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loveshotzz · 9 months

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All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap eight/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Red, White & Boom

summary: A Fourth of July block party ends in fireworks.

wc: 6.8k (🙄 it’s fine, you’re falling in love.)

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. I don’t know based on Steve’s promise in the last one, what do you think? 😏

author’s note: there were so many different versions of this chapter before I got here and I just want to say thank you to my friends who helped me through this one. I just wanted it to be perfect 🧡

🌇 <- chapter seven | (bonus chapter playlist)

🌆 -> chapter nine

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

July 4th -

Instead of the Good Morning tough girl you were expecting the next day, it was Good Morning beautiful that you read.

Steve Harrington woke you up calling you beautiful for the three mornings after that too.

The night before the fourth, you could hardly sleep with his promise to kiss you still fresh in your mind. It lingered and attached itself to every thought since he left you with it.

How was he going to do it? When was he going to do it? When he picks you up? Middle of the date? End of the date? What if he changes his mind?

The nerves are even worse as you stare at yourself in the long mirror of your room and your eyes catch the time. 1:52pm. Steve was ‘picking you up’ at two and you were on your fourth outfit in the last hour. Trying to find something that was cute enough for a first date but also practical for walking around the city in the summer heat was starting to feel impossible.

Date.

The word makes the fluttering start before he’s even arrived, a smile tugging at your lips when you think it again. Would you get used to it?

The shorts you settle on are a high waisted dark denim pair that cut off and fringe in the middle of your thighs, The black low cut ribbed top you match them with has a lace trim along the sleeves and the dip down down the middle. It hugs your curves in a way that makes you feel confident, something in your closet you know you won’t spend the whole day adjusting and fiddling with.

Knock, knock - knock, knock

Jumping when you hear his knuckles against the wood, you give yourself another once over before deciding it’s good enough. With your shoes still in the corner of your room, your slippers slide against your floor all the way to your front door. Nerves tighten your chest, a shaky breath leaving between glossed lips before you stop to give yourself a minute to let it sink in- mentally preparing to see the man who showed up at your front door steps with his heart in his hands. Your handsome neighbor with a past and a Bandit as his best friend.

You have to hold back the sigh that threatens to escape when you lay your eyes on him for the first time since that night. His grin is lopsided, the almost beard he had is gone, like he’d shaved it the next day leaving just the kind of stubble you liked the most.

“Hey, tough girl.” Pearly whites flash when he says it sweet, dripping with extra honey just for you.

His hair is freshly done like when he’s on his way to work, the grays on the sides seem lighter from spending a weekend out in the sun. The sleeves are short on his dark navy button up, the linen material fitting him loose and snug in all the right places. The two ivory buttons on top are undone, leaving a place for his Raybans to dangle. The weight of them pulls it down just enough to see the beginnings of his dark curls underneath and the silver pendant at the end of the chain that always hangs around his neck.

“Hi Steve.” You bite your bottom lip to try and contain your smile, your hips twisting from side to side with your hands behind your back, you can’t help it when he talks to you like that.

He’s wearing the same pants you saw him in when you brought him cannolis. The cream ones he almost kissed you in. The bottoms are cuffed, a pair of dark brown loafers on his feet, they look worn in but the gold buckle on top of them still shines in the dingy light of your stairwell.

“You look too pretty to be going on a date with me,” he says it in a way that almost makes you believe it.

“Look who’s talkin’, handsome,” you manage to get out, making the apples of his cheeks dust your favorite shade of pink.

Opening your apartment door a little wider, the knots in your stomach twist a little tighter when his eyes linger on your lips.

Is he gonna do it now?

“You can come in, I just gotta put on my shoes.” You clear your throat, stepping aside when he doesn’t make any moves, tugging at the low cut collar of your shirt like it’s tight as your blood starts to run hot.

You’re hit with the smell of his cologne when he crosses the threshold, it’s different today, more woodsy than you’re used to and it makes your head spin. He looks around with fresh eyes, admiring all the details he missed now that he can see them in the light of day. Glimpses of you that he hasn’t gotten to know yet. Missing pieces to your puzzle. His gaze slowly finds its way to your kitchen that almost sparkles.

“That’s two visits in a row that I’ve come here and your dishes are done.” Steve points to your empty sink, “I’m impressed.”

He gets his first eye roll of the day.

“Careful, we haven’t left yet. I could still cancel.” Wiggling your slipper covered feet as a reminder, you smirk. “My shoes aren’t even on, it’d be so easy to do.”

“Oh yeah? How easy?” He raises his eyebrows in a challenge, the corners of his mouth twitch as he tries to keep his face straight.

“Like flipping a light switch, easy,” you retort smugly, making sure to sway your hips a little more when you walk to your room. Fighting the giddy smile that threatens to take over your face, you lose when you’re out of his sight.

You aren’t expecting him to follow you, but you find him standing in your doorway when you take a seat on your bed.

“If it’s so easy…” there’s a new confidence in the way he looks at you now, like knows you want him too.

He looks at the untied sneakers next to your feet before taking the first steps into your room. He pauses to let you stop him, but when you smirk at him with a cocked eyebrow he closes the rest of the space. Crouching down in front of you, playful eyes meet yours from under thick lashes. The freckles that dot the top of his nose seem darker in the daylight. You wonder if there’s a way to find and kiss all of them.

“Let me make it harder.”

He’s gentle when he takes your socked foot in his hand, the warmth of his skin seeping through the cotton. It makes your heart race. He grabs your sneaker, the slight platform looking small in his grasp when his fingers wrap around your ankle to push it on. The pad of his thumb rubs at the soft skin there when he has to use a little force.

Long fingers work the laces like a pro, forearms flexing when he tightens after each eyelet, always just enough, never too tight. Leaning back on your palms, you watch him with the kind of adoration you couldn’t hide even if you tried when he repeats the same process on your other foot.

He ties both in a perfect bow, a proud smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes when he looks up for your approval. Your favorite strand already begs to come out of its gelled confines and your fingers itch ready to brush it away again if it escapes.

“I usually double tie it,” you giggle with another wiggle of your foot. “I mean, if you really wanna make sure I stay put.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, hot breath fanning against your skin that leaves goosebumps in its wake. He holds your stare while tying his perfect bow into a duplicate on both shoes, smirking when you squirm.

“No running now honey.”

The neighborhood is alive in a different way than you’ve seen before, the rush of everyday life is replaced with sparklers, Italian ice, and live music. The cars that lined the sides of the street including Steve’s are nowhere to be seen. Multicolored tents with homemade signs of vendors from all over the city replace them instead.

The sun hangs high, bright in the cerulean sky. Golden and warm like the man next to you. His Raybans cover his eyes now, leaving you defenseless against trying to read his thoughts. It’s different in public like this, it’s not just you two in the spaces between houses - in front yards, in alleys, in kitchens. It’s new feelings, new territory, and lots of people, but Steve searches for comfort in you when he takes your hand into his like it’s nothing.

“This is not what I was expecting when you said block party,” you say with an overwhelmed giggle, walking with no real destination, moving with the crowd.

The fair rides catch your sight from the end of the street taking up the middle school parking lot. A ferris wheel just high enough you think you’d be able to see the lake from the top of it. It blinks multicolored bulbs, red white and blue flags hanging from its hinges blowing in the breeze haphazardly. The sweet smell of honey roasted almonds almost over powers the sizzle of Italian beef, and the butter of the popcorn.

“Yeah, they go all out because it’s sponsored,” Steve offers with a shy smile, “This is actually my first one if I’m being honest, I usually go out of town for these, Bandit hates fireworks.”

“Wait? Is he home? Is he going to be okay? Do you have one of those vest thingy’s? I’ve read about them-“ Your pace slows, worry setting deep in your features and Steve thinks it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yes, he’s in good hands. He’s staying with his aunt Nancy in the suburbs where it’s not so bad.” He chuckles, pulling your hand to his lips, they’re soft like silk when they press a kiss to your skin. It’s enough for your face to relax, eyes glazing over at the contact. “I promise honey.”

“Such a good daddy Steve, it’s cute,” you giggle, the nickname falling way too easily off your lips to not even be looking at him. Steve’s jaw clenches, he wants to kiss you. Bad. It doesn’t help that your gloss shimmers like glitter in the sun. Tempting him. The worst part is knowing you’d let him kiss you too.

Not yet - the plan.

His hand twitches at his side, he wants the familiar comfort of his fingers through his hair to ease his nerves but he can’t. It took him way too long to get it styled like this. Instead, he scratches at his jaw with a tight lipped smile.

“Thanks, I try.”

The two of you wander through the different tents, a tentative hand always finding its way to your lower back whenever you stop at something you want to take a closer look at. Light conversation about your weeks at work comes easy, your touches staying a little shy, both of you unsure how to act in such a crowded place.

The more the afternoon goes on like this, the endless butterflies that only exist for him start to stir from their cocoons. It’s when you lean over a table to get a better look at a moonstone that’s delicately hanging from a silver chain, that they start to stretch their wings. They flutter when you feel bold fingertips trace a line up your spine before long fingers wrap around the back of your neck giving the tense muscles there a squeeze. The pad of his thumb digging lightly into the spot behind your ear that makes your eyes want to close. You tuck your bottom lip between teeth to hold back your groan, the week of heavy trays and heavy thoughts coming loose under his touch.

“You like that one?” His voice startles you, it’s deep, rich and just above a whisper right by your ear. He chuckles when you jump a little letting his hand slide down the dip of your back, blunt nails scratching at the small of it.

“Yeah, it’s cute. I used to have one just like it but I lost it a few years ago.” Your eyes trace around the smooth stone, before seeing the sixty dollar price tag attached to it.

Not that cute.

“Hopefully not in a sink.” It comes out of his mouth like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

The glare you give him makes him snort, hands raising in surrender while your reflection in his lenses turns you into a giggling mess. The sixty year old woman in a moo moo trying to cool herself down with a paper fan on the other side of the table doesn’t think either of you are very funny. Steve digs for his wallet, your mouth opening in protest before he pulls out a crisp twenty from the tan leather billfold.

“Let’s get out of her hair, I saw something a few tables down that I want to grab for Eddie. Want to get us a lemonade and I’ll meet you?” Steve points to the concession stand on the other side of the tent, where a line of over excited kids and their already worn out parents have formed.

You watch his eyebrows raise behind the frames of his sunglasses when you just stare at the money in his hand making no indication of grabbing it. He knows what you’re doing.

“I asked you on a date if you remember, tough girl, I can buy you a what? A six dollar drink?” He huffs, lips twitching despite himself.

Steve gets his second eye roll of the day, this one accompanied with the kind of smile he wants from you all the time. He hopes it was the reminder that you were on a date with him that makes you beam like that.

“Fair enough of an argument, I guess,” you sigh with a hint of a giggle at the end, and it makes him shake his head, white teeth on display leaving you a giddy mess.

He holds the bill out for you to take again, even though his eyes are hidden behind tinted lenses, you know he’s giving you a look. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and stop your smile from growing, your fingers wrapping around the bill sweetly.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he starts as you tuck the twenty into your back pocket.

“I got your number handsome.” You wink, making his cheeks bubblegum pink as you walk away. “No running, remember?”

“That double knot isn’t coming loose honey. Five minutes.” He gestures the minutes with his hand, the kind of grin on his face that threatens to make you fall in love.

🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

The heat starts getting sticky, the breeze from before coming to a standstill making the plastic cup wet in your hand. The condensation drips down the bright yellow lemons that decorate it and onto your fingers but it feels good. You shift from side to side awkwardly next to the concession stand, people watching with the green bendy straw in your mouth. You’re closer to the school now, the sight of fair games in the shade of tents cooled down by giant fans catches your eye. The empty ring toss table calling your name.

That’s when you see him, an irrational anger settling in your gut at how he somehow looks even more attractive than he did ten minutes ago. You can tell the moment he spots you through the crowd, a giant smile stretching so wide across his face it threatens to compete with the sun and it's just for you.

“That was longer than five minutes, Steve,” you tsk when he reaches you, trying not to overthink the fact that he doesn’t have any sort of bag.

He chuckles, a little out of breath, giving into his impulse to run his fingers through his hair. The heat of the day finally ruining any product that was left in it.

“You just got one lemonade?” He points to the dripping cup in your hands with a smirk.

