#then there was a time shift where he was like a teenager running around on the grounds
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cherry
summary: ghost finds out about your side gig
simon ‘ghost’ riley x camgirl!reader
warnings: mdni (18+), smut, unprotected pinv, porn/nudes, masturbating (m+f), rough sex, choking, praise, licking?, tattoos, mention of scars, blowjob, fingering, sex on camera, biting, rank kink if you squint, ooc!ghost
a/n: I got a req for a 141 member/camgirl!reader x ghost but I can’t find it so I’m so sorry if this was ur req but it’s here now! fair warning I know very little about sex work so I hope this is mostly correct
Ghost's brain is in a fog, his eyes wide as they watch the screen, he turns his phone off in a panic, Soap had sent him a link, a simple text that would change everything about your relationship, sure he had thought about you before, you were beautiful, talented, and braver than any soldier he had met.
He'd be lying if he said he hadn't pictured you, bent over with your ass in the air, waiting for him to fuck you but he kept it professional, maintaining a strictly platonic relationship with you around base.
It can't be a coincidence, the woman in the video has the same tattoo of a cherry, on her right hip, directly above her ass, it's the same tattoo that he'd seen a hundred times when you'd tugged your sweater off when you'd stretch and your shirt would ride up a little. He can't see your face, covered by a balaclava which he found ironic, but the woman bears a strikingly familiar body type to you.
He paces around his room for a minute, comparing you to the woman, before deciding to watch the video again, strictly for research purposes.
He shifts his hips in his seat as he feels his cock twitch, he's entranced by the noises that are falling from your lips, your moans going straight to his length, he watches you fuck yourself using a toy, stuffing it inside your dripping core like he so badly wanted to. He palms himself over his jeans, desperate to gain some friction against his erection, he watches your breasts bounce up and down as your slick drips down the toy, coating it in a sheen.
Without thinking he unzips his pants, groaning as he wraps his fingers around his length, biting back a moan as his thumb runs over his leaking tip. He strokes his cock in time with your movements, imagining that it was him you were moaning for, that it was his cock stretching you out, making you feel good.
A string of curses falls from his mouth as his orgasm hits him quickly, spilling onto his stomach, coating the skin in his warm spend. He drops his head back, catching his breath before looking back down, the realization of his actions hitting him as he shuts his phone off.
He blatantly avoided you at work the next day, practically running away every time he saw you, it was like a Pavlovian response, every time he saw you he saw the woman in the video, his mind flashing through the images as the blood rushed to his cock. He'd have to run to the bathroom to jerk off, needing to get rid of his erection quickly, he felt like a teenager again having to excuse himself in the middle of meetings.
During one of the team's conferences you had dropped your file, bending down to pick it up, his eyes glued to your lower back as your tattoo peaked from your shirt, squeezing his eyes shut, willing his mind to behave.
It had to be you, he was sure of it, what he didn’t know is if Soap had caught on yet, or how many others he’d sent the link to, it made him mad, he hated the thought of anyone else on the team seeing your body, he’d grown slightly possessive over you throughout the years, requesting to be paired with you on missions, always keeping a close eye when the team went to the pub in case some stranger tried it on with you.
In a strange way he was offended that you’d never told him, he thought you were close enough, he knew about your life outside of the team, where you lived and what you did with your free time, hell he knew how much you made with the 141, it didn’t make a lot of sense to him why you even needed to have some sort of side gig.
It plagued his mind for days, deciding if he should bring it up to you or not, the last thing he wanted was you to be uncomfortable with the fact that he’d seen the video, but he was curious.
He couldn’t chalk it up to simple intrigue anymore, sitting in his flat his fingers clicking on links that lead him toward your entire page, he couldn’t fight the temptation, the boxes that asked for his information staring back at him as he subscribed, the new access to your videos making his cock twitch in his jeans.
It was like he was watching an entirely different person, such a stark contrast to your personality at work, he thought he knew you but apparently not, he craved you, your touch, your body, he had to do something about it.
It took him till noon the next day to even speak to you, spending the morning awkwardly staring at you, turning away when you’d notice, he was always confident in his work, but this, it was something that felt so far away.
“What’s with you?”
Your words take him by surprise, whispered in a meeting room whilst Price spoke about assignments, concerned eyes gazing at him, he felt his throat dry, unable to ask the question he wanted to as you wait for a response.
“I’ll tell you later”
You nod with furrowed brows, receding into your chair and turning your attention to your Captain, your thoughts about Ghosts nervous state playing in your mind.
You wait for him after the meeting, watching as the room empties for a moment alone with him, you’d always been concerned for his welfare, knowing enough about his personal life to check in with him every once and a while, but he’d never been antsy, avoidant of you completely, it worried you.
“So what’s wrong, you’ve been steering clear of me for a week”
“Right, well um” He scratch’s the back of his head, his eyes drifting from yours.
“Out with it Lieutenant”
“Soap sent me a link”
“Okay?”
“Well, I’m not positive but, do you, make videos?”
“Videos? What kind of videos”
“Porn videos”
“Oh” The words ring in your ears, you’d never thought anyone you knew would find them, “Yes, I do, is that a problem?”
“No, not a problem” He waves his hands in defence, “Just unexpected”
“Why is that unexpected?”
“Just doesn’t seem like something you’d do”
“Does Soap know?”
“He knows of one video, not sure he thinks it’s you”
“Okay”
He nods, turning his eyes to yours, there’s no embarrassment behind your gaze, no shyness.
“If you don’t mind, keep this to yourself”
“Of course”
“How did you know, that it was me”
“The tattoo”
“The one above my ass”
He nods
“So you watched the video”
It’s his turn to be embarrassed, his cheeks flush under his mask, visions of your naked body flashing in his mind, forcing the blood to his groin.
“I did”
You eye him up and down, watching him fidget under your gaze, “What’d you think”
“Pardon?”
“About the video, what’d you think” Your relaxed state has his heart beating fast, you’ve been exposed entirely to him and you’re asking his opinion on your body, he can’t lie, no matter his response your friendship is changed forever.
“Good”
“Good? That’s all”
“What do you want me to say, that I watched it more than once, that every night for the past week I’ve stroked my cock thinking about you”
“Only if it’s true”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me”
“Didn’t know how you’d react”
“I never would’ve thought of you differently at work, except now you’re all I think about”
“And that’s a bad thing”
“If it didn’t give me a hard on during work it would be fine”
“During work?” You smirk a little at his words,
“I can’t help it”
“I can”
His body freezes at your response, your tone is serious,
“What are you saying”
“Meet me at my flat, 6pm” You wait a moment to gage his reaction, his body tense as he blinks at you, stopping for a moment before nodding.
It was like the rest of the day couldn’t go by fast enough, rushing through meetings and paperwork, watching the clock tick as he sat in his office, your proposition was everything he had been dreaming about, damn your friendship, the way he saw it there were two outcomes, either your sex is strictly professional and for the benefit of your friendship, or it becomes a regular thing, moving past any sort of platonic arrangement, god he hoped for the second one.
He was oddly calm now, the elephant in the room dispersed, he could talk to you like he always did, as a friend, he’d never had an issue with casual sex but more often than not his endeavours began and ended in a single night, using them as an outlet for his stress and moving on, this felt different, he knew you, he liked you, as soon as the clock hit 5 he was on a mission to get to you.
Stopping at his flat after work to shower quickly, changing into civilian clothes and tossing on his balaclava before making his way to your flat. He sat in the driveway for a few minutes, working up the courage to knock on your door before his phone buzzed.
Get out of my driveway, come in
There was no escaping now, you knew he was here, your words dragging him from his car towards your door, he didn’t even knock, you opened it standing there, eyes staring up at him as his mind froze.
“Bloody hell”
Whatever he was expecting, this was not it, your body clad in a black lacy set, sheer stocking that ended at your thighs carrying his eyes toward your sex, barely covered by your panties.
“You like it?”
He can’t form words, settling on a simple nod as you smirk, grabbing his hand and dragging him into your house, from the angle that he walks behind you he can see the rest of the set, the thin black string that connects from the front of your panties, the little bows that hold your bra together, he just wants to reach forward and untie them.
“Sit for a second”
He does as you say, resting on the couch as his eyes are glued to your form, “I have an offer, you don’t have to say yes but I need your full consent before I do it”
“Okay?”
“Would you be down to record us, for my page”
“Like, I record you?”
“More like we record us”
“You want to record us having sex?”
“Only if you’re okay with that, I wouldn’t show your face obviously, and I’d keep it completely anonymous, plus you’d get half the revenue”
“Okay” He doesn’t even think about it, honestly the idea of being able to watch himself fuck you over and over had his pants already tightening.
“You’re sure?”
“Let’s do it”
You wait a few minutes, having him sign a few papers and establishing any rules you may need, offering him an out at any time in case he was uncomfortable.
“Are you clean?”
“Clean?”
“When’s the last time you went to the clinic?”
“Oh, clean, yes I’m clean, I get checked every month”
He’s safe, responsible, a new piece of information that makes you happy, you didn’t know a lot about his sexual endeavours but this was a checkmark in your books.
“Okay, you ready?”
“Is there anything specific I should do?”
“Whatever you feel like, pretend the camera’s not even there, it’s just us”
“Okay”
“And remember, if anything’s too much or you want to stop at any point, say Delta"
"Got it"
He watches you cross the room, leaning to adjust the camera, his eyes focused on the red light that clicks on, it's pointed toward the bed. He stands still as you move back to him, positioning yourself directly in front as you stare up at him through your lashes, you rest your hands on his chest, moving your fingers toward the bottom of his shirt as they find their way underneath it, bunching the fabric as you push it up.
He keeps his stare on you as he lifts his arms, helping you to take his shirt off, his breath heavy as you press kisses on his sternum, your soft lips trailing across his chest. His hands find purchase on your waist, holding you, his breath hitching as you part your lips, flattening the muscle on his skin and licking small lines over his scars, you kneel lower, your breath ghosting over his skin as you keep your eyes on his, your tongue tracing a line down the centre of his abs as you make your way toward his hardening cock.
His hands move to hold your jaw, his chest rising with every breath as your fingers make quick work of his zipper, undoing it to reveal the outline of his length, you palm your hand over it, causing a groan to fall from his lips.
Satisfied, you tug at the waistband of his underwear, his cock springing free to slap against the skin of his lower stomach,
"Need to taste you"
he peaks an eye at the camera, the two of you clearly out of view, you were doing this just for him because you wanted to, his cock twitching as your lips near it, flattening your tongue to lick the precum from his tip, his fingers tightening in your scalp.
You hum as you swallow, the salty taste mixing with your saliva, parting your lips to allow the head of his cock in, his hips jerking as you close around him.
You work him in your mouth, using your hand for the length that couldn't fit, your spit soaking his cock as you move back and forth on his length, small moans falling from his lips every time you flick your tongue over his head. You stare up at him, nodding to the best of your ability, letting him know he can move, his grip tightens in your hair, tugging your head lightly back as he thrusts into your mouth, your hands resting on his thighs for balance as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat.
The room fills with the sounds of your gags, the corners of your eyes wet from the tears that prick them as you stare at him, god he could cum from the sight alone.
He pushes his cock deep into your throat, holding you there for a moment, your nose pressed against his pubic hair as his cock twitches in your mouth. He pulls back with a pop, allowing you a breath of air before he kneels down, his arms locking under your legs, lifting you from the floor as turning to drop you on the bed.
His thumb runs over your spit-soaked cheek, his dark eyes pinning you down as his body cages you against the bed, your legs moving to wrap around his waist before he sits back, his stare devouring you.
