worse #anyways as soon as i figure out how to strengthen my core without breaking my back. it’s over for u bitches #‘u bitches’ being uh. all of the shit that needs doing that i cannot physically fucking do right now #i miss being able to sit down. and i’m Regretting de-converting my standing desk back to sitting bc now. i cannot use my PC #which means i can’t fucking do a some of my work or play my silly little gacha games and i’m mad abt it #i’m mad abt a lot more serious things too but again. can’t talk abt it so i’m gonna focus on trivial shit instead #anyways. sorry as always to everyone i haven’t spoken with lately. and in general. i’m so drained from the Everything that i just. can’t. #it shouldn’t be this hard for me to stay in touch w ppl but. it is. guess i’ll add that onto my list of things to be stressed about #i’m so tired of everything man. and i hate being so negative and mean when im stressed & in pain. makes me feel like im becoming my father

[stunfiskz]

i need to start keeping a sketchbook again

#school made me remember how much i miss drawing w pencil #not having to worry abt my art looking inconsistent as hell bc i changed brushes constantly and all that 😭 just being able to focus on #the lines and all that too. sketchings my favorite part of the process yknow #also i’ve been trying to get better about not posting everything i draw. so i can escape the horrors #and considering there’s like no where to take well lighted pics that’s more incentive to not lol #also i can get more practice drawing characters more consistently since i worry about canvas size and all that and don’t like putting #multiple drawings on the same canvas in digital art but don’t rlly care in traditional. yknow #txt

[ceruleanmage]

telling people “oh yeah im writing a book!!” except i haven’t touched the doc in many, many days

#writing #this post is more or less a joke #see look. #been exhausted so it’s fair. rest is important #I get is hung up over the idea that this can be done quickly… which is just… so untrue #for different people at least #some people can write a book in a year. some people wrote multiple books a year #and some people write one book in five years #so on and so forth #what is possible for some isn’t always possible for others #i saw a post from an author i really love and she said when she used to write six hours a day as practice #like after school she would lock herself in her room and write/plan/outline. rinse and repeat #and for a moment i was left in complete awe. but also complete envy #I told myself i was inadequate because I don’t do that. I’ve never done that #and the truth is that that’s simply not possible for me #I physically cannot focus on something like that unless it’s a hyper focus which happens only occasionally #even if it’s something I truly love and enjoy. I am not able to do that #but that doesn’t make me any less of a writer. taking longer does not mean your work is invalid #not writing every day doesn’t mean you’re not a writer #so yes. even if i haven’t touched my doc in a week. I am still writing a book #mage monologues

[bushido-jack]

//Something I relate to with Samurai Jack, is that feeling of life finding every opportunity to push you back down, to kick your legs out from under you, bring you to your knees, leave you screaming, in pain, desperate, on fire. And yet to persevere, not just for your sake, but because you don’t see any other way. And somehow, even limping, you’ll find a way to wring out peace, happiness, contentment, love, and passion from this never ending path of pain. If you are to suffer, but there is no other way, there must be joy to be gripped with white knuckles and hungry claws, to fight for peace and to strive for hope even in the midst of all your anger and confusion and despair.

I may feel like there’s no way out, but I’ve got to keep moving. There are people out there depending on me to not give up. I can’t let these forces trying to cut my journey to an abrupt end win— even if I’m tired, even if I feel like it’s too much. When I feel alone, I let my mind picture what they’d want, I let myself mourn and wonder and wish, but I don’t let it give up. I can’t go see you yet. I have more to do. Watch me and I will see you when my work is done. But I will hold onto you for all of my life. I will make my life a service to you, my actions a memorial that can be trailed to you. In every move I make I will tell the ones I love, gone and with me, “this is for you, this is for you,” and when I live, even with tears and anger and joy, “this is for you.”

#『名誉: musings』 #『 out of robes 』 #『 meta 』 #『 sharkie chews the scenery 』 #//and maybe someday once the oppressive darkness doesn’t feel so close I can say ‘this is for me too’. #//hi guys I bet you weren’t surprised when I didn’t actually start rping again after trying to come back #//that’s because I posted that promo got zero response and felt discouraged #//and then life threw every awful thing it had at me. #//I feel like haven’t been able to do anything but fight to survive lately. been in a bad place #//and right as new year’s started I lost a very very beloved friend and pet unexpectedly and too soon #//I’ve lost a lot of loved ones these past few years. it builds up. I think this last loss was the most unexpected though. #//since then I’ve been in a worse state mentally that I probably have been since high school #//but I refuse to give up hope because that’s what helped me climb out of my last endless pit #//I’ve been really wanting to write Jack again since I posted the promo but haven’t really had much I could do #//plus I’ve been battling all this irl stuff and it’s made it hard to find much left over for hobbies #//but I’m posting this both as a love letter for jack and for those here I care about #//and to say I’m still here. I won’t abandon Jack I don’t think. he means too much to me #//I’m thinking if I start rping him again I’m going to worry less about cosmetics and worry more about getting something written #//I’ve been worried about trying to be presented in a nice aesthetic fashion but tbh I think that’s blocking me from actually doing things #//I’d like to do a soft restart and maybe focus more on the people I know have talked to me and talk to them #//hopefully you will have me back after to much time away and waffling to get started again. I had decent reasons but still #//being away does a lot to severe decent connections #//anyway. Jack means Hope and Healing to me. no matter how much he goes through it isn’t about the pain. #//it’s about the Herculean yet incredibly human task of overcoming constant and monumental odds because you care. #//because at your core is hope and passion and love. #//I‘ve been crying writing this so it’s probably very sappy and unpolished but I’m not sorry lol #//listening to my old playlists I used to play on loop whenever writing Jack or thinking about him and it made me emotional

[exopelagic]

i will not panic abt my exams

#it will be fine actually #I’m stressed bc they’re in. a month now like a month from today and I’ll be done #but that just means I have a whole month to be making notes I can do a lot in a month #I’m going home on Friday which is stressing me out but it’s just one week I’ll go Friday and leave Saturday/Sunday #and if I can do a handful of lectures while I’m at home that’ll be a useful step no matter what #i can probably focus on like molecular ones which are easier to structure bc I just need to pull out the mechanisms #tomorrow I just gotta read up on two topics really and then I can write the dumb mock exam which I won’t be able to do at home bc its 4 hour #I hate that we have to do that especially bc it’s got shit evil questions but whatever #and I can’t feel bad abt being slow to get back into this bc im an animal with a body and it takes a while to get back into Anything #and I’m worried abt the exam yes bc of how it went last year when I was unprepared but 1) I won’t be THAT degree of unprepared this year #2) it is unlikely that i get as insanely unlucky as I did last year #fucking hell I just. don’t think I’m made for this kinda system I can’t make myself work in it #every single term of my degree so far I’ve been fighting to keep up with everything and had no time to properly prepare for the exams #and then scraped it by working off a baseline level of being good at putting ideas together quickly and strategically working last minute #on whatever will give me the best shot at getting what I need but that’s not possible in these two exams bc I have over 100 lectures to know #I can’t do 100 lectures in a month. it’s just not possible but what I can probably do is summarise some important bits for like half of them #I think I’m bad at the whole sustained effort on a big task over a long period of time #bc this is so huge that there’s no way for me to see progress or move on to anything new bc it’s just. a stack of 100 lectures to deal with #I HOPE I’m better at dealing with project next year bc i think it’ll be more task based #and like I can watch the lectures the first time round bc there’s a set thing to do and an end point #I have genuinely no idea how to approach this in a way that will be useful achievable AND get enough done within the time I have #anyway I can’t stress abt it now bc I have to go to the shop and then home to cook. so #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #luke.txt

[emmaspolaroid]

I hope everyone is doing well!!! I’m actually ahead on my work for once so I can spend a few days relaxing and fucking around ehehhehe