“Yeah, I realized that after I’d ordered, but could you imagine if I was left waiting here for ten minutes with two of these?!” You lift it up like it's heavy before narrowing your eyes playfully, “Why? Got a problem sharing with me or something?”

He lifts his sunglasses pushing them up to rest on top of his head, and they almost get lost in the thickness of his honey and pepper locks. The full force of the mossy green browns of his eyes make your thighs press.

“No, just wanted to make sure before I did this.” Leaning forward, his gaze stays focused on yours before his lips wrap around the straw. His adams apple bobs in his throat when he takes a long gulp, while beads of sweat collect and drip down the sides of his neck making you lick your lips.

“G-good?” You manage to ask when he pulls away wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“Delicious actually. Is that a hint of strawberry?” Steve asks with a widening grin, the pad of his thumbs swiping away some of the excess lipgloss he’d gotten off the straw. You rub your lips together subconsciously, the corners of them threatening to pull up when he puts his sunglasses back on.

“Strawberry and watermelon actually.”

The air between you grows thick with something that’s not the humidity, especially when you see the way more sweat glistens from the tease of soft curls on his chest. Was that a third button undone?

“I didn’t catch the watermelon, I’ll just have to get a better taste next time.” His ears catch your quick intake of breath. He could do it now, really taste you. The way your eyes keep dropping to his mouth tells him you want him to.

Stick to the plan.

He takes the cup that you have to hold with both hands into one, fingers wrapping around it with ease. Stealing your hand in his other, they intertwine like they missed each other. The cold condensation left on your palm from the lemonade cools the warmth of his heated skin from the sun and from you.

“Let’s go check out the games.”

“You know ring toss is a scam right?” Steve sighs, the two of you standing in front of the booth you’d eye’d from across the block.

“It’s not a scam, it’s a game of skill Steve.”

You give him his third eye roll of the day and it makes the corners of his lips curve despite giving you one in return.

“I thought you were Mr. Sports anyway, shouldn’t you be good at this? Don’t you work for the Cubs or something?” You copy his stance, taking note of how it gets him more irritated.

“Mr. Sports? I do marketing, I don’t play for the team,” he scoffs at the nickname, but the playfulness that fills your eyes is contagious and it’s enough to feed his soul for months. “I’m plenty good at this game, I just didn’t want you to get discouraged.”

“Me? Discouraged?” You give him a sarcastic laugh and it makes his cheeks push up. He can’t remember the last time he smiled like this.

“I’m just looking out for you, that’s all.” He shrugs, taking another sip of the lemonade so he doesn’t laugh at the face that gets you to make.

“You don’t have to look out for me, in fact I’m gonna raise the stakes Harrington.” He loves how you say his last name like you’ve known him for years, especially when you’re heated. “The loser has to buy funnel cake after this, or is that too much for you to handle?” You raise your eyebrows, in a challenge.

“It’s never too much for me to handle.” Steve makes sure to look you up and down, enjoying the way it makes you squirm before continuing, “And don’t worry I’m not really going to make you pay for the funnel cake after I beat you.”

He signals to the teenager on the other side of the table for two rounds, laughing at the way you scoff around giggles giving his shoulder a light shove.

———————————————————————

It takes about three throws for Steve to realize he’s going to eat his words when he watches the plastic ring bounce off the lip of the bottle again.

“Aww maybe the next one, champ.” you pout with a quick flick of your wrist, your fourth ring hitting the top of the bottle before spinning down the neck of it with a hollow hum just like the three before and it makes Steve’s jaw clench. “I like extra powdered sugar by the way.”

He grumbles something to himself grabbing his last ring, feeling the heat of your stare on him, he tries to ignore the way it makes all the blood rush to his cheeks and focus on at least making one. His eyes squint as he picks his target.

“Maybe you need those glasses that were on your desk?” You shrug nonchalantly, conveniently refusing to meet his incredulous gaze, a smirk playing the edges of your lips.

“I don’t need glasses - who are you? Where’s that sweet girl from next door, huh?” He can’t help but laugh when your smirk breaks out into a fit of giggles.

“I'm competitive when it comes to meaningless games, Steve. What can I say?” You sigh, your admission making him snort as he refocuses on the bottle again.

“Competitive but hates sports, makes total sense,” mumbling, he does a few practice throws not letting the ring go. He’s not expecting you to come up beside him so close that he can smell the perfume you sprayed this morning. He wants to bury his nose in your neck and inhale.

“Just bend your arm a little here, baby,” the teasing edge to your voice is gone, replaced with something sticky sweet like the lemonade he shared with you, like your strawberry and watermelon lip gloss. ‘Baby’ rings loud in his ears and needs to hear you say it again, he always wants to be your baby.

Your touch is gentle when you bend his elbow just slightly, soft fingers that feel electric.

“You settin’ me up?” Steve’s eyes meet yours, smile going lopsided when he catches you getting a little shy.

“I’m not! I promise.” You giggle again and he decides he’ll buy you as many funnel cakes as you want. “If you think you’re throwing it too soft, you’re not.”

You back away to let him make his move, he’s more concentrated than you’ve ever seen as he takes your advice to heart. His tongue pokes out as he lines himself up, silently counting to three before letting go. You hold back your squeal watching it catch on the top, spinning sloppily down the neck plastic clinking against the glass loudly.

“Wooo!” Steve’s hands shoot up the bottom of his shirt rising with it giving you a glimpse of his happy trail. Excitement radiating from his bright smile..

God you just want to kiss him.

“See, skill, not luck,” you tease.

“How’d you get so good at this?” He questions watching you make your fifth one without a second thought.

“I lived in a small town with nothing to do but stupid games like this.” You shrug, you hadn’t thought about home since moving here, a nostalgic pain hits your chest.

“You get to pick a prize,” the teenager cuts into your conversation, refusing to let Steve ask the questions that were obviously on the tip of his tongue.

He points to the grid wall behind him where everything from classic teddy bears, purple dragons, and dancing bananas are strung up in a pop of bright colors. Steve watches with admiration at the focus on your face as your eyes look over every option like it’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make in your life. Then you look up at him and ask-

“Which one do you think Bandit would like?”

Maybe his plan was stupid, maybe he should just say fuck it and kiss your right here.

“I think he’d really dig the banana, definitely his style.” Steve nods casually trying not to let it show that he thinks he’s already falling in love with you.

You beam at him before telling the kid your choice, excitedly grabbing it when it’s handed to you. Steve looks out to the sun starting to set burnt orange and pink in the sky telling himself he can hold out for at least another hour, maybe two. Maybe.

“You should have seen the woman’s face when I asked for more sugar,” Steve huffs, dropping the deep fried treat in front of you. The sweet powder puffs like smoke falling off the dough like snow landing onto the already formed piles that cover the bottom of the paper plate.

“She was just jealous,” you wave off, wiggling your fingers in excitement unsure of where to even start as he takes the seat next to you, knees bumping under the picnic table you’d found.

“Jealous of what? The dentist visit I’ll need to pay for after this?” Steve cocks an eyebrow, pulling off a piece regardless of his complaining. His sunglasses hang down the middle of his shirt again, the sun low enough for his eyes to come out of hiding, stealing some of the confidence you have when you don’t get distracted by them.

You roll your eyes for the fourth time and it starts making him feel spoiled, especially the way the corners of your mouth always give you away curving up the littlest bit after each one.

Ignoring his complaining you plop a piece into your mouth, the extra sugar sticks to your gloss and he really starts to hate his plan again when he watches your tongue dart out to lick it off.

“So what made you move here?” Steve asks, the curiosity from before coming back as he brushes some of the powder from another piece.

A small laugh escapes through your nose, your eyes meeting his from under your lashes before darting back to the dessert. You didn’t have an exciting or dramatic reason to give, not even a career path. The nerves of a different kind kick up in the fear of being perceived as a mess once he really gets to know you. It makes your palms sweat.

“I don’t know, New York always intimidated me,” you offer with a half smile, picking at the sides of the fried dough.

“Come on, tough girl.” Steve bumps his shoulder with yours, his cologne mixing with the day in a way that has you wanting to bottle it up for yourself.

You sigh, lips twitching in a grin before giving into him.

“It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do. Live in a big city.” You gesture around you before ripping off another bite. “My parents have never lived anywhere else their whole lives, so I promised myself that if I was still there when I was thirty, I’d do it. I’d pack up and move no matter what, and that’s exactly what I did.” You laugh, popping the small treat in your mouth.

“I don’t really have a plan? I don’t really know what I’m doing which is scary and exciting all at the same time,” you admit, avoiding his gaze hunting for another perfect bite and it just kinda feels like stress eating now.

“You sound like me.” Steve chuckles, and it makes you freeze, finally daring to look at him. The tan he got from the day was already starting to show, the laugh lines under his eyes a little more prominent from this close. The stubble that lines his jaw has a little more salt than pepper.

“Yeah?” You hate how quiet your voice sounds, blaming it on the way his thigh is pressed tight against yours.

“You think I wanted to get into sports marketing my whole life?” Steve snorts, “I”m from a small town in Indiana, I worked at an ice cream shop in a mall and a video rental store after high school. I had no idea what I wanted to do, or who I was.”

His hand reaches under the table, fingers wrapping around your knee to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“If it wasn’t for a drunk night with Eddie and my other best friend Robin after a shitty day at work,” He shrugs, picking at the dough, “telling me about this three bedroom apartment in Chicago they had found real cheap through some guy named Rick, who knows what I’d be doing now.”

There’s a moment of silence between you, letting the realization that the Steve you’d built up in your head wasn’t the man next to you. The man next to you was better. He was real. Hope blooms inside your chest that maybe you weren’t so lost after all.

“Well, that just made me like you even more. Great.” You fake annoyance but your shy smile gives you away.

“Oh yeah?” He flirts, wiggling his eyebrows at you leaning in closer, loving how he can hear the stutter in your breath every time.

“Well, maybe.”

“Maybe?” His question comes out soft, his nose bumping yours while his eyes linger on the sugar that collected on your already sweet lips.

You nod with a sigh, sticky gloss and fluttering lashes, big eyes that beg him. The hand on your knee comes up to cup your face, the tip of his thumb tracing your bottom lip before tugging it down mesmerized by how it still shimmers after all this time.

Fuck the plan.

“Harrington? I thought that was you!”

Both of you jump, your hand nearly flipping the plate when an unsuspecting voice pops you two out of your bubble. Again. It takes everything inside Steve not to groan out loud, recognizing the man behind the interruption instantly. His boss.

“Richard?” Steve’s voice changes to the version you’d heard on the phone as he spins around in his seat giving you the perfect view of the way the linen stretches over his shoulders.

He was going to kiss you and now he’s talking to Richard.

Your eyes meet a much older man’s dark brown ones, he looks somewhere in his mid to late sixties, but the kind of late sixties that told you he had money. The thick white cotton of his t-shirt looks Egyptian, the light wash jeans look like the kind of denim that cost more than your rent. The hundred and fifty dollar leather Cole Haan sneakers on his feet make it seem dressed down despite the wing tip. Casual rich.

“I didn’t think you’d be here sir.” Steve chuckles nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, someone has to see where the money you convinced me to spend is going.” He smiles but it’s warm in spite of his playful jab.

“Besides, I’ve heard it’s you that doesn’t come to these things.” Richard’s eyes meet yours with a knowing sparkle behind them, “But I've got an idea why this year’s different.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks from the implications of his words and you try and bite back your own grin when you look down at the half eaten dessert.

“Well it’s always good to see you outside of the field Harrington, I think The ALS Foundation and the Chicago Parks District will be happy with their checks this year. Great job as always son,” he compliments proudly.

The two of them talk “shop” for a few minutes, but all you can focus on is the fact that Steve put this all together and it’s something he’s been doing for years. Channeling his grief into something good and it makes your heart swell.

“There’s an empty skybox with your name on it for next week’s game, bring your girl. It’ll be fun. I’ll let you two get back to it.” Richard’s voice gets louder with his departure breaking you out of your thoughts as he pats Steve on his shoulder, giving him a fatherly squeeze.

“Enjoy the fireworks.”

He throws you a wink before walking away taking your kiss from Steve with him.

The music thumps low in the distance when you two get to a part of the lake that isn’t a public beach. It’s a Marina but not one for just anybody, the docks are mostly empty but the boats that are there look expensive, definitely not rentals.