He teases a finger down the valley of your breasts, pulling on the fabric of your bra, his palms kneading over the flesh as you reach behind you to undo it. He grabs your wrists, pinning them to the bed above your head with one hand, using the other to reach behind you, tearing at the fabric and pulling it from your chest.
He watches as your tits fall free, your nipples peaked from the cool air of the room, his fingers pinching at them as you let out a whimper,
"So perfect"
Your arousal is pooling in your panties, your hips squirming, trying to gain any friction they could as he paws at your flesh, your hands stuck in their position, unable to touch him.
"Please"
"Please what?" His accent is thick, his voice dripping with lust as he watches you squirm under him,
"Please stop teasing, fuck me"
"How bad do you need it?" His hand moves down, cupping your clothed sex, he can feel how bad you need him, your slick soaking through your panties.
"Need you so bad"
"Good girl" His hand releases you, moving to grab your leg, flipping it over so you're on your side, he tugs your panties off, tossing them across the room as he gains view of your glistening pussy, your slick coating your thighs.
"So wet already, this all for me?"
"All for you" You wriggle your hips, begging him to touch you as you bend your knee higher, giving him a better view, his hand's paw at your ass, kneading the flesh as you groan.
He slides two fingers between your folds, collecting your slick before smearing it across his length, positioning himself between your legs and lining himself up.
He glides his head between your folds, coating himself before pushing his length in, groaning as you squeeze him. The stretch of him is like nothing else, his size burns in the best way possible as he pushes deeper, inch by inch until he bottoms out.
"Bloody hell, feel so fuckin good baby"
Your hands reach for him, and he grabs one, holding it against the bed as he leans over your frame, his cock stretching you out as he holds it still, allowing you to adjust to it. You move your hips, letting him know he's okay to move and he pulls back, thrusting in with nearly every inch as you moan.
He sets a brutal pace, the sound of skin hitting echoing in the room as your fingers squeeze his hand, his other roams your form, his fingers circling over the tattoo on your lower back, smirking to himself.
He grabs your waist, tugging you onto all fours and your chest falls against the bed, your cheek pressed into the sheets as he fucks you from behind, his thrusts forcing your body forward with every stroke.
He grabs your hips, tugging you against him in time with his thrusts, his cock driving impossibly deep inside you as your ass smacks against his lower stomach, he snakes a hand around, his fingers circling your clit causing your back to arch, allowing him even deeper, your pussy swallowing him.
"You like that baby, s'that feel good"
"Yes, fuck, more"
His fingers swipe across your clit, rough pads rubbing at the bud as the fire in your stomach ignites, the band stretching out as works you toward your orgasm.
"Cum for me love, soak my cock"
You clench down on him as you come undone, your orgasm tearing through your body leaving your vision blurry and your legs weak, his fingers working you through it as his arm holds your waist, keeping you up.
"Fuck, just like that angel, so goddamn tight"
You're at a loss for words, the feeling of him taking over your body, consuming you as you come down, your juices leaking from your cunt, soaking his cock and the sheets under you.
He pulls from you and you whimper, his hands flipping your body so your beach is against the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pushes into you, his cock fills you entirely, stuffing his length into your weeping cunt as he leans over your form, his arms next to your head, pressing you against the mattress as he snaps his hips against you.
You trail kisses over his exposed skin, your nails digging into the flesh of his back as you cling to him, your heels pressed into his hips, begging for more.
"More please, need more"
His hand moves over your skin, settling on your neck as his fingers squeeze at your pulse point, your breath caught in your throat as you moan.
"You'll take what I give you"
He begins thrusting slowly, dragging his cock along your walls, your pussy clenching around him as he slowly fills you with every thrust. You squirm under him, heels digging into his flesh, urging him to go faster but he remains slow, languid strokes that force you to feel every inch of his cock inside you.
"Been dreamin' about this for too long, gonna take my time, work you open till you're a mess on my cock"
His hand moves to your clit, slowly circling the bud, keeping you on a high but refusing to let you cum, he takes pleasure in your whimpers, the way you try to move your hips under him but he's much stronger, intent on having you his way.
Your orgasm builds inside you, slowly taking over your nerves as he keeps his slow pace, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat as your body crumbles beneath him.
"Please, need to cum" You manage through strangled moans,
"You can do better than that"
You lock eyes with him, your heavy lids obscuring your vision, "Please Sir, let me cum"
"That's it"
He snaps his hips into you, forcing a yelp from your throat as his pace quickens, his fingers flicking over your bud as your second orgasm surfaces, his cock driving into you, keeping you on your high as your limbs squeeze around him, your hips twitching as he fucks you.
You squeeze your eyes shut, your mouth open as quiet moans fall from your lips, the hair on your forehead stuck in a layer of sweat as you fall apart, he doesn't let up, elongating your orgasm until your legs are trembling around him, your skin on fire from the sensation.
"Such a perfect little pussy, so good for me"
His hand releases your throat, settling on your waist to pin your lower half down, driving his cock into you using his weight, his head slamming against your cervix as your body becomes putty, melting against him.
You're a babbling mess under him, spit from your mouth pooling at the corners of your lips as he fucks you,
"You all drunk off my cock baby, c'mon you can take it"
He grabs your legs, pinning them against your stomach, your heels resting on his shoulders as your fingers grab at the sheets, your brain foggy as his cock glides into you with ease.
"That's it, take it, take it all, knew you could"
Your body moulds to his, his length stretching you out to fit perfectly like it was made for you, he leans over you, lifting his mask just slightly to reveal his lips,
"Open"
You do as he says, flattening your tongue as he spits into your mouth, it drips down the muscle, trailing to your throat before you swallow, he grunts above you, pressing his chest flat against your legs as he buries his cock into you,
"Cum in me, please, need to feel you"
The thought has his brain sparking, his abs tightening with every thrust as he nestles his head against your neck, his grunts flooding your ears, you paw at his flesh, nails dragging against the skin as you lean your head up, digging your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you pressed against him.
You kiss lazily at his neck, your spit smearing on the skin as his strokes get sloppy, his muscles tensing around you,
"M'gonna fill this little pussy up, stuff you full of my cum"
All he can hear are your moans, silent pleas for him to continue,
"Gotta give me one more love" His fingers find their way to your abused clit, your body twitching as he makes contact with the nerves, your head falling back against the pillow as his thumb rubs the bud.
"One more baby, you can do it"
Your body is mush, he drops one of your legs, allowing you to dig your heel into the bed, your fingers digging into his flesh trying to ground yourself as he brings your orgasm quickly.
You sob as you cum, your pussy soaking his thighs as you gush around him, squeezing his cock as your limbs begin to feel like static.
"Fuck, just like that, so perfect"
He buries his cock in you, his cum flooding your walls as you come down from your high, your combined spend leaking from your hole as he gives a few shallow thrusts, forcing his seed deeper.
He pulls from you slowly, eyes glued to your core where his cum leaks, dripping down onto the bed, your limbs falling against the mattress as your chest rises with every breath.
He stands from his spot, crossing the room you see him click off the camera, the red light turning off before he moves away, leaning into the bathroom to grab a cloth, dampening it before moving back to you.
He carefully spreads your legs, wiping around your core to clean up the mess, avoiding your sensitive clit as he runs the cloth over the skin, tossing it aside and reaching for the glass on your side table.
He moves beside you, his arms resting around your waist, tugging you against him so you can drink, gulping down a few sips before releasing a deep breath, resting against him. His fingers trace lightly over your skin, soothing the muscles as he holds you,
"You doing alright love?"
"Perfect" You don't bother to open your eyes, just resting your head against his firm chest as your fingers hold his forearm, you can feel his heartbeat, slowly returning to normal as he sits with you.
"It's getting late, did you need anything"
"Stay"
"You want me to stay?"
You nod against him, humming quietly to yourself as he smiles lightly under his mask, "Okay"
He shifts in his spot, lowering himself down and letting you curl against him, tugging the blanket over the two of you as you nestle your head against his chest, your fingers splayed over his stomach while his arm holds your waist, keeping you close. He rests his chin against your head, listening to your breaths even out as you grow tired, your legs tangled with his as he closes his eyes.
It was one of the best sleeps he's had, laying next to you, letting your warmth consume him as he slept, he wouldn't tell you but he had woken up an hour before you did and just stayed there, his arms holding you, watching you sleep, you were so peaceful, so soft, he didn't want to leave.
The next few days at work were strangely normal, with no awkward encounters with each other, you didn't treat him differently which he liked, he'd been trying for days to think of an excuse to come over again but he couldn't come up with one good enough. A smile spread on his lips when you texted him,
Videos up, here's the link, we should do it again sometime x
That was it, his excuse, he'd be at your beck and call whenever you wanted him, he needed more. He clicked on the link, eyes glued to his phone, it was strange watching it, knowing it was him in the video, that he really was doing those things to you that he'd imaged so many times, he had so many ideas about what to do next, things to try, he'd just have to muster up the courage to ask you.
His train of thought is interrupted by another text, a link from Soap,
Check this one out LT, Lad in the videos got tattoos like you
He glances at his forearm quickly and back to the screen, shit.
#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mw x reader#ghost cod#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#cod mw2#mw2022#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#ghost smut
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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Fingering, Slapping, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex
Summary: You didn't forget about her, did you?
A/N: The final part!!!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
You're fed up!
You're so tired of that miserable woman and her threats about getting you evicted from your apartment with no valid excuses whatsoever! She just gets you so frustrated! It's to the point you can't even think straight with all your anger blinding you. You just seem so angry at everyone lately with your shitty week! First it's your stupid professors and their shitty assignments, then it's Miguel fucking O'Hara and his tendencies to give you the best orgasms of your life and then run away, and now this cranky old bitch who doesn't want to hop off your-
It's just too much in too little time. So rationally, with the clearest thoughts you've had all week, you'll give her something to complain about. And you know exactly the person to help you. You help him, he helps you, after all. Plus, he wasn't paid you back for helping him put away his groceries three weeks ago (no, that orgasm he gave you did not count!)
Your hand throws a rapid succession of sharp knocks at his door, your brows furrowing in impatience when he doesn't answer right away. You huff, instead slapping your hand against the door. You almost fall when the door is roughly yanked open, a shirtless Miguel appearing with a scowl marring his face until his eyes land on you. The anger instantly dissipates into concern, his mind running thousands of different scenarios through his head about the reason why you would be beating down his door so desperately. He opens his mouth, ready to ask when your palm lands flat against his toned stomach, pushing him back into the apartment.
"Need your help." You say flatly as you slam the door behind you.
"My- what? With what?" Miguel asks, his eyes dropping to where your hand is still pressed into his warm skin. He has to fight the urge to grab you by the wrist and force your hand further down.
"Noise complaint."
Miguel is even more confused now, eyes shooting up to yours in surprise. Why would you need to file a noise complaint? He hasn't heard anything obnoxious on their floor or the ones below and above. "About who?"
"Me."
Miguel's head is reeling when your lips crash into his. There is no sweet, calm period, it's straight messy and desperate. Your lips move frantically over his, your hand reaching up to twist the hair at the nape of his neck as you pull his head down. One of you moan- he's not quite sure if it's you or him- when you tilt your head to the side, allowing your tongue to push through the seam of his lips. Miguel's hands blindly grab for your hips, his exhales filling your mouth as he squeezes his eyes shut. Your tongue feels so warm wrapping around his, and his mind floats to how it would feel on his cock. It would be absolute heaven he's sure. Heaven with a high risk of him cumming in seconds like a teenage boy. His mind briefly drifts to the dream he had of you sucking him off, and his dick fucking cries.
