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hairmetal666 · 4 months

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Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.

Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.

Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.

It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.

It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.

Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.

It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.

They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.

They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.

"What." Eddie says.

"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.

"Me?"

"You like dnd?"

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.

"Doubt it," the boy says.

Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.

The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.

"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"

Dustin shrugs. "Steve."

"Steve?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."

"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.

He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"

"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."

Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.

They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.

It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.

Steve.

"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.

Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"

"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.

"Um, the kids?"

And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.

"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.

"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."

Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."

"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."

Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."

"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"

Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."

Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."

"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."

"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.

"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."

"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."

"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."

"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.

"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.

He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.

And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mechanic eddie munson #baker steve harrington #ficlet #fluff #meet cute #mutual pining #matchmaker dustin henderson #longing glances #dustin is sick of hearing steve talk about the hot mechanic next door but never making a move #dustin makes it for him #the party are a bunch of well-meaning menances #for some reason insomnia is an intrinsic part of steve's character even in an au

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obsessedwithceleste · 3 months

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The Cat Chronicles

(Or five times Theodore Nott *accidentally* stole your cat)

Theodore Nott x reader

word count: 5.9k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

The first time your cat went missing, you didn’t think entirely too much of it. You knew many of the Hogwarts cats liked to gather behind the herbology greenhouse where a particularly plentiful patch of catnip grew. However, Gladys was never one to miss meal time, and when the time came to 30 minutes after her usual feeding time, you knew something was amiss. With a sigh, you made your way out to your common room where you saw Cho sitting by the fireplace with several other of your class mates.

“Has anyone seen Gladys wandering about? She missed feeding time and I haven’t seen her much today,” you say as you approach the group.

“I haven’t, sorry y/n. We’ll keep a look out for her though,” Cho tells you.

You let out a small sigh of disappointment.

“Thanks Cho,” you say before heading out to wander the halls of the castle, hoping to find your elusive, black cat.

You start out by the greenhouse where you see a whole gaggle of cats, but none with the sleek black coat that identified your furry friend. You then walked around the grounds a bit more with no luck, before moving on to the kitchens where several of the house elves promised to keep an eye out for the small black cat. You even checked several empty class rooms before coming to a stop outside the library. It wouldn’t hurt to check. Twenty minutes later, you were still completely out of luck. Tired and frustrated, you were about to call it a night when a loud chorus of voices turn down the hall. You look to see who it was and find a hoard of Slytherin boys making their way towards you. You recognized them of course, but didn’t exactly know them. What you did know however, was the mop of black fur one of the taller boys in the back of the group was holding.

“Gladys!” You exclaim, rushing towards the group of boys.

Their eyes all turn towards you and at the sound of her name, the fiesty black cat springs from the arms of the boy and runs towards you.

With a large grin of relief, you scoop the cat up into your arms, feeling her light purr as you scratch behind her ears. Feeling several pairs of eyes on you, you look up to see the group of boys still staring at you and your cat.

“Um, thanks, for finding my cat,” you say awkwardly, squeezing the cat to your chest lightly. The tall, brunette boy who had just been holding your cat only nods silently before turning and walking off, the rest of the group following, except one.

“Hey, sorry about Theo. He means well, really. Man really likes cats, but doesn’t have one of his own, so he sometimes makes friends with cats wandering the halls. We’ve all told him that he should probably stop, ah, borrowing, people’s cats, but he can’t seem to resist. Names Enzo by the way,” the boy says with a friendly smile, extending his hand out.

You take his hand, shaking it cautiously before a smile creeps it’s way onto your face.

“Thank you, Enzo.” You say, hesitating a moment before adding, “You know, Gladys is a picky bitch. Theo must be a pretty okay person if she let him carry her around.” You tell him before disappearing with your cat.

The second time your cat went missing, you honestly didn't realize she was missing at all. Theo had found his way down to the kitchens about a week after the original cat incident. That's how he thought of it anyway. The kitchens were one of his favorite places to lurk as not many students knew of the secret entrance behind one particular painting of a fruit bowl. The real attraction that often drew the brunette boy to the hidden sanctuary however, was the constant stream of cats that often visited the house elves who happily offered up dishes of cream and other treats. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a particularly populated bowl of milk, Theo's eyes were immediately drawn to a familiar set of glowing yellow orbs.

"Hello there, Gladys," he said hesitantly, decently sure that was the name called out by the pretty Ravenclaw girl who had stolen the cat from him a few nights ago.

Well, stolen in this case was rather relative, as the cat was technically hers, he supposed. Hearing her name however, the little black cat pranced over, nuzzling her head affectionately against his leg with a soft purr. Picking the sweet creature up into his arms, Theo stroked her soft fur, thinking back to his encounter with her owner, a grimace reaching his face.

He had been a downright bloody idiot. That was for certain. Theo was not usually one to be rendered incompetent by the mere presence of a pretty girl. No. That was meant more for Enzo. Or even Draco sometimes. But never Theodore. In fact, Theo had quite the reputation for his tendency to sleep around which made the idea of his mind completely blanking at the sight of this cat's owner all the more embarrassing. Matteo had made fun of him ruthlessly later that night. What had he said again? Right. Absolutely nothing. Just nodded like a right dunce.

The only solace Theo had gotten from that night was when Enzo pulled him aside quietly and told him what the pretty girl from earlier had said about him. "He must be pretty okay." It was hardly a compliment, but after the fool he'd made of himself, it really was the best Theo could hope for. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Theo once again focused on the little beast snuggling contentedly in his arms, carefully scratching behind the ears, a spot he'd found the cat quite liked.

The sound of the entrance painting swinging open startled Theo; and he honestly wasn't sure if he was elated, or absolutely mortified that the very girl who had been previously plaguing his thoughts was stepping through into the kitchens.

You honestly weren't entirely surprised to see the boy from a few nights ago sitting on the floor, cradling your cat, when you entered the kitchens. After Enzo had admitted to you that the handsome brunette had a soft spot for the castle's feline population, you figured it was only a matter of time until you bumped into him here considering it was a hot spot for the four legged beasts.

"Hello. See you've managed to find my cat again," you say, offering a small smile to the boy in front of you. After your encounter with that particular group of Slytherins, you did a bit of asking around, finding that Theodore Nott, while a bit known for his escapades with the female population, was actually one of the more talented wizards of your year. And one of the more level headed. (But in comparison to Draco and Matteo, you weren't exactly sure how much credit to give him there.)

The boy blinks up at you once before seeming to find his voice.

"She's a sweet little thing," he says finally, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but you.

You cautiously move forward, more worried about spooking the boy in front of you than the cats. Sitting down, you allow a pretty little Siamese kitten to wander into your lap. Gladys hisses with jealousy, but remains snuggled in the arms of the boy.

"She really seems to like you. Bit surprising. She's really not much of a people person," you tell him.

Theo nods at you, an action you found yourself growing familiar with.

"Enzo told me." He replies curtly.

You open your mouth to respond, but don't quite know how, so you let an awkward silence roll over the two of you.

"Well, I find that Gladys is a very good judge of character," you say finally.

Theo lets out a small smile at this, continuing to stroke your cat's soft fur. After that, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence with Theodore continuing to shower your cat with affection while you distract the many other felines, crowding the kitchen floor.

"Theo?" you wonder finally, the question burning away at you. The boy looks up, and you find yourself getting lost in the surprisingly soft brown eyes staring back at you. Breaking from the trance with a small shiver, you ask, "If you like cats so much, why don't you have one of your own?"

Theo's eyes immediately fall, and his hand freezes mid pet, much to Gladys' dismay. A pang of guilt washes through you.

"My father isn't much of an animal person," He replies stiffly.

You give him a small nod in response before rising from the floor.

"It's getting pretty late, I should get going," you say softly. "Gladys can find her way back to the tower on her own just fine," you add when you see Theo make no move to release the cat.

Without another word, you move to open the portrait door. You enter the hall with a small smile gracing your lips as you hear his voice quietly as the door closes.

"Thank you, y/n."

He knew your name.

The next time Theo met Gladys was much sooner than he expected. He had left the kitchens several hours ago and was now laying in bed. The clock sitting on his bed side now read 1am. The deafening silence was about to finally lull him to sleep when an insistent scratching at the door caused his eyes to fly open. Sitting up, Theo glanced at the door warily before finally deciding to cross the room to find out what was causing the noise.

As soon as the door opened, a black shadow darted through, making a beeline for his bed. How it seemed to know exactly where it was going, Theo had no clue. Making his way silently back to his bed, careful not to wake either of his roommates, Theo was finally able to make out the dark shape of an ever familiar black cat.

"Hi there, principessa," he whispered, gently stroking the cat's ears before crawling into the bed next to it. Gladys seemed to take this as an invitation to curl up in the nook of his arm, and Theo wasn't about to object. The last thought he remembered before drifting off was how nice it would be if Gladys' pretty owner was there too.

"Theo, what the fuck."

Theo woke with a start, to the loud voice of Lorenzo Berkshire ringing out above him. His eyes opened to see the other boy hovering over his bed, a look of shocked confusion apparent on his face.

"Is that y/n's cat?" he asks, leaning down as if to get a closer look at the fluff ball still snuggled in Theo's arms.

"No way," Matteo laughs from the other side of the room. "You stole her cat again? What, is this some sick and twisted new way for you to lure girls into your bed?"

Theo launches a pillow at Matteo's head. He doesn't miss.

"You better go return that thing before y/n starts to worry," Enzo advises, going back to his own side of the room. "And maybe just ask her out while you're at it hmm?" He adds, quickly ducking behind his fourposter before Theo has the chance to send another pillow flying his way.

With a heavy sigh, Theo comes to a stop outside of what he's pretty sure is the Ravenclaw common room. He's about to raise his hand to knock, when the golden eagle head mounted to the door springs to life.

"What gets broken, without being held?" The eagle asks, blinking at him slowly.

Right. Theo knew about this. The most annoying of the common room doors because instead of a password, the bloody door required you to answer a riddle. Theo was about to turn on his heel to leave when he felt a light presence behind him.

"Hello Theo. Hello Gladys." The platinum blonde haired girl said, giving the two of them an airy nod, before turning her attention to the door. "Would it perhaps be, a promise?" she asks.

The door swings open and Theo quickly hurries after the girl, making his way up the staircase. He'd never actually been inside the Ravenclaw common room, and his breath hitched when they reached the top of the stairs. The main room really was magnificent, nothing like the dark, eerie dungeons of the Slytherin common room. Theo eyed the shelves of books lining the wall longingly.

"Her room is just there, up and to the left," the blonde girl he'd followed in says, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Y/n? Her room is just there," the girl repeats, gesturing to a door at the top of another small flight of stairs.

"Oh. thanks," Theo makes out, giving the girl a nod of gratitude.

"Name's Luna by the way. Luna Lovegood." She says whimsically before floating off.

With a deep inhale to calm his nerves, Theo makes his way up the stairs and knocks gently on the door. Gladys lets out a meow of protest. Absolutely nothing could have prepared Theo for what was on the other side of the door. He felt his throat go completely dry as the door swung open and you stood in front of him in what was probably the shortest, skimpiest set of clothing that could possibly be considered pajamas. Theo tried not to stare, he really did, but he was only a man. A very weak and smitten man.

"Oh! There you are Gladys. I wondered where you wandered off to last night!" you say looking at your cat and then back up at Theo, and then again at your cat before looking back up at Theo expectantly. "Um. May I have my cat back?"

Theo jolts back to life, realizing he'd been staring and looks at you sheepishly.

"Sorry, don't know how this little one found me. Snuck her way into the Slytherin common room and then into my dorm. Didn't want to leave her in the halls alone, so I let her stay the night," he tells you.

You stare at the boy in shock, realizing that was the longest string of words you'd ever heard out of him.

"Wow Theodore, I'm impressed. I think that's the most I've ever heard you talk. And here I was thinking you were secretly illiterate," you say with a playful grin.

"Please," the boy scoffs. "I'm the picture of eloquence."

Interested in where this sudden burst of confidence that you didn't normally see from him had come from, you take a step back, inviting him into your room. He hesitantly accepts your invitation, bringing Gladys along with him.

"No roommates?" he asks, perching on the edge of your bed as Gladys purrs softly on his lap. At the moment, you found nothing more attractive than this man absolutely pampering your beloved pet.

"Not many Ravenclaw girls in our year, we had the option to share, but most of us opted for solo rooms. Wanted the extra privacy, I suppose," you tell him, leaning on one of the posts at the end of your bed.

Theo nods his head at this.

"I have two roommates," he shares.

"One of them happen to be Enzo Berkshire?"

Theo nods again. "And Matteo. Riddle" he adds.

You cock your head at that with a grin.

"Interesting pairing," you comment, imagining the chaos those two must bring with them.

"It never gets boring," Theo responds.

A moment of silence passes.

"I was wondering if you wanted to study together sometime. I hear you're exceptionally talented at potions. And Charms. And everything really." Theo lets out finally.

You raise an eyebrow at the boy, internally screaming.

Trying to keep your cool, you tilt your head, "I hear you are too."

It's like a switch flips inside Theo.

"Well, we're obviously perfect for each other than," He replies easily, a cocky grin beginning to spread across his face. "Meet you in the library tomorrow at 7? And bring the cat."

You let out a laugh as Theo rises from the bed, gently placing Gladys down on the pillow, before going to make his way out of your dorm.

"You only like me for my cat," you joke, shifting to watch as he crosses the room to the door.

"Not just for your cat," he assures you, "I love the outfit, wear it for me more often, hmm?" he says slyly before the door thuds shut behind him.

You look down at your outfit, jaw dropping open and heat rushing to your cheeks.

Theo's head was pounding. Music pumped through the Slytherin common room and Theo could barely see through the crowds of people around him as he pushed his way to the circle of sofas occupied by his friends. Collapsing into a spot next to Matteo, the boy offered him another shot of who-knew-what which he quickly knocked back.

"When's that pretty little thing that's been occupying all your time gonna join us at one of our little gathering?" Matteo slurs out, gesturing to the large crowd around them.

Over the past several weeks, you and Theo had grown significantly closer; your first study date quickly becoming a daily occurrence as you found that you each were able to easily keep up with one another. Something about having a partner who was actually able to challenge you was exhilarating. From there, you found yourselves often seeking each other out simply for the sake of good company, Gladys largely increasing the number of these meetings.

"Don't know that Gladys would like it. Cat's aren't supposed to ingest alcohol," Theo responded, not quite drunk enough to fall for his friend's taunting.

Enzo places another shot in his hand, and Theo raises a brow at him, before knocking that one back as well.