‘What are we doing Steve?” You whisper but it sounds more like a yell when he pulls out a keycard to open up the gate that stops you from going inside.

“My buddy has a boat, well it’s not here but his spot is, at the very end. We’d get a perfect view of Navy Pier and the fireworks. No people.” He opens the gate with a loud creak, his hand extending out for you to take. “Jus’ me and you.”

The skyline shines behind him, the wind catching in his unruly hair with the kind of smile you’d be insane to say no to.

So you don’t.

You slide your hand into his without any hesitation, like it’s meant to be there, watching the way it disappears in his grasp.

“That’s my girl.”

The dock bobs in the small waves under your feet as he leads you out to the empty spot all the way at the end. The lake looks black, endless with the other side nowhere in sight. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was the ocean. You’re almost scared when you get to the end and all you can see is the white tops of the water breaking against the rocks.

The faint sounds of voices from the crowds at the pier catch in the wind, the long tourist attraction shining bright not that far from you. The ferris wheel towers above the lake, the glass enclosures catching the lights from the city while its own twinkles against the stars in the clear sky.

“Steve, this is gorgeous.” You don’t know where to look, the man or the city.

He grins like he’s proud of himself, letting your hand go to lay the blanket down. Your eyes take in the view again while he gets situated, and you try to picture what it’s going to look like in a few minutes with all the colors in the sky.

“Baby,” the pet name comes out easy for him when he uses it to get your attention, like it’s what he should’ve been calling you all along. He likes the smile he gets when he says it too.

Both his hands reach out for you to take, helping you down to sit in the space between his legs. His knees lift up when you sit, while his arms wrap around your waist to pull you close. With your back to his chest, he rests his chin on your shoulder, his stubble tickling your neck when the tip of his nose runs along your jaw inhaling the powdered sugar and strawberry that still lingers on your skin.

“God, I’ve wanted you this close all day,” he confesses like it's a secret he’s exhausted from keeping.

“Yeah?” You whisper, tilting your head to give him better access while his lips ghost against the shell of your ear, feeling the way they curve into a smile.

“You have no idea, beautiful girl.” He presses a soft kiss on your temple, the tips of his fingers exploring your rib cage and you wonder if he can feel the butterflies.

His lips drag to the apple of your cheek where he leaves another one before he pulls away, the music getting louder from the pier signaling the start of the show.

“Thank you for today.” You turn your head to look at him because you already miss him.

He tilts his chin down to meet your eyes over the slope of his nose, his knees going flat on the ground while his hand comes up to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb tracing the high bone of your cheek while he holds your gaze. He doesn’t care if he misses the fireworks.

“Really, I should thank you for everything you’ve done since I moved here,” you keep going with a low voice, the water lapping against the dock underneath you creating the kind of peace you don’t want to disturb.

The tip of his nose bumps against yours, quick breaths meeting in the middle. All he’d have to do is tilt his head.

“Honey, you saved me.” Steve’s brows furrow when he presses his forehead against yours.

The sting is happy when you smile at him through glassy eyes, tilting your chin up just enough for your lips to brush.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Color flashes bright in the inky sky, it lights up Steve’s face in red’s and blue’s that sparkle against the jade and chestnut in his eyes. This time the interruption isn’t one that can stop him, closing the space he finally gets to do what he’s wanted to do since that night in his kitchen.

He’s gentle at first, his top lip brushing against your bottom and he loves the way it makes you sigh, giving into him the moment they finally connect. You turn in his lap, your hand finding its way to the back of his neck to pull him closer already needing more, your fingers curl in the soft hair at the base of it, greedy. Colors explode behind your eyes rivaling the ones above you when he dares to lick at your bottom lip, the firework display just the background to the main event when you let him in.

It’s lemonade and mint when his tongue massages slow against yours, his thumb tugging at your chin to open you up more for him. He kisses you like he’s sure of himself, taking his time so he can savor every moment of it like he could do this all night if you’d let him. He would too. The summer of unspoken words and miscommunicated feelings disappear when your lips move with the kind of desperation that comes with letting go. Giving into everything you both tried to fight while your tongues battle for dominance.

It’s too much but not enough all at once, the longer his lips move against yours it’s like they're never meant to be apart, like he didn’t know how he went this long without them.

The fireworks get louder above you signaling that you’re near the end of the show and you wish you had more time, especially when he starts kissing down your neck when he needs to catch his breath. Wet and sloppy, his lips make a sticky mess from all the gloss he collected from you, the watermelon he didn’t get to taste before making itself known. Sugary sweet like the girl in his lap.

“I know it’s super lame to ask for a second date while on the first one, but that baseball game is next week if you want to go?” He finally speaks, breaking the silence, nudging his nose against yours when he finally stops his assault on your neck, swollen and pink, his lips shine with the evidence of you.

“Only if you teach me the rules, or I’ll have no idea who to yell angrily at if you don’t.” You grin, nuzzling into his neck.

“Deal.”

His chest shakes with laughter, while a hand smooths down your back pulling you even closer to him. The smoke from the fireworks still lingers in white wisps in the air. The lapping of the water falling in time with your breathing, while you and Steve enjoy the quiet, letting the crowds go home before you try and make your way back. It’s a night of hushed words, shared secrets, and stolen kisses.

He walks you home at half past midnight, kissing you till you’re dizzy against your door with a promise of a text in the morning. He stops halfway down the stairs before jogging back up to kiss you again, this one a little tender with a whispered “Sweet dreams tough girl.” attached to it.

You don't need to wish for sweet dreams anymore, not when you have Steve.

———————————————————————

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

#my wriitng #all i really want it you series #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Note

angel and evil steddie au where, for whatever reason, reader has put them on a sex ban/something of the sort, but one of them end up convincing her about ‘just the tip’. I think this could be both of them, but they slowly inch further and further in, swearing it’s just the top, but then u feel their balls fully pressed to u, and their only excuse is that ‘doesn’t it just feel so good/right though??’

A/N: i kinda went a bit crazy with this one, couldn’t just write a little blurb… the “just the tip” thing is just so nomnomnom yummy and i need it like i need oxygen.

word count: 2022

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist

“Come on Y/n,” with yielding hands, Eddie carefully sat down next to you, “look, I know I fucked up, I am well aware of that,” he emphasized, “but it’s not fair for Steve,” he motioned to the creature sulking in the corner, staring out the cracked bedroom window, “he doesn’t deserve to undergo the same punishment, my punishment, I should take the full of it, not him,” he gesticulated, “fuck, I mean, just look at him. I think if you don’t do something now, relieve him even a little bit, he will just snap and trust me, you don’t wanna see that,” even from here you could see his ivory knuckles as the angel dug his fingernails into his palms hard enough to draw blood, “please, at least just kiss him a little bit.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snapping the angel out of his daze. Pointing a threatening finger towards him as he turned in your direction, “but you’re still not getting any, you got that?” you warned.

His stoic frown instantly melting away, he breathed out a soft smile, “got it,” slowly moving towards you as felt the devil crawl away.

“I will just give you one kiss, alright?” your finger was still raised as he sat down beside you, his presents causing your arm to retract as he moved in closer.

“Yep,” like coming up for air, his hands slid up to each side of your face, “one kiss,” and the next thing you knew, the angel dove in, and desperately pressed his lips against your own.

Like a man starved, Steve didn’t let his touch falter for even a second, not even parting to catch his breath as his fevered kiss quickly grew out of control. His hands soon wandered all over your form, making you dizzy and causing you not to notice fully when he desperately tilted your body down, pressing you into the mattress with his own weight, just barely hovering above you as he attacked you with his ravenous lips.

“O-okay,” you uttered weakly, his touch succeeding as usual in being extremely persuasive, “I think that counts as way more than one kiss,” your breath ragged as you turned your head for your kiss to be out of his reach.

Your legs naturally rested on either side of him, curled up and hugging his hips as he brashly melted further into you, letting you feel the previously only suspected tent in his pants press against your hot panties, your short dress haven ridden up completely. Ignoring your comment completely, he simply moved on to your neck as he began to grind down against you, needily scratching his itch and making your breath grow more wild.

“Just a little bit more, please,” he croaked, smearing his plea all over where your pulse hammered on the side of your neck, “just give me a little bit more, sweetheart,” his fingers digging into your soft thigh for support as he rocked against the growing wet spot on your exposed underwear.

“Steve,” you tried to fight how your eyes fluttered closed, still determined to keep the disappointment alive, that you had taken out on the both of them, though your arms still reluctantly slid up around his neck and fervently grabbed onto his broad shoulders.

Roaming a hand up to squeeze your tit, your nipples standing proud and visible through your thin dress, he purred, “come on, honey,” catching one of the pebbles between his fingers and tugging on it teasingly, causing your thighs to clench around his form, “I know you need this as much as I do.”

“Steve…” the rest of your words fell short as he raised himself up, hovering above you with his forearms strong on either side of your head, letting you stare into his breathtaking eyes.

Looking down at you as if you were turning into his favourite meal, he continued, “and maybe this could be a way to up his punishment…” with a finger on your jaw, he tilted your head over for you to gaze at the devil, silently watching from the corner of the room, “just let him sit there and watch you get off, while he knows he can’t have you. Wouldn’t that make it much worse for him? Don’t you want him to learn his lesson? Don’t you want him to suffer?”

“I-… fuck, fine,” you gave up in a huff, him haven driven your mind so fuzzy that you couldn’t comprehend saying anything else, “but you are not fucking me,” you said firmly, “not with your tentacles, not with your cock, not even with your finger. You stay out of my pussy, okay?”

Victory seeping across his face in the form of a sly grin, he chuckled, “okay,” agreeing hazily as he dipped back down to catch your lips.

Sneaking a hand down between your close bodies, you felt him tug your sodden panties to the side and rapidly after that heard him impatiently freeing his hard cock, a low sigh leaving his lungs as he felt the intimate contact of his throbbing length rest directly against your weeping folds, leaning his torso far enough back for him to get a good view.

“Oh my god, what did I just say?” you groaned as he, with a grip firm at the base, swiped his leaking tip through your petals, pursing your pretty pussy lips apart for him.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he laughed, holding the soaked cotton to the side, hooked in his thumb, as he rubbed his length all over your cunt, relishing in your juices, “I’m not gonna put it in you. I just wanna feel you, please. It’s been so long.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes, “it’s been like a few days, a week max.”

“I don’t care, that’s still too long,” you sucked in a sharp breath as he suddenly tapped his heavy cock against your buzzing clit, making your whole body jolt in need.

“Yeah, I bet if it was up to you, I would just stay like this,” you joked, “never go to school or work again, just let you two play with me for the rest of my days.”

“Is that a proposition?” he smirked, cocking his eyebrows and pinching your plump folds on either side of his girth, letting him fuck it and glide the bulbous head over your swollen clit.

“Urgh,” you sighed, lifting your hands up and hiding your flushed face from him, “just shut up and cum so I can go back to studying.”

“Oh, yeah, you want me to be quiet all of a sudden?” you peeked down through your fingers and glanced at the sloppy mess he was making of you, “I thought you liked listening to me, listening to what you do to me…” he fucked his fist, angling his thrusts so he slid through your slick folds every time, ending each movement with a persistent nudge at your clit, “don’t lie, I know how much it pushes you over the edge.”

Maybe it was your abundant wetness causing his thrusts to go sloppy or perhaps it was just him being greedy and angling further down, accidentally catching your weeping hole on his way through your folds.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, just the sensation of him rubbing himself over your entrance made your legs quiver, “don’t do that,” you warned as it barely breached one too many times for it to have been accidental.

“Oh, come on,” he flicked against your opening, purposefully getting caught every time, “what if it’s just the tip, huh? Would that be alright? I just wanna feel you squeeze me, even if it’s just the tip.”

Biting down on your lip, his teasing becoming simply too much, you let out a whimper and nodded your head meekly at him.

The thing was, Steve was huge. There wasn’t any other way to put it. He was a powerful creature from beyond this realm and his assents made that painfully obvious. The tip of him didn’t just feel like the tip. The fat head was so big and staggering that it had your whole body just quit on you, the severe stretch being too much for it not to give out. It was always like that. It was so overwhelming that even just a whisper of him felt like he was rearranging your guts. If you didn’t look down, you never truly knew how much of him he had given you till you felt his pelvis rut against your clit and his tip bully your cervix.