His hands shift down your hips, reaching back until your ass is in his large hands. This time he knows he's the one moaning as he kneads the flesh through your pants, pulling you closer against his body. The kiss is sloppy, tongues fighting and saliva coating both of your lips. Your hand, still resting on his stomach, travels up. His skin burns under your touch, enticing and begging to be marked with hickies and bite marks.
You yelp into his mouth when he picks you up, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist to keep yourself from falling. Your ass is right above his straining erection, and you can already tell he's bigger, maybe even thicker, than what you've fantasized about all those days ago when you tried to stuff yourself full with your fingers. The train of thought crosses over to something else as Miguel sets you on the nearest surface. He places you on the dining table, and you know that you would be able to see the counter where he first played with your cunt over his shoulder. Your cunt that still has that untouched spot deep within you and you can't fit more than your two fingers into. Your two fingers that are the equivalent of one of his fingers. The fingers that are sliding into your panties.
His mouth parts from yours as his fingers brush over you clit, your hips bucking into his hand. He trails his mouth along your jaw, sucking right below your ear.
"You want a noise complaint?" He asks, his fingers circling your already weeping hole. "Then I'll make sure everyone on this fucking floor reports you."
On cue, you let out a high pitched squeal as Miguel suddenly thrusts two thick fingers into your tight pussy, your walls stretching rapidly to accommodate the intrusion. Your mouth falls open as your hands grab desperately at his shoulders, your nails digging crescents into the skin as he begins pumping his shoulder rapidly. There isn't a single ounce of preparation, your mind splitting in two as it tries to process the rapid pleasure overcoming your senses. You barely register anything besides the way Miguel curls his fingers into your cunt, eyes rolling back as the anger slowly melts into euphoria.
Your moans are loud and candid as you slowly buck into his fingers, head falling back as you take your pleasure from him. It makes Miguel chuckles, it's so easy to make you sing for him. He rewards you with a bite to your neck, causing you to gasp as it ignites a fire in your soul. He laps at the mark, soothing the burn as your thighs begin to shake. His fingers are abusing your cunt with the way they're pushing in and out of your cunt, effortlessly finding that gummy spot that has your toes curling. Your orgasm rips through you as your body jolts and shivers, pretty moans leaving your mouth as your orgasm washes over you.
You're so lost in your high that you don't realize Miguel's fingers aren't inside of you anymore and your lower half is bare. Your shaking thighs closing when a loud slap resonates in the room as his palm makes contact with your sensitive pussy. The most pornographic sound he's ever heard leaves your lips as you register the pain and pleasure coursing through you, glassy eyes staring down at Miguel's new position on the floor as he kneels. He forces your thighs open, eyes dark as he studies your quivering cunt. It's so adorable that he can't resist pressing a tiny peck to your twitchy clit, moaning as he gets a preview of your sweet arousal. It's addicting, and he's finally getting a chance to taste it again. He hasn't stopped thinking about it since that day in your apartment, the taste lingering in his mouth as he jerked himself off.
He pulls away again, giving another slap to your cunt before diving into his meal. Your mouth falls open in a shocked moan as he desperately sucks at your folds, your hands falling to his hair to press him closer. His tongue swipes at every inch of your skin, getting drunk on your sweet nectar and your string of noises. It's so, so sweet. His grip on your thighs tighten, loving the sticky juices that begin to coat his chin as he shakes his head between your thighs. His nose swipes against your cunt as he takes long licks along your cunt, making your body jump. You push him closer into you as you try to pull away, caught between the sensitivity running through your body and the need for more. Not that he would allow you to escape, he isn't quite down with his fill yet.
You cry out when his tongue pushes through your hole, scooping the cum and shiny arousal out of your cunt and into his eager mouth. He moans against you, sending vibrations through your body. Your body is getting so weak, forcing you to slowly lower yourself onto your back on the table. Your legs slowly lift to hang off his shoulders, your fingers knotting in his hair as you slowly ride his tongue. Miguel hums in approval, sticky clicks of his tongue attacking your clit as your body shakes harder. Your back arches as you calm again, riding his face frantically as you squirt over his face. Miguel thinks he could die like this, drowning in your juices as high pitched keens leave your lips.
Your skin feels sticky and gross against his table, your limbs weak and slightly aching from how intense your two orgasms were. You're sure you'll get plenty of complaints now, just as he promised. Your chest heaves with the effort to catch your breath, and your chin presses into your chest to look down at him. Your cheeks flush when his droopy eyes meet yours, his face dripping with your release. You open your mouth in a shy attempt to thank him, but your mouth runs dry when he stands up and his heavy dick lays hard and eager in his hands.
Your eyes can't leave his red, leaking head. He really is big, impossibly thick too. He chuckles at the wide look in your eyes, his hips leaning forward to swipe his precum over your sensitive clit.
"Don't fool y'self into thinking I was done, nena." He grins, slapping his dick against your cunt to watch the way your clit jumps. "Can't let y'go without feeling you gush around my cock."
You whimper when he pushes his tip against your hole, stretching it wider than it has even been stretched before. Your body twists in an effort to get away as he pushes further in, his hands holding your thigh and hip to keep you in place. Your nails try to dig into the polished wood of his table, only a sharp screeching noise being the result of your effort. Miguel pushes you closer to him, enjoying the scream you let out as your cunt swallows his dick to the hilt. Your walls are already pulsating around him, trying to push him out and pull him in deeper at the same time.
Miguel grits his teeth as he slowly pulls his hips back, slowly sinking into your plush warmth. He bites his lip as he groans, eyes focusing on the way he disappears into you. This is far better than what he could have ever imagined, with the way you hiccup moans and your cunt flushes around his length. He's fucked after this, and he'll be damned if he ever lets you leave his bed, or kitchen table, after this.
Miguel leans forward, his forearms planting on either side of your head. His pelvis is flush with yours, and you can feel his muscles pressing down on your stomach. You whimper at the feeling, slightly breathless at how intense everything is. With the new position, Miguel begins drilling into you at a steady pace. Faintly, you register the scrapping of wooden legs against tile, and you only feel slightly bad for his downstairs neighbors. On the other hand, Miguel is too focused on the obscene squelches leaving your cunt as he bullies his cock into you, his mind fogging. Both of you are slightly delirious, lost in the feeling of his dick pressing against your cervix. Miguel is babbling in your ear, gruff promises about something involving a credit card and tuition and tying you to his bed forever that you barely register over your own moans. You think something about a baby might have been thrown into the mix, but you don't quite care outside the need to have him fill you.
Your hands rack raised, red lines down his back as your body jolts with each thrust. Your eyes are squeezed shut as your body burns to the point of being uncomfortable. You call out to Miguel, only to be answered with a rough grunt. Your eyes slowly peel open, taking in the slightly blurred frame of Miguel. If you thought you looked like a hot mess, then you have nothing on Miguel. His hair, damp from sweat, hangs over his glowing eyes, a dark flush covering his face. His lips are parted slightly, heavy exhales leaving his lips as he basks in the feeling of having your walls sucked around him. The sight alone triggers your orgasm, head being thrown back as your walls clamp around him. Miguel groans, his hips stuttering before he's pressing flush against you as he cock twitches with release.
Both of your heavy breathing fill the room, Miguel's body slumped against yours. Your hands slowly trail up and down his back as you both try to calm down, and you whine from both sensitivity and disappointment when Miguel slowly pulls out of you. His hand pushes his limp hair back, a slightly dazed smile on his face as he takes in your body. Your shirt clings to your body from the sweat the two of you have built up, your thighs still open to reveal your abused cunt. Miguel has to look away, too tempted to see how hard he would have to thrust into you to make the table break.
Even with your body feeling heavy, you push yourself up as Miguel moves to turn away. Your body gets a shot of adrenaline as panic courses through you. Your hand snaps to his wrist, keeping him in place. Your eyes are wide as you look at him, and the fear is clear as day. Miguel chuckles at your silly reaction, taking your chin and pressing a kiss to your lips. This one is slower than the last, but just as consuming.
"Relax, gonna clean y'up. That's all." He reassures, pushing your hair out of your face. "Not planning on leaving."
He doesn't plan on letting you leave either, you'll need a place to stay after you get all those noise complaints anyways.
THE END!!!!! Request what you will with these two, I wouldn't mind doing little side stories about them hehe.
#cherry's requests🍒#girl next door series🚪#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#atsv miguel#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099#miguel smut#miguel o'hara smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel x reader#miguel 2099#miguel x you#miguel ohara#miguel atsv#miguel o hara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara x reader smut#miguel ohara smut#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o hara x reader#miguel o hara x y/n#miguel o hara x you
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you know how to ball, i know aristotle
s.r x f!reader
summary: spencer's love feels so high school
warnings: none!
wc: 689 (she's short!)
a/n: inspired by so high school!! i have 50 different fics planned after listening to ttpd.......be prepared
It felt childish in a way. The way Spencer feels his cheeks flush and a chill run down his body whenever she’s near him. The constant butterflies. The shyness he feels when she's around. The high he gets from being near her. It feels like he’s a teenager in love.
Right now, the feeling remains as he watches Y/N and the rest of the team that fills the bullpen play a makeshift game of basketball with a trash bin and crumpled up paper. Whenever she makes a basket, she snaps her head over to him to see if he was looking– of course he was– and his chest fills with pride. Once her turn was over though, his head went right back down to his current read, something about Greek philosophers.
“Pretty Boy!”
His head immediately went back up at the sound of Morgan calling out to him. “Hmm?”
“We need reinforcements. Your girl is kicking our asses over here.”
A red wave flooded his neck, making its way up to his face, and he moved his chair back the tiniest bit, giving a small nod as he tried to hide his shy smile. He felt the way one would if they were asked to play kiss, marry, kill with their crush’s name thrown in there. Honestly, he’d be content if she did all three to him.
From there on, the game went terribly. While Y/N was making shot after shot, Emily was barely making it around the rim, Derek made it every other time, and Spencer was so far off it was pointless in asking him to join (but he knew the ball wasn't weighted properly, and he’d die on that hill). It didn't take long for those who were losing to become uninterested in the game, so everything eventually went back to business.
That was until Spencer felt a pair of hands gently knead into his shoulders.
Normally, he would tense up immediately. He wouldn't want to be touched– he’d be questioning why someone was touching him. But he knew it was Y/N. He’s become accustomed to her delicate touch; the smell of her lotion; the light reflecting off of the promise ring he bought her for their last anniversary. She would massage his shoulders until he was completely relaxed against her, allowing her to lean forward more and wrap her arms around his neck, placing her chin on his shoulder.
“I had a lot of fun earlier. You did well.”
He let out a giddy laugh as he craned his neck in order to look at her. The same giddy feeling a teenager gets when playing spin the bottle and truth or dare spread through his body whenever he’s this close to her, it truly never fails.
“I’m glad. I absolutely embarrassed myself with my lack of skill, but I’m glad at least someone enjoyed it.”
“Hey,” she shifted slightly so that she was directly looking at him all while keeping her chin perched on him. “You didn't embarrass yourself. We all have things we’re good at. Like, look at this.” She lazily gestured to the books scattered across his desk, “I couldn't even begin to describe what you're reading. You’re brilliant, Spence.”
“It’s called The Philosophy of Aristotle. It’s a selection of Aristotle’s works and–” he stopped himself, watching the way Y/N was completely mesmerized by what he had to say.
“Keep going. I've done my reports and I’m sure you've finished yours. We have plenty of time.” She kissed his cheek as a way to get him to start speaking again, and he felt on top of the world.
It was childish, really. The constant buzz he felt when speaking to her. The crinkles he can feel by his eyes from smiling so hard. The childlike wonder at how someone could be so perfect for him. No one’s ever had him like her. He felt as though this is what he would've felt if he had a normal childhood, one where he had a high school sweetheart. And despite it feeling so high school, he loves it. He loves her.