#after eating and sleeping and talking with my friends I’ve decided to give my first artist alley experience a 6/10 #I will be doing more! I want to be an artist alley girly like that’s been a goal for a long time so I’m SO excited to have taken this step #And I made a lot of good connections and am very proud of the work I did like my table got a lot of compliments #my friend who gassed the event up to me showed me their numbers from this year vs last year (unprompted lmao I would never ask!!) #and they’re like an established fixture of the artist alley and made literally 1/4 of what they did last year #so it wasn’t a Me thing haha (even tho like I said I realized I need to make some adjustments for next time lol) #also thankful I decided to get my MH in order bc I usually have a harder time holding disappointment like this haha #instead of dwelling on what went wrong im able to actually focus on what I did right and how to build on that <33 #we’re so fucking back babes #omg also I went to say hi to another artist who was really nice and when I walked up she said ‘omg it’s the Promised Neverland girl!’ HA

[seventh-district]

my sincerest apologies to anyone who’s messages, comments, etc. that i haven’t replied to yet. i’m just so terribly stressed and busy irl that i’ve barely even been online at all for the past week and at this point i can’t make any promises about when i can update things or reply to things but just. know that i’m trying my absolute best and lowkey running myself into the ground over here and i know it’s probably not obvious and it sounds like an excuse cause i don’t seem like a busy person but there’s a lot of things that happen in my life that i can’t/don’t/shouldn’t/won’t talk about and i really am just. so overwhelmed from it all that i can’t have the consistent online presence i’d like to have. i’m sorry.

i will get back to any comments or messages on all my various platforms as soon as i can. i promise. i just don’t know when “soon” is at this point.

#Seven.txt #cw vent post #this little announcement also applies to more than the last week. it’s really for anyone i’ve ever left without a response anywhere #at any time. and also for any time it happens again in the future because this is an ongoing problem of mine. #so yeah. i know there are some people that hate me and think i’m a bad person because i oftentimes don’t have the energy/spoons to stay #consistent when it comes to like. literally anything. wether it be writing projects or conversations or any kind of commitment and. yeah. #that probably does make me a bad person. i’ve accepted that i’m not a good person a long time ago at this point. not because i enjoy it but #because i can’t outrun my nature and i guess that’s just the way i am. constantly overwhelmed and unable to maintain consistency #and that’s. bad. when you’re trying to be a good person and be there for people consistently. i just. guess that i’m not one of those people #that can do that. but i’m trying to be. believe it or not i really am trying to be a good person and a good friend. and it’s way harder than #it should be. not because of other people but just because of the way i am. i wish i were different and i’m really sorry that i’m not #okay. anyways. enough rambling. i can barely think straight today but i made myself sit down and focus long enough to write this #because the guilt is eating me alive ahaha #so to anyone that’s been waiting on a response from me for literally anything for however long it’s been. i’m sorry. #you don’t have to believe me because i know words mean nothing when your actions don’t back it up. but i really do plan on responding to #every single one of you eventually. no matter how long it’s been. i just. haven’t been able to yet. #anyways this is lowkey pointless cause hardly anyone follows or checks my personal tumblr but i don’t have it in me to post this elsewhere #so hopefully the people that need to see this will see it. now or sometime in the future. #okay. i feel very nauseous rn so i’m gonna go try to calm down from the terrible morning i’ve had and maybe eat something to settle my tummy #hopefully tomorrow will be easier cause i could use a fucking break lmao #sighs. i am just. not cut out for caregiving. i can hardly even take care of myself! like. how the fuck am i supposed to be a caregiver for #other people when i literally need one myself??? i am not cut out for this responsibility!!! but there’s no one left but me!!! #so i shall continue to suck it up and do it until things get easier or i simply collapse from the weight of too much responsibility #also my stress is making my OCD even harder to handle so that’s just great. that’s exactly what i need is for every single aspect of my life #to be made ridiculously harder by constant irresistible compulsions! #okay i am shutting up now. this wasn’t supposed to be a vent post but i always gotta make everything about me i guess #today’s weather report is uhhhh… Routine Maintenance by Aaron West and The Roaring Twenties #i had no clue when i first heard that song however many years ago that one day it’d describe my life but. here we are

[fantasylandloser]

marriage pact

summary: besties that plan to get married

warnings: smut, mdni, dry humping, idrk what else I should put here so message me and lmk, steve's happy trail, slutty steve, big dick steve

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

A/n: This started off as one thing then it manifested into something else, and this is 4k words of idk and there MIGHT be a part 2

update here is part 2

****

Steve loved your slumber parties that had carried over from your childhood. Initially the two of you would binge watch movies, while his parents were who knows where. Up until you were about twelve he slept in the bed with you until one day your parents decided that he couldn’t do that anymore and gave him his own room for when he stayed over. 

Your family was well off due to your father being in business with his and it was probably no big deal for them, but Steve appreciated it nevertheless. He felt so loved in your home, so he made it his second. He was there at least three nights a week, until the two of you got into highschool and his dad wanted him to get serious about basketball. Then it was late night practices and meeting up with girls. He still came around at least once a week for dinners, but usually he was busy. 

You were surprised when he didn’t go away for college. Even more so when he decided to get his own job and start at the community college in Hawkins instead of living off his parents. Eventually he was back to being at your house all the time, until one day your mom randomly asked him to move in, suggesting that he was there all the time anyway. Which he agreed to with speed. So, now your slumber parties were more frequent, and more fun now that you were adults and your mom took away the rule that Steve couldn’t stay in your room.

Now your slumber parties included the two of you gossiping for hours on end about who was pregnant, talking through movies, and newly you doing Steve’s skincare. At first he tried to pretend that he didn’t like it, until one day you decided you didn’t feel like it and he begged you to do it anyway.

“Close your eyes.” You say from your position on his stomach, your thighs fitting snug on each side of him. One of his hands resting on each one. You didn’t need to be sitting on him of course, but Steve claimed it would be easier on your back if he were laying down (which was not true) but you went along with it because it was Steve.

“So bossy.” He murmurs but closes his eyes nonetheless, his fingers messing with the hem of your shorts. You hum in acknowledgement not really able to focus on the task at hand. 

“Is this new?” Steve asks, referring to the cool goopy substance that you were putting on his face.

“Yeah, I’m testing it on you before I put it on my face.” You say jokingly. But not really, considering that's what you were actually doing.

The snort Steve lets out brings a smile to your face. “Well, I’ve been your test dummy since we were kids so I’m not surprised.” 

“Glad that you finally accepted the dynamic of this friendship. Now stop talking.” He huffs at the command but still listens anyway, a small smile resting on his face,that you could never ask him to wipe away. Your brain short circuits a bit when he pulls his hand back to the center of your thigh, his thumb continuously rubbing over the smooth skin. You couldn’t help but wonder when that got added to the dynamic of your friendship. 

“Now sit with that for ten minutes.” You could see him getting ready to protest so you quickly added, “and be still!” You know he’s gonna bitch about it when you go to take the mask off. He hates sitting still more than anything but he could deal for ten minutes.

When he feels the pressure from your body weight pressing into his stomach start to lighten, his hands finding your waist even with his eyes closed.

“Steve.” You huff, knowing he’s not going to let you move until he can, but it’s not like you actually put up a fight. Not like you actually wanted to be away from his warmth. So you stayed simply sitting on him for ten minutes. Watching him, thinking about how he was still so pretty even with the mask on his face.

When it was time for you to take it off. You almost didn’t want to, but you did , pleased to see that the product left him glowing. 

Steve finally opened his eyes after almost falling asleep when he heard you sigh sweetly. “All done?” He asks hoping that you weren’t even though he’d been laying there for about thirty minutes.  

“Yep.” You say until you remember the little gift you picked up for him at the store. “Wait one more thing.” Steve lets you get off him this time, a little hesitant but you don’t point it out. 

When you come back with what looked like a broken whisk, Steve was a little reluctant. “I think this is where my test dummy days end.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics sliding back to your spot on his stomach.