Pressing his lips against your own, he muffled your pathetic whimpers as he slowly fucked you with the tip of him, rudely yanking it out just to slap the heavy length against your puffy petals, filling the bedroom with the sloppy music of your need.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned as you melted into the mattress, losing yourself completely to the moment, “missed your little holes so much.”

“Don’t push in any more, promise me you won’t,” you panted, wiggling under his weight.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” he hazily shook his head, capturing your lips once more.

“Promise me,” you turned your cheek to demand.

“I promise, I promise,” his empty answer rushed out as he continued to prod your needy little hole.

Keeping his lips pressed against yours, lapping up your whimpering moans, he crushed you with his body in a way that made the rest of the world just fall away from under you, making your whole universe be just him, the agonising feeling of him bullying your opening, and his warm eyes staring back into your own as you melted into a puddle beneath him.

“Fuck,” you suddenly exclaimed as all the air in your lungs was forced out, “you asshole!” the all too familiar overwhelming sensation of him reaching the end of what you had to offer, making you doubt if you were on the verge of cumming or about to punch him, “I knew you were gonna do that!”

Grinding his pelvis against your own, burying himself so deep that it hurt, he taunted, “if you were really so smart, then why did you let me?” relishing in the feeling of your cunt clambering down around him.

Trying not to give him the satisfaction, you muttered, “god, I hate you,” though your conviction was lost completely as his sudden and powerful thrust made you moan out in enchanted ecstasy.

“Aw, I love you too, honey,” he chuckled, kissing your fuzzy features as he found his greedy rhythm, “doesn’t this feel so much better, though?”

“I can feel you in my fucking throat,” you gasped, a statement true of every time he had filled you up.

Adoring eyes soaking in your every reaction, he growled in response, “exactly.”

His hands then swiftly grabbed yours as they began to claw at his back, hauling them up above your head and locking them in his tight grip.

“This pretty little pussy just needed to be stuffed,” he cooed against your lips, “it’s what she deserves,” his balls, dripping with your juices, slapped against your heat with every needy slam, “deserves to be treated like this,” he empathized with his hips, “deserves to be used,” he shifted his grip on your wrists, gliding up to weave his fingers with yours, “to be loved,” his nose rhythmically bumped against yours as he pushed you over the edge, “to be worshipped,” he fervently captured your lips, silencing the guttural cry that escaped as you trembled violently beneath him, soaking the bedsheets and gushing all over his cock.

Letting your eyes flutter shut, his gruff moans washed over you as your clenching cunt milked him of all of his worth.

“Fuck,” he panted, forehead resting against your own as he insatiably continued to roll into you, sloppily fucking his cum even deeper and forcing it to spill out as your pussy clambered around him, “I love you so much…”

“You are so terrible,” you said light-heartedly as a dazed smile bloomed upon your blissed-out face, your brows swiftly knitting together at his excessive and relentless desire.

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l4long-winded · 3 months

Text

o.s. those sweet, sweet, effectual praises

summary: in which you talk an inexperienced carmen through it (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

reflection: i meant this as a blurb, so it turned into a really short one shot. forgive me, i overdo things and get lost in the details of very small, small interactions. i've been thinking of finally making some taglists as well, so if anyone is interested, let me know. and, of course, enjoy! feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: cursing, praise kink, pussydrunk!carmy, dirty talk, absolute filth, subby!carmy?, inexperienced!carmy (you can imagine him as a virgin in this if you'd like), sensory words, slight overstimulation, finger sucking, reference to oral (please let me know if there are other tags i need to add)

word count: 1,137

“Christ, stop… s-stop that,” Carmen hisses, his knuckles pigmented ivory as his fingers compress the fitted sheet’s extra fabric tighter into his grip. His other hand is occupied with holding his throbbing girth and, of course, he feels lightheaded as he pulses and sustains the heartbeat against his calloused digits. But the real issue isn’t how hard he is (he surmises he can carve a statue with himself at this point), the issue is the string of slick he focuses on connecting the tip of his cock to your glistening outer lips. It’s that damn wetness his mouth waters for, tongue envying his dick for a flash of a moment, poking out to lick his suddenly dry lips as he imagines it spread over his chin and jaw.

“I’ll hold still,” you relent, like a fucking saint, petting the muscles in his shoulders as your thighs relax into the mattress below.

Carmen leans down to kiss you in that moment, first your cheeks, your nose, then forehead, amply covering every centimeter of surface area to display his appreciation for your patience, because it’s really not your fault, it’s his lack of will power. Mere seconds ago, you chanced a shift of your hips upwards and struck gold on your first try, your dripping slit sliding the head of him right between your folds. It happened so abruptly and he was ill prepared for the surge of pleasure he’d undergo, retracting to just breathe and calm his excitement. He lingers when he finally kisses your mouth, relishing in the noise of approval you hum against him, a sign that he hasn’t completely fucked this up because of his inexperience and clumsy, innate reactions to this entire endeavor.

“Let me,” you mumble against his mouth, your hands tracing from his shoulders, to the back of his neck, and ultimately into his hair, fingers slipping his unruly curls right into the crevices. Your nails and fingertips lightly massage his scalp and fuck, he’ll let you do whatever the hell you want if you keep doing just that, nodding mindlessly despite that small voice inside advising him how he should be the one in control.

“You’ll do it next time,” you promise him, as if sensing his self-doubt, and that’s enough for him to ignore it, his eyelids heavy as you cease kissing him to reach down and grasp him. Your hand is smaller than his is, but your touch has him inhale shakily, slowly removing his own hand so that it can join the other on the mattress, right at the opposite side of your head where he cages you in. You give him a sweet smile, one he wants to kiss and bite at, but his arms flex as he watches your features and remains where he is, glancing down to see how you guide him.

“Breathe for me, Carmy,” you say, which is easier said than done, but he listens to you, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. It’s easier, he finds, feeling you brush his tip back and forth along your warmth, willing his eyes to stay open to view, his jaw hanging open at the sensation. He particularly enjoys the image of your slick coating your fingers in the process.

“You’re so hard,” you comment, your teeth biting on your lower lip. He forgets you’re also hanging on in anticipation just as he is. He’s glad he’s not the only one losing his mind here, managing a small grin at the lilt your voice adopts.

“Ready?” You ask next and he’s nodding his head again, perhaps a little too eagerly, but he’s past the point of looking desperate and depraved, he really is losing the amount of fucks he has left about how you could negatively perceive him. It’s a waste, anyhow, since you think the world of him.

With his willingness, you offer him a peck on the mouth before you’re fluttering your lashes at him in warning of what’s about to happen. He gulps, monitoring his breathing as you had told him to, and he stares at your face the entire time you align him and gently pull him forward, his hips shifting in accommodation naturally until the swollen head of him breaches your entrance. And shit, breathing is a lot harder to do once he’s halfway inside of you, faltering because he gasped while he was inhaling and almost choked on air.

“shitshitshitshitshit,” he mutters, groaning from deep in his chest when he accidentally makes the mistake of falling to his forearms, sinking himself deeper as a result, drawing collective cries from the both of you. He really didn’t mean to, noticing the tremble of your thighs from how physically close you both are now, your walls clenching him somehow even tighter, astonishing him because he’s never felt anything this enveloping, nothing this welcoming and yet so resisting, twitching and clamping away at him in a vise his hips chase with an additional, involuntary push forward. As he pants out and attempts to find the oxygen he’s lost, he can see the pleasure written on your features, your mouth falling open as he prods at the hilt, your whine infiltrating his eardrums as you clutch onto his shoulders at the stretch.

“Yes, that’s perfect, Carmy,” you say, cupping his cheeks into your hands as you kiss him. His hips stutter, you can’t say things like that to him, not when he’s buried this deep and aching.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he shudders, but you’re cooing at him, calming him down, placing kiss after kiss on his lips even though he believes he’s going to pop any second. His brain tells him to just fill you up and let go, but as always, you’re able to lure him out of that space and force him into the present moment.

“You feel incredible,” you tell him in between kisses, “doing so wonderful,” he moans as he softly thrusts, “fucking me just right.” It’s a miracle he doesn’t blow his load right then and there, beginning to return every one of your kisses slowly but surely. He shifts again and that impending, urgent need rears once more, especially from how you whine right into his mouth, but it fades away as he stills and focuses on your hands on his cheeks. The digits of your right hand feel rather slippery on his stubble and that’s when he remembers what had pooled out of your cunt onto them in the midst of sliding him in on home.

He turns his head, capturing your index finger into his mouth, sucking at the wetness still there while he simultaneously drives his hips into you. It’s instinctual from there, picking up his pace as he moans around your finger, and at your encouraging “yesyesyesyes, fuck, Carmy, yes!”

#l4l.writes #those sweet sweet effectual praises #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear hulu #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto imagine

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oneforthemunny · 11 months

Note

EVIEEEE EVIE EVIE EVIEEEE

Pls do a little blurb or a longer piece on that scenario of rockstar!eddie learning how to eat pussy properly from nepo baby. on my knees lmao

linger |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: as requested above. eddie is always in a rush, you teach him to slow down.

contains: 18+ minors dni. oral (fem receiving), dom/sub tones, sweet eddie (for once I know lol) very sweet and smutty

"What are you doing?" You hadn't meant for it to sound so mean, so judgy, furrowed brows that peered down at Eddie skeptically.

Eddie looked up at you, head tilting to the side, his arms still under your thighs lifting them up for easier access. His lips twitched in confusion, still shining and dripping in the wet spend from your cunt. "What?" He asked plainly, looking from you back to your puffy, drooling lips before him.

You raised your brow, shaking your head down at him in questioned annoyance. Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What do you think I'm doing, Princess? I'm tryna be nice to you."

"Yeah..." You nodded slowly, scanning his features. He didn't seem mischievous and mean, no shit-eating grin or dark, playful eyes like he always adorned when he was about to tease you mercilessly.

"Are you... Are you, like, needing to go somewhere soon?" Your valley girl vocal fry came out harder than you meant it to, eyes narrowing at Eddie in warning when he smirked.

"No," Eddie hummed. "Why? You need me to go somewhere? Want me to stop, hm?" He was smug, until your lack of response.

Your hesitated grimace, eyes softening like they did when you were about to give him bad news- give him the hard truth. Eddie's heart sunk, cheeks flushing. He felt seventeen again, trying his best to get Lorie Carmichael off in the back of his van, fingering her like they did in the pornos he'd watched before hand, unskilled and unsure, so nervous he was about to throw up.

"D-Do you want me to stop?" Eddie asked quietly, eyes rounding up at you nearly pitiful, hurt.

"No!" You shook your head, pushing up on your forearms. "No, baby, it feels good, it does." You hesitated again, Eddie's jaw locked. "It's just... Could you maybe, just, like, slow down a little?"

Eddie's cheeks bloomed with heat, embarrassment radiating from his chest, blooming a deep red over his inked, ivory skin. "Oh," He swallowed thickly, lump growing in his throat, cheeks blistering.

"Ed, it's really good, it is." You reached down to cup his cheek. "I just... sometimes, I want it a little slower. Want you to take your time."

Eddie hesitated this time. "But are you-are you sure you'll get off?" He asked, so sweetly you wanted to squeal. His big brown eyes batted at you and for a second, he looked so adorably naive, submissive almost.

You smiled. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure." You teased. "Just try it? For me?" You batted your eyes and Eddie blushed, trying to hide his burning cheeks between your thighs. Of course, he'd do it for you. He'd do anything for you, you knew that by now.

"So just... slow?" Eddie asked, looking up at you then down at your parted lips. "Like slow motion?"

You wiggled your hips into the mattress, sinking further with a hum. "Yeah, just do a slow lick. No rush." You muttered.

Eddie pulled your thighs closer, nose brushing the tuft of manicured hair over your mound. He licked his lips lightly, before he flattened his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe from your sopping hole right up to your clit. You moaned, hips writing and bucking with sensation, jolts of white hot electricity tickling and zapping your tummy with heat.

"Mmm," You moaned behind closed lips, hips raising in his grasp. "Just like that, baby. Just like that."

Eddie obliged again, repeating the action, eyes on you while he studied you, studied your response, the ticks and changes in your features with every slow lick.