#idk how i feel about this but i tried!!#dr spencer reid#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction
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Hey I love your right is so I don’t have words to describe but I now yo have a lot of hope baby sister but they adorable that I have to ask if you could do one we’re she is only 5 months and only what to be with Hayley and Klaus and Hope but if any of the others pick her up she starts to cry or get cranki
Favoritism
Baby female Mikaelson reader x Hope mikaelson (+family)
Warnings: None, just whole bunch of fluff
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Klaus bounces you in his arms while he walks into the courtyard of the abaittoir. Your rested against his chest with one arm wrapped around you and his other hand resting on the back of your head.
You move your gaze to everyone sat in the room. Hope is sitting beside Elijah on the couch, Freya is in an armchair, and Kol is in the other armchair.
Klaus civily greets his siblings and Hope, grunting when his phone starts to ring in his pocket. Taking his hand off your head, he pulls the phone out of his pocket. Marcel's ID contact shows on the screen. Sighing, Klaus answers the call.
He turns back around to face the four others, "I have to leave, seems Marcel has gotten into a bit of a dilemma" Klaus tells, not going into any detail. Everyone nods, Rebekah deciding to tag along with her older brother.
Klaus swiftly passes you to Kol since he was the closest to his younger brother.
After your dad leaves, Kol and you are just staring at eachother from where you're secured in his arms. "What?" Kol asks you (not expecting an answer), noticing how your gaze is not shifting off of his face.
You start squirming in your uncle's hold, wanting to get out. Before long, the squirming turns into tears running down your tiny cheeks.
Kol's eyes widen, not knowing what to do. He's never had any experience with this. Like at all. He was surprised when Klaus passed you to him in the first place.
Soon the tears turn into full on crying. Panicking further, Kol's eyes widened more than before and brings you against his chest to try and rock you like he's seen Hayley and Klaus do a bunch of times. It's doesn't help at all, at anything, it only makes you more worked up than you previously were.
He looks frantically over to his older siblings, "help!" Kol exclaims as he sees that they were just sitting there, staring, while he's now trying not to cry along with you.
Elijah stands from the couch and walks over. He bends down and picks you up out of Kol’s arms and into his own. Bouncing you in his arms and using the same techniques he's used with all his younger siblings and Hope when they were younger doesn't work. It only seems to have made you even more cranky than you were before.
Seeing the panicked face on her uncle's face, Hope stands up. She has a smidge of an idea about what's happening, but wanted to see how long it take her original vampire uncles or aunt to break because of a baby. Taking pity on them, and you, hearing how your cries and breathing have gotten more erratic, if she doesn't step in now, you might catch a cold, she stands up from the couch.
Hope walks over to her uncle and convinces him to pass you over to her. Sighing, he does, worries about you and doesn't want to put any stress on the teenager. Especially after what had happened when Hayley had almost died from Greta and how her son has used his niece.
When she cradles you in her arms, you immediately calm down, knowing it's your big sister. You nuzzle your face into her neck, her soft hair brushing against your cheek.
She walks back over to the couch and sits down. Her arms are wrapped tightly around you, making sure that there's no way you can get hurt. As she leans back into the comfy position she was in earlier, she feels eyes on her.
Looking around the room, her uncles and aunt are staring at her, mouths slightly agape, and eyes widened ever so much. "What?" She asks, knowing full well why they're staring.
"Did you use a spell to calm y/n down?" Elijah asks calm and collectively, unlike how Kol would be responded of he had the chance first. "No, but I've noticed how she's been only wanted to be held by mom, dad, or me. So I wanted to see what would happen if none of us were and how long it would last before I had to hold her" she explains as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Definitely no clear favoritism there" Kol scruches his eyes in mock anger and slight offense at you snuggled up with your big sister. Freya chuckles at her little brother's 'hurt feelings' about their five month old baby niece choosing wanting to be with her sister.
Hope just smirks at him, "I don't know what your talking about" she kisses the top of your head gently.
-
"What's going on in here?" Hayley's brow quirks up, she just got out of the shower. Telling by her still damp hair.
"Well your baby clearly has favorites" Kol says, flopping back into the couch with his arms crossed and a pout on his face. "I'm starting to wonder who the actual child here is, you or her" Hayley smirks and sits down next to her two daughters.
"Wow, first the baby, then the teen, and now the mother" Kol groans about how he can get insulted by all three of them in under thirty minutes. And you can't even talk yet!
Everyone chuckles at the teen original vampire, including you, copying what you hear your big sister doing and now your mama.
#hope mikaelson#hope mikaelson x reader#hope mikaelson x little sister#little mikaelson reader#hope mikaelson x baby sister reader#baby mikaelson reader#baby mikaelson#hope mikaelson x fem reader#hope mikaelson x female reader#fluff#cute#kol mikaelson#klaus mikaelson#elijah mikaelson#freya mikaelson#rebekah mikaelson
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friends? (ls18)
summary: you had fallen for your childhood friend lance. but when he shows up to his family's party with his girlfriend, you are forced to confront your feelings.
i apologize in advance if your name is bethany, just the name i picked. but i hope you enjoy my first lance fic!
no warnings that i can think of :)
Lance captivated any room he stepped into. All eyes turned to the billionaire’s son, the racecar driver, and the worldwide star. But even with her on his arm, his eyes turned to you, his best friend.
You had grown up together, both starting karting around a similar age. You had gone from competing against each other to cheering when the other did well in races. Then you were hanging out at each other's houses outside of racing, playing video games or running around outside. In your teenage years, you continued to be friends even as the racing got more and more competitive.
The years blurred by until you got to where you were today, Lance racing in Formula 1 and you in Formula 2. You got to see him less often now, mostly when the F2 schedule aligned with the F1 schedule. He was always busy training, and frankly so were you. Apart from the occasional chat, you were now living separate lives.
So it had surprised you when Lance had posted a few pictures to his Instagram with a woman. They were holding hands in one photo and he had his arm wrapped around her waist in another. You had stared back in disbelief. Of course he was an adult, he was allowed to date someone. It was just the fact that he hadn't told you that hurt. And maybe the fact that you had fallen for him years ago.
Yes, you were hopelessly in love with your best friend. Lance Stroll, the Formula 1 driver.
And it seemed he now loved someone else. When they had walked into the party that his family was hosting, everyone in the room had turned to look at the driver and his new girl. You couldn't blame them. He looked stunning in his tux. And she looked like a goddess in her flowing red dress.
In the crowd, his eyes found yours and you felt your breath stop. Those soft brown eyes that you had looked into for years. His face shifted to a grin and the couple made their way over to you.
"Hey, you," he said, pulling you into a friendly hug once he made his way through the group of people. "Long time no see."
"Yeah," you replied, your voice like a sigh.
"Oh, and this is Bethany," he said, introducing you to the woman he had arrived with. "We're dating."
You plastered a smile onto your face and shook Bethany's hand. "It's so nice to finally meet you," she had said. "Lance talks about you all the time."
He did? Even though you two had fallen almost out of touch? This caught you by surprise.
"All good things I hope," you had replied with a chuckle.
"Of course!" she had laughed, smiling at you.
You looked over at Lance and saw he was no longer looking at you, but at the ground. Almost as if he were embarrassed. You flashed her a smile again and looked over at Lance.
"Well I'll let you two enjoy the night," you said, trying to excuse yourself from the conversation. You turned to leave them alone, before you heard Lance stop you.
"No, why don't you come eat at our table?" he asked. You saw Bethany's smile falter a little bit. And as much as you didn't want to have to watch Lance with his girlfriend, you couldn't exactly turn down your best friend, could you?
"If that's okay with you," you responded, looking between the couple.
You found yourself sitting on Lance's right while Bethany was to his left. You all had engaged in a bit of conversation, Lance talking about how his season was going in Formula 1 and you talking about how Formula 2 was going well for you. Bethany seemed a little zoned out of the conversation, a lot of the intricacies of racing not familiar to her. Racing was something that would always tie you and Lance together, whether you liked it or not.
But as the conversation went on, you saw her reach for his hand and grab it. You didn't deserve to be mad, as you had never decided to voice your feelings in fear of ruining what you had. But watching that simple act of intimacy between the two broke you.
You had always enjoyed his family's parties in the past, but now? Now that you couldn't sneak out early with him to go drive around aimlessly and listen to music or that you couldn't bribe him to grab you an extra portion of dessert, things were different.
As you distracted yourself with a refill of your drink, you didn't notice how his eyes lingered a little too long on the back of your dress or how he released her hand after he saw the way you looked sad.
A few more awkward moments in conversation with the couple, you decided to make a break for it. Being questioned by Lawrence for leaving early would be better than any more moments watching your childhood best friend and crush being romantic with someone else.
"I- I'm sorry," you mumbled. "I have to go..."
"Are you okay?" Lance asked, looking concerned.
"It's fine..." you sighed, quickly getting up from the table. "Enjoy your night. You both deserve it."
Quickly making your way to the parking lot, you held back tears. Even though you had drifted apart, a small part of you had held onto hope that maybe he would feel the same. That he could love you back just as you had loved him for so long. But clearly that was an illusion.
You staggered through the door of the venue in your heels, kicking them off and picking them up before running into the parking lot. You didn't care if there was media watching, all you needed was to get away as fast as possible.
Finally getting to your car, you fished around in your purse for your keys. You mumbled a few curses, unable to find where they had gone. A few tears pricked your eyes, this was the last thing you needed right now. You leaned up against the car and slid to sit on the ground, shutting your eyes against the world.
"Hey," a familiar voice said. "Forgot your keys."
You peeked open your eyes to see Lance standing in front of you. He looked concerned upon seeing you in such a disheveled state.
"Are you okay?"
You barely nodded. "Not really... it's stupid..."
Lance sat down on the asphalt next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "You can talk to me. I know we haven't been as close lately, but I'm always willing to listen."
"I don't want to ruin things..."
"What could you possibly ruin? Look, I care about you. Just tell me what's going on."
Him saying he cared about you was all the motivation you needed. Maybe if you just got this over with, you could move on and things would go back to normal.
"Lance... I've always liked you... as more than a friend. And seeing you tonight... so happy with her... I guess it hurt."
The look on his face went from concerned to shocked and then to sad.
You cleared your throat. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to put you in this position. You and Bethany... you look good together. You deserve someone like her."
Lance was silent for a minute. "I... you never asked me how I felt?"
"I never thought you would feel the same. Didn't want to ruin our friendship.
"Well... for the record I did love you. I... still do."
Your heart skipped a beat at the answer. "You do?"
"Yeah. I do."
You both sat in silence for a minute. "What do you want to do about it?" you asked quietly.
"I broke it off with her," Lance said simply. "Before I came running after you."
"Why would you do that?" you asked, genuinely confused. "You seemed so in love with her."
He looked you in the eyes. "Because coming to this party made me realize. It brought back so many memories. All the years we goofed around in front of dad's rich friends. All the times we left early to go have fun just the two of us. And then I saw you in that dress... and the way you looked at me after all these years. And I realized what I had with her would never compare to the years I've had with you. Even if you had said no... I couldn't just let you leave like that. Thinking our relationship didn't mean anything. Even if we just ended up being friends tonight."
"Lance I..."
"You mean a lot to me, you know? Just took a year apart and a girl I didn't truly love to realize how much."
You took a chance and reached over to grab his hand, just like she had a few hours earlier.
"Wanna get out of here?" he asked. "Speed away like we did as teenagers?"
"Yeah. I'll drive and you get the music."
"Deal," he said, cracking one of his smiles that just made your heart melt. He tossed you the keys to your car that you had forgotten on the table. You caught them with ease and stepped into your car. You looked over at your best friend, and now possibly lover in the passenger's seat and your heart was full.