"Did you ever ask y/n why in Salazar's name, she choose to name her cat Gladys?" Matteo asks. "If my name were Gladys, I'd being running off constantly too."

Theo thumps Matteo on the back of the head.

"You leave our cat out of this, she ain't do nothin wrong," he says, glaring at his friend.

"So now she's our cat is she?" Enzo asks, a smirk growing on his face. "Didn't know you and y/n were so serious."

"It's our cat damnit! If marrying y/n is what it takes to finally have a cat of my own, so be it," Theo says decidedly.

Enzo snorts at his clearly, very drunk friend. "Careful, or one might think you're only into her for her cat. And not the cunty kind."

Theo scowls at this. "Y/n says that all the time, but have you seen that ass? And the way she mopped the floor with Draco in potions the other day? She's perfect."

"Yeah? Why don't you go tell her that then?" Matteo says, wanting nothing more than to see a drunk Theo try to make his way to Ravenclaw Tower.

"You know what? I will. And I'll pet Gladys too." Theo states. A look of pure, intoxicated determination set on his face.

Lorenzo eyes his friend warily. While not exactly sober himself, he didn’t particularly like the look his friend was giving them.

“Aw c’mon Enz, don’t you try and be the voice of reason now,” Matteo drawls, sensing the hesitation coming from his friend. “Don’t you want to meet the lil thing our beloved Theodore has been obsessing over for weeks now?”

“I’m not obsessing,” Theo snaps, taking a sip straight out of a random bottle he’d picked up from the table.

“Let’s go. I’m gonna steal her cat. For real this time.”

With a wide grin, Matteo jumps up, ready to follow his friend wherever the night took him. With a low groan, Enzo followed suit, knowing that his pair of roommates would need some sort of guidance to prevent them from walking themselves straight of the edge of the astronomy tower.

You didn’t have a lot of expectations for the quiet Friday night that you were spending curled up with a book and your cat. It was late, and after a long and stressful week, the time alone with Gladys was just what you needed to really recharge. You had spent most of your day lounging out on the lawn next to the Black Lake with Theodore, studying with and harassing the boy. A small smile crept onto your face, remembering the way his brown curls had floated about in the soft breeze.

You really hadn’t expected for the two of you to become so close, so quickly, but you weren’t complaining. You’d grown quite fond of the boy, especially once he started opening up a bit more. You’d initially thought that he was a man of very few words, but quickly learned he was in fact very sharp witted and even a bit snarky at times. Time spent with him had easily become your favorite part of the day and was something you were constantly looking forward to.

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, causing you to jump a bit where you were sitting, Gladys letting out a yowl of protest.

You quickly cross the room and open the door to find a very miffed looking Cho, a frown imbedded on her face.

“Sorry to bother, but could you please come get your boy under control? He’s upsetting the portraits.” She says.

You blink once. Then again.

“Sorry?”

“Your Slytherin fellow? He’s out in the corridor with two of his friends harassing the door,” she explains, turning to lead you down the spiral staircase.

You’re not even halfway down when you begin to hear the voices.

“Who in the bloody hell would want to be in Ravenclaw with this blast-ended skewt ass looking-“

“Matteo you can’t curse out the door.”

“I’ll curse at the bloody door if I want to bloody curse at it.”

You grimace, looking at Cho who looks back with a similarly displeased facial expression.

“Sorry bout them. I’ll take it from here,” you tell her when you reach the bottom.

With a slight nod, she turns to retreat back up the stairs. With a sigh, you push the door open, almost taking out Matteo who had been leaning on it for support.

“Hi amore, fancy seeing you here,” Theo slurs, a grin taking over his face at the sight of you.

Enzo leans against a pillar, face in hands, looking like he wanted to disappear. You could smell the alcohol on all of them.

“Hi Theodore. Are you sober?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“I’m moderately functional,” he replies with a lopsided smile.

“I’m taking that as a no,” you say, glancing worriedly at Matteo who was currently laying spread eagle on the floor. “Let’s get you boys back to your common room.”

“I wouldn’t. Party’s not gonna end any time soon. They’ll just get more hammered and start wandering off again,” Enzo advises, head still in hands. “Like herding hippogriffs with those two.”

“And Theo hasn’t proclaimed his undying love for y/n yet!” Matteo adds.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and Theo glowers at his friend.

“It’s okay Theo, I know he’s drunk,” you say, not certain if you were saying it more to comfort him or yourself.

Theo ignores you however, turning his attention back to the door.

“Let us in, I just want to pet the cat,” he tells the door, swaying ever so slightly.

For Salazar’s sake. Man gets absolutely wasted and just wants to pet your cat. You go to grab onto Theo to steady him, but he has other plans. Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your hair.

“Hi,” he mumbles, picking you up just enough that your toes barely touch the ground. “I missed you. Can we see the cat now?”

Not knowing what else to do, you glance helplessly at Enzo.

“Would you be able to get Matteo up the stairs?” You ask.

“I can try. He’s a stubborn bastard though.”

You turn back to the door, knocking once. The eagle once again moves to life, glaring at the scene in front of it.

“If the day before yesterday was the 23rd, what is the day after tomorrow?” It asks crankily.

“We’re too fucking wasted for this bloody bullshit,” Matteo moans from the floor.

You try to ignore Theo’s tight grasp on your waist and Enzo prodding at Matteo with his foot before answering. “The 27th.”

The door swings open and you try your best to haul Theo through, Enzo following closely behind with a very disgruntled Matteo. Dragging the boys up the staircase feels like the most difficult task of your life as you constantly tell Matteo to lower his voice and mind his mouth while also trying to ignore the very minimal distance between yourself and Theodore. When you finally make it to the top, you rush to herd the boys into your room before slamming the door shut behind you with relief. Theo immediately stumbles over to your bed, collapsing face first in the middle and snatching Gladys into his arms.

“No roommates?” Enzo asks, looking around the room and seeing the single empty bed that you had pushed into the corner at the beginning of the year.

“No, thank Rowena. I would not want to have to explain whatever this is.” You reply, motioning to Theo and Matteo who was now wandering about the room.

“Room’s a mess. Coulda at least cleaned up a bit,” he says, poking at the various books and blank scrolls lying about.

“Had I known I would be having guests at,” you glance at the clock, “almost 2 in the morning, I’m sure I would have.” You say dryly.

Retrieving your wand from your desk, you point it at the spare bed. “Engorgio.” The wooden frame creaks as it expands until it can comfortably fit 2 people. You look at Enzo.

“Good luck with that one,” you say, almost feeling sorry for the boy as Matteo flops onto the bed with a groan.

“Looks like you’re gonna need it more than me,” he replies, gesturing to Theo who was out cold, Gladys trapped and bug eyed in his grasp. With a sigh you and Enzo each resign yourselves to your respective charge.

“Theodore,” you whisper, giving the boy a light shove. No sign of life. You give him a slightly harder shove, allowing Gladys is wriggle out of her prison. Frowning, you sit down on the edge of the bed, using most of your body weight to shove Theo to one side of the bed before sliding under the covers. Now deeming it safe, Gladys hops back into the bed, nestling into your arms happily. You’re about to close your eyes when you feel arms snaking around your waste, pulling you into the very warm chest of Theodore Nott. You freeze, holding your breath, not sure if the boy is asleep or not.

“Goodnight mi amore,” he whispers into your neck, causing the hairs to prickle.

Definitely not asleep.

“Goodnight Theodore.”

You hadn’t had any expectations for the night really, but you definitely had not expected to have multiple overnight guests who were trying to steal your cat. And you most certainly did not expect to drift off in the arms of Theodore Nott.

The next morning you wake up missing the usual lump of fur weighing down on your chest. Immediately you bolt upright, eyes shooting around for any sign of your furry companion before the events of last night wash over you. Enzo and Matteo are both still out cold and when you look down, your jaw drops open. Theo is fast asleep, back facing you, Gladys snoozing contentedly while cradled in his arms. Even in his sleep this absolute tosser had managed to steal your damn cat.

Careful not to wake the boys, or Gladys, you silently sneak across the room and disappear out the door. Once you’re safely out of hearing distance, you make your way quickly down the kitchens. A little known fact about the Hogwarts house elves was that many had once served in the homes of different wizarding families at one time or another. This meant that many of the elves were all too familiar with the valuable hangover potion that you sought.

Ducking in through the portrait hole, it wasn’t difficult to persuade the elves into handing over 3 glistening blue vials. You had always been kind to them, often chatting with them during your visits with the cats.

Your task complete, you made your way back to Ravenclaw tower, taking your time as you didn’t expect the boys to be up any time soon. They really had been plastered. Not even Enzo had been completely sober you recalled.

You’re just passing the entrance to the dungeons when a voice calls out.

“Hey! You!”

You’re ready to continue on your way before noticing that there was no one else in the corridor they could be referring to. You turn to see two girls you recognized as the Greengrass sisters hurrying towards you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the shorter blonde girl says when they get closer. You’re pretty sure that one is Astoria. “You’re the girl Theo has been seeing right?”

You nod your head cautiously. You knew Theo had a reputation for getting around, so if that’s what this was about, things were about to become quite awkward.

“You haven’t happened to see him or Matteo or Lorenzo, have you?” The other girl, Daphne, asks.

“Draco said he saw the three of them leave the party together last night, but no one saw them come back,” Astoria explains.

You feel yourself immediately relax. Good. At least this was something you could help with.

“You two are lucky you found me then I suppose,” you tell them, gesturing for them to follow. “The three of them tried breaking into Ravenclaw tower last night, so I let them crash in my dorm.”

“Oh Salazar. Were they trying to steal your cat? I’m so sorry. When Matteo gets drunk he has a tendency to try and egg Theo on,” Astoria frets.

You give the girls a strange look. “You know about my cat?” You ask, surprised.

“Oh sure,” Daphne replies. “Whole group does really. Boys came back one night going on about how Theo was just smitten with some Ravenclaw with a cute cat. And I can see why. You’re gorgeous by the way.”

You blush at her statement, diverting the subject away.

“The boys should probably still be asleep. I just ran down to the kitchens to get these,” you tell them, brandishing the potions you had gathered. “Once they’ve downed these, they’re all yours.”

Astoria eyes the potions with jealousy and you realize the two girls were probably decently hung over as well.

“Oh you can keep Theo, we were really just looking to collect Enzo and Matt,” Daphne laughs, giving you a sly look. You open your mouth to reply, but stop realizing you had reached your common room door.

After a few attempts, you’re finally able to solve the blasted riddle and the door swings open.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had this many Slytherins in our common room before,” you joke, leading the girls up to your room.

Pushing the door open, you’re unsurprised to see the boys still passed out.

“This must be the infamous Gladys,” Daphne whispers, quietly approaching Theo who was still clutching onto Gladys as if his life depended on it. Again you’re surprised that these girls apparently even knew the name of your cat.

The two coo at the sight of your cat, coming to the conclusion that she was indeed worthy of warranting cat theft before Astoria finally decided it was time for them to get the boys out of your hair. They migrated over to the other side of the room where Enzo and Matteo were sound asleep, leaving you to deal with Theo.

You decide the easiest route, may just be to lure Gladys away, so you fetch her food dish before accio-ing her kibble container. At the sound of her food, Gladys was up and running, darting over for her morning feast. At the sudden loss of fluffy heat, Theo groaned, rolling over, face down into the pillows. After giving Gladys her food, you move back to Theo, giving him a rough shake.

“Come back to bed principessa,” he grumbles, reaching out and flailing his arm in your general direction.

“It’s time to get up Theodore. Come on, I got you three hangover potions,” you say, waving one over his head.

“Did someone say hangover potion? Give,” Matteo demands from the other side of the room. You look over to see Daphne and Astoria sitting on the side of the bed while Matteo and Enzo were groggily waking up.

Pulling out her wand, Daphne gestured for you to toss her the potions which her magic catches easily, levitating the vials over to the other two boys. Matteo snatches one out of the air, quickly downing half before offering the other half to Astoria. Enzo does the same, giving the second half to Daphne who graciously accepts. After a moment, the four of them are looking much more awake.

“Thanks for making sure these three didn’t drown themselves in the lake,” Astoria says, once the potion had really kicked. “And sorry you’re not having more luck with that one. He’s always been a late riser.”

“You’ll be lucky to get him up in the next hour,” Enzo agrees, rising from the bed. “Thanks again y/n.”

The four of them shuffle out of your dorm, a chorus is thanks and apologies strung along until they reached the door. Even Matteo gave you a nod of gratitude. Once they were all gone, you collapse once more onto your bed.

“They finally gone?” You hear Theo ask, as he rolls over to look at you. You nod, faces so close that your noses are practically touching and you can feel small puffs of air as he exhales. “Thanks for last night. I’m sorry for trying to steal your cat.”

You let out a snort at that. “Did you know when I woke up this morning, you had turned away from me completely, and stolen my cat away from me in your sleep?” You ask with a laugh.

Theo at least has the decency to look embarrassed as Gladys joins the two of you once more.

“I should do this more often,” Theo says finally, reaching out to stroke Gladys’s fur.

“What? Get downright plastered and break into my room, or steal my cat?” You scoff.

“Sleep in your bed with you.”

You freeze, looking up to see if the boy was being serious. His eyes blink back at you unwavering.

“You can come back any time,” you tell him, snuggling your way into his chest, ready to fall back asleep in the boy’s arms.

“Will Gladys be here?”

“Oh my god, yes she will be here,” you say dramatically throwing your head back.

Theo grins down at you, leaning in and pressing his lips softly against yours.

“I’m only joking amore,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of your nose.

“Of course Gladys would be here, she adores me.”

“Get out of my bed.”

A/N

My biggest regret in life, is being highly allergic to cats </3

3K notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 4 months

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baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

2K notes · View notes

theostrophywife · 8 months

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stop the world i wanna get off with you.

pairing: theodore nott x reader. song inspiration: stop the world i wanna get off with you by arctic monkeys. author’s note: the theo brain rot is so real for me besties. i kid you not i listened to the song on repeat while writing this because my mans is arctic monkeys coded. plus, it was only a matter of time before we saw some smutty action from my favorite slutherin 😏 part one: baby won't you be my girl?

You were not a morning person.

Theo knew that. Hell, everyone in Slytherin knew that. Waking you up before noon on the weekend was a one way ticket to a world of pain. For some reason, your boyfriend was determined to make the top of your hit list this morning.

You groaned as Theo shifted beneath you, rousing you from sleep. He stroked your hair gently and pressed a kiss on your temple. “I have to go to practice, amorina.”

Sunlight streamed in through the skylight above Theo’s dorm, reflecting the rippling waves of the Black Lake across your boyfriend’s goose down comforter. You buried your head in the crook of his neck.