"Oh, fuck, that's-that's so good, Ed." You whimpered, fingers finding his curls, guiding his tongue through your folds. "Now do that again, but when you get up there, kinda, lick it a little more, ok? Just softly, but lick me there- yes! Right there!" Your hips stuttered when his tongue swirled around your clit, gently massaging the hood of your swollen bud while you writhed and bucked.

Eddie was shocked, really. Your whole relationship had been fast paced, he just assumed you'd want the oral the same way.

"Oh, Ed, that's- yes, that feels good. Holy shit, do that again." Your fingers threaded through his curls, yanking them and pulling him closer, burying him into your slick walls.

Eddie repeated the action, eyes fluttering to your face while he fluttered his tongue over your clit, satisfied with how you gasped, fisting his hair and tugging at the root. He did it again, faster this time, arms losing around your waist to keep you in place.

"Wait, hold on," You gasped, placing your hand on top of his. "Slow, Eddie, go slow." You whimpered, looking at him through already glossy eyes.

Eddie wanted to be frustrated. Wanted to tell you, you'd get what he gave you, maybe paddle you for being so bratty; but he didn't. He wouldn't take his embarrassment out on you like that. Instead, he'd try to please you, that's all he wanted to do anyways.

"What do you mean go slow?" Eddie asked again, cheek resting on the inside of your thighs.

You wanted to pinch his cheek, his slight pout on his lips while he looked up at you. Your mean, bad boy rockstar, who was begging for your approval now. Your ego swelled at the thought.

"Just slow down. It's ok to go fast sometimes, but just keep up that same pace. It's better for me." You cooed, hand running through his curls.

Eddie blinked at you, the little sweetheart. "It is?" He asked, brown eyes rounded. "Has it not been good... before?" He hesitated to ask, every insecurity from before his fame flooding back into his system, a shock that sent his nerves into a frenzy.

"Ed, it's always good, baby. You know that." You purred, gently stroking his cheek. He blushed under your praise. "Just sometimes, when you're being sweet to me, I want it sweet. We're not playing mean right now. I don't want it fast and hard, right now. Want you to be sweet to me."

Eddie grinned, eyes twinkling up at you in the way that had you swooning, heat rising in your own chest. "I can do that." He nodded, and you giggled.

"Why don't you do what you did before, but this time... maybe, like, take your fingers and do the V thing." You held up your own two speed fingers, craning your neck to look down at Eddie.

His brows creased. "Like inside you?"

"No, the other. Like, over my pussy."

"Oh." Eddie nodded slowly, grinning up at you, all dimples and starry eyes. "Duh. I knew that." He teased, sending you into a fit of giggles.

His inked fingers slid over your lips easily, pushing in so your clit puffed up, exposed and ready for him. His mouth salivated, feeling your slickness, sticky and sweet, coat his fingers. You whined at the cool air he blew over your aching clit, still a little mean and teasing even when he was being sweet.

"Mmm, now just... Do what you normally do, because that feels really fucking good," Eddie flushed, biting back a dopey smile at your praise. "Just do it slower."

Eddie let your hands tangle through his hair, guiding him back down between your thighs, lips curling around your clit, tongue flicking lightly over the bud while he suckled. Normally, he'd flutter his tongue so quickly, overstimulating and overwhelming you until you fell apart.

"Oh!" You gasped, back arching off the bad. "Fuck, yes, just like that." Eddie grinned, another fluttering lick before he circled around your clit, teasing you just a little.

"N-Now, do the long lick again." You babbled, throwing a free arm over your eyes, fists clenched in pleasure.

Eddie moved down to your sopping hole, tongue flicking and gathering every drop of your tangy taste, pulling a grating moan from deep in your chest. "Oh, do that again. I dunno what you just did, but again, Ed, again." You rambled.

Eddie was satisfied with how brainless you were getting, the type of mind numbing fuck that usually came from hours of overstimulation on his cock, your ass high in the air while he rammed into you mercilessly. If he would've known eating you out so gently would get you so pliant, he would have done it a million times before. Every day if he had to, if that meant you'd be sweet to him like this. Singing his praises in that high pitched, whiny tone that had his cock throbbing in his pants.

He kept his pace, slow and switching patterns, taking note of which ones had your legs stiffening, thighs shaking. Others that had your back arching, thighs clamping around his head while you writhed around, some sort of sexy headlock Eddie was content being in as long as he needed to be.

He wished he was in the studio so he could have recorded the sounds of you coming. Those wet squelches, vulgar and erotic, followed by an ensemble of lilted moans and breathy praises. "Oh, right there, right there. Fuck, Ed, 'm cumming. I-I can't- oh!- fuck, too much. 's too much."

Eddie watched as your chest heaved, hands on wither side of your head, glassy eyes that trained on the high ceiling, vision blurry and swirled. His chin propped on the fat of your thigh, pressing kisses into the soft skin, nuzzling his nose into your sweet scent.

"Better?" He asked smugly. You nodded dumbly, leaving him grinning.

"Very much better." You muttered, uncaring at the jumbled words falling from your lips. "S'good. You got me s'good."

Eddie grinned smugly. "Yeah? I'm glad, Princess." He muttered, hands sliding up your exposed torso, ghosting over your nipples gently before either hand was beside your head. He hovered over you, your release still shining on his chin, leaving you whimpering and thighs quaking.

"Think I'll have to have a few more lessons from ya, baby. Wanna make sure I do it right." Eddie winked, ducking down so his nose brushed with yours, curls tickling your neck and flushed cheeks.

"Yeah?" You breathed, woozy smile and dazed eyes that batted up at him sweetly. "Gotta make sure you have time."

Eddie snorted lightly. "For you? I got all the time in the world, baby. Rest of my fuckin' life." He muttered, his fingers ghosting over your dazzling engagement ring, lips hovering over yours, leaving your searing and swooning into his kiss.

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sleepyhollands · 11 months

Note

Omg can u pls do a blurb ab Demon!Harry finds Angel!Y/N being bullied by some other demons and he stops them before they go too far?? 😇😇😇

harry was just on his way home after a terribly long afternoon of making sinister deals and collecting the souls of the damned when he heard the commotion across the street. normally, it being literal hell, he wouldn’t expect much differently from the world around him, but he happened to take a fleeting glance toward the whooping laughter and mocking voices, and saw something that made him do a double take.

now, there is no place in hell for the color white, save for the teeth of the few demons who care for dental hygiene and the whites of their eyes before they’re consumed with inky blackness. so imagine harry’s surprise when he thought he spotted an array of ivory feathers, scuffed as they may be, flutter behind a wall of burly demons whose backs were turned to him. but no, that couldn’t be right… right?

call it the pull of curiosity (months later, he would call it fate), but harry felt like he should go over there, if only to confirm his suspicions. so he did.

harry walked up behind the group, quietly so as not to be heard, with his arms crossed and his jaw set. he was still many meters away, but the closer he got, the better he could hear, and suffice to say he was becoming concerned. now, harry’s all for roughing someone up— it’s quite literally in his job description, right under ‘hijacking high school slumber party ouija sessions’— but something about the whimpers of pain and pleas for mercy weren’t sitting well with him.

“please, i-i’m sorry, i don’t know how i—,” the voice cut off with a sharp cry.

was that a girl’s voice? surely they didn’t kidnap a girl from the surface? harry may be a demon, but even he had some morals.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“how did a pretty little thing like you get all the way down here, huh? ’s like you’re beggin‘ for us to grab you by the neck and—”

“quiet, dumbass. don’t want anyone to know about this. don’t wanna have to share it, do we? fuck, we’re so fucking lucky.”

harry saw the demons shuffle around a bit, seemingly manhandling whatever girl they were tormenting. when they turned and harry’s view was no longer obstructed, his eyes widened momentarily as his wildest suspicion was confirmed. but how in satan’s name did an angel get to hell?

one of the demons had his arm wrapped around the terrified girl’s middle, his broad chest to her back, her wings crumpled in what harry assumed could only be quite painful between them, free hand clamped over her mouth. another grabbed both her wrists in one of his, squeezing tight and causing her knees to buckle as she sobbed into the first creature’s palm. harry could’ve sworn he heard a muffled “please!” from beneath it.

“the things we’re gonna do to you, doll face…,” mused one of the demons who wasn’t grabbing the angel, instead groping his crotch, squeezing and moaning, “fuck, i’m hard just thinking about it.”

their poor celestial victim’s eyes went wide with unmistakable fear, and she squirmed harder in their grasp, kicking her legs and subsequently having them restrained by the fourth and final gang member. she wasn’t touching the ground anymore, and had no more leverage to move in their grip.

“c’mon, let’s get outta here before someone—”

“what’s all this about, gentlemen?”

harry hadn’t even realized he’d come up to the edge of the scene until the demons before him shot their heads up in surprise, their leader (crotch-groper) leveling out to just about an inch shorter than him.

“harry!” he said with a grin, flashing harry his yellowing teeth as if they’d been friends for years, “what brings a demon of your standing down to this here part of hell?”

“answer the question or i’ll deliver you to lucifer myself.” harry didn’t spare the angel a glance, not wanting to alarm her further, but from the corner of his eye he could see her begin to tremble in her restraint.

crotch-groper, who harry soon recognized as lyle, a rather young and distasteful demon, clenched his jaw before responding. “found her all curled up an‘ alone in the alley. we were gonna go have some fun with her at sanjay’s, if you know what i mean. you want in? i just got a batch of new devices i haven’t had the chance to try out yet, and a fuckin‘ angel’s guaranteed to be a vir—”

“enough,” harry held up a hand to silence lyle, who only shut his mouth (albeit begrudgingly and with a huff) due to harry’s higher ranking— he really didn’t want to get reported to the boss… he quite liked his legs and wasn’t fond of the idea of them bending the other way.

harry finally took a good look at the angel, keeping his face stoic. her eyelashes and flushed cheeks glistened with tears, her body was shaking like a leaf, and she looked on the verge of hyperventilating. he couldn’t explain it, but harry found himself itching to smooth out the crease between her brows with his thumb.

he wished he could signal to her that he was handling this.

eyes meeting lyle’s again, he said, “an angel’s presence in hell is a grade six security violation. in other words, above your pay grade. she is hereby relinquished from your custody and into mine to be dealt with accordingly.”

“the fuck she is!” shouted one of the lackeys holding the girl, “we found her first!” and with so much as a tilt of his head, harry made it so his ribs snapped inwards and punctured his lungs, effectively ending the creature’s existence and his grip on the angel’s legs, allowing her to stand as he crumpled to the ground.

four pairs of eyes widened at harry, and then one of them squeezed so tightly shut he worried they might never open again.

“any more complaints, then?”

the three remaining gang members shook their heads, releasing their hold on the celestial, causing her to scrape her palms and knees on her short trip to the asphalt with a pitiful “oof!” if harry had blinked, he’d have missed their instantaneous dissipation from the scene.

fucking finally.

crouching to the ground where the innocent being was curled up into herself, harry reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder as he began, “hey.”

but he didn’t get very far, because the second his skin made contact with her own, the girl scrambled backwards into the nearest alley wall with a gasp. dirt was collecting under her fingernails, at least one of her wings was definitely broken, she had no idea how she ended up in satan’s domain, and she was just so scared.

harry noticed how she couldn’t even look him in the face, her hands covering her own for fear he would attack her. he felt a pressure in his chest at the thought.

“’s all right, love,” he reassured. “’s all right, ’m not going t‘ hurt you.” she didn’t move an inch, so he patiently continued. “i’m harry. what do they call you?”

and while she was terribly afraid to speak to him, she was more afraid of what he might do if she continued to ignore him.

“y-y/n.”

harry smiled at the pretty name. “it’s nice to meet you, y/n.”

y/n kept her hands in front of her face as she responded. “nice… nice to meet you too, harry.”

he thought it was endearing, really, how her manners were so ingrained into her being that she could be polite to him even now. harry wanted to move a little closer, but he didn’t want to spook her. so he asked her if she could move her hands and open her eyes.

y/n shook her head so fervently, harry worried she might give herself whiplash. “he’s still there,” she sobbed, upper body shaking with her cries.

“’s just us here, love.”

“n-no… the man. the… the one you…,” she couldn’t bring herself to say it, but harry caught on. the one you killed.

oh, right. harry had forgotten him before he’d even hit the dirt. he waved his hand and the corpse disappeared from sight.