"Lance..."
"Yeah?"
"I've wanted this for a while. Just me and you again."
"Well if you want to... we can spend a lot more time now just the two of us. Now that we're both on the same page."
"I can't imagine anything better," you said with a smile. You shifted the car into drive and pressed down the gas pedal, speeding away into the night. And as your favorite song came on the radio, you knew your life was about to get so much better.
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#lance stroll#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll x you#lance stroll x y/n#lance stroll fic#lance stroll fanfic#lance stroll imagine
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haikyuu boys + acts of service !
feat. sakusa, tendou, bokuto, atsumu, ushijima
"'omi, i can do this on my own, you know."
"you say that while not trying to move away." kiyoomi noted, almost sounding smug in a way. your words, unfortunately held little effect, considering how you were perched on the toilet lid, cheek leaning on his palm. his other hand was sliding cleanser over your skin, suds forming on it.
you sighed defeatedly, letting him continue his ministrations. he did your whole routine with diligence, watching you do your skincare every night probably imprinted your routine into his memory at this point.
he loved spending moments like this with you. he could just enjoy the comfortable silence while doting on you, free excuse to run his fingertips over your skin and memorize every bit of it. they were calloused, and yet his touch was more comforting than anything else you've ever felt.
after patting the last bits of your moisturizer into your skin, he stood up to his full height, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. he wiped his hands on a towel before sliding them over to either side of your face. he tilted your face up, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. pulling away, he grimaced slightly at the feeling of your moisturizer now somewhat on his lips.
you giggled, pushing yourself from where you sat, wrapping your arms around your waist and pressing more moisturizer-covered kisses over his face. his scowl deepened, though he didn't make any effort to push you away, he'd endure it, he enjoyed your affection a bit more than how he disliked the feeling of your moisturizer, he notes to himself.
"and she pulled out screenshots! god, i've never seen someone's face go so pale so quickly."
satori let out a dramatic gasp, stilling the hand that was carefully painting your thumb. "no way." you nodded vigorously, giggling at his reaction.
"yeah." you confirmed. it almost felt like a teenage sleepover, what you and satori were doing right now. the both of you sat with your legs crossed, facing each other as he painted your nails with experienced swipes.
"not surprised though. he totes had it coming!" satori comments in a sing-song tone. he dipped the brush into the bottle, wiping it on the rim before bringing it to your index finger. you could tell he was focused, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as his eyes squinted.
"y'know, you're doing a pretty good job.." you noted, admiring the clean coats on your nails. he giggled, pressing a kiss on your knuckles, careful to not bump into your freshly painted nails, then one to your lips.
he then leaned back and stared at you with a goofy grin, stretching his hand out to your face, wiggling his fingers. "now paint mine!" satori chimed. you sighed, shaking your head with a grin, though picking out a bottle of dark red nail polish nonetheless.
"yeah, and then i went like wham! and the ball slammed into their side!"
you nodded along, smiling at koutaro's enthusiasm. the constant shine in his eyes when he talked about volleyball was something you could never get tired of, his hands moving around to further express what he was talking about.
as he rambled, his gaze trailed down to your shoes, then back to your face, then back to your shoes with comically wide eyes. you tilted your head at his actions, a confused smile resting on your face.
"kou, what's wrong?"
"hold on, baby. just gotta—"
he dropped to his knee, shifting around to tie your shoelaces. he fumbled for a while, untying and retying it a few times. you stood there, silently watching him tie your shoelaces with an amusing amount of focus.
he stood up, nodding and flashing you a wide grin. "wow, what a gentleman." you mused, almost dreamily before a small chuckle left you. he laughed boisterously, "can't let the love of my life walk around with untied shoelaces. that's unsafe!" he slipped his hand into yours, continuing his ramble with a proud smile.
you unlocked the door to your shared house with a sigh, wanting nothing more than to slip your shoes off and flop into your bed, maybe sleep for the next sixty-eight hours.
you barely had to step foot in there before atsumu greeted you, his arms wrapping around your frame as he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head. you buried your head into the crook of his neck and shoulders, your own shoulders visibly relaxing at his touch.
"hi, 'tsum. is it alright if we have takeout tonight? work killed me." your eyes were already closed as you spoke, leaning all your weight onto him. "no need," he leaned back to admire your tired face, pressing a small kiss against your temple. "i already made us dinner." he declared proudly, a smirk resting on his face.
"you cooked?"
"mhm." he nodded confidently, you shot him an unconvinced look. "...and it's edible?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, your lips curling into an amused smile.
"hey!"
you shrugged, "just thought osamu took all the cooking genes."
"well, we just so happened to share! can't say the same about the looks department..."
"yeah, you were seriously unlucky there."
atsumu gasped, shooting you a look of absolute betrayal. "your kind, generous, drop dead handsome boyfriend went out of his way to cook dinner, and this is how you repay him?!"
your shoulders shook as you laughed, and gingerly took his hands in yours, leading him to the dining table. there sat an uncharacteristically pristine plate of rice balls, his chest puffed up in pride as your eyebrows raised in mild surprise.
you hate to admit it's romantic. especially if you ignore the five containers shoved in the depths of your fridge, filled with his failed attempts, and his messages with his twin, begging for tips on how to cook without burning the kitchen down.
"are you almost done?"
you offered wakatoshi a noncommittal hum. "few more edits, and i'll be finished." the sound of clicking filled the room as you mindlessly typed away at your keyboard, eyes glued to the screen.
he nodded, then turned around, and walked out of the room. you took your attention away from what you were writing for a few seconds to glance at the empty spot where your boyfriend had been sitting. a part of you had considered getting up to find him, but alas, this paper was due in an hour.
a few minutes later, he returned. a glass of water in one hand, and a small bowl of sliced apples in the other. he placed them on your desk before moving behind you. his hands made their way to your shoulders, carefully massaging them as if pushing too hard would cause you to shatter.
it was amusing, how his large stature contrasted his gentle touch with you. you could almost forget that this was the same man ranked among the top three aces in japan, the same man with some of the most monstrous spikes. he'd trade his force for a moment of pure gentleness and care with you.
you leaned into his touch like it was second nature, your head touching his torso. your eyes automatically fluttered shut as a content sigh left you. the dull ache in your shoulders from being hunched over your computer for hours seemed to completely wash away from his ministrations.
"thanks, toshi." you mumbled, moving a hand from your keyboard to his hand, giving him a small squeeze. a noise of acknowledgement left him, it was deep, rumbling from his chest as he offered you a small, but genuine smile. wakatoshi knew he wasn't the best with his words, but he hoped these small actions spoke enough about his love for you.
an irl gave me these ideas, luv u and ur big brain greyps!!!
#my favoritism for atsumu was strong in this 1#♡ crumpled paper#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu fluff#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa x reader#tendou satori#tendou x reader#bokuto koutarou#bokuto x reader#atsumu miya#atsumu x reader#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima x reader
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okay, what if, reader (james gf) got jealous of lily tutoring james and told james abt it and james tells her "i would never date anyone else other than you" and also "you have all rights over me. you OWN me." and then smut where they're kissing, and reader suddenly says stop and james DOES stop to prove that he belongs to her???
hi honey <3
i'm sorry it took so much time to get around the request, but here you are, i hope you like it xoxo.
dark red
pairing(s)- james potter x reader
warning(s)- stupid teenagers in love, 18+ content.
a/n- uggh it was so hard to find proper pictures for the header, my feed is full of sirius black shit 💀🫢
ps- dark red is so james potter coded. (he dances on chammak challo, don't ask me how i know okay now bye)
masterlist
only you, my girl, only you, babe
only you, darling, only you
'hey, darling,' your boyfriends' voice echoes in your ears. your eyes sink deeper into the words printed upon the paper of the book you'd been reading. they seemed like plain words on paper, which made no sense as your mind subconsciously made note that the one you loved so dearly was near you.
he sunk beside your bed, his quidditch sweater hugging his body in a form fitting way. he runs his finger through his curls, the familiar flowery, damp smell escalating off his body which burned your heart. through your peripherals, you see him smiling, a subtle hint of color on his brown skin. you feel the mattress sink beside your legs, as he pushes his legs into the silk duvet you were covered by. his fingers roam over your feet, applying a comforting amount of pressure.
he hums mindlessly under his breath, and you shift under the warmth of the duvet. you flip the book shut, keeping it on your nightstand. you free your feet from james's grasp, sitting up, moving closer to him. you stare at his face as you sit in front of him, knees touching.
'honey?' you whisper, nibbling at your bottom lip. it's like a sudden change of atmosphere, as he places his hand on your thigh, and he's staring at you, his brown eyes scanning yours.
'where were you?' you ask, even though you know the answer. his demeanor changes slightly, as he furrows his eyebrow. he'd told sirius to inform you about his tutoring session with lily. did the prick not tell you, he wonders.
'i was with lily,' he replies. you respond with a curt nod, biting your lip.
'because you needed academic help am i right?' you inquire. he swipes his tongue over his teeth,
'yes m'love,' he responds. you're not sure how to frame your next statement. the air feels stuffy around the both of you, and you intertwine your finger with his curl. his finger draws mindless shapes on your thigh.
'james,-' you begin, a heavy breath leaving your mouth, '-i'm gonna need you to stop these tutoring sessions with lily.' your mouth feels dry as you spill out the words from your throat. his eyes widen,
'i'm in heavy need of help in potions! otherwise i might fail!' he protests. you stare at him, stubborn to not let him dodge your demand.
'you're a fucking illegal animagus. what do you need help with potter?'
'well brewing a sleeping potion- hang on what's all this about?' he inquires, his former statement unheard.
'you know very well,'
'no i don't, enlighten me.'
'god are you really that daft?'
'if you think so, yes.'
'i'm fucking jealous, potter!'
his eyes widen with realization. as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water all over his face. his hands grasp your face in a swift move, his eyes boring into yours. he's breathless, your confession firing a puddle of guilt into which his heart drowns into. he treats you like a fragile piece of glass as if you'd break if he said the wrong words.
'jealous? because i liked her previously?' he questions, his forehead touching yours. your eyes burn with anger, with a clandestine stab upon your heart,
'yes,'
in a swift move, you're on your back, pinned to the mattress, his lips roaming into your mouth, as his mind screeches screams of guilt, an urge which echoes in his head, to prove to you that he was yours. just yours.
he bites your lip, pushing his leg between your thighs, and you moan, the rough fabric of his trouser providing you a lewd friction against your crotch.
'james,' you slur, huffed breaths leaving your mouth. he furrows his eyebrows,
'god,-' he holds your face closer to his, resting his forehead on yours, 'i'd never date anyone but you,-' he plants a soft kiss over your nose, '-god, i love you so fucking much.' he completes. his confession breaks through soft words, paired with broken breaths.
'i love you too, i'm sorry i doub-' he places his finger over your swollen lip, shushing you.
'let me show you how much i love you? let me show you i'm yours? just yours? let me show you how you have total rights over me?' he questions. you nod your head, and with your approval, he unbuttons your shirt.
*****
your nails rake on his bare chest, as he pushes his cock deep into your sopping cunt. you bottom down on his cock, your cunt throbbing. it was like high, as his hand place themselves on your hips, his rutting into yours. your breasts bounce deliciously within his vision, as he thrusts into you.
you pepper kisses all over his chest as he thrusts into you, his cock hitting your g-spot so perfectly, you feel like you'd drool. you gasp as his finger rubs over your swollen clit, rolling your eyes back, curling your toes as you feel the orgasm within you bubbling with a vigorous hotness which creeps all over your body. goosebumps erupt on your skin as his hot breath gazes over your skin,
'i'm yours, all yours, my girl,' he assures. you bite your lip,
'you're all mine. fucking mine.' you respond. he gasps at your words, and your walls clench around his cock, as your rub your clit. your orgasm bubbles within you, and consumes you from within, tearing into every cell of your body. it's as if you're on fire, as you feel the coil in your stomach tightens. it's as if you're glowing with lust, as your heart beats against your ribcage. it was like a shattering carnal desire to authorize your ownership over him.