“Five more minutes,” you mumbled against his throat, relishing in his warmth. “Please, Teddy.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “You said that five minutes ago, sweetheart. Do you want your sweet and sexy boyfriend to be maimed by his captain?”

“If Malfoy so much as touches a hair on your head, I’ll turn him into a ferret again and set him loose in the Forbidden Forest.” You snuggled closer and twined your legs together. “Let’s see how threatening he can be against Aragog.”

“Sometimes you genuinely scare me, Y/N.” He wrapped his arms around your waist. “But apparently, fear is a very effective aphrodisiac for me. I’m learning a lot of new things about myself.”

“I can threaten you some more if you want,” you murmured sleepily. “As long as you stay in bed with me, Teddy.”

Theo groaned as you kissed his neck. “You’re absolutely cruel, you know that?” He tilted your chin up, pressing his lips against yours. You sighed dreamily into the kiss, morning breath and all.

Even though you’ve only been officially dating for three months, it felt like you and Theo had been together for a lifetime. You were already inseparable before, but after his confession at the quidditch game after party, you spent nearly every waking moment together. Hence waking up in his bed.

Theo placed a final kiss on the tip of your nose. “Now I really have to go.” You sighed in defeat, pouting like a petulant child. Your boyfriend laughed. “I’ll see you in the stands, babe.”

“Fine,” you mumbled grumpily.

You watched as Theo hastily threw on his quidditch uniform, admiring the view of his sunkissed skin and toned chest and abs. Thank Merlin for quidditch.

The cheeky tosser winked before heading for the pitch. You turned over in bed, burying yourself in Theo’s scent as you drifted back to sleep.

Several hours later, you finally managed to get dressed and dragged yourself to the Great Hall for a late lunch. When you got to your usual table, you found the boys and Pansy waiting for you. Draco and Mattheo were talking in hushed tones, no doubt discussing their strategy to destroy the Ravenclaws while Enzo scarfed down a plate of steak and eggs like his life depended on it. Pansy watched in disgust, wrinkling her nose at your friend.

“For Salazar’s sake, Lorenzo. You’re going to choke to death and I refuse to resuscitate you.”

“Don’t worry, Enzo,” you said as you slid in next to him. “I’m sure we can find a volunteer to perform mouth to mouth on you.”

As if on cue, a gaggle of fourth years giggled at the end of the table. Enzo didn’t seem to notice. Beside him, Blaise met your eye and shook his head. The two of you often joked that Draco took all the arrogance in their family’s gene pool, leaving poor Enzo hopelessly oblivious. The fact that sweet Lorenzo was related to someone as arrogant as Malfoy never failed to completely baffle the mind.

“Well don’t you look adorable, Y/N?” Draco drawled. “All decked out in your boyfriend’s jersey.”

You looked down at the emerald and silver jersey with the number 6 embroidered on the front, which was so big on you that the hem hit your knees. Matching streaks of your house colors adorned your cheeks and you had pulled your hair back with a pair of charmed serpent clips that writhed through your pigtails every so often.

“And up before mid afternoon, no less,” Mattheo commented.

You frowned, flicking him off before reaching for a sandwich. “Speaking of my boyfriend. Where is the little rascal?”

“Last I checked he was still on the pitch,” Draco said as you stuffed a few chips into your mouth. “Practicing to show off in front of you, I imagine.”

“I’ve seen him play before.”

Mattheo stole a chip from your plate. “Yes, but not as his girlfriend.”

You smacked his hand away and he gasped dramatically. Mattheo fetched something out of his robes and set it down in front of you. The small glass vial shimmered in the light.

“Your boyfriend wanted me to give you this.”

A motion sickness draught. Theo knew how queasy and nauseous you got during his quidditch games, so he’d concocted your own special cure for it. Hot and smart. Gods, you were lucky.

You flushed, pocketing the potion. “Thanks.”

“You idiots better win,” Pansy said. “Or else all my hard work for tonight’s after party will go to waste.”

Draco scoffed. “You mean our hard work?” He turned over to you, frowning. “Pans over here had us working harder than a house elf. I’ve got glitter in places glitter should never be.”

“Fitting for someone who thinks the sun shines out of his arse. Maybe it’ll finally teach you some humility, Malfoy.”

Mattheo draped an arm around your shoulder. “You know why our sweet little Pansy’s got her wand in a twist though, right?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “She finally plucked up the courage to invite a certain Ravenclaw to the after party.”

You squealed in delight. “Is that true, Pans? Did you finally ask Luna out?”

Pansy glared at you, practically hissing as she grabbed your elbow. “Say that a little louder, why don’t you? I don’t think they heard you across the room.”

You snorted. Your best friend has always been a little tightly wound, but Pansy Parkinson with a crush was a whole different animagus.

“Well, I, for one, am excited for this development in your love life,” you exclaimed, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s about time you did something about this little crush.”

“Says the witch who took twelve years to admit her feelings,” Pansy said with an affectionate eye roll. “Sorry love, but I’m not taking advice from you.”

“I’m choosing to attribute that to first date jitters and not a blatant insult against your best and most loyal friend.” You picked at your sandwich, waving a pickle in the air excitedly. “Don’t be nervous, Pans. She’s going to love you.”

The encouragement was met with an elbow to your ribs. You paused mid-chew, ready to give Pansy a peace of your mind when a soft voice interrupted you.

“Hi, guys,” greeted Luna Lovegood. She wore a striped blue and bronze sweater, representing the colors of her house. Strapped to her back was a set of feathered eagle wings that nearly dragged to the floor. “I love your snake clips, Y/N. It’s always great to see displays of house spirit. Beware of the nargles, though. They do love shiny things.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for them, Luna.” You said with a smile. “I’m looking forward to your commentary tonight. It’s going to be a heated match between our houses, but one thing’s for certain. The after party will be absolutely mental no matter who wins. Isn’t that right, Pans?”

Pansy nodded, the action making her sleek bob graze her sharp cheekbones. You always thought that your friend possessed an austere sort of beauty, but everything about her seemed to soften as she turned her attention on Luna.

“We can still count on you to make it tonight, right Lovegood?” There was a hint of playfulness in Pansy’s tone that you rarely heard her use. You couldn’t help but smirk. Pansy Parkinson fancied the absolute pants out of Luna Lovegood.

Luna smiled shyly, hiding beneath a strand of platinum blonde hair. “Thank you for the invitation, Pansy. I look forward to seeing everyone tonight.”

“See you tonight, Luna.”

Luna gave your table a friendly wave before returning to her own fellow Ravenclaws. You waited until she was out of ear shot before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“See you tonight Luna,” you repeated, putting on your best impression of Pansy’s husky voice. “Pansy Parkinson’s totally going to snog Luna Lovegood tonight!”

“Oh, shut up,” replied Pansy. She tried her best to look annoyed, but the small smile on her face made it rather unconvincing.

After teasing your friend for at least another hour, the two of you finally headed down to the quidditch pitch. The boys left long ago, presumably to warm up before the big game. You followed Pansy into the stands, cringing slightly at how high up the seats were.

Across the pitch, the feedback from Luna’s sonoroused voice rumbled through the crowd. “Welcome fellow students. Join me in kicking off this long awaited match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, the house of yours truly. As always, the goal is to provide live updates and unbiased commentary throughout the game, but I make no promises. Even a Corkendoodle wouldn’t be able to resist showing a little partiality. Now without further ado, let the games begin!”

The crowd roared as players from each side soared through the air at breakneck speed. You gripped the railing, thankful for Theo’s concoction as you squinted at the blur of players. As always, Madam Hooch kicked off the game by releasing a set of bludgers and the elusive golden snitch. With bated breath, you watched as she threw the quaffle into the air which marked the official start of the match.

A familiar figure zoomed past you, emerald robes streaming behind him as he caught the quaffle and cradled it under his arm. Theo circled through the air, easily outmaneuvering the chasers from the opposing team. He flew straight for a blonde Ravenclaw, making the poor fifth year think that they were going to collide before he swerved at the last second and looped around the frightened player.

“And that’s Nott of Slytherin with an excellent fake out,” Luna announced in her dreamy voice. “Oddly enough, this chaser is heading in the opposite direction of the goalposts. Another clever tactic, I presume.”

Theo brought his broom to a stop directly in front of you, hovering in mid-air while he cradled the quaffle underneath one arm. He immediately broke out into a grin when he saw you wearing his jersey.

“In a turn of events, Nott visits the Slytherin stands for a little chat with his friends,” commented Luna. “Actually, that’s his lovely girlfriend Y/N. I did warn her about attracting the Nargles, but nevertheless those serpent clips are a work of art. Oh look, there’s Pansy Parkinson! I know she looks a bit intimidating at first, but she’s really quite nice.”

Beside you, Pansy turned as red as a tomato. You stifled a giggle just as Theo pulled close, his watercolor eyes crinkling with amusement.

“My jersey looks good on you, Y/N.” Theo drawled, taking the time to flirt despite the fact that he was currently in the middle of a game. He leaned in and whispered low so only you could hear, “But I bet it would look even better on my floor.”

“Win this match and you might get your wish, babe.”

A smirk curved against his lips. “You evil little temptress. I hope you know that I’m holding you to that,” he inched closer, his gaze dropping to your mouth. “Do I at least get a kiss from my good luck charm?”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something right now? Like, I don't know, playing the bloody quidditch game!”

He shrugged, winking at you in that cheeky way of his. “I’m perfectly capable of multitasking.”

Just then, a bludger whizzed past the stands, but Theo was entirely unbothered as he flipped over on his broom to avoid the hit. Your boyfriend hung upside down, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. “Now about that kiss, dolcezza.”

“That’s quite a creative way to avoid a bludger,” Luna continued. “I once hung upside down in a tree in search of moon frogs and it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but not the most uncomfortable either. Oh! It looks like things are heating up for this lovely couple.”

“You’re an absolute menace, Theodore,” you said with an exasperated sigh before pulling him by the collar and kissing him. The logistics were complicated by the fact that he was currently airborne, but Theo smiled against your lips all the same.

“A good luck kiss,” Luna said with delight. “Those two are absolutely adorable, aren’t they? Ah, young love.”

Satisfied, Theo flipped right side up and palmed the quaffle in his hand. “You hear that, babe? We’re absolutely adorable.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Yeah, yeah. Now go out there and kick some Ravenclaw arse!”

Thanks to Teddy’s potion, you actually managed to keep your eyes open for the entirety of the game. It was a heated match with both teams playing with equal ferocity, but the boys had the upper hand. They moved as one, predicting each other’s moves from years and years of practice. Even the newest additions, Violet and Tracey, seemed to fit seamlessly into the group.

By the time you reached the tail end of the game, your throat felt raw from cheering and screaming. Pansy was in a worse state, hurling insults when one of the Ravenclaw beaters attempted to grab the tail end of Blaise’s broom.

“That was obviously a bloody fucking foul!” Pansy screamed.

“Some colorful words from the Slytherin stands,” Luna said with a little smile, making Pansy blush. “Madam Hooch seems to agree. Robinson has been fouled for blagging Zabini.”

You gripped the end of the railing as Theo zoomed past. The score was tied, but if he made this goal it would put Slytherin up by ten points, effectively winning not only the game but also the Quidditch Cup.

“You got this, babe,” you yelled. “No mercy, Teddy!”

Theo met your gaze and smirked. Vicious woman, he mouthed before careening straight for the goalpost.

The Ravenclaw keeper looked panicked as Theo dodged the other players and reeled the quaffle back. The shot was perfect, whizzing past the post so fast that the keeper didn’t even have time to react.

“Nott with the winning shot!” Luna announced cheerily. “That’s game, everyone. Congratulations to this year’s Quidditch Cup winner: Slytherin House!”

The cheers that erupted from your housemates followed you all the way to the common room. In true Pansy fashion, the large space had been meticulously decorated with banners and streamers. The music blared and the liquor flowed, marking the start of a night of mischief and revelry.

While waiting for the boys to finish showering, you helped Pansy play hostess. You greeted friends from other houses, filling their cups with your signature concoction. A fruity drink that masked the taste of liquor so well that the drinker didn’t realize they were pissed until it was too late.

“Congratulations on the win,” said a familiar voice. You turned around and saw Murdock raising his green cup in a toast.

You smiled, clinking your plastic cup against his. “Thanks Christoph. Good to see you here,” you lowered your voice, darting your head around the corner. “So things are going well with Daphne?”

Christoph smiled shyly. “Yeah, thanks for introducing us by the way. We’re going on our first date to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow.”

After his last disastrous attendance at a Slytherin party, you figured it was the least you could do for your Hufflepuff friend. “Don’t mention it, Christoph. What are friends for? Besides, it’s obvious that you two would be absolutely perfect together.”

“Who’s absolutely perfect together?” A familiar voice drawled. You felt an arm wrap protectively around you. “Besides us, of course.”

Even before you were dating, Theo had a tendency to be overprotective towards you. Most of the time he was pretty good at controlling it, but sometimes his jealousy got the best of him. It would’ve annoyed you if it wasn’t so damn attractive.

“Hey babe,” you said with a little smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I was just telling Christoph here that he should offer Daphne a drink. They’d make a cute couple, don’t you think?”

Realization flooded Theo’s features, followed by a hint of embarrassment. “Definitely,” he said with a rueful smile. “Take it from me, mate. Don’t wait too long before chasing after the girl of your dreams.”

Christoph nodded, looking determined. “Thanks, mate.”

You handed your friend another cup and pointed him in Daphne’s direction. Beside you, Theo smiled sheepishly. His hair was slightly wet from the shower and he smelled like sea salt spray and smoke. The cozy knitted sweater he had thrown on brought out his watercolor eyes.

“Nice save, babe.”

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic,” Theo said, placing his hands on your waist. “You bring it out of me, cara mia.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You know, I’d be mad if jealous Theo wasn’t so hot.” Theo grinned as you placed your arms around his neck. “But scoring that winning goal? That was downright sexy.”

Your boyfriend toyed with the hem of your shirt. “Oh yeah? Well, I had some motivation, thanks to our little bargain.” His hands slipped underneath your shirt, tracing teasing circles on your hips. “I delivered on my end. Now it’s time for you to pay up, love.”

“Good things come to those who wait, Theo.”

Theo pouted. “Fine, but only because I know you’re worth it.”

You pulled Theo in by the belt loop and kissed him, long and hard. He lifted you up and groaned as you tugged at his curls. Theo sighed into your mouth as you took control, showing him exactly how much you wanted him. You topped the kiss off by gently biting on his bottom lip. When you pulled away, Theo looked dazed.