“he’s not, promise. no one to be seen for miles.”

tentatively, y/n lowered her hands, but they still hovered over her mouth, prepared to shoot back up at any moment. her eyes opened up to him again, and this time harry could admire their beauty without having to pretend to be indifferent.

“hi,” he smiled a gentle smile, settling his palms on his knees so she could see them still and empty. “can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?”

y/n flinched at the pet name, which didn’t go unnoticed by harry, and it took him a few moments to understand.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“oh. sorry, um, about those blokes. they’re right big twats, they are. they won’t bother you again.”

y/n slowly began to relax, ever so slightly. but she still had a million unanswered questions, and her guard was still way up. why was this (rather handsome) demon being so kind to her? was it true he was going to be ‘dealt with’ by him? and why… what was that warm feeling she got in her tummy each time he called her ‘love’? she figured she should start with the most important question.

“what are you going to do with me?”

harry could literally feel the fear flowing through her veins, could practically hear her thoughts running a mile a minute. his face softened.

“well. first, we’re gonna have to take care of those wings, and any other injuries you may have. after that, we’ll try to find a way to get you home.”

y/n didn’t look convinced. “you’re… you’re not gonna… lock me away?”

“did you commit a crime in heaven? did you sin?”

“no…,” y/n tried to think back, tried to remember the moments before she wound up in hell, but it was like she was missing part of her memories. “i-i don’t think so.”

harry stood up, wiping his palms on his trousers and holding out a hand to help her up. “well, then there you are. it might be hard to believe, but there is a system for punishment in satan’s kingdom, too. if you haven’t done anything, we’ll get you right on home.” he didn’t say it aloud, but a small part of his heart twinged at the idea of letting her leave.

why was that?

y/n gratefully took his hand, but wasn’t able to help pull herself up. she was too weak, and her whole body ached. she figured she was only feeling it now from the passing of adrenaline as harry helped her relax. a whine tumbled from her lips as she struggled to stand.

“here,” harry spoke in a quiet voice. he stepped closer to her, and on instinct she shied away. he paused for a second, opening up his palms and facing them upwards as he approached to show he meant no harm. “y‘ can’t walk, love. let me help.”

hesitantly, the angel nodded, and harry swooped down to pick her up under the knees and shoulders. a small squeak escaped her lips as he pulled her off the ground, and he cooed, “i’ve got you. i’ll be careful.”

once she was securely in his arms, y/n asked the next biggest question on her mind.

“why are you helping me, harry?”

harry looked down at her big doe eyes, subconsciously pleading for him to protect her from the unknown horrors of this underworld she’s never hoped to find herself in. her small fists gripped his shirt like a vice, crinkling the well-pressed material, though harry found he didn’t mind.

“well,” he breathed, “this isn’t your home. and you’re hurt. and i know if i was confused and alone in a scary new place, i’d want some help, too.” then, to lighten the mood a bit, he added, “though, truthfully, it’d be hard to get me to admit it.”

y/n mirrored his small smile, uttering a breathy, “thank you.” her fingers still clung to his shirt just as tightly, but she relaxed enough to let her head fall to rest against his collarbones, and harry counted that as a small victory.

his wings, long and dark and somewhat ashy, extended fully behind him, and began wrapping themselves around the sweet girl in his arms, a barrier between her and the dark secrets of hell. then, generating no noise or wind as though nothing had occurred at all, the pair dissipated from sight.

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y3ager · 6 months

Text

MATERIAL GIRL.

— and what do you give the girl who has everything? two rich boyfriends!

jean k. x eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, fluff, polyamorous relationship. socialite!reader. lovergirldeepdown!reader. 4k word count. inspired by this blurb.

HAILING FROM OLD money— your father the CEO of a century old automobile brand and your mother the third generation runway model—you have seen all there is to see, worn what there is to wear, had every priceless stone dangle from your neck and fingers, and tasted the most decadent of foods. the belief that just superficial things would be enough to sway you offends you greatly. if you don’t have it, you will have it as if it’s your right at this point. it takes much more than dinner and a yacht ride to make you squeal.

and that’s what’s so tiring about the whole dating scene. the pool is filled to the brim with arrogant nepotism babies in khaki shorts and sweaters around their shoulders. they’ll never worry about a thing because daddy kisses the ass of this man and mommy grins in the face of that woman, and by god, do they make it known. if another man brags about owning original modigliani pieces over dinner, he’ll be met with an oyster shell to the eye. who are you supposed to be, some bright-eyed influencer? please. check the pedigree.

things changed when you met them, however. one in the summer, and one in the winter.

you were on the jet back home from italy when hitch, a girl you’ve known since you were a tyke, bombarded your phone with messages about christening her new penthouse with a pool party you just had to come to, lest she’d drag you there. after confirming your attendance, you rolled back over in the white leather reclining seat and pulled your silk eye mask back down, making a mental note to get your braids refreshed and place an order for a new bikini.

you’re reborn as a literal doll, the braids on the left side of your head coaxed into an intricate butterfly while the others lay flat against your scalp in faultless rows and hang low to your hipbones. white, white, white everywhere, from the nails, the strappy swimsuit, the miu miu sandals; a beautiful contrasts against your glistening ebon skin dusted with body shimmer for good measure. perfect, as usual.

hitch’s new high rise penthouse is something out of a multimillion dollar budget drama, with its dozens of crystal clear windows and modern interior. sitting far away enough from the city to avoid the hustle and bustle, but close enough to gaze at the twinkling lights, it’s practically a palace for the dreyse corporation heir.

champagne flute filled with 1820 juglar cuvée, you mingle amongst the next generation of the one percent. hitch’s friends, and your friends by proxy you assume, are a breath of fresh air. human.

but there’s one person amongst the gaggle you don’t recognize. from your spot next to the slightly tispy miss dreyse, your dark eyes glance over the rim of your ivory framed sunnies, glass rim tapping absentmindedly against lined, glossed lips. light brown mullet, slightly tanned skin, dark brown eyes...

“hitchie...” your elbow gently bumps into the blonde’s sides, snatching her out of her mild stupor. “who’s that?” you ask innocently, gesturing with your half full flute. it’s casual, inquisitive.

hitch squints a little bit, pure concentration written all over her features as she tries to put a name to the face. “oh!” when the name comes to her, her hand meets the back of your shoulder in a kinda hard slap, totally unintentional, of course. “jean, kirschtein! you know, from-” a hiccup interrupts her introduction, making her burst into a quick giggle. “-the oil company.”

the pieces begin to come together, you know the names all of the elite; the braun’s, the leonhart’s, the ackerman’s, names listed amongst yours and names you close deals with. clans with power, influence, wealth, distinction.

he, jean, is walking over now; casual with an easy stride that shows he’s in no rush, he’s confident. he pays his respects to the girl of the hour, congratulating her on her new playhouse before her attention is diverted by another guest calling her name to get her to come over there. hitch slips off, but not before discreetly tapping your lower back in excitement; an unspoken ‘get him.’

“jean,” he introduces himself, extending his hand in a polite greeting. “i wanted to speak to hitch, but i wanted to talk to you, too. you are breathtaking.” his eyes drink you in, from head to toe, even though they’ve been roaming your frame since you first caught his attention. the heir simply cannot get enough. “but you get told that a lot, yes?”

“thank you.” your lips spread into a small smile, one hand slipping into his larger one as the other pulls off your sunnies, sticking one of the arms down into your top. “i’m ___” jean bore a lean swimmer’s build, dark navy beach shorts hung low on his hips, and his tanned skin decorated with a dusting of faint, brown freckles over his body. years of private villas and yachts, no doubt. he was impossibly tall, too, you find yourself having to gently tilt your head back to see his face fully. it was cute from afar, maturely handsome up close. was that a faint hint of a mustache? it was hot.

jean repeats your name slowly, enjoying the feeling of that line of syllables rolling off his tongue. “i’d love to get to know you more. ___, you’re so beautiful. i have to impress you somehow. name it,” his other hand comes up to rest of top of yours, successfully encasing it in a gentle hold. an excuse to touch you just a little bit more. “i’ll make it happen.”

your smile becomes a grin, and your dark eyes glint mischievously under your delicate lashes. one quick test, because where’s the fun in not initiating one? you just want to see what he’d say, pick at his brain. what sweet words will he spin from his golden cords now? “but jean,” you begin softly, “what if i was the type of girl that liked a man that took control? told me we were doing this, at this time, on this day, and in my prettiest red dress?”

“it’d be rude, ___, at least in my eyes, to so quickly assume i had a right to your time, and drag you around this way and that. allow me the privilege of occupying your time, and space.”

before you can catch it, one of your expertly threaded and sculpted eyebrows quirks up in mild surprise. you beckon him a bit closer to your face with a wave of your acrylics. “good answer,” you tease, honeyed voice playful and whispery. “phone? i can put my number in, and we can talk about how you can try to romance me when i have my schedules laid out in front of me.” you watch as he fishes the device out of his shorts pocket.

you were captivating afar, but up close with your tawny skin soft, glittery, and emanating an intoxicating vanilla scent, your dark eyes glistening with mirth and playfulness… it makes jean’s body go into some type of shock, his heart plummeting to his feet and his blood running cold but racing through his veins at the same time.

“well then,” you chime as you save your digits into the millionaire’s phone, the contact simply your name with no bells or whistles to adorn it. “i hope we can get to know each soon, mr. kirschtein.”

jean thinks that pearly white smile will be the death of him.

…

every year, no matter what, your father throws his annual christmas party. you long assumed that it brings him a special type of happiness because your normally humble father goes all out for them, each year being better than the last. he flies out the best chefs in the world to cook for hours, orders the tallest, greenest tree for the foyer, and has the house cleaned til someone could check their reflection in the perfect marble floors. when it comes to this, the man skimps on nothing.

you take it upon yourself to make the most of it, requesting custom design dresses from the most exclusive sewing tables over in Europe, shoes fresh from the runway. only the very best for you, the heiress, the crème de la crème, the girl who has never known the word no.

“dance with me?”

you had been absentmindedly swirling your wine glass by its delicate stem, attempting to place its origin (red, tart-like with its cranberry flavor and a strange orange bite near the end), when you’re approached. once you turn your head, you’re meet with striking green eyes and a sharp little smile.

“you looked bored, and that’s what these parties are for, right?”

eren yeager, the german-american son of grisha and carla yeager, 2nd generation genius neurosurgeon with a net worth in the 7 figures, and the just-as-talented, third generation wedding gown designer. according to the rumor mill, after graduating in the top of class in one of those ivy’s upstate, he gallivanted across the country (no, the world) as the not-so-favorable yeager son. of course, there are entirely too many eyes on the yeager clan for grisha to do too much of anything and a son can do no wrong in a doting mother’s eyes; so eren is left free to his disagreeable desires. everyone wonders how long that will last.

steely dark eyes and your naturally neutral face does nothing to deter him. you decide to indulge him, slipping your hand into his and raising up, allowing him the luxury of whisking you to the dance floor. “i guess i don’t see why not.”

“great.” his hand is soft and a little cool against your own, the woody, cedar notes of penhaligon the inimitable gently wafting off his skin and pressed shirt. unbeknownst to you, a few pairs of eyes bore into yeager’s back. the arrogance he has to whisk you away so early into the party, especially with it being his first one. if eren was the wiser, he’d revel in their envy.

there’s a handful of other couples waltzing across the floor when you two arrive. your fingers thread through his as his free hand finds a respectful place on your waist, blessed with the feeling of the smooth skin exposed by the opening in your dress.

no matter how much money your father makes, he’s an old black man at heart. old r&b plays from the expensive sound system he had installed, tevin campbell’s can we talk playing through the speakers. the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. nonetheless, you hum nonchalantly to the tune and glide around the floor with your partner.

“i gotta ask, do you enjoy these things? or does your dad put you up to it?” your arm is held above your head and you’re spun around in a quick circle before being guided back to eren’s chest. face still impartial, you nod your head towards your five o clock, the wavy blonde strands dangling from your delicate updo tickling your face. a table teems with gifts for you and you only, bachelors from afar vying for a wisp of your attention with shiny, expensive gifts. they fail to realize that a girl like yourself isn’t so easily bought. but, it’s their money not yours, and few things in life bring you greater joy than pulling ribbon and wrapping paper from luxury brand boxes.