“You’ll like it.” You tell him. Despite the growing anticipation about whatever the device was, Steve is quick to accept you and it into his space, his hands on your hips to steady you as you sit down. 

“I doubt- fuckkk.” Steve moans raggedly, cutting himself off and surprising you, making you stop your movements with the hair massager. You catch your composure quickly though, continuing to massage his scalp.

“So dramatic.” You try to tease, to lighten the heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You knew Steve had a thing for getting his hair pulled. He hooked up with half the girls in your class, so his likes and dislikes tended to get around and made for some pretty interesting lunch room conversations.

You didn’t realize a scalp massage would elicit the same reaction. You also didn’t realize that his reaction would have an effect on you. His whole body seemed to glitch. HIs eyes are barely able to stay open and the grip on your hips tightening.

Once his initial dramatics calmed down, he began letting out soft appreciative sighs. His grip on you fades to soft circles on your thighs.

“I’m gonna marry you.” He tells you, with his eyes closed. You knew he meant it. He told you that he wanted to marry you one day in high school. He’d been drunk but he let you all the way in on his plan to make a life with you, one day when you’re both ready.

He told you how he thought about building a house for you, and having your last name be harrington and how he wanted to have a bunch of kids with you. You thought he’d been joking teasing him about it the next day, but he simply smiled at you with a blush forming on his cheeks telling you that he meant it.

Ever since then, every couple of months he’d say it again. Like he was reminding you, or really asking you to wait for him. Which you did. Neither of you had made much of a move or anything and sometimes one of you would date  someone else, but in the back of your mind you would always remember that you were marrying Steve and that’s just the way it was.

“Mhmm.” You hum, simply acknowledging like usual. To your surprise Steve's eyes open and he zeroes in on your face. 

“I’m serious.” He’d never done this before, made more room for conversation about it. He seemed like he wanted more than gentle acknowledgment.

“I know.” You say, pretending to busy yourself as you set the massager to the side, just to get away from the intense way he’s looking at you. When he sits up on the headboard you know he means business. You never guessed now would be the time you finally actually talked about it.

“Do you really?” He asks. Steve didn’t know if you knew how serious he was.

“Yeah.. we’re getting married.” You tell him, fidgeting with one of his hands in your, absently looking at his nails instead of him. “You’re gonna build me a two story house, two streets away from my moms. In that field we used to play in. And we’re gonna have six babies and I will not let you help me name any of them because I already have a list.” You catch a quick glimpse of his face. “I remember.” You tell him. 

You expect him to let it go now that you’ve rehashed the entire plan he layed out for you years ago. You don’t remember when you got so attached to the idea. Or when you started contributing your own dreams to the plan but it had grown for you and speaking it out loud you realized how badly you needed it to happen.

“You have a list?” Steve’s chest was warm as it dawned on him that you wanted a future with him the same way he did with you.

Your face warmed, embarrassed thinking that he would tease you. “Yes. They’re all non negotiable.”

“Can I see it?” He asks, his voice soft. “Please, honey.” Honey. This is no longer best friend Steve. This is future husband Steve, making his first ever appearance. 

When you shake your head with a shy smile, Steve can’t help but smile back.”Why not?” He asks you in that same soft voice that had you feeling gooey on the inside. 

“Stop using that voice.” You whisper, feeling flushed. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d never known you to be shy, but here you were being all bossy while hiding your face in his neck. 

“You’re so perfect.” He’s teasing you, trying to see how embarrassed you’ll get. He also means every bit. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

“You’re bein’ weird.” You tell him unsure what to do with yourself with all these changes being made so quickly.  

“It was weird not telling you how beautiful you are everyday.” You don’t expect him to keep listing. “So sweet, too.” He adds. “Always taking care of me and never letting me praise you for it. I can’t wait to take care of you.” The implications of that do not go over your head. “Bet you’ll be such a good little wife.” 

Steve expects you to make some little quip or try to play off how embarrassed you feel. He’s expecting you to descelate how quickly he’s moving. But instead your voice whispers “I hope so.” You’re right in his ear too, so he knows he isn’t mistaken and he knows that this is the last night you’ll ever consider yourself just friends.

*****

Steve should have kissed you last night. He can’t help but think about that over and over, as he realizes he didn’t seal the deal. He should have done something to prove to you how serious he was. 

But it was too late because he didn’t kiss you and the morning had been decidedly awkward when you realized you didn’t know what any of that meant for your immediate friendship. Because initially the plan had been to wait. Was the wait over? Did you want it to be over? You spent the majority of your day trying not to think about it. Steve however wouldn’t shut up about it. Sadly for Robin she had to be on the receiving end of this conversation.

“Robin, this is serious. What if I fucked everything up? What if she thinks I’m leading her on?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, seemingly deep in thought. 

“I doubt that. I mean you’re planning on marrying her- which I take offense to not knowing about this little pact or whatever,” she adds. “But that’s like the total opposite of leading on.” She tries to reassure wanting to really get Steve to shut up about it.

“No you don’t get it-” Steve starts again, only to be interrupted. 

“Ughhhh!! How can I not get it if this is your sixth time going over it? Steve, I get it! You’re overthinking this when it’s really simple.” Robin gestures. “You love her and you want to get married and blah blah blah, but before you guys get married how about you try to, I don’t know actually date?” She says sarcastically. “Unless you were just going to propose after a thousand years of sleepovers and dating other people.” She adds. 

And although it was unnecessarily sassy, Steve realized that Robin might have a point. “So I should ask her out?” He tries to clarify much to Robin’s dismay. Luckily for her the door opening saved her from another round of easily answered questions. And even more lucky for her it was you and not an actual customer.

“Hey what are you-” Steve was cut off by you taking his hand and dragging him to where you knew the break room was after bringing him lunch on multiple occasions. You had tried and failed to not think about this whole situation. 

The one thing that had been bothering you the most is how long it was taking. You realized it was because you let Steve call the shots, and you quickly remembered why you never let Steve call the shots. Steve took too long to make decisions and well you knew what you wanted. So you had always been the leader in your friendship, deciding what movies you’d watch, what games you’d play, the parties you would go to. Everything really. You could do that here too, you realized. 

When you close the door behind you Steve is looking at you expectantly. He’s half thinking that you’re gonna cuss him out, so he doesn’t expect it when you grab him by his shirt to kiss him. You’re all over him for about five seconds. Your scent. Your taste. Your skin. Your hair. Then you’re gone. Patting his shirt back in place, shakily. You’re nervous. Steve realizes. 

“Okay that was all-” Steve’s pulling you back to him before you can run off. Letting his lips capture yours just the way he’d dreamed of. Feeling you relax into him as he cradles your face.

“So sweet.” He murmurs against your lips. He finds it amusing how the words send you back into your shyness from last night. The way you went from determined to timid and unable to even look at him properly. Steve was curious about this side of you. You were never this easily flustered.

“When did you get so shy?” He asks and you know he’s taunting you. He’s still holding you close to him, his fingers messing with the ends of your hair as he tries to find any reason to keep touching you. 

“M’not.” You oppose half-heartedly. He lets out a gentle sound of acknowledgment, obviously ignoring you, and knowing he would press all those buttons later. Privately. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You think he’s still teasing you and you hate that it's working when you feel your face heat up and you’re hiding it in his chest. Steve really means it though, it was the first thought that came to his head when he saw you walking through the door. Your hair free and your face without makeup. A skirt that your mom would deem a few inches too short and a shirt that he’s seen a million times because you love it so much. 

Gathering your courage, you finally look at him. His kiss swollen lips are the first thing that grabs your attention the second is the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s waiting on you to call the next shot. 

“Will Robin be okay, if we go to your car?” The next few moments are a blur because now he’s the one dragging you out of the breakroom, pausing only long enough for Steve to beg Robin to cover for him. Which she agreed to with a poorly concealed smirk on her face.