“Fuck,” he said in a low, dark voice.

“A little preview,” you said with a smirk. “Just so you don’t think I’m completely heartless.”

“So my dorm or yours?”

You chuckled. “Theo, you haven’t even made your rounds. This party is to celebrate your win, you know.”

“Fuck the party,” he said dismissively. “You think I care about talking to all of these people after that? What do you want, love? Do you want me to beg? Get on my knees for you? I’ll do anything, princess.”

Salazar fucking save you.

You would’ve taken Theo up on the offer, but this was his moment. He deserved to be celebrated. Besides, he’d be all yours by the end of the night.

“As much as I love the visual,” you said, pecking him on the cheek. “I want you to celebrate with the team. You lot deserve it after working so hard all year.” You lowered your voice, whispering in his ear. “After that, we can go up to your dorm and I’ll give you your reward. Think you can do that, babe?”

“Yes ma’am,” Theo replied. “God you’re fucking sexy when you’re bossing me around.”

You smirked. “Good boy.”

Theo groaned before slipping his hand into yours. “Now come on, before I change my mind and claim my reward right here, right now.”

The two of you made rounds through the party, stopping here and there to talk to your respective friends. Most of the time, you were by Theo’s side watching in admiration as everyone congratulated him on the winning goal.

Even in deep conversation, Theo never stopped touching you. Whether it was the soothing rub of his thumb across your knuckles or his arm draped protectively around your waist, it was obvious that physical touch was your boyfriend’s love language.

You couldn’t help but smile at how easy it came to him, like touching you was as natural as breathing air.

“What’s that smile for, love?”

“I just really fucking fancy you.”

Merlin’s bloody beard. The smile on Theo’s face completely took your breath away. His eyes, which you often joked gave him resting witch face, lit up brighter than the sun.

“I really fucking fancy you too, darling.”

Finally, the two of you reached your friends on the other side of the common room. Blaise and Enzo were engaged in a competitive game of beer pong against Mattheo and Draco.

“The man of the hour,” Malfoy announced, clapping Theo on the back. “You fucking killed it out there, mate.” He turned back to the other boys. “We all did.”

“This calls for a celebratory shot!” you announced. “Wait, where’s Pans?”

Mattheo smirked. “Chatting up our commentator. Looks like our little Pansy’s all grown up.”

Across the room, you shot Pansy a wink as she and Luna sat rather close together, huddled on the couch and giggling every so often. You rallied the boys, raising your cups in a cheer. Pansy affectionately flipped you the bird as all six of you hooted and hollered, but she downed the liquor nonetheless.

The firewhisky must have been a fast acting agent of liquid courage because not even a second after she set her cup down, Pansy was kissing Luna. You squealed in delight while the rest of the group drunkenly cheered.

This night just kept getting better and better.

“Another one of our finest lost to young love,” Draco announced dramatically.

You rolled your eyes. “You could be too if you stopped being a coward and finally asked Hermione out.”

Malfoy nearly spat out his drink. “Granger? You think I fancy Granger? Little miss know it all, member of the Golden Trio, poster child Gryffindor Granger? Are you taking the piss, Y/N?”

“Oh please,” Mattheo said with a scoff. “We all see the way you look at her in the Great Hall. You don’t just fancy Granger. You’re absolutely smitten, mate.”

Enzo nodded empathetically. “Mattheo’s right, cousin. You should just ask Hermione out on a date.”

“Have you lot forgotten that the madwoman once punched me in the face?”

“I think she’d be good for you,” you said. “Set you straight.”

“Set me straight?” Draco repeated. “I don’t need anyone to set me straight. Especially not Granger. I mean, the witch is insufferable with her stupid curly hair and stupid big brown eyes and stupid flawless skin.”

Blaise sighed. “No offense, mate, but you’re even thicker than Enzo when it comes to girls.”

Enzo protested in response, but Draco was too busy having a meltdown to notice. His pale complexion blossomed with red as his mouth gaped open. “Do I like Granger?”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously, you blubbering idiot.”

Draco glared at you, then at Theo. “Nott, please get your girlfriend away from me before I have a full on fit.”

Theo only laughed, pulling you closer. “Gladly. We were heading out anyway.”

You hugged your friends goodbye. Draco was still frowning at his drink when you and Theo finally headed out of the common room.

“Think about it, ferret boy,” you hollered from the door. “Granger’s a catch! We could use more female presence in this absolute sausage party of a friend group.”

With that, Theo hauled you over his shoulder. You squealed, pinching his bum as he carried you out of the common room. “Alright, love. That’s enough of that.”

When you finally reached Theo’s dorm, the two of you fell over in absolute hysterics. You plopped down on his bed, spreading like an obnoxious starfish. Theo followed after, diving on top of you.

“I think you gave Malfoy an identity crisis,” he said, laughing into your hair.

You shrugged, rolling over so that you were on top of him. “He deserved it.”

Theo toyed with the hem of your shirt, tracing circles on your hips. “And what about what I deserve?”

“It’s coming, babe,” you said with a sly smile. “And pretty soon you will be too.”

“Don’t tease, cara mia.”

“I never tease,” you purred. “I only promise.”

With a satisfied smirk, you pressed your lips against his. Theo groaned into your mouth as you straddled his lap, deepening the kiss. Large hands roamed underneath your shirt, his palms rough and calloused from hours and hours of playing quidditch.

A sinfully delicious moan slipped past Theo’s lips as you trailed kisses along his jaw, throat, and neck. You sucked on his flesh, hard enough to leave marks. You liked knowing that every time he changed, little reminders of you littered his skin.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo muttered.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Theo,” you teased. “I bet I could shut you up though.”

Your boyfriend groaned like he was in pain. “Please do.”

You winked before disappearing underneath the covers. Theo’s eyes fluttered close as you continued kissing down his chest, taking the time to trace your name on his abs with your tongue, which seemed to be a real crowd pleaser. You stripped off his trousers, kissing his perfectly defined v line before licking a teasing stripe along the underside of his cock.

“Figlio di puttana,” Theo cursed, low and rough. Your knees nearly buckled. There was truly nothing hotter than your boyfriend swearing in Italian. “Don’t stop, Y/N.”

“What was that you said about delivering on my promise?” you asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. “Because it feels like I’m giving you the winner treatment right now, doesn’t it baby?”

A choked moan was your only response as you took him into your mouth. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, bobbing your head up and down in a steady rhythm. Theo fisted your hair in his hands, watching through heavy lids as you sucked your cheeks in.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, stroking your cheek. “But I’m willing to die a happy man.”

You chuckled, sending vibrations to his sensitive head. Theo twitched against your cheek as you gripped his shaft, moving along with your mouth. He continued to curse colorfully while you wrapped your lips around him. You felt him tense underneath you, signaling that he was close.

Theo tugged lightly at your scalp. “I don’t want to cum yet,” he said huskily. “Not until I’m inside of you.”

Merlin bless your boyfriend and his filthy fucking mouth. Theo flipped you over, his body pinning you to the mattress as he kissed you roughly. You gasped against his mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue in. Heat pooled in your core and flooded your body with desire.

“Theo,” you mumbled, tugging at his shirt. “I need you. Now.”

He ripped off his shirt, grinning. “Then have me, darling.”

“I want to be on top.”

You squealed as Theo rolled over, placing you on his lap. He gripped your hips and gently rolled against you. “I’m not about to argue with that.”

With a smirk, you toyed with the hem of your shirt. Theo grabbed your wrist and shook his head. “Keep it on. I want to watch you ride me while wearing my jersey.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your filthy mouth?”

Theo grinned before latching his lips on your breast. He looked up at you and swirled his tongue around your nipple through the fabric. “It’s not ringing a bell. Shall I try the other side?”

“Gods, yes.”

He gave your other nipple equal attention as you lined his cock up at your entrance. Precum coated his tip, mixing with your own slick as you slowly lowered onto his length. Theo’s teeth sank into your collarbone, muffling his moan.

“Fuck me,” he exhaled in a shaky breath.

“I am, baby.”

Theo chuckled darkly. “Smartass.”

You rolled your hips as he gripped your ass, helping you lift and lower at a faster pace. Theo’s mouth collided with yours, his hands roaming underneath your shirt and exploring every inch of you like he was trying to commit your body to memory.

The intensity of his gaze pierced you with lust and desire. He lifted the hem of his jersey, watching as his cock disappeared between your folds.

“I love watching you take all of me, pretty girl.” Theo was ravenous, littering your neck and shoulder with love bites. “You ride me so fucking well. Maybe it should be you out there on the broom.”

“The only broom I’m interested in is yours,” you quipped back. “Besides, you don’t want everyone else knowing my tricks, do you?”

“Fuck no,” Theo whispered roughly as he switched positions. He pressed you against the mattress, hooking your legs on his shoulder before smirking. “This is for my eyes only. You’re mine, amorina.”

“Yours,” you breathed as he thrust into you. The angle allowed him to slide in even deeper, hitting all the right spots as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“That’s my good girl,” Theo declared proudly. “Now fucking take it.”

The pleasure hits you in waves. The sounds that you were both making were absolutely filthy, and you were glad that music was playing in the common room below otherwise the whole of Slytherin house would’ve heard you screaming Theo’s name.

“You getting close, baby?” Theo grunted as you fluttered around him. You whimpered in response, raking your nails along his back. “I’ll take that as a yes. I want you to cum with me. Can you do that, pretty girl?”

You nodded as Theo’s slender fingers rubbed against your clit, pushing you over the edge. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, cursing as the orgasm hit you both.

Theo kissed you, swallowing your moans of pleasure as euphoria washed over you. He rode it out, hips stuttering as he finished. The two of you laid in the dark, bodies twined together while your heartbeats synced.

“Holy fuck,” you said in disbelief.

Theo chuckled. “That did feel a bit sacrilegious.”

He rolled over and grabbed his wand, casting a quick scouring charm over the both of you. Thank Merlin for magic.

You rolled over, propping your chin up with one hand. “You want to smoke a cigarette, don’t you?”

Your boyfriend shook his head. “Actually, I was thinking about quitting.”

Now this was news to you. “Oh? Has all my nagging finally paid off?”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “I’m just thinking ahead. I don’t want our kids picking up the habit.”

Your eyes widened. “Kids? As in, plural?”

Theo nodded emphatically. “Oh yeah, little Theo Jr. and his brother Mattheo don’t need to be exposed to my smoking.”

You cocked your head in confusion. “Theo Jr.? Mattheo?”

“Don’t ask. I lost a bet.”

“You better be taking the piss, Teddy.”

He chuckled. “Mostly. I am quitting smoking and I am looking forward to a future with you, our hypothetical children’s names to be further discussed.”

“You absolute menace of a man,” you said, cuddling him with a wide grin. “I fucking adore you, do you know that?”

“I am stupidly in love with you.”

You giggled as Theo peppered kisses on your face. “Malfoy’s right. We’re truly revolting.”

“Oh, absolutely vile.”

Theo tucked you into the crook of his neck and kissed the top of your head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you mumbled sleepily. “I love you, Teddy.”

He pulled you close and smiled. “I love you too, Y/N.”

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luveline · 9 months

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𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you get upset when eddie's friends think you're clingy. he sets you straight with some unbridled affection. requested here. fem!reader, 2.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The diner is bustling with life and smells alike, people in their summer jackets eager to sit down and dig into a plate of greasy, fatty meats. You're just as excited, your fingers curled into Eddie's sleeve and following his lead as he weaves through a gaggle of kids playing between the bar and the booths.

"Sorry, sir," a young girl says to him, springing out of his path.

"That's okay," he says, leaning back to squint at you curiously, "Do I look like a sir?" he asks you.

Pale faced, dark-haired, the remnants of last night's eyeliner clinging to his bottom lashes, you can't say you'd look at Eddie and think, Sir. Pretty boy extraordinaire with a rather inviting smile, absolutely.

"I think so, sir," you say.

Eddie laughs at you, pressing a hand behind your shoulders to move you along. His friend Gareth waves from a booth tucked in a corner under a white sconce. Jamison sits to his left, and Margaret to his right. You feel a little skip in your pulse at the sight —they intimidate you, and you want desperately for them to like you, only you never know what to say.

"Hey," Eddie says as you approach the booth. He pushes you gently to encourage you into the seat first. "How's it going? Did we order?"

"We were waiting for you. They said we have to go up to the bar when we're ready."

"We're late, I get it. Where's Jeff?"

"He went to the bathroom, like, ten minutes ago," Jamison says with a sigh, climbing to his feet. "I'll go see if he's alright."

"He's fine. Maggie, are you coming to order?" Gareth says, getting up with him.

"Yes, finally!" she says.

The relative chaos of your arrival has you hesitating in your seat. Margaret left her purse and her jacket on the table, and Jamison his keys.

"You okay to stay here while I order?" Eddie asks.

You'd much prefer Eddie order for you, but you don't want to be sitting here by yourself if Jamison and Jeff come back before him. You won't know what to say. It won't be their fault. You'll make things awkward for everyone.

You stand up again, shedding your jacket as you do. No one's gonna steal anyone's stuff, the bar is too close. "I'll come with you."

Eddie slots your fingers together easily, grinning, "Lucky me."

His friends order first and return to the booth soon after. You and Eddie get cut by a cranky looking old lady but neither of you say anything, nowhere to be and no reason to mind. He tells you about the guitar he's been repairing at work and you listen adoringly, in love with the shape of his lips and how he says every word. He's a great storyteller.

A new friend appears once you've ordered.

"Hey, Eddie!" one of the waiters says, appearing from the kitchen with a tray of drinks and fries in hand. "Man, I've been trying to get a hold of you all week. The string on my daughter's guitar flew off, nearly blinded her in the process, would you be able to fix that for me? I'll pay you for your time."

Eddie waves it off. "It'll only take five minutes, you can drop by whenever I'm home. Why do they keep splitting like that, is she messing with the pegs?"

"She definitely is. Can I get your number? Macey washed my pants without emptying the pockets."

There's a mad scramble for a pen. You have one in your jacket because Eddie's always looking for one, but your jacket is back in the booth. You promise to make a hasty return and set off for it, glad to see Jeff's alright, standing at the table likely waiting for you and Eddie to get back rather than move your things. You like Jeff most out of everyone. With the whole group collected you know he won't drag you into conversation.

"She's a bit… much," Gareth's saying.

"How can she be a bit much? She doesn't say a lot," Maggie says.

You frown. You're the only other she.

"Not like that, just– the touching and stuff. She's always grabbing onto him like a toddler. I don't think I could stand it."

"You don't have to stand it," Jeff says. "She's Eddie's girl."

"Clearly."