'you're all m-mine- i fucking own you,' you moan, your lips meeting his, as you consume him, consume the feeling of his cock, consume the warmth of his touch, consume the cozy feeling of his words.
'only yours, my girl,' he says against your lips.
it's a dwindling mercurial high, a paradise shaking and pacing with your heartbeats, as the both of you release together, the mixture of cum and yours leaking through your sopping cunt.
#james potter fluff#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#marauders#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#marauders era#marauders headcanon#the marauders#james potter x you#james potter smut#james potter one shot#james potter fic#james potter x regulus black#marauders fanfiction#james potter fanfiction
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slow shift
7k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader
Series Masterlist l Next Chapter
series summary: Tommy’s Diner is where dreams go to die and burnouts clock-in for work. Waitressing would be boring without the flirtatious distractions of line cook Frankie Morales.
warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), swearing, talking about w33d, alcohol consumption (not by reader or frankie, but discussions of alcohol), oral (f! receiving), discussions of periods and Plan B, frankie having a fat d!ick, slightly public sex, unprotected p in v (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), you know how I roll
A/N: welcome to the first part in my linecook!frankie series! It's all just going to be chaos!! enjoy dirty dishes, cussing, and decent food made by the hot linecooks. I’ll have a title as soon as I stop putting it off <3 enjoy! let me know what you think! also how LIT is the banner
here's my masterlist!
**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**
“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle.
You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him.
“Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.
Welcome to hell.
A makeshift building somehow still holding up four walls that housed a small restaurant inside.
This wasn’t some secret treasure that belonged on an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives or a hidden hole-in-the-wall five-star Michelin Restaurant. This was Tommy’s Diner.
The locals had different names for the run-down dump you called your place of employment: the Hometown Heartburn Hut (true), American Pie ( ha-ha funny), the Rusty Spoon (some guy OD’s behind the place one time, and no one ever forgets), or Tumbleweed, your pothead coworkers liked to call it. It was a tumbleweed because the restaurant was barren, emphasis on the weed to accommodate the faded line cooks that lurked in the back of the restaurant.
Don’t let today’s slow shift fool you; there were times when Tumbleweed was cram-packed. Friday night football games were busy with tailgaters, bustling with teens after a championship game. Other times, it was when a Greyhound bus or a similar cross-country vehicle drove through and took a stop for the passengers.
The most popular time of year was in the summer. Tommy’s Diner hosted Saturday night Cruise Nights. The town would flood with classic cars and hot rods, and the diner would transform into a drive-in. Their engines revved through different cities from far and wide to be at Tommy’s. That’s when the place felt the most alive, bustling with people and their laughter, little kids running with their milkshakes and flipping quarters into the rigged claw machine.
But it wasn’t a Saturday in August. It was a Monday. You were stuck with the misfit motley crew that did everything from dishwashing, cooking, bussing, running the register, being half-ass managers, and, of course, the token pretty waitress. You.
You will admit that each character working at Tumbleweed had a unique story etched into their grubby hands or baggy-eyed faces. They’ve weathered years of late-night shifts and condiment, grease-stained aprons.
Tonight there was Lou, the jaded by heartbreak teenage busboy. He walked with a shuffle, always sniffling about an ex-girlfriend. He worked slow and god damn, did that piss you off.
Then there was Tina, the aspiring singer stuck in a small-town type. She was newer, still learning how things worked since she had never waited tables a day in her life. She had that fresh twinkle of stardom in her eye despite being in her late 30’s. You were training her and trying not to let her drive you up the wall whenever she started singing different songs on the jukebox. Note to self: Put a sticky note saying it’s busted every time you work together.
Paul was the do-it-all guy. Toilet clogged? Get Paul. Dishes piling up? Ask Paul to do it. The cashier on a bathroom break? Paul can run the till. He was useful, just complained and grumbled a lot.
Tommy of Tommy’s Diner hasn’t worked a day in years. He’s older, so it’s understandable. Last thing you heard was he was down in Florida, living out retirement in a cheap home with a gambling addiction. Sounded like he was doing well for himself. But now his idiot son Rudy ran the place. Tommy’s picture was still on dusty display, toothy smile and all at the front door that people huddled in and out of—speaking of.
Your head lifted to attention as the bell above the door chimed, sighing in annoyance as you leaned back onto the counter. It was just Frankie.
“It’s fifteen after. You were supposed to be here on time today because we have to set up for Carla’s thing.”
Frankie breezed past you, aviators and stupid ballcap on, his smile lifted in a sneer. He was smacking on pink bubble gum as he neared your part of the counter and purposely shuffled past you with his hips against yours in an attempt to get into the kitchen. You couldn’t help but lean into him with a little smirk.
“Tommy said it was fine I was late.” He joked once he ducked into the back, your arms crossed as you followed him aimlessly.
You sigh and lean back against the locker next to his, watching him shuffle off his jacket.
“You disappoint me, Frankie.” Your face held a teasing pout.
“Never meet your heroes, baby.” That stupid fucking cocky smirk painted his face.
You opted to roll your eyes and look away as a defense tactic against Frankie’s flirty moves. Frankie calling you baby made your guts twist.
He was an ass ninety-nine percent of the time, but you two were hired the same summer a few years back and were the only ones who stayed once summer had run its course. You supposed it was bonded trauma after that.
New workers had come and gone, but you and Frankie were still at Tommy’s, still working crappy shifts on crappy hourly pay. Despite Frankie being a douchebag, he made the place bearable. He was comfortable. You knew each other.
“Can you just meet me on the floor like you were supposed to fifteen minutes ago and help with the banner? Carla’s going to be here at five, and you still have to make her special-”
“Jesus fuckin’- yes, I’ll be out in a few.” Frankie playfully groaned, shoving the brim of his hat into his mouth to hold it, his hands busy as he tied a tattered red bandana around his forehead before he replaced the cap back on. Okay… hot.
He took a deep breath once he finished, and leaned against the locker beside you, arms crossed, mimicking you as your shoulder brushed his bicep. You looked up at him, so many inches taller than you, as he looked down. Maybe too far down. He started at your eyes, but those eyes of his tended to wander right down to the cut of your shirt.
“Ugh- Frankie!” You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, readjusting your top as he playfully threw his hands up on the defense.
“You look fuckin’ gorgeous today, by the way!” He shouted as you exited the locker room, smiling and shaking your head with your back to him and throwing up your middle finger before the door swung closed with your exit.
---
You stood on the top of a dining table in your sneakers, attempting to hang a shitty banner you had painted for Carla’s birthday. You glanced down at the table and made a little face about the scuff you put in it. Oops. You can try and scrub it later.
There was no other person you or Frankie would do this stuff for. But it was Carla’s birthday and she was a diamond in the rough at this dump.
Carla's position at Tumbleweed is a mixture of human resources, accounting, decent management, and a mother figure to not just you but the entire staff. Besides Carla, we could all care less about everyone else's birthday. You were burning this ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner as soon as the clock struck midnight.
You let out an exhausted huff as you attempted to tack the final hanging string into the wall, but it was just out of reach. That’s when you heard the smacking of his stupid pink bubble gum. You didn’t even have to look.
“Are you gonna help me or not, Morales?” Your voice seethed in annoyance, not only to Frankie but also cursing your short legs and your just not long enough arms.
He didn’t say anything. Just crossed the differential space between you and took the tack and string into his meaty fingers.
You glanced down, watching his teeth capture his lower lip in concentration, checking to see if it was straight. Pushing the pin in, he backed up to where you stood on the dining table and crossed his arms in observance.
It was incredibly crooked. But it was the thought that counts, right?
“Good enough for me. You?” You glanced down at Frankie, and he was biting back a smile.
“What?” You pushed, narrowing your eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s good.” Distracted by something else. “D’you paint this?” The warmth of his hand slowly crept onto the back of your calf, your chest tightening as he slowly skated it higher with no interference from you.
You gently nod, avoiding his eye contact as you look at the sign. Now, his hand was on the back of your thigh, and you had to take a breath. A mhm was all you could muster up.
His fingers delicately skimmed the skirt of your uniform, knuckles brushing against your backside. You used to hate these 50’s style waitress uniforms, but now they didn’t seem so damn bad because Frankie’s movements were making you lightheaded. Snap out of it!
“Need help down?” Frankie asked, hand at the ready on your hip.
You shook your head despite using his assistance anyway. You squatted on the table, black lace panties peeking out as you used Frankie’s broad shoulders as leverage. You put one foot down onto the linoleum and then the other, wiping your hands cleanly down your uniform as you both returned to look at the lopsided sign.
You hoped it was enough. You hoped she appreciated it, especially all that she’s done for you over the years. Covering your shifts, leveling out the register when you accidentally gave someone the wrong change, tucking extra tips into your apron when she knew your rent was coming up. Everyone needed a Carla, not everyone was lucky to have one.
“She’s gonna love it,” Frankie seemed to sense your nerves as he lifted his cap to bring some air to his sweaty dark curls before putting it back into place. “I’ll start workin’ on her special. Mushroom Swiss patty melt?” He said before disappearing into the kitchen again, only leaving once you gave him your little nod of assurance. You liked that he remembered.
---
“Happy birthday, Carla!” Uncoordinated voices cheered as Carla entered Tumbleweed right on time for her shift.
Her face lit up, and she looked beautiful. She packed a little extra blush and eyeshadow to commemorate the special occasion.
“Oh, shit- oh my- You guys! Thank you!” Carla made special eye contact with you, knowing you were the only one caring enough to orchestrate this shindig.
Carla has this soulful charm about her. Raised in Louisiana, she loved to cook family recipes and bring the leftovers to work for you and Frankie to fight over. You remember she had three kids at home, so she had this curvy mom's body that put a proud sway in her walk. A playful and confident woman at heart, she was all the regular’s favorite to see. And she knew everyone. And she knew everything. She put Tommy’s back in business during the slower seasons. People would come to see her face on Sunday mornings over their coffee and runny eggs.
“Oh, baby, thank you.” She cooed as she cupped your cheek and squeezed, making your face tick. “This the red velvet?” Her voice hummed as she observed the cake in your hands, pushing her finger lightly into the frosting to taste it.
You had pulled one of the cakes from the display case and shitily piped it with chocolate sauce ‘HBD!’.
“Of course, your favorite... Right?” You pursed your lips and snuck a nervous glance at Frankie before you set the cake down on the countertop.
Carla looked beyond touched for something you’d consider a bit lackluster. “It’s my favorite ‘cause you made it. Thank you, baby.”
You glanced around for the cake cutter, watching as Tina pushed a quarter into the jukebox and got the party started. Everyone was doing shitty dance moves, even the one or two customers that had filtered in for a cheap dinner.
You sighed as you looked behind the counter for the cake cutter, grabbing the cake and its stand to haul it to the back.
You thrust your shoulder blades into the swinging door, setting the cake stand on the counter as you started sifting through the different drawers to find the serving knife.
Half a carton filled with cigarettes; Frankie’s. Matches from an old jazzy gentleman’s club; Rudy’s. Hair ties; yours. Where’s the fuckin’ cake cutter?!
The music from the jukebox was more faded in the kitchen. The serving window, professionally called the pass, was just big enough to see faces and hand plates through from the kitchen to the front.