You were expecting Steve to open the back door and usher you inside. Instead he opens the driver side and pats his lap expectantly, after moving his seat all the way back. When you hesitate he’s grabbing you by your thighs and maneuvering you to where he wants you. “What if someone sees us?” You ask, knowing how fast information like this whipped around town. 

“Nobody parks on this side, honey.” Steve tells you those big puppy dog eyes staring into you. And because he’s Steve, and he’s calling you honey, and you trust him more than anyone you know, you believe him. 

“Okay.” Is all you say before your lips are back on Steve’s. It was a sweet kiss really, and Steve tried to let you control it for a while, until you were trying to back away from him again. With his experienced lips working over yours, you’re so consumed you barely realize the way you’re grinding yourself over his lap. Well not until his hands are on your ass, pushing your skirt up and controlling your once sloppy movement.

“There you go, sweetheart.” He says breathlessly, when he finally comes up for air. His lips find purchase against your neck. He kisses his way up the slope of it, relishing in the sound of your little gasps, until one particular spot sends a shudder down your spine. He sucks that spot. 

Absent-mindedly, your hands find their way off his shoulders and into his hair, barely thinking about it twice before you rake your nails across his scalp softly. The soft hum he lets out gives you indication that you should continue. Your hands stay in his hair for a bit, and you’re too nervous to actually pull it, but it does get you thinking about the other places on his body he has hair. Namely his happy trail. It sat perfectly right in between his abs and you usually had to avoid looking for your own sake. 

You’re yanking his shirt out of his jeans before you give it much more thought. And even though you’re too busy humping Steve to get a good look, feeling it against your bare hands has you whimpering. 

“Stevie-” You’re cut off by your own moan as your clit catches perfectly against Steve’s zipper. It doesn’t get past Steve that you sound so fucked out. Your tone bordering on a whine, clearly frustrated.

“Look at you.” Steve coos. “Doin’ such a good job for me, sweet girl.” Pressing a light kiss to your lips. Steve couldn’t help watching you chase your own pleasure, shivering at his praise.. Your eyes pinched shut, but your hands are all over him like you know every part of his body. 

“Can you open your eyes for me?” He asks with his hands pushing your hair out your face. When you do, he admires how dazed you look. How you probably barely remember your own name. “There she is.” Steve knew he was about two seconds from coming in his pants. He was also aware of the fact that once you were done with him he’d have to go back inside to finish working his shift.

“Stevie” You start again, “M’so close. Feels so good.” You tell him, your movements becoming frantic causing your boobs to sway deliciously. You don’t register your top being pulled down, until you feel Steve licking at your nipple.

A hungry groan rising from the back of his throat. “Perfect fucking tits.” His hands leave your ass, leaving the pace to you. He pinches your right nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it to test your reaction. When you lurch into him. Humping him harder than before, he knows he’s a goner. But you are first. Your orgasm hits you so fast, it surprises you with tears springing to your eyes at the intensity. 

Steve’s a close second behind you, leaving the two of you panting and trying to catch your breath. As soon as Steve recovers he’s tending to you, pulling your top back in place, trying to see how you felt. 

He can’t help but admire that after that you went right back to your embarrassed state, obviously self conscious. “You’re perfect.” He tells you again, pressing another light kiss to your lips. When you grin at him, his heart beats fast and he can’t help but be happy at the line the two of you just crossed. 

“You too.” You say, your head is still a bit fuzzy as you check the damage. You’re about to launch into an apology about the obvious wet spot on Steve jeans but he beats you to it. “Stop worrying.” He’d been watching the spot form as time went on and kept willing it to get bigger. Liked that you were making a mess all over him and yourself too. 

“You have to go back to work.” You state, guiltily. 

“I have an extra pair of pants in the backseat, sweetheart. We’re all good.” You’re relieved for a number of reasons, climbing off him into the passenger seat. You don’t know what you were expecting but you realized it wasn’t him yanking his pants off, revealing his now cum stained gray boxers. And you certainly weren’t expecting him to drag the boxers off as well, which revealed his huge fucking dick. The tip is now sloppy and slightly red, and you can tell it isn’t as hard as it was.

“Oh fuck.” You say barely recognizing your own voice. Only to repeat yourself when he uses his sullied boxers to wipe the rest of the cum off, watching it twitch from the stimulation.

“He doesn’t like to be stared at, ya know.” Steve teases you, reaching back for his jeans. 

Your eyes keep flickering back to his face and back to his dick, and you know there’s no way he’s been carrying that around for the entirety of your friendship and you simply had no idea.

“Steve.” You say dumbfounded. No words available to express your shock, as he pulled his pants on to cover himself.

“No more ‘Stevie’?” He asks, mocking you. The smile on his face tells you he’s just messing with you but you can’t help your cheeks going up in flames.

“You’re the worst.” You huff, but you’re still smiling despite your embarrassment. 

“Mhm.” He’s reaching over the console to kiss you again, this time sweet and chaste. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll stretch you open for me, before I fuck you, sweetheart.” You gasp feeling his hand on the band of your underwear.

“Lift up for me.” You do, allowing him to pull the drenched fabric off of you, you hide your face in your hands when he lifts it to his face to sniff. You were quickly coming to the realization that your best friend was dirtier than you ever realized, even with all the gossip that got back to you.

You feel yourself manage to flush even further when he murmurs to himself “sweetest fucking girl” he stuffing them in his pocket in the next second, then reaching back over for you when his phone lights up. 

Robin’s name lighting up the screen. He huffs a little as he reads the text and you know she’s getting snappy. 

“Come on, let's go before Robin kills you.”  There’s no use in asking for your underwear back so you just pull your skirt down as far as it will go before stepping out the car, trying to ignore the slickness of your thighs. After Steve walks you to your car, he presses a kiss to your forehead, stating that you’ll talk later. 

When he walks back into Family Video he looks disheveled, a completely new pair of pants, his shirt no longer tucked and wrinkled, but Robin is relieved to know that she won’t have to answer anymore stupid questions from him.So she leaves him be for the moment, but he definitely owes her big time. 

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #smut #fantasylandloserfic

[strang3lov3]

Enjoy the Silence

You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position. (5.2k)

That’s Pedro’s bum can you tell I love ass

Tags- pillow humping, masturbation, getting caught in the act, some humiliation but Joel talks you through it, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, prone bone, softdom Joel, little bit of crying (good tears) creampie, let me know if there’s something I missed.

A/N- Thank you to @tightjeansjavi , @notjustjavierpena , and @noxturnalpascal for all of your encouragement on this I know I’m not easy to deal with sometimes AND thank you my dear readers for being patient with me, I’ve been slacking on writing/uploading. I’d love it if you’d say hi to me, I’ve been missing you!! Hope you enjoy this one I’m glad to be back❤️🩷💜💙🩵

It’s too fucking loud tonight. You live with a group of single women in Jackson, all somewhere around your age, a few older, a few younger. You get along well with them, and they get along well with each other. Too well, perhaps. They’ve been talking for hours tonight. Hours. And they talk for hours most other nights too, especially now that the weather is starting to warm up. They’ve been making drinks and playing music, being rowdy. It’s past eleven at this point and they’re still going at it. 

You can’t sleep. The blankets are too warm, but without them you’re cold. You’ve flipped your pillow over what feels like hundreds of times.  It’s just one of those nights. Except every night is one of those nights, it seems. You tried touching yourself to fall asleep easier, but with no success. It’s not exactly the easiest getting off in such a full house. You’ve got privacy in your bedroom, sure. But the walls are thin and sound carries with such ease.