"Gareth, when was the last time you got laid?" Maggie asks, flicking a hair tie at him, to his annoyance. "You're being bitter. They fucking love each other, man, it's nice."

"It is a little tiny bit too much sometimes," Jamison says.

You wince. You know it's a matter of seconds before one of them turns to see you standing there. Is it worse to turn around or to approach?

You walk up to the table just as Gareth says, "Yes! Thank you man, she's too–"

He cuts off when he sees you with a cough.

"Who?" you ask, full well knowing it's you. Honestly, you're shy but you still get mad, you kind of want him to own up and say it while you're there, and at the same time you're hoping against hope they'll lie.

Thankfully, they pretend it was about someone else.

"Nobody," Maggie says.

"Some girl at the library," Jamison says.

You lean past Jeff with as sunny an apology as you can manage to grab the pen from your jacket. "Eddie," you say by way of explanation, holding the pen up with a shrug.

You walk away quicker than you should. It's obvious you've overheard. There's a thump and a, "Nice fucking job, loser."

Eddie's deep in conversation as you offer the pen. He takes it without stopping, but he makes sure he kisses your cheek.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, okay?" you say.

"I'll be right there, sweetheart."

To get to the bathroom you have to walk past the booth again. With the hurt feeling pounding between your ears and what you suspect might be all eyes on you, you make for one of the two doors. The summer sun and the dry Hawkins heat hits you immediately, a second layering of smothering to wrap around the first. You walk around a rainbow chalk hopscotch and into the shade of the smoking shelter, hands at your collar, breathing hard.

Don't cry, you think firmly. Don't cry. They'll know if you do and that's twice as embarrassing as walking out. Imagine how embarrassed Eddie will feel if you cause a scene.

You sit on the little perch in the shelter and stare at the floor. There's nowhere to look that isn't stingingly bright, the sun in the white-blue sky glaring down on you and the sidewalk bleached a blinding ivory. You close your eyes against it. Your shoulders hunch in protectively. Your hands find their way to your face.

Like a toddler, Gareth said. You press your fingertips into your eyes, fighting against the ache. Is that true? Are you childish in how much you rely on Eddie? You take his hand and his arm, you catch onto his clothes when you're worried, you step behind him when you're overwhelmed.

"Shit," you whisper.

The breeze washing over you does little to cool you down. You must sit there for a handful of minutes, worried and nauseous.

"Hey," Eddie says gently. You flinch despite his best efforts not to startle you.

He looks tall outlined by the sun.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I just wanted some fresh air," you say.

He raises his brows slightly. "That why Gareth just apologised to me?"

You wince as he sits down. All of you wants to sag into his side, but a small voice tells you not to. You stay ramrod straight, hands pressed flat and clammy to your knees.

Eddie gives your elbow a rub. His thumb digs into soft skin and the harder suggestion of cartilage and bone before sliding up. He uses touch often to convey silent reassurement. This seems to say, I don't know what happened, but I'm here.

"I'm fine. We can go back inside," you say, attempting to fool him.

"There's no rush." His voice tips to a low, rough register. He's keyed in to your upset, no doubt about it. "It's a nice day, babe."

He gives you a minute. The small feathering of clouds skirts one edge of the horizon to the other, the shadow of the diner stretching tall as the sun lazes down. You push the worst of your feelings from your mind. It's easy to do with such an unshakeable support at your side, his fingers curling down to your forearm, vying for a hand to hold.

"I heard your friends talking about me. It wasn't all nice," you confess.

"Assholes."

You glance at his face. He has a crease between his brows.

"Well, mostly Gareth. He said that I… act like a kid. A toddler, that I'm too much, at least for him to stand. And don't get me wrong, Eds, I'm not thrilled that they were talking about me, but I guess I…" You take a short breath and look away from him. "I hate that it's true."

"You can be mad when people talk shit. I'm mad," he says. "He said you're like a toddler?" He shuffles closer to you on the bench. "Babe, it's not true, okay? You're not too much. Fuck, we're here to hang out and they can't wait ten minutes to run their mouths–"

"It wasn't like that, it was just Gareth." Gareth's always been the selfish friend.

"He doesn't get a pass for saying something shitty 'cos he's always shitty. I brought you here," —you peek at him, recognising upset in his tone even when it's the barest inkling— "knowing you didn't really want to come because you get so nervous," —he sounds pained for you— "I fucking told him to leave you alone. I said we wouldn't come around if he didn't stop being a mood killer."

You worry at your bottom lip. "Maybe that's kind of his point, Eds. You have to look out for me. You had to ask someone to be nice to me 'cos I can't handle it–"

"You don't have to handle it. The people around you should be nice to you. This isn't high school, you don't have to put up with it, and I told him that." Eddie grabs your arm with the hand that isn't tangled in yours and turns you to face him. "I'm sorry," he says, almost a murmur, "I didn't invite you today to have you humiliated."

You're feeling a little mortified by the passion of his feelings. He's mad at the wrong person, isn't he? "Why are you sorry? I'm the one who clings to you."

"I want you to." Eddie holds your eyes, brown and big and imploring you to listen, the starts of his brows sewing together. "I'm sorry because it's not fair. And because Gareth was a dick to you. And for getting mad." He smiles at you ruefully. "I'm being a dick, too."

"In what world?"

Eddie leans in slowly, giving you enough time to close your eyes as his nose bumps into yours, encouraging your head up to allow for a kiss. He kisses twice, a third time, pulling away to rub your bottom lip.

"Are you really upset?" he asks softly.

You know whatever answer you give him is one he's okay with.

"I feel so embarrassed," you say. "They knew that I overheard them. Now I feel like I'll be constantly worried about how much I'm touching you."

"Well, that's their problem. That doesn't say shit about you," Eddie says, wrinkling his nose.

"I'm really not too much?" you ask. He can likely hear how desperate you are for a kind answer, your throat burning with the effort it takes to stave off tears.

"You've never been too much. I'm the too-much one. You wouldn't even hold my hand when we first started dating, you remember that? We'd go to the movies and you'd get so flustered when I bought your ticket." Eddie's arms wrap around your waist, the breeze ruffling his sweet curls and sending gusts of his smell your way. You're a goner, dropping your face into his shoulder. "Do you remember that?" he asks again, his face slipping down to yours as he hugs you close. "The first time we went to the Hawk together, I went first, and I don't know why you thought you'd have to buy your own ticket but you got all quiet when I got yours, too. I loved that. You know what I loved even more than that?"

You smile, knowing he's going to say something lovely. "What?" you ask.

"I loved how proud you were to sit down with me. You wouldn't hold my hand but you'd put your cheek on my shoulder just like this."

Eddie rubs the tip of his nose against your temple. "I love how much you want to be near me," he says. "It's not childish, is it? If being closer to me makes you feel better, there's nothing wrong with that. Gareth's just jealous 'cos he isn't getting laid."

"That's what Maggie said." You laugh.

"Maggie's a good one. She makes Gareth bearable, kind of."

You feel the stretch of his back under your hands. Your head is pounding from the sudden rush of big emotions, your tongue dry and throat aching, but you don't have a lick of urgency to get up and go back in.

"He's such a dick," you whisper.

Eddie laughs, patting your back. "Such a fucking dick."

"I can't help being a loser and wanting to hug you so much," you say. You're joking now, but it's true all the same.

"I tempt the untemptable," he says agreeably.

You laugh and lift up a bit to hug him harder, your face pressing into his neck.

"You're not a loser," he says more seriously. "You know that, right? What Gareth said, it's not okay, but there's no accounting for idiocy." Eddie sits back on the bench, taking your forearms into his hands for some more soft massaging. "He can think whatever he likes, I'm not the government, but he was wrong, and also it's rude and, again, super shitty of him to do that here. So with your blessing I'm gonna punch him in the face."

"Nooooo," you murmur.

"Very soft no. Taking it for a yes."

"Eddie, you can't hit Gareth."

"He should watch his mouth, then."

You reach up for a second hug. You love that he prioritised how you felt, as well as how eager he is to stick up for you —how mad he is on your behalf.

"He's trying to take this away from me," Eddie says, leaning back under your weight, arms crossing behind your spine. He looks up at you like you've stolen his breath, lips parted and teeth peeking out with his smile.

"Do you really want to punch him?" you ask. You sound very fond.

"I hate that he made you feel bad about yourself. And he irritates me."

"But…"

Eddie hums like he's thinking for a moment. "No, I definitely still want to hit him."

You tuck a curl away from his cheek tenderly. "Thanks for wanting to defend my honour, Eds," you say.

"I'm on your side through everything." He looks ridiculously pretty saying such a ridiculously lovely thing. "That's how we work, right? You're on my side too?"

Your face flushes with heat. "Of course I am, baby."

"Good. Unrelated to our previous conversation, how much money do you have, roughly? In case I need financial aid in the coming days." He drops his voice to a whisper, "How much even is bail lately?"

You cup his cheek. "We can't afford it," you whisper back.

"Typical."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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piratefishmama · 3 months

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i would really like "Works at a museum" Eddie, maybe as a tour guide or something, to find himself hopelessly attracted to a mysterious boy in a painting. A painting that's been there for years, the boy isnt named, there's no information about him anywhere and Eddie has looked, if only to settle a deeply seated curiosity that wont leave him.

was this boy as beautiful inside as he was outside, he doesnt know, he doesnt think he'll ever really know, he's an endless mystery from a time long since forgotten.

Until the boy walks through the double doors of the museum with a gaggle of highschoolers cause "no seriously Steve he looks JUST like you trust us!!"

#prompt #maybe reincarnation AU

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grugruel · 4 months

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Save a Horse

Pairings: cowboy!bucky x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Its girls night out, but when you see a handsome cowboy, you have no other option than to take him for a ride.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: fluff, Pet names (girl, ma'am, doll, sugar (once), darling), slight praise, body worship, cowgirl, pinv sex, southern Bucky, cockwarming, creampie, sundress kink.

AN: I lied, I was so excited to write cowboy!bucky so I posted it first.

The sounds of heels hitting pavement surrounded me as I held the door to the bar open, letting my girls pass me. We were out for our typical ladies night.

We sound like a gaggle of hens as we enter, giggling and gossiping as were already a bit drunk from dinner. The sound of music and crowded voices fill the gloomy, yet cozy lit bar.

Our group steps up to the counter, placing our orders when one of the girls nudges me, 'Honey, be descreet ok? That stud over there.' She says quietly, nodding her head to the right of us, 'Hes totally checking you out.'

I furrow my brows, doubting her words and all girls turn their heads at the same time, checking out this supposed stud.

And boy, was she right.

Sat by his lonesome, brooding and hunched over his drink, his gaze was observing me from under his hat. When he notices us all staring he chuckles and smirks, nodding to the empty seat next to him. The girls whisper to me in various terms of encouragement and surprise like 'Holy shit!' And 'Go get him, girl.'

I shake my head and laugh, mouthing "Later" to him. 'Lets just get a table.' I tell the girls with a bright smile.

The night goes on, but unable to keep my eyes to myself. They drift toward the handsome cowboy by the bar and more often than not, I find him already looking.

'Girl, if you dont want him, we'll take him.' They say, all agreeing with the statement.

I look at them with round eyes 'Oh my god, fine.' I snicker.

'Hurry!' They shout as I stand up.

'Im going, im going!' I assure them, and make my way to the bar. I look behind me, to find the girls giving me thumbs up and waving their hands in shooing motions.

I hear a low whistle coming from the pool table nearby, and turn to see a man looking at me up and down. Staring at my bare legs and slightly seathrough dress, it was the middle of summer after all.

I wink at him in good spirits as I turn back and saunter toward the bar, sidling up to the handsome cowboy. He observes his whiskey glas and says 'I was startin' to think you'd never come.' A charming smile on his lips.

I sat down, 'You doubtin' your abilities?'

He shook his head and met my eyes, 'No, ma'am. I just dont like being presumtious.'

'Confident, not boastful. I like that.' I told him truthfully.

'I was hopin' so.' He said, that charming smile making its way back to his lips, 'You seem to be a popular girl.' Eyeing the man who whistled at you.

I wave the bartender down, 'That bother you?' I ask, and give the bartender my order.

The cowboys eyes drift over my body, admiring what he sees. Nothing the way my leg is poking out of the slit in my sundress. 'No ma'am.' He jerks his head, then says under his breath, 'I can see why.' And smiles to himself.

'What was that?' I asked, the sound of a crowded bar dulling my hearing.

He points at the bartender, 'Told him to put it on my tab.' He lazily excuses. The bartenders nods hesitantly, looking at me for confirmation.

I hummed in agreeing, a smile tugging on my lips, 'I can pay for myself y'know.'

'I never doubted.' He said with a genuine smile, 'Please, let me be a gentleman miss.'

I put my hads up, 'Well, alright.'

He tipped his hat to me in gratitude. I observed his features as he did the same, 'You never told me your name.' I tilted my head to the side, looking deeply into his eyes as if I could tell the name from the hue of blue alone.

'My real names James, but they call me Buck out here.' a gleam of mischief appearing in his eyes. Making me eager to know why, I already had a few guesses. 'And yours, miss. . .?'

I shook my head, looking at him through my lashes in challenge 'Now, that. . . You'll have to earn.'

He nodded and pursed his lips, my answer seemed to humour him, 'Thats a challenge im willin' to accept.' He told me.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping our drinks. The tension hung in the air around us, and so did the origin of his name, acuriosity eventually got the better of me.

'So, why do they call you Buck anyway. If I may ask that is.'

He laid one arm on the bar, holding his glass and leaning against it for support 'You may guess, I'll tell you if its right. Scouts honor..' He answered, his voice cheeky.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile threatened my lips, 'S'pouse thats fair.' I studied him, his clothes were well worn, nicely fitted but roughed up and dirty. 'Farmer maybe-' I began and he was about to cut in, to answer for me, but I stopped him, 'Hold on, thats not my final guess.'

I reached for his hands, opening them to look at their state. Big and calloused, 'Hard worker, it seems. Your hands are at the very least.' I pointed out and met his eyes, looking at him through my lashes.

'Thats a promise darlin'.' He said earnestly, but with a hint mischief in his tone. And supposedly nothing ulterior behind his words. I took his chin between my fingers, moving his head so I could get a good look at his face. A few scrapes, same with his hat.

'Can I look at your hat?' I asked, and he obliged, taking it off of him.

He leaned forward, his eyes ruefull 'You can try it on if you want.' He said in a low voice, ment for my ears only.

'Is that right?' I teased, pleased expression on on face.

'I think it'd suit you.' He told me, shrugging.