You made a face when you found the cake server inside a large pot-- how, no, why? Jesus Christ. Fucking idiots.
The swinging door to the kitchen wooshed in before slowly creaking closed, seeing Frankie coming to stand beside you in your peripheral.
You carefully plunged the slicer into the soft sponge of the cake, carving a piece for Carla and setting it on a plate. You reached forward across the counter for another small plate, the short skirt of your uniform revealing the curve of your ass to an overly curious Frankie. You could feel his heat burning through his chest.
“Could you be less obvious?” Your voice held teasing notes, putting another piece of cake on a plate and pushing them away to make space for more.
He had tried this a handful of times with you, and he had yet to be successful besides that one time when you both drunkenly made out at the last December holiday party. You were pretty sure he had been hung up on you ever since. You enjoyed watching him try.
Your eyes flitted over to his, observing his body and facial features.
He looked gross, honestly. The two meals he cooked including Carla’s special before she came in for her shift made his face and neck sweaty and his hands greasy, his apron to match. It was white at one time, a long, long time ago. His stupid red bandana was still tied around his forehead, catching the spare sweat droplets, as the kitchen became unbearably hot in the middle of August.
You probably didn’t look much better. Hair all over the place with makeup you put on in the morning probably half smudged off by now. Your hands were checkered in pen ink, a spare papercut from snagging a receipt from the register. But still decent. He was still decent.
His hand was back in dangerous territory, lingering low on your waist. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. You could feel warmth flooding your body, heat from the heart of his hand burning into your hip. He was admiring your body, slow and appreciative as he cupped the curve of your ass. And then he squeezed.
Your shaky hands barely got the fourth slice you cut onto a small serving plate. The cake cutter clattered onto the metal counter as Frankie shifted his body behind yours, his watchful eyes on the pass. No one was watching, stupid and oblivious. You swallowed a lump down your throat, your small hands clenching the rim of the counter. His hips were flushed against yours. Worst of all was that you really fucking liked it.
“This okay?” You’re flattered he asked after the fact.
You leaned back into his touch, quietly humming on the brink of a little moan. You were a little desperate for touch, maybe you’d be on your period soon. “Mhmm..”.
Frankie was a douchebag, but you two have been flirting back and forth with one another for years like an ongoing tennis match. He was older, he had years on you. Not an obscenely amount, but enough to make people raise an eyebrow. You were surprised he had the balls to actually make a move on you like he was right now.
“Like you in black.” Frankie’s voice was cut down to a murmur, low and all-enveloping. You weren’t sure if he was referring to the black in your waitress uniform or your black panties. Probably the latter.
His fingers brushed past your goosebump-covered ass and slipped between your legs to your clothed pussy. You softly gasped, eyes shifting closed as your hips involuntarily leaned into Frankie’s touch. You didn’t look subtle at all. You looked like you wanted to be touched, manhandled, kissed, fucked…
“Open your eyes, baby girl.” He purred, your chest already heaving. “Act normal.” You forced your eyes open, looking back at him with wide, innocent eyes. Needy pupils connected with his blown-out ones. The back of your head brushed his shoulder, setting it there for just a moment before he looked straight ahead.
Frankie nodded back to the pass, your eyes following his eye line to everyone distractedly dancing and sipping coffee mixed with bourbon on the floor.
You bit down on your lower lip, knuckles cast over in a milky white with the iron grip you held on the metal rim of the counter. Frankie’s body heat had disappeared from your back, and now you felt it cast against the back of your legs. You glanced around, seeing him on his knees behind you with his mouth now latched to the back of your thighs. Oh, fuck. His kisses sponged up higher, towards your heat.
Your eyelashes fluttered, Frankie’s act normal echoing through your hollow head. With distracted hands, you resumed cutting the cake. You probably looked slow and stupid, but feeling his patchy beard hair nestle between the sweet skin of your inner thighs had you in a haze.
Frankie’s big hands reached under your skirt, lining the black panties that sat snugly on your hips with his forefingers. He slowly peeled them down, feeling the material roll as he stopped them to rest halfway down on your thighs.
Your shoulders shuddered as your warm pussy met the slight chill of the outside world, panties adorning a little soaked spot.
“Frankie,” Mm? “Someone’s gonna see.” But you weren’t stopping him. You weren’t telling him to fuck off. You weren’t kicking him right in the gut like you probably could. In fact, you were leaning into him.
“Such a pretty pussy... Can’t stop, baby.”
A helpless whimper left your lips, thighs shaking at his affectionate, warm kisses.
Frankie’s hand swatted at the inside of your right ankle and then the other, hinting for you to spread yourself for him. You pursed your lips and shakily sighed, parting your legs as your sneakers lightly squeaked on the checkered floor. Fuck me, Frankie.
You didn’t know how much longer you could be patient. The waiting was tantric, hypnotizing you into seduction.
Spread for him and dripping, Frankie’s mouth finally attached to your slit. Your knee lightly jerked up and smacked a bus tub filled with dirty dishes, a few eyes on you through the pass as you nervously laughed. “S-Sorry!”
Frankie couldn’t help but let out a warm puff of laughter against your cunt, and you swore your insides were twisting at the sensation.
“Easy pretty girl… Don’t need us gettin’ caught. You want me to stop?” Frankie’s voice was husky, warm palms spreading your thighs, your body lightly bending over to lean on the counter. You tried to look busy with something, stupidly polishing a random fork. With the extra exposure, he had full access to your sex.
“Does it look like I want you to stop?” You finally punched out through air-abducted lungs, anxiously chewing on the skin of your lip. “Frankie.” You said in a hushed warning tone, wanting more and not knowing how to ask nicely for it. But that’s what he liked about you. You weren’t nice.
His lips finally attached properly to your pussy, his devilish tongue lining the center of your cunt and flicking off your clit. Your head dropped, ears ringing at the sensation.
You wondered how good he would feel if he could take his time instead of giving you head quick while all your coworkers were distracted. Maybe he could run his thumb over the front of your panties, trace the seam of your pussy, and feel how soaked you were for him and his attentive fingers. You thought Frankie had always been so down bad for you. He probably dreamed about getting this opportunity. He finally got you when you were just as horny for someone with a pulse. But this wasn’t all the time in the world; this was a slow shift at Tommy’s.
You rut your hips back into Frankie’s face, hot pants fanning fog onto the cool metal of the counter.
Frankie put his mouth where you needed him most, his tongue dedicating a poem to you. He flattened his tongue and licked a wide, wet strip up through your core, taking in all your juices. His tongue lapped at your weeping hole, thighs shaking against his head as you stifled a moan into the counter.
He was good, manipulative, a fucking menace.
Frankie’s tongue made precision flicks against your bundle of nerves, a gasp a bit too loud leaving the kitchen as you whimpered broken fragments of his name.
You weakly looked up, seeing Tina pluck another quarter in the jukebox, cranking the volume to some seventies soul music. Fuck being quiet.
Concealed by the groove of Stevie Wonder singing We Can Work It Out, your moans were hidden by the shake of a tambourine and plucks to an electric guitar.
“Goddammit, Frankie, mmm, so fucking good,” a gasp and a moan followed suit, lazily smirking with your eyes closed. “So fucking… hot.” You murmured.
Frankie’s mouth was a welcome wonder, dedicated to making you cum. He was swirling his tongue around your clit, weakly flattening your front over the counter again and pressing your cheek against the cool metal. Don’t be a douche right now, Francisco Morales. Make me fuckin’ cum.
The kitchen door swiftly swung open, and your body flew up to stand straight as Carla waited in the doorway.
“What’s taking you so long to cut my cake, baby? I know that bitch is stale as hell, but that don’t mean I don’t want it.”
Your eyes were wide, lips parted in an attempt to speak, but Frankie’s movements didn’t cease despite Carla’s unexpected intrusion. You bit back a whimper as he lined his tongue just barely into the tight entrance of your walls, his greedy fingers piercing into the flesh of your thighs to keep you spread. Thank god the counter covered your waist down.
“I-I’m sorry, I’ll be out in a sec.”
Carla looked you up and down, curious but ultimately not giving a damn. You could feel Frankie’s dirty smirk against your thighs.
“Alright... Hurry up. I’m tryna get my dessert.”
And with that, the door swished closed, and your back slumped at the relief.
Frankie’s unexpected voice made you jump lightly, his words echoing against you. “Gotta make ya finish fast, princess. Want my dessert, too.”
You whimpered but willed yourself to stand up straight and turn around to face him. He looked like a mess. Lust-filled black eyes and a cocky smirk to match. Your juices glistened on his lips and chin. Frankie would be incredibly hot if he knew how to keep his mouth shut.
“Taste as good as you look, princess.” Frankie stood up, tall and broad body making a white hot spot form in your stomach. Fuck, you couldn’t do this right now. Not right here.
He could tell. He took a few cautious steps away, you watched him carefully like a rattlesnake. He knew when not to push you and when to let you make the decisions. He also knew how to give you orders when you were too pussy fucked to think straight.
“Serve that cake and meet me out back.” He was looking over you, enjoying the few times you looked totally fucked like you did right now. He stepped back into your space and pulled your panties back into place, a sobby whimper leaving your lips as he gently cupped your aching mound with a smirk. “So fuckin’ needy, huh?”
“Fuck off.” You mumbled, fixing the bottom half of your uniform.
You watch as Frankie grabs the beer bottle you all used as a makeshift door prop and his half-carton of cigarettes you had brought out of a drawer in an attempt to find the cake cutter. He disappears out back into the alley. Shit, the cake.
You hurriedly sliced the remainder of the cake, placing a few stray candles into the slices. You lit them once you greeted the group waiting on the floor, singing a shitty rendition of Happy Birthday. Paul lights his cigarette from one of the candles, puffing smoke across the frosting.
The crowd hastily grabbed one of the small plates and a fork. Most of you only tried a bite or two. The cake had been in the display case for far too long.
---
Anxious and impatient, you slip into the back with everyone’s dirty dishes and sneak back into the kitchen. You do nothing more with them than chuck them into the sink for Lou to wash up at some point or another. Your eyes stare at the beer bottle keeping the back kitchen door ajar.
You take in a deep breath, leaving a shaky sigh before following Frankie out into the alley.
The air was warm, a welcome breeze passing over you. The alley was everyone’s hideaway, littered with crushed beer and soda cans, two large garbage dumpsters, and a large one for recycling. You could see the highway in the distance. The sun was setting, and the sky was turning purple and blue. You’d watch those cars drive right past your little town, paying no mind, probably off going to somewhere bigger and better. The only people from the highway who stopped to visit Tommy’s were people who didn’t know any better.
A flick of a lighter crackled, dividing your attention. Frankie was smoking his cigarette, his back leaning against the brick wall of the diner. He was trying not to smirk. Seeing you out here was way too much power for him. He took a drag, the end of his cigarette lighting up in a glowing orange haze before he pulled it from his mouth. The smoke he exhaled was taken by the breeze.
“Happy to see me?” His goading tone asked.
“No.” A challenge. A pause.
“So, you want me to go back inside?”
“No.” Another beat. A step closer to him, arms crossed. He’s smart enough to let his cigarette land on the ground.
“So, you want me to stay out here?”
Silence. Staring. Gauging each other’s reactions. Your tight jaw meets his cocky smirk. Too stubborn to ask meeting too stubborn to give without begging. Fuck.
Maybe it’s because you’re both desperate. Maybe because Frankie knows you. Knows you’re too stubborn to ask for him to fulfill your needs. Your inaction meets his unwillingness to waste another moment that he could be inside of you.
Stomping on his cigarette before closing the distance between you two, he envelopes you in a kiss that robs you of your breath. He tastes musky and bitter. The smoke that recently captured his lungs was hot on your lips.