 God, does this suck. A lot of your problems would be solved if you could just get yourself off. You sit up in bed and stare out your window and into the window of the house next to yours. Joel’s window. His lights are off now, but earlier you had caught a glimpse of him getting out of his bathroom. His hair was wet and slicked back, his skin shiny and damp. He’s so sexy, so thick. That’s when you moved your hand between your thighs as you watched him pick out clothes from his dresser, biting your lip and circling your clit frantically as you prayed for his towel to drop. It didn’t. It never does. You groaned quietly in disappointment as you watched Joel walk back to his bathroom and then come out moments later fully dressed, subsequently shutting off his lights and leaving his bedroom. For a moment, with your eyes and your thoughts focused on Joel, you were able to block out all the noise and focus on your pleasure. But then he left and the pleasure vanished. 

You’ve lived next to Joel for quite a while now. More often than not he’s grumpy, keeping mostly to himself and Ellie. He’d usually just glare at you and your roommates. He can be friendly with others, though. 

Once one evening, Joel had spent five minutes knocking at your door to complain about the noise. You saw it coming, you and your roommates had amassed quite a few dirty looks from him in the moments prior. You watched him through the window, glaring at your porch from his own. Your roommates were outside, talking and listening to an old but new-to-you CD. He wore a scowl and his arms were crossed at his chest when you finally opened the door. 

“You ladies are chatty,” he grumbled. “Your music’s hurtin’ my ears.”

“We can be chatty, yeah,” you replied, “But you’re kinda crotchety.”

Joel sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m askin’ you politely to keep it down,” He turned to leave then, but you tapped the back of his leg with your foot, stopping him, “You could go inside, you know,” you taunted.

Joel turned back around slowly. He looked so big, so broad as he looked down at you. “So could you.”

“Hm,” you hummed. You weren’t really sure why you were arguing with Joel when really, you agreed with him. The CD player sounds tinny and hurts your own ears at times, you can’t imagine what it does to Joel’s damaged ears. And the girls were too loud, other people live around here. But you were annoyed at the way he came over to complain about the noise level when he doesn’t know half of it, how loud it gets. “Fine. I’ll get them to quiet down if you do something for me.”

Joel raised his eyebrows, “Oh, I’m doin’ ya favors now?”

“Something like that,” you said. 

“What do you want?” he asked through a sigh. 

“You’re right, they’re being too loud,” you explained, “You don’t know how loud it can be, actually. I’ll try to get them to quiet down if you let me get some peace and quiet.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, your house is usually pretty quiet,” you began. 

Joel nodded. “Mhm. And I like it that way.”

“And I’ll keep it that way,” you urged. “Please? My roommates are so loud, I can’t even hear myself–” 

“Yeah, I know. Come on,” Joel interrupted. “Let’s go inside, then. Talk to your girls tomorrow.”

Joel led you to his house, opened the door for you and brought you inside. He offered you a glass of water and told you to make yourself at home, so you sat quietly on his sofa. Joel sat on the loveseat next to you. He figured you’d have brought a book or something to busy yourself with, but when he looked up at you after a few moments, you had curled your legs into your chest, laying sideways on his couch. He laughed to himself quietly and laid a blanket over your body, then turned out the lights and went upstairs to bed. You had never slept so peacefully. And that’s how the tradition began, Joel would let you come over to enjoy the quietness of his home. You never made good on his end of the deal, though. Your roommates stayed too loud, but it didn’t matter. You and Joel had found a system that worked for you both. 

Still staring at Joel’s window, you shift your attention towards the direction of Joel’s front door when you hear it slam shut. You watch him stroll away, probably off to drink with Tommy or something like that. 

Your core is still aching, a dull but constant ache. You’re thinking about Joel, unable to get the image of his slick body out of your mind. You’re thinking of the quietness of his house. Peace and quiet would be nice right about now. It’s never this late when you go over to Joel’s. You know you’re welcome over any time. Joel gave you a key to his home when you earned that privilege. But surely he didn’t have that open-door policy for what you’re thinking of using his quiet home for. He wouldn’t know though, right? 

Fuck it, you decide, climbing out of your bed and sliding on a pair of slippers. First grabbing Joel’s key from your nightstand, you exit your room and go down the stairs, going towards the back door where you walk past all of your roommates in the living room who don’t seem bothered or worried about what you’re up to this late at night. The chill of the air bites at your cheeks and your shoulders. You didn’t bring a jacket, but the distance from your back door to Joel’s isn’t a long one. 

You unlock his back door with your key and let yourself inside, scraping any dirt from your slippers on his doormat so as not to track it inside. It’s always quiet, but the silence is almost eerie. It makes you feel uneasy, doubly so because you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. But you’ll be quick. Joel won’t know, so no harm no foul. 

You scan the first floor, looking for a quiet, comfortable area. Joel’s home looks almost like TV in black and white the way it’s so dark right now. The first floor is no good, you’ll feel exposed. So you walk up his stairs, and your first instinct is to go to his guest room. You spend a lot of time there anyway, when you’re not napping on his couch you’re napping in that room. But he keeps it clean for you, pristine. The bed is made neatly and tailored specifically to his taste. You’d never be able to recreate that, he’d instantly become suspicious.

Across the hall is his own bedroom, not nearly as tidy as his guest room. A clothes pile on a chair, the shade of his lamp slightly off kilter. His bed is made up of crumpled sheets and blankets, the pillows indented from the weight of his head. Joel won’t know a thing. 

You tiptoe into his room, closing his door but the creak of its hinge cuts through the quiet air and startles you. Maybe it’s better to leave it untouched. You make your way quietly to his bed, first sitting on the edge, your feet dangling slightly in the air. You kick your feet a little, letting your slippers fall off. You feel so out of place here, so wrong. Like you’re invading his privacy, but you’re not. Not really. You’re not here to snoop or to do anything wrong, you’re just here to…well.

You lie back in his bed, his sheets are soft and worn, cold on the back of your legs. Their scent fills your nostrils, they smell like Joel. Like soap and his musk, slightly sweaty. It’s almost like he’s here with you. Spreading your legs and dipping your hand beneath your pajama bottoms, your mind starts to wander. Tracing your clit with your fingers, your brain is flooded with flashes of Joel. At first, it’s images of his neck, his forearms, his hands, all the veins protruding, muscles flexing. You’re circling your clit faster as you imagine he’s here with you, that it’s not his bed you’re lying against but instead his chest, he’s holding your knees apart as he nudges your head to the side with his nose, your neck exposed for him to lick and kiss and nip as you tease your cunt. You come quickly and your fantasy drifts from you. You make yourself come once more before you adjust the bedsheets slightly, put your slippers on and leave. Joel’s bedroom looks just as he left it. 

You watched him, learned his evening schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he’s out on evening patrol, he doesn’t come home until the early morning. Those are the nights you sneak over to his house. As time goes on, you learn that you can be less careful. You don’t bother wiping your shoes, you don’t tiptoe like you used to. You’ll push the bedroom door open wide when Joel leaves it halfway shut. When you leave, you don’t bother laying the sheets back in the way Joel has them crumpled.

Joel notices.

You still come over for your usual quiet time, and Joel studies you. He’s begun sitting close to you, trying to memorize the smell of your shampoo on your hair. He thinks he smells it on his pillow. And the scent of your body, your soap and your perfume. He thinks he can smell it on his sheets. He thinks he can smell you on his sheets. 

You stay too long in his bed one Thursday night, startled when you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps in the distance. You bolt out of his bed, going down his stairs both as quickly and as quietly as you can. You shouldn’t have been so ballsy. Joel thinks he hears the door close but doesn’t pay it much mind as he undresses and gets into bed, and he doesn’t even notice you running back to your house from his window. What he does notice, however, is the way his bed feels warm as he lays down. He runs his hand along the length of his bed, the sheets feel cool on the opposite side. When he flips on his side, his nose nudges against something damp on his pillow. That’s when he sees your light flickering on from across the distance between your two windows, he sits up in bed to get a closer look at you. He watches your chest heaving like you’re out of breath, perhaps from sprinting across his lawn. He watches you then fall on your bed, he sees both of your knees hike up and spread apart. That’s when he puts two and two together. Suspicions confirmed.