'Could you roll your sleeves up for me?' I asked him, ignoring the latter. Nothing ulteiror behind my words either, supposedly.

But man, as he rolled them up and I saw those strong veiny arms? Something definitley set aflame inside me. But I also noticed a big bruise under his forearm, leading up to his elbow, as if he'd fallen on it.

'It wouldnt be my first time wearin' a cowboys hat, boy. Not my first rodeo either.' I said. A smile spreading across his face as he nodded, approvingly. 'Speaking of, you do rodeo dont you?'

'Yes, ma'am.' He said, impressed by my deduction.

'You strong in the saddle, that why they call you Buck?'

'I stay on, most of the time.' He admitted.

I hummed, 'Theres something more to it though, isnt there?' I asked, and he nodded. 'You got a reputiation for bucking cowgirls out of the saddle?' I joked.

He laughs, but doesnt deny it.

The bartender cuts in, 'Indeed, he does.' And winks at me, I return a flattered smile. He leans toward me, resning his forearms on the counter 'Next drink 's on the house, little lady.' He whispered, a flirtatious smile on his lips.

'Why, thank you.' I said politley, ignoring the bad flirting.

The cowboy looked between the two of you, chuckled, then settled his gaze on the bartender.

'Careful there Chief, I already had my eyes on this one.' He said and nodded his head in my direction.

The bartender, whos aparent name is Chief, smiled at Buck, 'Yeah well, you cant have em' all.' Chief said in a gruff voice and gave me a quick look, smiling confidently. When he looked back, the cowboy had raised his eyebrows in question, wordlessly comunicating something along the lines of "You sure you wanna do this?"

The bartender licked his lips, thoughts of regret circling his head.

'Boys, boys. . .' I tried, a bad attempt at calming them.

The bartender closed the distance between him and Buck in long pompous strides, leaning over the bar slowly, settled his head next to him in a calm and collected motion, then kept his voice low but hasty 'C'mon Buck, you can get any girl you want. Let me have this one, please.' He begged, his voice betraying him as its high-pitched nature shone through.

His bad attempt at a whisper made me giggle, and earned me a smirk from Buck.

'I believe that fine lady over there can hear just fine, bud.' He whispered back, making the bartender look at me in horror. Quickly rebuilding the facade of confidence over his face and the flirtatious smile to go with it. However, nervousity was making it crack. 'Besides.' Buck continued, 'Nothing says she'll chose either of us.'

I looked between the men, it was an obvious choice. 'Reputation or not, I'll accept that challenge.'

He met my eyes with a grin, grabbing the top of his hat and placed it on my head. He pulled my hair back from my face and laid it behind my shoulder so he could see my face better. I could hear chearing from our left, we both looked and saw the girls whooping and clapping.

The bartender backed off in defeat, but a smile clad his face.

'So you were a scout?' I teased, a humored expression on my face.

'Yes, ma'am.' He nodded, forgetting he didnt have his hat to tip. So I did it for him.

I laid my hand on the nape of his neck, burrying my hand in his hair, 'So, how about it cowboy. Wanna take me for a ride?'

He smiled and bit his lip, 'I thought you'd never ask.'

He took my hand and led me to his car in a hurry, we ran through the dim, rainy night and next thing I know im sitting on top of him in the backseat of his truck.

I kiss him fiercly, eager to taste him. Hes trying to slow me down, but im aching for more him. 'Girl.' He says, trying to grab my attention as I kiss his jaw. And when I dont stop, he cups my face and pushes me backward so that he can get a look at me, 'Slow down.' He whispers, stroking a strand of hair behind my ear as he studies my face. 'Theres no hurry. I want all of ya', not a second.' He says and smiles.

I wasnt used to this, I had one-night stands before for sure. But they we're always in a hurry, using me for my body and nothing else. Bucks comment made me blush, suddenly shy. I had to turn my face the other way as I realised that he was actually paying attention to me, and not just chasing his own pleasures. 'Sorry.' I said under my breath.

'No need to apologize girl.' He assured, hand reaching for my chin. Gently taking it between his fingers and turning my head to face him.

'Youre a real gentleman, arent you?' My smile was faint, as I thought about previous encounters. Memories making me appreciate his soft touch.

'I try.' He grins, not in an egotistical way, but rather proudly. 'Thats how I was raised.' He nodded, stroking a line over my lips with his thumb, 'Just, beautiful. . .' He mumbles, as his eyes follow his thumb, observing the movement of my lips.

'They did one hell of a job.' I say, kissing his cheek.

'They'd appreciate that, I was one hell of a gangster growing up.' He chuckled as his hands fell to my shoulders, and continued sliding down my arms, taking both straps of my dress with him.

'A gangster with manners, who treat women right.' I pointed out, a sigh leaving me as his touch aling with the cool air prickled my skin.

'Well.' He paused, his eyes flickering over my exposed skin as he squeezed his way down my arm in massaging motions. 'I would be nothing without the women in my life.' He says, kissing my shoulder 'Men would be nothing without women, to put it simply.'

His words caused me to bite my lip, a pulse settling deep in my uterus. I lean into him, unbuttoning his shirt and slide my hands underneath. Feeling his warm skin and strong muscles under my fingertips. His shirt catches on my wrists and I slide it off of his shoulders, then drape my arms around him and nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. 'Just when I thought you couldnt turn me on more.' I whisper and kiss him gently.

He grunts appreciatively, 'Oh how you'll take those words back when youre screamin' my name sugar.' He says and kisses his way along my neck. Stirring the butterflies in my stumache.

I kiss along his jaw as his lips reach my cheekbone and eventually we meet lip to lip, ghosting eachother as he leans his forehead against mine. 'You're perfect doll.' He says under his breath, his air alone tasting divine. I blush and close the final distance between us, kissing his lips.

Heat builds within us as our movements grow hungry. His hands roam my body, rubbing my thighs and grabbing my waist. 'Can I look at ya'?' He asks, desperation in his voice. Whimpering almost, but not quite.

'Mhmm.' I hum, and slide the straps down my arms. The dress falls down my torso and bunches at my hips. A sharp intake of breath comes from him as his eyes study me, the curve of my breasts, waist, and everything else. This time, however, I dont turn shy. Because I know that there is nothing but admiration behind his gaze, his eyes basically turning heart-shaped.

'May I?' He looks at me, pleading, begging.

'Yes, please.' I Whimper.

And in the flash of a second, hes on me. Hunching down to take my breasts into his mouth, hungerly sucking. I moan, my breaths heavy as the smacking and slurping sound of his mouth on my flesh symphonises. The windows begin fogging up, clouding the view of the parking lot, hiding our identities but showing our intentions.

His hands slide over my thighs and under my dress, toying with the hem of my panties. Pulling on them and then letting go, making them snap back and sting my skin. I yelp from the sudden sensation, he let's out a muffled laugh against my skin. I bite my lip and burry my hands in his hair to gently pull at my pleasure.

His hands move under my panties, holding my hips in place. I grind down on his lap and immidietly, my core touches his erection. We both freeze, he let's go of my breasts and pull back to look at me. Our eyes meet, gazes flickering between eachothers eyes in silent communication. Eventually, we both agree.

Under the sound of rain hitting the truck, we clash together in a feverish kiss as I unbuckle his belt and zipp down his jeans, he rips my panties apart and pulls his member out. Our movements are hasty and filled with want, needing the other so incredibly bad. I sit up as Buck lines himself up with my entrance, we lock eyes and I slide down onto him, his size filling me perfectly.

We gasp in unisome as the sensation sinks in, smiles chasing our lips.

I start moving and he grips my hips to help my movements. Soon, we have set a needy rhythm, both chasing our highs. He leans back to take in the sight, my breasts bouncing along with the rest of my body. I move my hands to take his hat off, but he shakes his head. 'That hat shows your mine, girl.' He says between the smacking of our skin, luring a smile onto my lips, 'And Id like to keep it that way.' Panting, a grin spreading over his face.

My knees grow weak as pressure builds within me and my movements grow irregular, a whimper manifesting in my throat. Buck circles his arms around me, pulling me close to him and suspends me above his lap as he begins thrusting into me roughly. 'I got ya', such a good girl.' He whispers, doing the all the work for me.

My stumache flitters from his words, 'Fuck.' I moan, 'Just like that, Buck.' My breathing becomes ragged as his strong arms hold me.

I rest my head on his shoulder, his thrusts rocking my body entire body. My gaze drifts to the condensation on the windows, observing how the water droplets bunch and grow bigger as they slide down the glas. My vision blurring, 'Im close, Buck.' I whisper, 'Fuck me.'

He lets out a breathy chuckle, 'Thats what I've been doin'.' I adjust my hips, so that I can grind my clit against his abdomen. I shut my eyes hard as I'm tipping over the edge.

'Let me hear you doll.' He moans.

I moan a string of curses, screaming his name as I topple over the edge. He's thrusts falter and he grunts as his own orgasm arrives right after mine. He comes deep inside of me and let's up on his hold around me. He moves his hand to my back, gently massaging circles while the other stokes hair from my sweaty forhead. I slide down onto his lap, member still inside me as we exchange exhausted breaths.

Suddnely-

A knock sounds on one of the windows, startling me terribly. I yelp, 'Holy shit!' pushing myself closer to Bucks chest in an attempt to cover some of my naked body.

'Sorry!' The man said, 'Didnt mean to scare ya' lady.' hastily turning his face away, profile cloudy through the window. He cleared his throat and continued, 'It's getting rowdy in there Buck, I could really use some backup.' His voice reminding me of the bartender.

'Fuck. . .' Buck sighs, 'I'll be right there chief.' And the bartender leaves. Hastily, but not rushing, he helps me dress, pulling up my dress straps and reaching into the passenger seat for his worker-jacket to wrap around my shoulders.

I smile, 'Thank you.' And pull my arms through the sleeves, 'You really don't have though.'

His eyebrows furrow, 'Of course I do.' He says matter of factly, sounding very confused.

'But you'll need your jacket.' I protest.

He grins, 'So? You'll be returnin' it tomorrow.' He grabs my waist and lifts me off of him, the sound of his member sliding out of me making a sick suctioning sound and he tucks himself away.

I tilt my head in question, my turn to be confused. 'Tomorrow?' I ask, as he opens the truck door and steps out, holding his hand out for me to take and looking at me expectantly. I give him a slanted smile, his kindness making me feel undeserving, I forget his earlier statement. I slide my hand into his and shake my head, almost in disbelief. 'You're too kind.'

'I'm not, and you'll learn that you're worth it.' He says, meeting my eyes and shutting the door behind me. I blush, and look away. But he grabs my face and turns me to face him, he smiles and strokes my cheek with his thumb. 'I was hoping you'd stay over, I'll take my jacket tomorrow when it's warmer.'

Warmth spreads inside me, partly because of Bucks seed still in me. I clamp my walls shut to avoid it leaking out while I'm standing. 'I'd love to cowboy, but I gotta tell my friends, and use the bathroom. . .'

He raises an eyebrow in confusion, then it hits him, 'Oh right.' He chuckles, grabbig his hat to ruffle my hair with it. 'Yes ma'am, of course.' He says and kisses my temple, then laces his fingers together with mine and lead me back towards the bar.

'Hey.' He says, stopping in his tracks 'Have I earned your name yet?' He gently yanks me back, snaking his arms around me.

'I'd say so.' I chuckle, standing on my tiptoes and leaning closer, whispering my name into his ear. Then stand back.

Buck grins, 'Just as beautiful as the rest of ya' he says, and pulls me into a kiss.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #cowboy!bucky

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steddiecameraroll · 2 months

Text

ao3 - "Destined to be surrounded by a bunch of geeks"

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Robin. Funko pops are the modern day beanie babies.” Steve shrugs as if he didn’t just compare Eddie’s precious collection to tiny stuffed useless animals from the 90’s.

“How dare you,” Eddie glares at Steve through the corner of his eye, as he gently slides his newest conquest carefully onto his bookshelf.

“Think about it. They’ve been saying they’re going to be worth something in the future. Just like they said about beanie babies. You’re keeping them in their boxes. For what? Resale value?” Steve puts his hand on his hip like the cocky bastard he is.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Eddie tries to ignore Steve’s logic. The perfectly reasonable logic.

“You should take one of them out of the box at least. What about this one?” Steve taps the top of Eddie’s Aragorn.

“No,” he replies quickly.

“What about this one? It looks like Mike.”

Steve’s pointing to Frodo. Frodo. Freaking Frodo Baggins. Steve thinks Eddie should take his Frodo out of the box.

Mike?

“Wheeler?”

“Yeah, look at him.” He pulls the box from the shelf and holds it up in front of his face. “Hi Eddie. I’m an ungrateful asshole who stalks around constantly frowning.”

Eddie stares in amused wonder at Steve’s high squeaky imitation of their shared child. How does he have such a violent crush on this goofball?

Steve peeks around the box with a tiny smile, gauging Eddie’s reaction.

“How did I ever think you were cool?” He snatches the box from Steve’s hands and slides it back into its spot on the shelf.

“I’m cool,” he attempts suave and casual by leaning back against Eddie’s desk.

Eddie avoids running his eyes down Steve’s now raised chest, and keeps his gaze focused on the man’s smug face.

“You’re as much of a dork as the rest of us. Can’t deny it now, Harrington. I’ve seen too many dorky handshakes and heard you accurately reference Star Wars. One of us, one of us,” he jokingly chants.

Steve rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in a sigh. “No chance for escape now. I guess I’m stuck with you-you all, all of you.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows with a cock of his head. Was that a flub? A misstep? A fumble or Freudian slip?

Hmmm.

“Yeah, you are.” Eddie takes a couple slow steps forward closing in on Steve’s space.

Steve doesn’t move, keeps his arms crossed and his eyes on Eddie’s stalking form.

“You’re fated, big boy. Destined to be surrounded by a bunch of geeks. One or two hot ones,” he playfully tosses his hair over his shoulder. “But a bunch of geeks nonetheless. So that makes you a geek by proximity.”

“I’ll be the second hot one,” Steve bites back a smile and ducks his chin down a little.

“Put us together and we’d be unstoppable.”

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s been flirting with Steve from day one and can’t stop himself now. Steve sets him up constantly and it’s not Eddie’s fault that he always takes the bait. So sue him if he leans into the game they’re always playing.

“There’s a thought,” Steve murmurs.

Eddie’s ears are immediately red because that is a thought. A thought Eddie has had a lot. A thought Eddie had this morning in fact.

“Us teaming up?” Eddie takes the last couple of steps to Steve’s position, sidling up to his right and brushing their shoulders together.

“Something like that,” Steve nudges Eddie with a secret kind of implication.