“of course i do. i’m not ‘put up’ to anything. i dress up, i get my presents. what isn’t there to love?” manicured hand splayed across the man’s back, you’re dipped towards the floor. you’re one to give credit where credit is due, yeager is a good dancer; the confidence in his movements isn’t a lame front and he maintains the delicate balance between taking the lead and dragging his poor partner around. since this is suddenly an interview, you have questions of your own. “when i have time to go through them, will i find your name on anything?”

“of course you will. be pretty damn rude to show up to a party empty handed. especially when it might be my only chance to get a gift for the princess.” a name your normally cringe and scrunch your nose at sounds surprisingly nice passing by his lips. he grinned boyishly. “no hints.”

“i can wait. for your sake, i hope it’s no ring. it’s going straight into the garbage.” just the thought of such a “present” makes your blood want to boil. who raised these “men”? i mean honestly, what brain dead fool buys a ring for a girl who didn’t even know his face? and expected her to wear it? you would sooner die and go to hell first.

“no way someone is that dumb. you’re fucking with me.”

“what do i have to lie for?”

"well, taking a look at these guests, i take it back. some of these bastards look dumb enough to pull a stunt like that." eren scans the array of guests over your shoulder, and you can't even feign offense for your father's sake. scanning over a guestlist for former flames and explaining why you didn't want them in attendance would take too much time, and you really didn't feel like explaining "relationship troubles" to your dad of all people. loved him as much as you did that really wasn't his business. besides, watching them shiver and skulk away from your disinterested and annoyed glance made up for everything. "are you a betting woman?"

"did you waste grisha's money on a degree in journalism?" your eyebrows furrow and eren laughs again.

"you're funny, ___. most of our peers aren't so witty. and if it so pleases her majesty, i want to bet on the odds of one of these dumbasses putting a ring under your tree." eren's green eyes stare down into yours, gleaming with playfulness, mirth, and confidence. "what do you say? someone does, and we can go on a date, just us two, and you can smile and laugh a little bit."

"and if there's no ring?"

"i'll leave you alone and fall in place in your long string of broken hearts."

luck has always been on your side. look at the family you were in born in, the riches that are your birthright! the universe has never dealt you a bad hand and surely wouldn’t start now. and worse case scenario, you hang out with one of the few men that can mark your plump lips twitch in the shadow of a giggle. “fine.” your brown eyes meet his green, and neither of the waver. “deal.”

several days later, gifts from around the globe surround you. handbags, shoes, dresses, envelopes bursting with cash; you’ll have to tell your dad you need some walls knocked down in your already spacious closet to make room for more. amidst all this, though, a godforsaken ring is gripped between your fingers. if looks could kill, it would melting and dripping from your grasp. holding it like it’s contaminated, you snap a picture to send to yeager:

‘i’m free the 3rd weekend and tuesdays.’

…

as temperatures rise again, you spend the next few months allowing jean kirstein and eren yeager the luxury of whisking you away when your schedule permits.

the former is a bit... old fashioned, in a good way! you're led off to slow paced, cozy dates; the two of you roaming italian streets, attending shows in their original opera houses, he never strayed you out of the bubble you two were born in. it was casual, soft, predictable in a good way.

eren on the other hand, spent money like it would burn through his pocket if it sat there too long. he spent money like a man who just felt its crispness in his palms and was addicted to the feeling, knowing deep down it'd never stop flowing for him. you're frequenting the night scene in your tight, revealing dress, his firm hands on your hips as you two grind to the pounding beats. shopping spree dates that lasted all day, if your hand so much as brushed it, it was bought, packaged up, and in the car. spontaneous flights abroad, stealing you away for weekends. it was exhilarating.

they both provide the things you're looking for. jean is the type of man you imagine yourself settling down with one day, when the whole young and turnt shtick melts away into something more domestic and slow paced. he has gentle hands and treats you so delicately, softly. his reliability will be something you can learn to lean on and need.

eren could possibly be that type of man too, but for now he has a fire, impulses that keep you oh so entertained. having everything in the world gets boring, and eren brings that spark that you crave.

you ruminate at your vanity. hair tied down and tucked away under a silky soft bonnet, you run your gua sha across your moisturized face, long sweeping strokes that end with a gentle tug. eye masks rest on your face, your feet clothed by a exfoliating mask, and a fluffy robe envelopes your body. you stare at your reflection, you're the only one who gets you.

you're really at a crossroads. you choosing between something is unheard of. you're ___, you get everything you deserve and want tenfold. you like jean, you like eren. the way they look at you with such adoration, how their hands and lips caress your body, the sweets words they declare, and how every promise they've made to you remains unbroken, oh how they must certainly feel the same for you.

as greedy as it may make you sound, you want both. your cake and to eat it too. two of your richest peers fawning over you day in and day out, them caring for you and you caring for them. them loving you, and you loving them. it’s a dream that will be your reality.

…

after a long day at sea on one of many jean’s yachts, the sun beaming down on not only the beautiful blue water but the two of you, entangled in each other’s arms, docks at the private harbor.

you’re running your fingers through your french curl braids as jean talks to one of the dock’s attendees, slightly sleepy from your sunbathing session. the gentle breeze of the day brings the smell of saltwater up to your nostrils and you hear seagulls squawking from spots on the wooden posts. obviously, a day at the water leaves you craving seafood, juicy lobster tails with a decadent pasta on the side. your daydreams of the soon to be dinner are interrupted by an extremely familiar “yo!”

heads turn, and it’s none other than eren striding across the dock’s walkway towards where you and jean are standing. his green eyes shine at the sight of you, the hot pink of your two piece bikini a perfect contrast to your skin and showing curves and bends he’d worship for the rest of his life. oh, and jean’s here too.

another woman might falter, her heart catching in her throat and sweat beading up on her flesh as her suitors stand before her, but you’re the epitome of calm, brown eyes smoothly meeting eren’s. there’s no ring on your finger, and besides, you know what you’re after right now.

“haven’t seen you in a while, yeager.” knowing it’d be cliche, jean fights against the urge to wrap a protective arm around your waist. “done gallivanting the world?”

“seen all there is to see kirschtein, and you say that like it’s insult. what use is money if it just sits in accounts collecting dust.” eren looks at you again, god you’re a sight for sore eyes. “especially when there’s a woman like her to spend it on.”

jean’s eyes can’t help but to roll. what a cornball. “well, good chat, but ___ and i are on a little time crunch. i’m taking her to niccolo’s, especially after being on the water.” his hand slips into yours, taking charge but not tugging you along. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this side of him.

“well, now that you mention it, i could go for some niccolo’s too.” eren’s grin is shit-eating. what a cute dynamic these too have, one you know has a bit more bite to it when a lady isn’t in their presence. “how about i join? matter of fact, my treat.”

“that won’t be necessary.”

“i insist.”

“you two would argue all day if i let you,” you interrupt this small tussle, and now their attention is back on you. a manicured hand raises up to cover your small yawn. “like an old married couple.”

“it’s all in good fun,” eren’s shoulder nudges jean, and if jean had lasers for eyes, the youngest heir to yeager fortune would be a pile of dust before your feet. “we go way back.”

jean ignores him entirely, but eren finds it hilarious. “what he’s suggesting is insane, ___.”

you give a gentle shrug of your shoulder, coyness at the ready. “it’s nothing serious, it’s a lunch date between friends, and i bet you’d like to catch up.”

jean’s jaw tenses. he turns to you completely as eren looks on curiously. “i think it’s a sign that you say that, ___. i’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while. yes, we are friends, but i want to be more with you.”

this moment, with the waves crashing across the dock, the sun illuminating the two of you, jean clasping your hands tight, would’ve been a soft, tender, picturesque one had it not been for eren’s booming laughter.

“oh, so now this is a pissing contest, huh, jean? well, since we’re confessing feelings, i have my own to speak for you.” his outburst breaks your gaze, and you and jean both turn in unison. “___, i want you to be my girlfriend, and i’ve felt this way for a while. i’ve been waiting for just the perfect moment, but i can’t let this jack-off take this one for himself right?” comically, you’re put between them, each of your hands in theirs.

“i…” this takes tact, a delicate way of stringing together words and honestly, with their eyes boring into yours, you find yourself falling just a touch short.

“i respect any decision you make,” jean assures.

“___, i will do anything for you,” eren promises.

any decision. anything.

you bit your bottom lip, hands minutely twitching in their clasp. you lean in neither direction, at the center of them. “any?”

and then there’s a beat of silence. and everyone’s looking at each other. this feels like a scene in a sitcom, something that should be accompanied with a laugh-track, but there’s no closed mouth that’s been fed.

“because in the time i’ve gotten to know both of you, i’ve begin to care for both of you. and i’ve made great memories with the two of you. i know i could make even more. i don’t value any time spent with you over each other’s.” your voice shakes just a tiny, tiny bit, vulnerability creeping in. “you too make me… so happy.”

eren cuts the silence first, ever the impulsive one. “i’ll do it.”

“you cut me off,” jean quickly interjects. eren really puts him on his toes, ignites an aggressive fire deep within, steps on just the right nerves. “i’m doing it too.”

“i said i’d do anything.”

“and i said i’d respect any decision.”

“okay!” you voice crashes down like a gavel. “okay. i’m glad that you two are hearing me out,” a smile tugs at your glossed lips, this feels so easy and lighthearted, a stark contrast from the seriousness you impose upon yourself. already, you feel yourself loosening up, because the two of them bring out the true, relaxed you like nothing else can. “but for our sanity the bickering needs to come down a notch before we all kill each other, yeah?”

two strong pairs of arms envelop you. it takes some effort, but you wrap your own around the two of them. three heads together, you find yourselves laughing. a weight eases of your shoulders, but not because you got your way, but because you know this is the death of a mask created by the circle you were born in. a mask that hides the love you can feel in an attempt to guard it.

“well, we won’t kill you.”

nov 13. 2021. nov 9. 2023. i nearly gave up. i almost threw in the towel. but goddammit she’s done. praise god.

#eren jaeger x black reader #eren x black reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x black reader #jean kirschstein x black reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #jean x black reader #🏙.aotmodern #🧸.aotfluff

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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The Eddie blurb day is such a cute idea! Thoughts on "sunshine"?

“You’re gonna toast yourself.”

Eddie had made a face, nose wrinkled, eyes shut against the sun, tongue poking out at you in defiance.

“M’fine. I have like, factor twenty on. S’nice, I like the sun.”

You snorted, pushing a finger tip into the soft of his bare tummy, raising your brows at how warm his skin was already. “Yeah, but the sun doesn’t like you, handsome.”

Eddie had frowned, dramatic and offended. “Rude.”

So you left him poolside in Steve’s backyard with the rest of the boys for a couple of hours, warning him he’d burn if he didn’t move into the shade.

Three hours later, he waddled out to your car to meet you, his skin various shades of ivory and red, his nose a startling pink, his cheeks matching and you were sure he had approximately a hundred new freckles across his face.

He looked sullen, his glare breaking only to wince when he bent to fold himself into your passenger seat, teeth bared.

“Hey, sunshine!” You were awful about it, too cheery and a little too loud. “Feelin’ the heat?”

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbled and you knew he didn’t mean it.

“Baby,” you cooed, trying not to laugh.

It was a call and response, Eddie’s expression crumpling as he finally gave in and whined. “Baby,” he answered.

You cracked, smothering a grin with your hand as Eddie threw his head back, theatrical even in pain.

“I told you not to lie out all day. It’s scorching, Eddie.” You brushed a gentle finger over the bridge of his nose, eyes wide ring as the slight pressure turned this skin white before returning to the violent shade of pink. “Look at you.”

“I know,” he groaned, “I’m stupid. Shit, shoulda listened to you.”

You smirked before starting the engine, peeling out of Steve’s drive. “Can you say that again, once I get a tape recorder?”

“You’re being so mean,” Eddie intoned, pushing at his own knees, watching the skin bounce from white to red, hissing as he did so. “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“That’s why we’re going to the store,” you told him, batting away his hands before he did any more damage to himself. “We’re getting aloe and yoghurt and some pain meds, ‘kay?”

Eddie blinked at you, bleary from sun exposure and too much heat. His smile was softer now, his pout gone. “Can we get some popsicles?”