He always knew you were trouble. And now he knows what you’ve been up to, trespassing to touch yourself in his home, in his bed, without him. You goddamn deviant. He’s gonna catch you in the act. 

-

Four whole days go by, which gives Joel enough time to find someone to cover his evening patrol. It’s Tuesday night and he’s got his bedroom lights off so you can’t see him watching you from his window. You look antsy, pacing back and forth across your room, frequently checking your window to see if he’s left yet. When Joel does leave his home, he’s conscious to not look behind himself at your window, to see if your light turns off. He doesn’t want you to know that he knows. He doesn’t look to see if you’re sneaking through his lawn. Instead, he keeps walking, giving you ample time to really screw yourself. When he feels a sufficient amount of time has passed, he turns back around and walks home. He enters his front door slowly and quietly, like a ghost. He takes careful steps through his living room, up his stairs. When he reaches his room, he pushes the door open wider and leans against the frame, listening to your breathy moans, watching you grind on his pillow in the low light of his room. You’re gripping his headboard as you whine, you’re even wearing one of his dirty flannels. Sick puppy. 

“Joel,” you moan to yourself. “Joel, oh god–” the lights turn on and you turn your head to see Joel leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed.

“Joel!”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel murmurs. “Caughtcha, didn’t I?” Any words you could possibly think of are caught in your throat. You feel hot, itchy. Joel notices the key he gave you sitting on his dresser and spins it around his finger. “Wasn’t what I had in mind when we set up our little arrangement.”

“I was– I wasn’t–” you shift uncomfortably as Joel puts the key down. 

He shuts his door and approaches you on his bed, first examining his headboard. He hums when he sees there’s little indents in the wood from your fingernails, marks on the wall behind the headboard. It all makes sense now. When Joel sits next to you on his bed, you quickly slide your ass off of his pillow and away from him. He’s quicker, tugging your– his flannel in the opposite direction, forcing you back to your place. “Nuh-uh,” he chides. “You stay right there.”

The air feels thick and Joel’s eyes are dark, almost inky black. You can hardly look at him, his intense gaze making you squirm. So instead you look down, where he plays with the fabric of his flannel, admiring the way it dances on your thighs with his touch. He lets a silence hang heavily between you both as he presses his lips in a thin line, waiting for you to explain yourself. You don’t. You can’t. You feel so exposed, so ashamed of yourself.

“Whatcha been doin’ to my pillow?” he finally asks. His voice is low, quiet and deep. He’s met with more silence. “Makin’ a mess, s’what. Up to no good, hm?” More silence as you adjust his flannel over your body, protecting your modesty. “I’m askin’ you a question,” he takes your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing eye contact. 

“Yeah,” your voice is hardly above a whisper. Your face is hot, your waterline is brimmed thick with tears, a few spilling over. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Ohhh, I know,” Joel coos, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “M’not tryin’ to embarrass ya, darlin’. S’human nature.” You can’t even begin to think of a way to get out of this situation. “S’that pillow ‘sposed to be me?”

“Yes.” 

“Figures,” Joel mumbles. “Makin’ me blush,” he taunts, tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. His touch makes your tummy flutter, it feels misleading. Like you’re enjoying it almost, though you shouldn’t be. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says. “Didn’t need to make believe with my pillow. Get yourself into all this trouble.” You can’t quite get a read on what his angle is here. Still aroused and you feel nervous, small, guilty – awaiting punishment of some sort. 

 You’re defeated. All you can do is nod in understanding. You find the bravery to meet his eyes, his gaze still dark and intense, perhaps even hungry. He walks his fingers up the length of your thigh, noticing how you twitch as he nears your center. “I’ll go easy on ya f’ya tell me the truth. How long you been doin’ this, sweetheart?”

You are in trouble. He’ll go easy on you if you tell him the truth. “I dunno,” you whisper.

“Sure you do.” 

 You don’t even know. A few weeks, a month maybe. You shrug. 

“Think you wanna be honest with me,” Joel advises, provoking you slightly. Nothing from you. “S’alright. You don’t have to tell me. Just means you’re gonna finish the job.” 

“What?”

“You’re gonna finish what you started,” he says. “And this time I’m gonna stay right here and watch.”

Your heart drops. You search Joel’s eyes, looking for some sort of indication that he’s fucking with you. You’re not sure that you’re capable of this. Sex and masturbation are already two different animals. Getting off in front of the man you fantasize about in his bed? Where would you even begin?

“You had the balls to start this, you’re gonna finish it. Come on sweetheart, show me how you do it,” Joel nods, gesturing for you to begin. When you don’t, Joel scoots even closer to you on the bed. “So shy, aren’t you?” He turns his body toward you slightly, outstretching an arm across your body and then holds your hip in his strong hand. He begins to guide your movement, encouraging you to rock back and forth on his pillow. But you’re stiff in his hold. “Come on now,” he encourages, “Y’can even hold my hand f’ya want.”

Joel holds his free hand out to you, still moving your hip with the other. He knows how vulnerable and exposed you feel right now. Taking his hand, your other gripping the headboard once more, you still can’t meet his eyes, Instead you squeeze them shut, your hips following the guidance of his grip. 

“Why you bein’ quiet?” he asks, “Need to hear ya.”

Complying with his request, you let out a shaky and small moan. More of a whisper, really. He hums in approval, encouraging you to be louder. You’re starting to build a pace and find your courage, at least a little. 

When you let out a real moan, a real sound of pleasure, Joel squeezes your hip. “Ohh, there it is. Good girl,” he coos, “Good fuckin’ girl.” 

It’s instantaneous, the way his praise goes right to your core. You’re rocking your hips faster now, adjusting yourself to find a better angle. You can feel your own slick beneath you on the fabric of Joel’s pillow, wetting your thighs and your ass. His hand grips your own firmly, holding you steady, reminding you that he’s here with you.

Joel smirks as you move on your own accord. He lets go of your hip to explore your stomach and your torso with his palms, his fingertips dancing along the underside of your breasts. He sits up to get closer to you, tweaking one of your nipples beneath his fingers and sucking the other into his mouth, licking and swirling his tongue around the peaked bud. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, tugging the strands as you ride his pillow. 

This is all he wanted. To watch you leave your mark on his clothes, in his bed, on his walls. He pulls away from you and watches you in admiration, moaning softly when he finally presses his palm against his bulge. He undoes his jeans and pushes both them and his boxers down his thighs, then removes his shirt. He grips his cock tightly, biting down on his moans as he gazes at you with lust in his eyes. He thinks you’re getting close now. Your hips are beginning to stutter in their movements, you’re getting quiet now like you’re concentrating on your pleasure, your body’s tensing up. He’s been so focused on you, he’s forgotten all about the fact that this is supposed to be your punishment for trespassing. 

Fuck. The punishment. 

Joel doesn’t have a clue how he’ll punish you as he lurches forward, kneels behind you and pulls your arms from the headboard. He hopes he’ll find the answer along the way. All he knows is that you’re not coming, not yet. Especially not by your own doing. Yeah, that’ll work, he thinks. He’ll bring you to the brink of orgasm, make you beg and apologize before finally letting you come. Maybe he’ll not even let you come, he’ll see how he’s feeling as time progresses 

Joel holds your arms behind your back in one hand and you yelp in surprise, then he adjusts his placement and pulls you back by your legs until you’re prone on his bed. “Up, sweetheart, up,” he mumbles, lifting your hips and pulling his pillow back, propping your ass up for him. The dampness of your arousal on his pillow feels warm and sticky against your tummy.

He palms your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh before parting your cheeks with his thumbs. He runs a single digit through your soft, slick folds, humming as you tremble beneath his touch. You’re so wet. “What a fuckin’ mess,” he purrs, pressing his middle finger against your entrance, circling it before pushing inside. You keen into his touch, arching your back for him. 

“Joel,” you whine as he pulls his finger out. 