He can’t mean the same thing Eddie means, right? No. He’s saying something else.

“We’re already coparenting the gaggle of assholes. Us teaming up seems like an easy transition,” Eddie muses.

Teaming up, getting together, making out, fucking like rabbits. Whatever Steve wanted.

Steve doesn’t respond right away and the silence feels like a weighted pause. He tilts his head toward Eddie and lets his eyes dip. Out of nervous instinct, Eddie licks his lips and he actively sees Steve’s pupils widen.

Jesus.

Steve slowly pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, biting across the soft skin until it pops loose, leaving a perfect gap for Eddie to imagine sliding his tongue in between.

Eddie feels caught, trapped, stuck in place. He’s breathing heavier than necessary since they’re standing in place. No need to be huffing so hard at their stationary stances. It’s not like they’re working up a sweat.

But, oh god, they could.

“It-it really does doesn’t it?” Steve sounds a little breathy and it’s doing something to Eddie’s ego.

This doesn’t feel like play flirting.

No.

This feels like real flirting.

“What do you think, Stevie?” Eddie pointedly drops his eyes to Steve’s mouth before continuing. “Should we…? Get together? Take over the world?”

Steve nods silently, a little wobbly and loose, almost like his head is filled with space.

Then before he can make a sound, Steve is pinning Eddie against his desk. Their lips are smashed against each other in an uncoordinated effort of desperation.

And holy shit, does it feel good to be Eddie Munson.

Vecna could take him now and he’d be happy. Scratch that, Vecna can take him in about 35 minutes cause Steve is fumbling with Eddie’s belt.

#idiots to lovers #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiecameraroll posts #steve x eddie #ficlet #steddie ficlet #my writing

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monzamash · 8 months

Text

off the record — lando norris

"the line between personal and professional was already so blurred; so incomprehensibly faint that anyone looking in would have to squint to see it." lando norris x you (femreader) | 2.1k rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language, drug references) masterlist

The media pen was mayhem after what had been an eventful morning on track. Cameras hoisted every which way, journalists vying for their chance to get front row. And then there was you; little old you trying your best to muscle into every nook and cranny available, wrestling with the big boys and girls. You were a bit of a hot shot now, rising through the ranks online as a media personality and bringing it to the stalwarts of mainstream media.

And you were good – really good. An exceptional storyteller and an extractor of sorts when it came to getting the scoop, something you had honed in on during your days working freelance before eventually realising your potential. Somehow, you’d made it here. Reporting for Sky Sports. Coming to you live from Monaco. Dream shit.

“Lando Norris…” You started, microphone locked and loaded in front of the sweaty, nonchalant McLaren driver.

“Felt like you left a little bit out on track in practice this morning. P10 – where do you think you can get the car in qualifying this afternoon?”

“P1 obviously,” Lando quipped, chewing through his comically large drinking straw in an attempt to hide his smirk. Mocking.

“Yeah?”

“What do you reckon?” He asked, leaning forward ever so slightly with a mischievous glint in his eye that had you rolling yours.

You shrugged, “Wouldn’t count the McLaren car out, that’s for sure.”

“The car and…” Lando smirk widened, lips still pursed and baiting.

“The driver too? Maybe?” Dickhead.

“Maybe that too…” You gave in with a sigh, eliciting a wide smile from the man standing in front of a gaggle of reporters, waiting for your next question with snickering expressions.

“So high expectations going into quali then?”

It had always been like this with Lando from the moment you stuck your little hand held recorder in his face at Bahrain last year to now. He knew he could wind you up and find levity in whatever situation he found himself in at the end of a session – good or bad. It was always a friendly back and forth between journalist and driver. Harmless banter to make the monotony of the media pen just that little bit more bearable. Professional, until it wasn’t.

“The flirting is getting out of hand,” You whispered into his kiss, teeth clashing, hands fumbling as you fell back on your hotel bed with a huff.

“But you look so fucking cute asking me questions like that,” He growled in retort, hands making quick work of the jeans clinging to your hips – the ones that had been taunting him all day.

Everywhere he turned he saw you swaying from side to side, aching to have this moment with you now.

“Well duh,” You quipped confidently, eyes fluttering shut as his feverish lips ghosted above the damp patch of excitement between your thighs. Focus.

“But it has to stop.”

“Oh you want me to stop right now?”

“I’m not talking about…” You stopped mid-sentence when you caught the mischievous glimmer in Lando’s eyes, lips pulled into a smirk, “Okay, fuck you.”

“You love it,” He breathed out in barely a whisper, leaving a trail of marks down the inside of your thigh before finally giving you what you were waiting for.

“And don’t pretend like the thought of me going down on you when you’re asking me those silly little questions doesn’t turn you on.”

Well he fucking had you there.

Lando punctuated his point with a long, teasing stripe to your cunt before burying himself between your thighs, only coming up for air when you tugged on his curls and demanded a kiss. He knew how you were, how needy and insatiable you could be. This was a thing now; a god forsaken mistake in Australia that had turned into a runaway train. Neither of you could stop it.

“I can’t live without this.”

The desperation spilled from your mouth in a guttural moan as you titled you hips upwards and let the twisted knots in the depths of your stomach unravel. The sight of you thrashing in pleasure below knocked the wind out of Lando, eyes and mind focused solely on fucking you through your high so perfectly, fingers bruising the buttery flesh of your thighs.

“God – fuck…” He could barely breathe, “Don’t – you don’t have to.”

And with one last pump, he was coming into the condom he’d slipped on without you even knowing. It was second-hand now, muscle memory and so fucking good. But it didn’t start that way – no, it was awkward goodbyes and a cold ‘thanks for that’ which made you regret ever answering your hotel door. The situation had changed in the blink of an eye – now he was lingering, kissing you in places that had you melting into the mussed sheets and begging him to stay a little bit longer.

It was pathetic how reliant you’d become and how distant you could be when he had to leave. The leaving part was the thing that changed and had you questioning all of it. It used to be that you could go shower and come back to an empty bed and not even flinch. Four months of he is just a causal fuck, no hard feelings to now not being so stoic on that sentiment but you wouldn’t admit that. Not to yourself and especially not to the man peering down at you – all lazy smiles and dimples and ocean eyes. You were fucked.

“I gotta go,” Lando whispered, brushing the stray strands of hair from your flushed face, pout present and needy.

“You don’t really though.”

“If I don’t go now I’ll never leave.”

The little voice in your head was monologuing – screaming out all of the reasons why he should stay because maybe deep down that’s what you wanted. But you couldn’t have that. The line between personal and professional was already so blurred; so incomprehensibly faint that anyone looking in would have to squint to see it. It was the devil on your shoulder that tormented you when it came to Lando, pushing the boundaries more and more every time you had him in your clutches. Risking it all.

“Kiss me before you go.”

And he did. Passionately, like a man in love because maybe he was. Maybe he had been for a lot longer than he’d realised – somewhere between Miami and now he let his guard down too far, too soon. You were flawless though, unattainably perfect that he couldn’t be blamed for falling victim to your allure – sharp eyes following you around the paddock, wishing he was the little notebook in your back pocket that garnered all your attention on race weekends.

“See you tomorrow?”

“If you’re lucky,” Lando quipped, knowing he would be the one curled up in his cold, lonely bed for the rest of the night waiting impatiently for tomorrow.

In any other circumstance you would think the two of you were like magnets, drawn together amongst the travelling circus that was your workplace. But you had a job to do and that was to seek out drivers and team principals, digging deep for any story you could find. There was a trust that you’d built with the teams, all of them respected your work and knew that you weren’t malicious; in fact you were the opposite.

“I really appreciate you not writing about my drunkenness last weekend… It wasn’t my finest moment unfortunately.”

Oscar was a rookie driver but also a total sweetheart, who admittedly had found himself in a precarious late night adventure in a Miami nightclub post-grand prix. How he ended up that drunk, you had no idea but you saved him from himself with the help of Lando, who Oscar would’ve thought was suspiciously close by if he wasn’t black out drunk.

“I got you, buddy but I think your Australian citizenship might have to be revoked after an effort like that… Very disappointing,” You teased in jest, both smiling into the blistering Monacan sun as you walked side by side into the paddock.

“I woke up with an L on my forehead which I can only assume Lando put there so I think my ego’s bruised enough thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah,” You cringed, “That might’ve been my eyeliner.”

“Is that right…”

Oscar’s tone was laced with suspicion but before he could quiz you on why you were still there that night and that he had started to notice the budding friendship between you and his teammate, he was being whisked away by one of his McLaren publicists. You were thankful that they'd taken his curious questions away – how the tables had turned.

Lando was watching you wander through the paddock behind his dark sunglasses, as had been the trend all weekend. Every time you glanced around he was there, wondering if he could sneak over and say hello. Sure, you were friends with a few of the drivers outside of work but when you stepped over that white line, the barriers of professionalism came up again. They had to, otherwise you would end up in a situation like this – gawking at someone you shouldn’t be.

But god he looked good.

He wore what he knew was your biggest weakness – a backwards cap and the black denim jacket he slung over your shoulders on that dark, stormy night in London a few weeks ago when Imola was cancelled and you needed a fix. Hotel hook-ups only. And all of this had you asking yourself, how on earth could you deny a good morning from the man who was the subject of your every desire?

“Good morning.”

“Well it’s not a bad one,” You smiled, more energised than Lando who was yawning into the crook of his arm, “Late night?”

He loved it when you did that. Sneaking little inside jokes into seemingly innocent conversation, naughty reminders of the nights you shared together when nobody was watching. The cheeky grin tugging on his lips a definite tell-tale that he enjoyed it – the tells getting easier and easier to spot the more you got to know him. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought that maybe he was into this as much as you. Little did you know.

“Yeah just squeezed in a late cardio sesh – you know how it is…”

A soft ahh slipped from your smirking lips, eyes trained on your path ahead as Lando strolled alongside, “What’s on the agenda today?”

You shrugged, half out of genuine cluelessness and the other half deflecting how nervous you were. Working in the media was your dream but walking through the hallowed halls of a sport you had loved for your entire life and that dream coming true made your stomach churn with every emotion under the sun. Especially in Monaco.

“You nervous?” Lando asked quietly, shaking you from your thoughts and panicked that you were talking out loud.

“Huh? Oh…” You waved him off and chuckled, “No – I mean, yeah but I always feel like this on race morning… But obviously you’re probably a lot more nervous than me so it’s nothing…” You were a stuttering mess and all Lando wanted to do was reach out and give you a hug.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. This was your little secret, a delicious secret that only the two of you knew and he didn’t want to ruin that. Instead, he dug his hands into his jean pockets a little deeper and gave you a reassuring nudge. Shoulder to shoulder, the same way you laid together the night before after what could only be described as the best sex of your life. Lives.

“My mum always said that nerves mean you care,” Lando’s voice was lower than before – a seriousness taking over, “You’ll do great, as always.”

“Thank you,” You matched his tone, “Hopefully I’m interviewing Lando Norris, Monaco Grand Prix winner…”

That’s all you really wanted deep down. Not the breaking story of the weekend or the drama surrounding contract talks at Red Bull. Just for the guy you had grown profoundly fond of to have some semblance of good luck for once. He’d worked hard for it, you’d seen it first hand and you’d seen the heartbreak when things weren’t going his way. Alas, that was what started this whole situation – frustrated post-race sex. Chef’s kiss.

Lando simply rolled his eyes and sighed loudly before leaning in a tiny bit closer than what you considered a safe workplace distance, “Kiss for good luck then?”

“Get the fuck out of here!” You laughed, kicking his calf with your platform boot as his infectious cackle of a laugh echoed through the growing crowd.

You watched him disappear somewhere between the motorhomes, searching for his team. The lingering feeling in your stomach made you slightly nauseous and a little excited for the next run-in with him. It was like a game of cat and mouse and you weren’t sure who was who but you liked it. More than you wanted to admit because he was Lando fucking Norris – f1's most eligible bachelor, the naughty boy from Bristol, all curls and dimples and undeniable charm. You couldn't help but wonder how many others he had wrapped around his finger like you.

He's just a casual fuck, you mumbled under your breath as you flicked open your notebook and got to work.

masterlist | askbox

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #monzamashmasterlist #lando norris x reader #formula 1 imagine #off the record fic #off the record series

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

Note

Virgin Eddie prompt: giving him head and sucking his balls for the first time, no one has ever done it before and he’s just shocked pikachu meme and nearly blows his fuckin load immediately

no thoughts head empty just this prompt

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), blowjobs, ball worship, ball sucking, deepthroating, gagging, gentle bullying, goth!reader, tongue piercings.

Word Count | 1.1k

A/N | i am so sorry this has sat half completed in my drafts for weeks because i'm trash!! i hope you enjoy it and it was worth the wait <3!!!

If somebody were to ask Eddie Munson how he spent his usually mundane Tuesday evening, the last thing they'd expect him to reply with would be "Getting blown by the sexy goth chick from the local corner store in the back of my van." And yet, that's exactly what was happening.

You had thought he was cute for a while, ever since you'd first set eyes on him when he moseyed into the store one day with a gaggle of fifteen year olds looking to buy a pack of Marlboros.

"And you're sure that you're not gonna leave this store in two seconds and sell each of these for a dollar to these kids?" You'd asked, dangling the pack between your fingers, clicking your tongue and tsking at him.

Eddie had balked, stuttering over his words as he watched the glint of the silver ball peeking as you rolled your tongue in your mouth, cock kicking up at the sight of you smirking at him, "N-no, ma'am. They're - they're good kids."

He'd walked off flustered, and you'd given yourself a pat on the back well done. What you didn't expect was to see him at least every second day for the following two weeks, until you finally plucked up the nerve to corner him after closing and force your way into his van with him.

"Sh-shit," Eddie's whining, hands grasping for purchase in the material of his threadbare blanket that was laid out underneath you both as you suck him down into your throat wetly.

You weren't cocky by any means, but you knew how to suck a dick.

Your throat widens to allow Eddie's cock to breach, a slight gag trying to make its way up but you shove it down, adamant you're going to blow this silly boy's mind and show him just how good you could be. His cock is big, you'll give him that - thick and girthy, unlike any other you'd seen before, never mind willingly put in your mouth.

The cool silver of your tongue bar glides along the underside of Eddie's cock as you bob your head up and down, catching and dragging on a vein as you suck and lap at the flushed, salty skin, relishing in the choked off, wet sobs you're eliciting from Eddie's pretty mouth in return. Your lips meet your fist wrapped around his base, jerking him into your mouth until a dribble of precum slides down your throat.