An hour later, as you were smearing all types of cooling gels and creams onto your boyfriends bare back and chest, Eddie mumbled your name, a blue raspberry popsicle between his lips.

“Do I still loo’ like a ‘adass?”

You grinned, swiping a blob of aftersun on his poor nose. He blinked up at you, wondering if he was about to be offended.

“The baddest of asses, baby,” you promised.

#Eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #Eddie munson oneshot #Eddie baby blurb

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hermit-lover · 2 months

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PLATONIC REQUEST (If you include any romance I will be sad.) Reader who is adventurous and curious, loving science and fantasy in equal measure—so long as no one tries to misapply them and claim falsehoods are factually true or that stories always need to be scientifically perfect. Intentionally tries to pick up lots of skills. Innocent and childish. Intelligent, but uses internal fact checking to discern lies, which obviously has limitations when trying to determine if someone is lying about *themself.* Reader is friends with Scar and/or Etho. (So, personally, those two are my favorites right now, and I wish I could be friends with both of them. Approximately everyone who knows me in Real Life is unsurprised by this, because both of them are a type of person I like, and both of them have traits I like and want to cultivate in myself. 🤷‍♀️ Or at least, everyone would be unsurprised if I were the type of person to talk about having squishes [that's the word for wanting to be friends with someone, like a platonic crush] but I tend to keep my emotions about myself to myself, so only a few actually know.) Anyway, I think that the differences between Etho and Scar can be really interesting. Of course, you can choose to only include one of them in the resulting Reader Insert story, if asking for two Hermits is too much, or you don't feel familiar enough with one of them to write for them, etc. Other than the Reader being friends with one or both of the requested characters, you can have a lot of free will in the type and genre of the piece. Want to write silly fun times? I'm down! Want to write an adventure piece? Those are some of my favorites! Want to write about Reader helping the selected character(s) (or vice versa?) Sounds good to me! In the mood to write angst or hurt/comfort? I'll accept that too! Anyway, if this was all too long, or too vague, or too dull, or you have any questions—you can message me and ask questions or request that I send in a better request myself! 😅 Thank you for your time, consideration, and potential writing!

Fetching Wood!

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

Character: Ethoslab x Reader, GTWS x Reader.

Type: Blurb (~2k)

Theme: Platonic

Summary: Unsurprisingly, attempting an adventure on the HermitCraft server attracts shenanigans.

TW: brief swearing.

A/N: I hope I did your ask justice!! These two are so silly together and so adventure awaits. :)

The chirping of birds drifts through the ajar window, letting in the sounds of morning calamity and the gentle breeze that brings with it the scent of deep woods and dirt. Your cluttered desk stands proudly in front of you, stacks of intricate designs meticulously sketched, bottles of experimental potions, gadgets, gears, suspicious white powder, and ink spattered across the solid dark oak. It was your workshop- or at least part of it. At the moment you are preoccupied from tinkering, rather you squint at the mess of your storage trying to decide what exactly this trip warrants.

You see, your build, a large wizard-esc tower and subsequent dungeons was a rather demanding feat, and with your newfound appreciation for the Nether woods and brick, you needed a trip to Nether.

It was much to your surprise that when casually discussing the idea with those surrounding you, your neighbor Etho was quick to jump aboard. Apparently he too needed a restock on warped logs and mushrooms, and was more than happy to tag along to make the process more enjoyable.

It was always exciting seeing the ivory haired man, so many Hermits (including yourself) looked up to him.

With the whole HermitcraftTCG and Decked Out craze of last season he was a hard man to come across besides fleeting moments in games. You would be lying if you said you weren't eager to impress. Tucking another fire resistant potion (you can never be too sure) you sigh and check the time.

No...it couldn’t be that hour already...

Snatching up your backpack and skittering towards the door of your starter-starter base (something you will be tearing down) you made it out into the grass. You were so smart when it came to inventions you'd think you would be a little more aware of the time- but unfortunately not. Being late was an reality you lived with often. Snatching the reins of your beloved horse Millennium, you place a foot in the stirrup and very nearly faceplant off of the other side of his torso. He lets out a vibrating huff and you pout.

“Cmon, I can't have a horse making fun of me.” You scoff, rightening in the saddle. The horse doesn't comment back, shaking out its mane and beginning to trot. You ease Millennium into a canter, riding with practiced ease through the forest towards your neighbor.

It's a bright and sunny day, the wind whipping across your face and tugging at your clothing where it is free from the confines of your armor. You had asked Cleo and Stress to help in making a perfect outfit to combine the high fantasy of the wizard tower with the stylish ease of a scientist. You say they have done wonderfully. Despite not actually having a tower to call home yet, you were eager to leap into the aesthetic.

Spotting the gorgeous blue ceiling you broke into a grin, pressing a bit harder to have your horse break into a dash. Leaping over a small creave you break into the clearing, spotting the man of hour leaning against the side of the portal- a full one with corners and all of course. He straightens at your sudden appearance, watching you with careful eyes- You stand up in the stirrups, throwing a leg over and slowing the horse to let you jump off. Millennium whinnies and turns, slowing to blink at you. You hit the ground with a small ‘oof!’ knees bending to not topple over.

“Tadaaa!” You wiggle in the ever-corny jazz hands, watching his expression crinkle into a smile. His light chuckle makes you beam in pride.

“Woooow what an entrance.” Etho claps slowly, muffled by his fingerless gloves. It was almost sarcastic but it amused him nonetheless. “Almost makes up for the fact you're late- huh?” He prods, clearly in a teasing manner. You pout.

“Only by-” You check your watch. “Half an hour!” It's defensive, but you stick your tongue out to show no harm.

“Mhm, still late.” He turns sharply on his heels, now facing the portal. “We better start moving so we still have daylight!”

“It’s 9:30, plus we’re going to Hell- No sunlight there.” You quickly tie up Millennium, taking a tic to admire the build. Pacing quickly to catch up beside him, you note vaguely that he didn't move, instead throwing a coy smile (Hermits got used to only reading his eyes) down at you before stepping into the swirling purple depths. It was always nauseating, the world thrown off kilter and shapes fluttering behind your eyes. Then the pure heat- it prickles your palms immediately with sweat and makes you wipe them on your pants as you step out onto the odd red stone, slightly squishy under foot. It was an eyesore as always, the usual red cavern punctuated by glowing portals and scattered cobblestone paths.

“Sooooo.” You drawl, turning to face him- he looks odd in the environment. Pale skin and stark haired reflecting the orangish hues of ever-burning fire. Greens of his outfit reminding you much of the holiday season. “Lead the way captain.” You prompt- the notification of ‘Going deeper’ noting your lack of experience in this particular world. He chuckles, but sets off, picking around fires and large craters. You follow to a tee, analyzing the scenery in an attempt to memorize it for later. You've almost committed this well populated spawn area when a panicked scream breaks through the crackling silence. Jumping out of your skin you launch towards Etho- sword drawn. But that scream…It wasn't a ghast-

“NO NO IM SORRY I KNOW I FORGOT GOLD JUST SPARE A SCAR ONE SECOND!-” Hightailing from around a corner the offender nearly knocks into you, letting out a yelp. Scar’s eyes are wide, his expression that of pure terror, cheeks dusted in the same red dust as the scenery. A tic goes by as you open your mouth to speak, at the same moment he realizes you're friendly, dashing to cower behind you. The sound of a crossbolt loading pulls your attention from the man. The piglin snorts, eyes narrowed in bloodlust, weapon drawn as it searches for presumably Scar. Tattered tunic and scraped golden boots. You and Etho had planned accordingly- a gold dawning his boots as you opted for golden bracers- but a quick glance at Scar confirms he had in fact forgotten. Flicking your sword you swipe at the beast. Blade forcing it backwards. It squeals in surprise, having not seen you as a target. The crossbow rounds to your chest, you brace for pain. Then another blade cuts through the air. The piglin lets out one last squeal as it dissolves quickly into mist. Crossbow and leather toppling to the floor. You let out a breath and look to your savior with a pout.

“I totally had it handled!” You insist, poking him in the chest with a finger. It slides uselessly off of his iron chestplate. Etho blinks at you, then shakes his head.

“Uh no, you were totally doomed and in need of a strong PvPer to defend you.” his quirked head shows his comfortable ease, and it warms you that he liked bantering. Too bad you were about to murder him.

“Oh? Do you know one I can bring next time?” You ask, batting your eyelashes innocently. He gawks.

“Oohhh!-”

“This is fun and all but do you have any food and gold I can borrow?” You had forgotten about him. Turning to Scar you flash him a grin, digging in your pockets for food.

“Didn't expect to save a charming Scar this fine morning.” You chuckle, offering some of the steak you gathered to his shaking hands.

“Well I didn't expect to be in peril- I knew I had forgotten something!” He eagerly crams the food into his mouth, chewing as he talks around the bite. “Good thing Etho came to save me.” It's a tease- but you still squawk.

“hEY-!” The unholy noise grates your throat, and causes him to nearly choke on the mouthful, swallowing hard to avoid choking. His muffled giggles tug a smile to your lips. “You're an ass.” You spit, turning sharply away from him. “And to think I was going to share my bracers. Guess not!”

“Wa-Wait!” Scar stumbles to bump against your back, straightening himself to not invade your space too much. “You wouldn't leave a helpless scar all on his own?” His voice tilts into a whine, widening his eyes to plead. You scoff, gesturing vaguely to Etho.

“You have an Etho, isn't he enough for you?” You snark back, Scar is silent. He sulks to the Canadian, throwing an arm across his shoulder to begin his sales pitch.

“Ethhooo my buddy, you wouldn't happen to have some gold I could borrow?” Scar tries, offering a meek smile to the taller man. Etho hums, tilting his head to peer across the blazing landscape.

“Nope.” He pops the p, eyes squinting into what must've been a shit-eating grin. Scar groans, letting his knees buckle in exaggerated disappointment. Etho shifts to slow his descent, the uniformed man sliding helplessly to the red floor.

“Need me yet?” You call, shifting to spin and stare at the off pair. Scar groans again, but lifts his arms to grabby-hands. Splitting into a grin you trot towards him, sliding off one golden clasp. His fingers barely brush the surface before you snatch it away. “Nuh uh!- you gotta say I’m better than Etho.”

“Hey!” Now it was Etho's turn to protest, placing a hand on his hip. “You can't make Scar lie.”

“Then I guess he won't get any gold.” You shrug, Scar sputters. Using Etho as a pole to claw his way back up.

“Uh- I didn't say that, I think you're incredibly talented and definitely better than any old Etho.” He smiles, flashing his teeth. You hum now, swinging the gold bracer around. Scar winces every time it nearly slips from your grasp.

“Yea alright.” You toss the accessory and he lunges for it, fumbling for a few moments before managing a firm grasp.

“Oh thank you kind and generous-”

“Alright, that’s enough horsing around, we are already running behind schedule.” Etho interrupts, trotting back on path. You groan in childlike disobedience, but follow along. Scar stumbles to catch up.

“What are you guys doing?” He asks, keeping pace but tucking close to the protection of your side.

“Fetching wood.” You answer, giving him a nudge. “What were you up to?”

“Oh! Same here!” Scar answers confidently. You give him a once over. He doesn't appear to have even successfully made it to the biome, judging by the lack of mycelium on his boots. Raising an eyebrow skeptically he chuckles. “Well I was going to…”

“There's always space for another.” Etho butts in, clasping him on the shoulder. “Even if the role is just the goof.”

You giggle, causing Scar to shoot you a glare.

“I am more than just that!- I can be the entertainment, have you seen the most recent news about Mando?-”

You grin, a small excited noise leaving your throat. Etho groans loudly, retreating a safe distance to let you geek out. He knows the consequences of getting too close, being dragged into full body renditions of scenes.

Despite the blistering heat and hostile atmosphere, a few friends never fail to lighten the mood. You always feel safer when tucked between their shoulders, endless chatter filling the air. And maybe some shenanigans and mishaps occur along the way- but that's the fun of HermitCraft.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft fandom #hermitblr #atlas writes #hermitcraft fic #hc s10 #hc s10 spoilers #goodtimeswithscar #gtws hermitcraft #gtwscar #gtws #gtws x reader #ethoslab #hermitcraft etho #etholabs #etho x reader

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