“Do you know what a mess you made?” He doesn’t bother letting you attempt to respond, you’re way too addled for his touch to answer his question coherently. Joel dips his tongue between your sensitive folds, replacing his fingers. Just like how he touched you moments prior, he traces your entrance with a pointed tongue before dipping it into your heat. Your arousal is like honey, so thick and sweet on his lips. 

He tastes you, savors you as he kisses your cunt. He’s lapping through your slick folds, his tongue parting all of your sensitive flesh, sensitive just for him. You can feel the wiry hairs of his beard tease your clit before he dips his lower, circling and flicking your bud with the muscle. He sucks it between his lips, making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. “Joel, oh my god.”

Your fantasies of Joel were never like this, never so indulgent. He’s sucking at your clit, then licking, nipping at your folds, before focusing his attention back to that bud. You’re moaning, pushing your ass back and grinding against his mouth, feeling his aquiline nose tease your hole. He’s buried between your most private place, his tongue flicking and swirling with such fervor. You’re biting into his sheets and seeing stars when he enters you with his fingers once more, curling them into that sweet spot inside of you. 

You’re bucking against his face, your slick soaking his fingers to the knuckle, spilling into his palm. His fingers’ movements don’t falter as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, trailing kisses over the crease where your ass meets your thigh. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“I’m so close,” you answer through a gasp. 

Joel kisses up your ass cheek, “How many times did you make yourself come in my bed?”

“Twice,” you reply. You’ll answer any question he asks now.

“Only twice?”

“Tonight.”

“Ohh,” Joel says. “Twice tonight. How ‘bout in total?” 

You don’t know the answer. Of course you don’t. He’s doing the math in his head as he fingers you. He’s thinking at least twice a night, twice a week. This venture of yours has probably been taking place over a couple of weeks. So that’s…more than enough, he decides. “Yeah, ‘course you don’t know. S’lot though, hm?” He lifts his face to watch you nod. “In that case, m’not sure that you need to come again.”

“I do,” you whine, “I need it, Joel.” 

“You want it–” Joel pulls his hand from your core and you cry at the loss. God, you wish his mouth was back there. “You be good to me and I’ll consider it.”

Joel pumps his cock momentarily behind you before he nudges a knee between your thighs. “Wider,” he instructs, leaning over you from behind.  He brackets your thighs with his own, one hand on your waist as he notches the tip of his cock inside of you. He doesn’t yet push all the way in, though. Instead, he waits as you squirm and arch your back for him, trying to take more than what he’s giving you. You whine in frustration. “Easy, now,” he warns. “Should ask permission. Nicely.”

“Please, Joel,” you say, “Fuck me.”

“Yeah, there you go,” he praises, working into your body. You sigh in satisfaction as he buries himself in you fully, his tuft of coarse curls scratching against the skin of your ass. “Wasn’t so hard, hm?”

Joel tightens his grip on your hips, denting his nails into your skin like how you did to his headboard. His thumbs are pressed firmly into your lower back as he begins to roll his hips into you. The way he thrusts so languidly into you makes your head fuzzy, the only thought you can focus on being the sensation of his thick cock parting your insides. He’s fucking you steadily now, and you can feel the skin of his thick, pillowy tummy caressing your back with every stroke. Fuck, how good he feels.

He fucks you apart, setting a steady rhythm. Joel knows how much you needed him, how much you wanted him before now. How you love it, how it’s nothing but pure pleasure that makes up your whimpers and gasps and the tears on your cheek. He leans lower, covering your hand with his own and intertwining his fingers between yours. You shiver as he tugs your earlobe between his teeth, then licks and kisses your ear, his mustache tickling your skin as his nose nudges your temple gently. He takes a moment to kiss away your tears and rests his arm around the crown of your head, caressing your hair before fucking you wildly.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

“So good,” you choke out. 

You can feel Joel’s grin against the shell of your ear. “Just how you imagined when you were fuckin’ yourself on my pillow, hm?” he purrs.

“Better,” your answer is honest. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “Good answer, sweetheart.” 

He curls one of his forearms beneath your bicep, reaching for your breast and tweaking, pinching you as he wraps his other arm around you, searching for your pussy with his hand. He finds your sensitive bundle of nerves and draws lazy patterns over it, teasing you. You’re so wet. So slick, your pussy gushing with each stroke of his cock deep inside you. The sounds of your slick and skin slapping skin are lewd, obscene as he pounds his hips against your body. He’s grunting, gasping in your ear. It sends shivers down your spine. 

You’re twitching and bucking your hips, chasing that tightness beginning to build in your tummy. “Easy,” he murmurs. “Let me take my time with you.” He knows how desperate you are to come, but Joel makes you wait a little longer, feel the burn some more.

You’re whining and squirming as Joel fucks you, his face buried against your neck the hair on his cheeks scratch you. He’s biting, nipping at your skin as you let out your breathy little moans. In every inch of his body, he feels it–that power he holds, knowing you’re aching to come on his cock and it’s all because of him, it’s all for him.

His cock is beginning to twitch and he’s feeling that warm, sticky feeling in his gut and deep in his balls, he’s not lasting much longer now. He fucks you harder. “What about now, huh?” he grunts, “Should I let you come now?”

“Yeah,” you moan. “Yes. Let me, let me.”

“Then ask me,” he whispers, momentarily slowing his pace. He draws in and out of you slowly as he speaks, “S’all I wanted you to do, just ask me.” 

“Please let me come, Joel,” you ask.

“Good girl,” He brings his hand to your face, shoving his fingers past your lips. You know what he wants, no need for his instruction. You’re moaning, sucking on the digits as he fucks you, the motion of his thrusts grinding your clit into his warm palm. Joel feels you begin to tense up as you choke on his fingers. “There you go, let go, let go f’me. You’re alright,” he coos. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”

You’re stiffening underneath him, eyes screwing shut as you let yourself go. You come on his cock and against the calloused palm of his hand, ecstasy washing over you in thick, electrifying waves. Joel watches your face closely, he memorizes your cries of pleasure and how you convulse beneath him. He’s fucking wrecked you. 

You’re gurgling on Joel’s fingers that are still in his mouth as he slides his other hand away from your cunt in favor of resting it up high by your head. It’s his turn for release now. He’s without a thought when his hips begin to stutter as they lose their rhythm, the frenetic slamming of his body against yours indicating his closeness. He lets out a symphony of grunts and moans into your ear as he comes inside you, painting your insides with his spend, milking himself entirely. You take it all, everything he gives you, whining at the overstimulation and the way his release makes you feel so warm and full. Your cunt is slippery with his come as his thrusts begin to slow, slow some more until he stills inside you completely, resting on top of you. With a groan, he pulls out to admire his work, to watch how your combined arousal spills on his sheets. He uses two fingers to push some of his escaped come back inside you. 

You stay laying on your tummy as you cross your forearms to use as a pillow to rest your head. Joel meets you on his bed, also laying on his tummy. You hadn’t even realized he undressed himself. 

He reaches over to caress your cheek, then your flannel-covered back. “Nice touch,” he murmurs. “S’pretty on you.”

“Smells like you,” you confess quietly. “Turns me on.”

Joel makes an amused face as he nods. His eyes are sparkly but sleepy and your cheeks are warm, you bite down on a shy and embarrassed smile. He smirks at that.  “So bashful,” he purrs. “You’re welcome to use my home and wear my clothes for your dirty work any time you like,” he says. “Just invite me every now and then.”

-

If you enjoyed, please leave me a comment, rb, or send me an ask, tell me your thoughts. Your kind words and engagement keep me motivated to write

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[pucksandpower]

All Locked Up

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: your boyfriend losing the key to your handcuffs was bad enough … but him calling Max and Lando to help look for them? You may never be able to show your face in public again

Warnings: 18+ content implied, mentions of accidental bruising, wrongful assumptions of violence

“Mon amour, have you seen the key to the handcuffs?” Charles calls out from the bathroom.