"Jesus Christ, oh god," Eddie's crying out, he can hardly look at you other than to flit a glance down every so often then throw his head back again, unable to watch as your eyes water and your mouth widens around him. You chance at taking your other hand away from his thigh, ghosting your fingertips along his balls, and he bucks up into your throat, gagging you in the process.

Your throat closes, tightening around the head of Eddie's cock and he does it again, fucking his hips up into your face until you're unravelling your hand from the base and shoving his hips down, his cock sliding out of your mouth as you gasp for air, "Naughty boy," you tsk, meeting his apologetic gaze.

Eddie is clearly inexperienced, you question if he'd ever even had his dick touched by anything other than his own right hand or a pillow, and suddenly the urge to want this to truly blow his mind overcomes your entire body.

You slide down further, until your mouth is level with his balls, hands heavy on his inner thighs and spreading them a bit wider. You don't think you'd ever called genitals pretty before, but the soft hang of Eddie's balls, his thick, pink cock slapping heavily on his belly, genuinely is a pretty sight. You can't help yourself, tongue snaking out to lick at the seam of his sack.

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” Eddie’s hips buck up off of the floor, hand running through your hair as you nuzzle into his heavy sack, tongue licking a flat stripe before you’re sucking one into your mouth, the cool ball of your piercing sending him reeling, moans echoing into the room, “your mouth is fu-fucking sinful, goddamn.”

You hum with your mouth full of his balls, hand wrapping around his cock and jacking it hard and fast - twisting at the head, swiping a thumb over the slit as you suck and spit on his sack. Eddie's legs begin to shake, a telltale sign this is about to come to an end, and you find yourself grinning against him.

Eddie hazards a glance down at you, his flushed, leaking cock sliding in and out of the grasp of your wet fist, your plump lips swollen around his balls, your tits jiggling and spilling out of the neck of your shirt and he's gone;

"I'm gonna - shitshitshit," Eddie fists a hand in your hair and you moan, vibration bouncing off of his skin, balls drawing up in your mouth as he comes, hot and hard all down your fist, some of it shooting so far it lands in thick ropes on his shirt.

You jack him through it slowly, his spent ballsack slipping from your mouth until he's jerking away from you because of overstimulation, whining and pushing you by the shoulder gently.

You gaze up at him from between his thighs, aware that your eyeliner is probably smeared down your face from the tears, red lipstick staining your chin, drool pooling down your neck and between the crevice of your tits, "Was that okay, pretty boy?"

Eddie splutters, unable to look at you properly for fear his cock would kick up in interest yet again, giving away just how ridiculously inexperienced he was, "Yeah, yeah. It was good - great, even!" He's hasty with his words, trying not to upset you with a lackluster reply.

"Not too bad for your first time, right?" You smirk as you pull yourself up onto your knees, patting his bare thigh. Eddie's eyes widen, finally looking at you properly and he looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up - you were right, had hit the nail on the head with your assumption, "It's okay, Eddie. I like the inexperience, means I can show you a few things. Same time tomorrow?"

Eddie's cheeks flush dark when you wink at him, making to stand up and unlock the door of the van. You jump out gracefully, slamming the door shut loud enough that it echoes into the cool night air.

And when Eddie appears at dead on closing time the next night, you can't say you're surprised to see him, a cheeky smile gracing your features as you lock eyes.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #my fanfic #mine #smut

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steddiejudas · 7 months

Text

STWG Daily Drabble 9/30/23

prompt: drunk talk

“Ssteeeve! Over.” Dustin’s voice comes over the radio, staticky and slurred.

It’s 1 AM, Steve has a shift first thing in the morning, and he really should be sleeping, but he’s been nervously awaiting this call all night. His kids are finally leaving the nest, going to their first party and he knew this meant they would be calling him for a ride at some point, so he kept the volume up on his radio. When he doesn’t answer fast enough, a whole chorus of clumsy voices crackle over the radio.

“Steven Anita Harrington! Over.” Mike starts giggling like a mad man at the very incorrect middle name he’s decided to give Steve. In the background, Steve is pretty sure he can hear someone throwing up.

“Are you guys okay?” Steve asks, and then after a moment of silence, adds: “Over.”

“Thank you, Steven! We are great! Over.” There’s a cacophony of giggles and Steve is pretty sure they forgot why they even called,

“Do you need a ride? Over.”

“To where? Over.”

“Y- Dumbass, to your homes. Okay stay where you are, I'm coming to get you.” Steve zips a hoodie halfway up his bare chest, too tired and annoyed to put a shirt on, and grabs his keys on the way out the door. He’d had the good sense to make them tell them who was throwing the party, and a couple minutes later, he’s pulling up to a house that’s not too far from his own. He spots his gaggle of drunkards immediately, the lot of them huddled around the radio, shaking it and hitting the side like it’ll split at the seams and drop candy. “Hey! Dumbasses! Get in the car,” he hollers.

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas look up from the radio, dumbfounded. “Steve, what are you doing here?” Lucas asks.

“Dude, I just told you I was coming to pick you up.”

Mike scoffs and puts an arm around Will who, yup that definitely was puking he heard, because Will is doubled over in the bushes. “You didn’t say ‘over’, dumbass.”

“Just get in the car! You guys are sleeping at mine tonight, or your parents will kill me for letting this happen.” The boys stumble towards the car, fighting over the handle for the front seat when a large hand appears out of nowhere and pushes them out of the way.

“Nuh uh kiddos, respect your elders. I ride shotgun.” Eddie says, swaying only a fraction as bad as the kids. They grumble, but agree and help Will into the backseat. “And a good evening to you, boys.” Eddie says, staring directly at Steve’s chest.

From the back seat there’s a chorus of “Boo! Weak! Do better!” Even from Will, who is barely holding his head up off Mike’s shoulder. Eddie takes the challenge as Steve starts driving back to his house.

“I’ve always wanted to live in the jungle,” he says. Steve has to swat Eddie’s hand away from running through his chest hair, desperately trying to be annoyed and not aroused in front of the kids. But Eddie knows Steve knows he has a thing for his hair, and Steve has a thing for anything that gets Eddie riled up.

“What are you even doing here, Eds? I thought you were at home.”

“Team bonding?” Eddie tries.

“He was selling drugs!” Dustin hollers, absolutely zero control over his volume.

Eddie whips around in his seat to yell “You motherfucker!” at Dustin.

“Nope,” the kid retorts. “Pretty sure that’s you.”

When they pull into Steve’s driveway, he orders the kids to go to the living room and go to sleep. The boys slowly fumble their way out of the car and through the front door, all the while Eddie stares at Steve with a lusty fire burning in his eyes.

“You wore that just to torture me, didn’t you?” Eddie asks.

“Eddie, I didn’t even know you were at the party. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“OR we could stay out here and fog up these windows.”

“Nice try, my beautiful little distillery, you are far too drunk. Now be a good boy and get in bed, and maybe I’ll let you pet me you little weirdo.”

Eddie unbuckles and throws the door open so fast that he trips over his feet and face plants getting out of the car. He hops up, no worse for wear, and turns around to salute Steve. “Sir, yes sir!” He yells, and sprints through the house to Steve’s bedroom.

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #yet again one of these prompts has gotten away from me

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judasofsuburbia · 1 year

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something something kindergarten teacher! steve who is so tired of going on bad dates. kindergarten teacher! robin who doesn't want him to give up.

“Really? The date went that bad?” Robin asks again.

“Yes,” Steve drones. “I swear she looked like she’d rather be at the dentist than on a date with me.”

Robin makes a sad face at him. Steve continues to sort the paint jugs and throw out any that have been mixed with other colors. Robin finishes putting toys back into cubbies and sanitizing the fake food.

“Okay so,” Robin starts.

Steve immediately holds up a hand. “Don’t say ‘maybe she’s not the one but someone is’. I’m sick of this, Rob. I feel like I’m just better off alone.”

“Not true,” Robin argues. “You’re a catch. You’re attractive and good with kids. You make me laugh so hard my ribs shake. You’re a great listener and you make amazing cocktails. Great helmet of hair. Who wouldn’t want to date that?”

Steve’s heard it all before. He loves Robin, he does, but it doesn’t seem to matter what she thinks of him because no one in this town wants to make it to date two with him.

He used to be so good at this. Always had a girl on his arm at football games in high school. Always had a date to prom. Always had some girl to make out with at parties. Even when he realized later on in his twenties that he liked boys too, he still couldn’t find one that took his attraction seriously.

Steve Harrington? Like both? Unheard of, apparently.

Still, Steve didn’t want to start the first day of school on a bad note. “Thanks, Rob. I might need to lick my wounds for a second but I’ll get back on the horse I promise.”

“Good because our marriage pact could be closing soon,” Robin mumbles with a sly smile.

Steve’s head whips around. “Are you‒”

“I have a ring picked out,” Robin practically squeals.

Steve does his best to gently set down the paint jugs and rip off his latex gloves before darting across the room to pick Robin up in a twirling hug. He kisses her head repeatedly until she’s groaning, giggling, and shoving him off.

“Rob, that’s amazing,” Steve breathes. He squeezes her tightly again.

“You better keep your mouth shut,” Robin warns with a pointed finger. “It’s so hard to surprise Nancy Wheeler but I think I’m finally going to be able to.”

Steve’s grinning from ear to ear as he mimes zipping his mouth closed. “Secret’s safe with me.”

The alarm on Steve’s phone breaks them out of their little love fest and suddenly the halls are filled with parents, children, and teachers gabbing to high heaven. Robin gives him a salute before crossing over onto her side of the classroom. Technically, there is a foldable partition between the two rooms but it will be a cold day in Hell if Robin and Steve ever actually separate their classrooms.

Steve goes to stand by his door and greet his new gaggle of students. He high-fives each of them as they walk through the door and points to their assigned cubby and seat.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s looking around the room and sees that two seats are still empty. Dustin and Max Munson. He didn’t see them at parent-teacher night last week but he knows from their file that they’re fraternal twins from a single, widowed dad. He tries to keep an eye out for them but he knows the other kids are getting restless.

Then he hears, “Oh, Mr. Munson, you’re actually in Steve’s‒sorry, Mr. Harrington’s class. He’s just right across the way.”

Steve glances across the room and does a double-take. Across the room is the alleged Mr. Munson, this tall, lanky man with curly brown hair that hits his shoulders with a blank bandana tying down the top of his head, big brown eyes, a leather jacket with pins, a white tank top, and coverall sleeves tied at his waist. He’s positively breathtaking.

Holding either hand are Max and Dustin. A little redhead with a baseball cap, overalls, and a striped shirt. A little brunette curly head with green khaki shorts and a shirt with a dragon on it. Mr. Munson smiles apologetically at Robin and walks across the room to Steve’s. Dustin bolts to his assigned seat and starts talking animatedly to Will Byers who looks a little scared out of his mind but is quickly rescued by Mike Wheeler who is just as excited. Max stays glued to Mr. Munson’s side as he walks up to Steve.

If Steve’s not mistaken, Mr. Munson looks him up and down before speaking.

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Munson says and of course, his voice is pretty too. “This one is a little nervous about being away from her dad.”

Steve draws his eyes away from the strong neck and pale collarbones that poke out from underneath his jacket to the scared girl. He bends down to her level and gives her a soft smile.

“Are you Max? I’m Mr. Harrington,” Steve says.

Max blinks, inching more and more behind Mr. Munson’s pant leg.

“School’s kinda scary, huh?” Steve asks.

Max nods.

“I know I get a little nervous on the first day and I’m the teacher,” Steve admits in a small, dramatic voice. He sees the tiniest sliver of a smile on Max’s face. “I’ve sat you next to Lucas Sinclair,” Steve points to the smiling kid on the other side of the room. Lucas gives a small wave. “He’s a very nice boy and I think he even likes the Bulls,” Steve gestures to Max’s hat. “So, I think you guys will have loads to talk about. We’re gonna have a really fun day, okay? And then you’ll get to tell your dad all about it.”

Max glances timidly around the room again and slowly lets go of her dad’s pant leg. Dustin rushes over and shows Max where her cubby is which detaches her completely. Max sits next to Lucas who does get very excited over her hat. Steve and Mr. Munson watch her relax little by little.

“Holy sh‒shirt," Mr. Munson coughs and smiles sheepishly. "Wow, uh, you really know how to talk to them. Literally made her a friend within five seconds."

Steve stands and tries to regain composure now that the irresistible dad’s attention is on him.

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly. “The first day is always a little tricky.”

Mr. Munson holds out his hand and says, “Eddie.”

Steve takes it, feeling a little dizzy over how firm his grip is and the callouses on his hands. “S-Steve. Harrington.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it last week. Last-minute towing emergency for Chief Hopper,” Eddie says, finally dropping Steve’s hand.

Steve playfully rolls his eyes. “I’ve been telling him for years that he needs to dump that old hunk of junk already. I’m guessing you work for Munson Mechanics?”

Eddie smiles boldly and glances down at his attire. “Yeah, that’s where I get this sick uniform. Very exclusive.”

“I’m jealous,” Steve laughs nervously, trying desperately to keep his eyes on Eddie’s face. But even then, his eyes are so pretty and his smile is so radiant. There’s faint stubble on his upper lip and jaw. Steve wants to run his fingers over it amongst other things.

“Well, I won’t keep you much longer,” Eddie smiles, clapping Steve on his back. “Maybe I’ll get you a free oil change for your trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble‒”

Eddie leans forward a little and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. He whispers, “Or maybe I just want to see you when there are not twenty five-year-olds staring at me.”

From this proximity, Steve can smell his cologne and lingering car oil. He can feel his brain cells dying every second he inhales the intoxicating aroma. Steve breathes shallowly, too aware of the growing blush on his cheeks, and says, “S-sure. I’d like that.”

Eddie smirks and has the audacity to wink before going to each of his kids, ruffling their hair, and kissing them goodbye with a big wet smack on their cheeks. He passes by Steve again and murmurs, “I won’t say goodbye to you like that. Not yet, at least. Good luck with my little gremlins” before walking out the door.

Steve hears the clunk of his boots echoing down the hall and each step makes his heart beat louder against his ribs.

He dares to look at Robin across the room who is staring at him with a smug grin on her face. She mimics getting on a horse and does a little lasso with her hand.

Steve adjusts his glasses, clears his throat, and says in his best teacher voice, “Alright friends, who’s ready to start kindergarten?”

EDIT 2/8: READ THE FULL FIC HERE 🤠

#KINDERGARTEN TEACHER STEVE MY FUCKING BELOVED #emily writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #ronance #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #max mayfield #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #steve harrington/eddie munson #teacher! steve harrington #mechanic! eddie munson #dad! eddie munson

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