You strain against the metal cuffs locking your wrists to the headboard. “No, I thought you had it!”

Charles appears in the doorway, eyebrows knitted together. “I could have sworn I left it on the nightstand, but it’s not there.”

You rattle the chain connecting you to the bed. “Well you need to find it, because I’m starting to lose feeling in my hands here.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” Charles says, running a hand through his hair. He starts opening drawers and peering under furniture.

You watch him scramble around the room searching fruitlessly. After ten minutes you sigh. “Any luck?”

Charles slumps down on the edge of the bed. “No, it’s gone. I don’t know where it could be.”

You give him a pointed look.

“I know, I know, this is my fault,” Charles says. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure this out.”

He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts. After a moment, he puts the phone to his ear. “Max? Hi, I need your help with something ...”

You groan quietly. Calling Max for help with this is guaranteed to be embarrassing.

“So here’s the thing,” Charles says into the phone, “Y/N and I were having some fun with handcuffs, and I seem to have misplaced the key ...”

You let your head fall back against the headboard. This day is just getting better and better.

“Yes, she’s still cuffed to the bed,” Charles continues. “I’ve looked everywhere for the key. Can you come over and help me find it?”

Charles looks over at you sheepishly. “Okay, see you soon.”

He hangs up and gives you an apologetic smile. “Max is on his way.”

You sigh. “Wonderful.”

Soon there’s a knock at the front door. Charles jumps up to answer it. You hear Charles and Max’s muffled voices for a minute before they enter the bedroom.

Max takes one look at you handcuffed naked to the bed and immediately spins around. “Whoa, okay, wasn’t expecting that.”

You feel your face flush. “Hi Max.”

“I told you she was still cuffed to the bed,” Charles says with a smirk.

Max keeps his back turned. “Right, you failed to mention she was naked though!"

“It must have slipped my mind,” Charles laughs.

“Can we focus please?” You cut in. “Find the key so I can get out of these cuffs.”

“Yes ma’am,” Max says. He and Charles start searching the room, checking under the bed and nightstands.

After twenty fruitless minutes, Charles collapses on the bed next to you. “It’s hopeless, the key is gone.”

You rattle the cuffs in frustration. “What are we going to do? I can’t stay chained up like this forever.”

Max thinks for a moment. “Maybe Lando can help? He’s good at finding things.”

Charles perks up. “Good idea! I’ll give him a call.”

You close your eyes in dismay as Charles calls Lando. This day just continues to spiral.

Soon Lando arrives, thankfully a little more tactful about the situation than Max. The three of them scour the apartment, but still no sign of the lost key.

You’ve resorted to making small talk with Lando to pass the time. “So how’s your season going so far?”

Lando leans casually against the dresser. “Oh you know, up and down. But I got a few podiums, so it could have been worse.”

You’re impressed. “That’s awesome, congrats!"

“Thanks! I think if I keep consistently scoring points, I might be able to beat Max in the championship this year,” Lando jokes.

“In your dreams!" Max yells from the living room. You and Lando laugh.

But then, Charles and Max return to the bedroom, both empty-handed.

Charles runs a hand through his hair. “I think we have to face it — the key is gone.”

You rattle the handcuffs in frustration. “So what, you’re just going to leave me chained up here forever?”

“Of course not, mon cœur,” Charles says, sitting down beside you. “We’ll figure something out.”

Max nods. “There’s always plan B.”

You look between the three of them hesitantly. “Do I want to know what plan B is?”

Lando grins and holds up a paper clip. “Lock picking. I found a YouTube video.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “That does not seem ideal.”

“Do you have a better option?” Charles asks, taking your hands in his gently. “I promise we’ll be careful. And if the paper clip doesn’t work, we can always call a locksmith.”

You sigh, relenting. “Okay, fine. Just please be gentle, my wrists are already sore.”

The three of them get to work carefully trying to pick the lock on the cuffs with the paper clip. You try to stay still, watching them fiddle with the tiny metal piece.

After several tense minutes, you finally hear a click. The cuff around your left wrist springs open.

“Yes!” Lando cheers. “Told you I could do it.”

Charles kisses your freed wrist gently. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

With a bit more work, they get the other cuff unlocked too. You bring your arms down with a groan of relief, stretching out the sore muscles.

Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m so sorry about all this. Next time we’ll be more careful.”

You laugh, hugging him back. “It’s okay, it all worked out in the end. But next time let’s stick to something that doesn’t require a key.”

Charles smiles. “Deal.” He turns to Max and Lando. “Thank you both for your help, I really owe you.”

“Anytime,” Lando says. “This was way more exciting than my usual Sunday plans.”

“Now, I believe you gentlemen should give me and my girlfriend some privacy,” Charles says, slipping an arm around your waist.

Max and Lando quickly start heading for the door.

“Have fun you two,” Lando calls over his shoulder. “But maybe put the key somewhere obvious when you decide on an encore!”

You and Charles collapse into laughter as the apartment door closes behind them. Charles pulls you into his lap and kisses you deeply.

“I really am sorry about all this,” he murmurs against your lips.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, it made for quite the adventurous morning! But going forward, let’s keep the handcuffs between just the two of us.”

Charles grins. “No complaints here.”

***

Later that evening, you and Charles are having dinner with his family. You’re seated at a table on the patio of a stunning Italian restaurant with a beautiful view of the water. The conversation flows comfortably as you all eat.

After the main course is cleared, you reach for your wine glass. As you lift your arm, the sleeve of your dress slides back, revealing the light bruising circling your wrists.

Pascale notices immediately, her eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Y/N, what happened to your wrists?”

You quickly tug your sleeves down, cheeks flushing. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little accident this morning.”

Lorenzo and Arthur lean in to peer at your wrists curiously. You self-consciously tuck your hands under the table.

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Pascale asks gently. “Those bruises look quite bad.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Charles chooses that moment to get up from the table. “Excuse me, I’m just going to run to the restroom quickly.”

He squeezes your shoulder as he walks past, oblivious to his family’s concern. You watch him disappear towards the bathrooms, internally screaming.

Pascale reaches across the table to take your hand. “You know you can tell us anything, right? We just want to help.”

You shift awkwardly. “Really, it’s not a big deal.”

Lorenzo frowns. “Did Charles do this to you?” Arthur nods, looking worried.

“What? No!” You say quickly. “Charles would never hurt me.”

Pascale rubs your arm comfortingly. “You don’t have to cover for him, dear. If he’s hurting you-”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that!” You interrupt, face flaming. How do you even begin to explain this?

Just then Charles returns to the table. He immediately senses the tense mood. “Everything okay here?”

“Y/N has some bad bruising on her wrists,” Pascale says seriously. “Do you know anything about that, Charles?”

Charles’ eyes widen almost comically. “Oh, that! No no, it’s not what you think.”

“Can one of you please just explain what happened?” Lorenzo asks in exasperation.

You and Charles share an awkward look. There’s no getting out of this now.

Charles clears his throat. “So, Y/N and I were, uh … having some intimate time this morning. And I may have accidentally … handcuffed her to the bed … and lost the key.”

You cover your flaming face with your hands as Charles’ family stares at you both in stunned silence.

Arthur nearly spits out his drink. “Handcuffs? You kinky bastard.”

“Arthur!” Pascale scolds as Lorenzo tries and fails to hold back laughter.

Charles squeezes your shoulder apologetically. “It was just a silly accident. I promise I didn’t hurt her.”

You peek out from behind your fingers. “I tried to tell you it wasn’t a big deal.”

Pascale pats your hand affectionately. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, dear. But thank you for being honest with us. Even if there are some things I wish I didn’t know about my son.”

Charles kisses your temple. “No more handcuffs though, lesson learned. Right, mon amour?”

You chuckle, relaxing now that the awkwardness has passed. “Right. I think we’ll stick to the fluffy ones from now on.”

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