Your heart was beating with excitement, happy to lose control for a moment as Frankie walked you blindly backward into the brick wall. Ouch.
Your tongues danced in a rhythmic motion, seducing you into letting him take the power as the kiss deepened. The flavor was subtle but distinct. The Marlboro’s held an acrid undertone, an unexpected layer of the kiss you sort of liked. If he tasted like spearmint gum, it might have turned you off.
It was like you were his cigarette now, breathing you in and clinging to you in addiction. It was his bad habit, but who were you to judge. You had a closet full of skeletons you weren’t open to anyone seeing. Maybe this was one of his.
His hands were a welcome guest, feeling his warm palms explore a body he had probably fantasized about.
“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle.
You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him.
“Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.
Frankie guided you further from the backdoor, hearing voices enter the kitchen. Probably Paul and Lou to start working on closing chores. He took you behind the dumpsters and hiked up your dress. You decided to be useful and push your panties down. He rounded up the material that was tying you up at your ankles and shoved them into his pocket. You were not letting him keep those.
You pushed his apron aside, fingers fussing over his belt buckle. He watched, amused, unwilling to help. He liked seeing you so desperate for his cock. Unbuttoned. Unzippered. Black boxer trim peaking out now. You made slight eye contact with him before you shoved his pants and boxers down to his thighs. Your heart clenches at how girthy he was. Fuckkk, this was gonna feel good.
He didn’t take his apron off, merely shoved it to the side as it haphazardly swayed on his hip. He closed the distance between you again, a greedy kiss, a kiss to mark you with. You pulled away to spit into your hand, taking him by his base and squeezing.
Frankie’s eyes shuddered closed, his head dropping as you took his manhood in the small of your hand. He was.. more than a handful. He was so meaty, not even able to wrap your fist fully around him.
You purred out a little moan as you worked your hand over him, feeling him grow heavy in your hand as you lubed up his tip, slowly circling your thumb teasingly around the pulsing head.
“Enough.” He muttered. He didn’t like you toying with him.
Frankie hiked up your leg by the underside of your calf, hooking around his hip as you leaned your back against the cold brick wall. It wasn’t comfy, but when you fuck against a run-down diner, you don’t get many options.
Your chest shuddered as you felt his cock heavy against your folds, erect and brushing up against where you needed him most. He was running his hand up and down himself now. You watched as he put down another line of spit from his mouth to his cock before his knuckles shuffled up and down his shaft a few more times.
The sight made you reel your head back and stare up at the sky. As eager as you are, you’re worried about feeling how thick he is. He knows.
“M’gonna go real slow.” He punches out, setting his forehead down against yours, and you shakily nod. Please don’t fucking split me in two, Frankie Morales. You still have a shift to finish, after all. You’re thankful he at least acknowledges his girth. It’s sort of the elephant in the room.
You both look down at your centers, your dripping one and his angry, pink head meeting in unison. It’s sort of fucked up the way that you’re two horrible people. But you knew horrible people always seemed to find each other.
You wet your lips and bite down. Hard. You weren’t a fresh spring virgin, but this wasn’t any other half-decent dick.
You lay your head back against the wall as Frankie guides himself into your welcoming entrance. Your wetness lubes him up well, but he’s still large.
You clench your eyes close and smile. The pain is always pleasure. “Fuck,” you mutter, your head wanting to come back down and watch.
Frankie’s being gentle, an odd word you’d never describe him as. He’s grunting and impatient, but patient for you. He fills you up to the brim and your head is flooded with clouds. You’re in the sky, lightheaded, but so fucking horny.
His hips meeting yours are a gentle greeting, both of your lips brushing as you shared pants of desperation as well as relief. Your stomach was tight, recoiling with the pressure he was providing to the inside of your walls.
“God-
“Jesus-
“-fucking damn.”
“Christ.”
The two of you moaned in unison.
Your nails are piercing into his shirt, bunching around the tops of his shoulders. You move to grip his apron for some sort of control. There is none.
One of his hands is still supporting your leg wrapped around his hip, the other flattened against the brick wall beside your head. You took solace in his arm, resting your forehead against it weakly.
He was cocky for a reason. His length in inches was his amount of reasons.
“Fuck me.” You finally mustered up enough strength to demand. He shakes his head against yours.
“Give it a minute.” He mutters, barely coherent. You’re scrumptiously tight around him, and you know it. You both do.
“We don’t have a minute.” You feverishly bite back, attempting to shift your hips against his. He retaliates by planting his hips against you, fucking the final few inches of his dick into you as you both fell deeper into the wall.
A hot moan rolled off your tongue, hiding your face away in his forearm and shuddering your eyes closed. Frankie’s hand slipped from your leg, cupping the globe of your ass in his warm hand. He squeezed and it made you smile as he reeled his hips slowly back.
He grumbles something.
“What?” You asked with a dopey grin.
He pushes back inside you and wipes the smirk clear off your face.
“I said… you’re so fuckin’ impatient.” His voice was tattered with grunts, your tight little pussy making it hard for him to breath.
Now he was creating a rhythm, fucking you into the wall in steady thrusts. You were already feeling your insides tug eagerly in excitement, the hot pool he had created in your guts simmering to a boil.
“Mhmm, mhm, mhm,” you moaned in silent begs, moans you had to read between the lines to understand. Fuck me, fuck me harder, fuck you feel good, I-I can’t think of anything other than fuck! Fuck me, Frankie!
He filled you up to a brim you had yet to discover you had. His tip tickled your cervix with each snap of his hips. He was getting greedy, a little sloppy. You’d judge him on this short-lived fuck later, for now, it was perfectly timed to get back into work without anyone noticing.
Your eyes widened and met his murky brown ones as he moved the hand he had against the wall nudged between your thighs, circling your clit. It was messy at first, but he found what made you tick and adjusted. Now he was running tight circles around you, and you were finding it hard to stay silent.
“Feel so fuckin’ perfect for me.” He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing motion. You actually wanted to taste him again, so you leaned into it, your tongue lining his mouth and tasting his old cigarette with a moan.
Now he was filling you up, no hesitancy in his hips as he snapped the full extent of his length into your cunt. Your head flew back against the orange and red brick, a fucked moan leaving your mouth. Neither of you cared. Frankie’s face was nuzzled against your jawline and neck, sloppy kisses tasting old perfume as the circles on your clit intensified your impending orgasm.
“F-Fuck, Frankie, shit, I’m gonna-” You gasped and closed your eyes, clutching your arms weakly around his shoulders and holding him to you. His body enveloped you like a shield protecting you from anything in your surroundings.
Your orgasm crashed over you, coursing through your body like a million volts of electricity as you whimpered and moaned into his neck. Your eyes were clamped closed, your walls clenching and fluttering around his sensitive cock.
His moans were heavenly, guttural and deep, a little shaky even as he puffed them into your neck and shoulder. His hips twitched against the inside of your thighs as he came undone inside of you. It felt like he was cumming for days, filling you up with white rope after white rope of his semen and painting your insides with only remnants of him.
You couldn’t think. You just focused on the distant sound of the highway, creating a bustling amount of white noise for you. You gently held his head to keep him close, your shaky hand winding into his hair as the two of you reconciled over your orgasms.
He was the first one to move. He slipped himself from you and gave you a few lazy kisses. Your stomach fluttered before you shook your head.
Stop it, Frankie.
‘M not doin’ anything.
Teasing smiles. Hands softening their holds on each other’s bodies. Fixing hair. Fixing undergarments.
He would have held onto your panties. He probably hoped you forgot about them. You tugged them from his pocket and attempted to slip into them with ease, but you ended up having to use the brick wall as a support to lean into.
You steadied his apron straight, and he pulled the skirt of your uniform down. Teamwork.
You don’t really talk, just clean yourselves up, nod, and dart back inside before anyone can really notice or give a damn that you were missing in action. You kept having to excuse yourself to the bathroom, feeling Frankie still seeping from you. It made your chest hot, an embarrassed smile on your face.
Fuck it. That’s what Plan B is for. Or you can just wait to see if you get your period in a few days time.
---
You and Frankie danced around one another during the closing shift. Carla went home and took the cake in a to-go container to give to her kids. It was shitty that she had to work on her birthday, but she said that getting to see your gorgeous face was a present of its own.
You tiredly yawned, seeing it was a few minutes past ten. You helped Tina even out the cash register, putting today’s earnings in an envelope, then putting it in the safe for Rudy to take to the bank at the end of the week.
“You sure you don’t mind cleaning up on your own?” Tina asked, giving her a tired smile and a soft shrug.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you Wednesday.” Despite her annoying singing, Tina wasn’t that bad. She gave you a big grin before she hopped off the stool and left out the front door. Lou and Paul had already left at the start of closing. You didn’t know if Frankie snuck out the back early.
You did a double take to the jukebox, watching Frankie flip his baseball hat backward and push a quarter into the machine. Your face softened, seeing him flip between the different records before landing on one.
Something by Fleetwood Mac started playing. You watched him reach up and untack your banner from the wall easily. You nodded softly before grabbing the spray bottle filled with disinfectant and began wiping down the counters, seats, and tables.
He walked up to you once you finished cleaning, handing you your folded-up banner. You twisted your lips in thought, rolling the banner around in your hands.
“Wanna help me burn this in the burn barrel out back?”
Frankie sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah. Fuck it. Got nothin’ better to do.”
---
With Frankie’s lighter, both of you watched with glassy eyes as the Happy Birthday! banner burnt to ashes. His face was lit up in orange and yellow hues. He haphazardly tried to lean into the flames with a cigarette dangling between his lips, a stupid laugh leaving you. He shrugged and put the cigarette behind his ear.
“Fuck it.” He huffed, both of your eyes transfixed on the fading flames.
There was a beat of silence.
Frankie’s eyes met yours. “We should do that again sometime.”
Half of your mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Do what?”
He cocked his head to the side in annoyance. “You know what.”
You shrugged and shoved your hands into your jacket pockets. The hum of the highway in the distance made you flashback to just a few hours ago with Frankie railing you against Tumbleweed. A black and purple-streaked night sky submerged the two of you, making you feel tiny. You sigh and shift on your feet, keeping your eyes on the flames that licked up the ay! in Birthday!
“Maybe.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “Maybe?”
“Mhm.”
Frankie teetered on your half-ass decision. Even the notion of having an open door left for him to sneak in was enough to make him happy. “Okay. I’ll take a maybe.”
God, you were bluffing so hard. Maybe it wouldn’t be sooo bad to throw him a bone every once in a while.
Your fantasizing was cut short as ashes of the banner spewed up from the depths of the barrel and fluttered up into the air between you and Frankie, both of you taking a preemptive step away.
His lighter clicked again; he had to do it a few times before the end of his cigarette caught a flame. “I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmured. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was trying to walk you to your car, wanting to leave, but not until you started heading home, too.
He swung his body into the driver seat of his beaten-up pickup truck. You decided to follow suit, sliding into your car. You saw Tommy’s fade away from the rearview mirror in the distance. But the thoughts of Frankie between your legs, fucking you into oblivion, and begging to serve your aching center would sit with you until your next shift at Tumbleweed. Sorry. Tommy’s Diner.
---
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soft slow, morning glow
Steve Harrington x Reader
A prosaic peek at Steve Harrington’s inability to sleep in and stay in bed and his reasons for changing his ways.
October 1997; a cosy easy morning, where kisses are shared and ABBA songs are sung as a lullaby.
Word count: 4.3K
Content/Warnings: TW for talk of bleeding during pregnancy, borderline neglectful parents.
Mention of sex (18+), not explicit. This contains dad!Steve & mom! reader toward the end; pregnant reader. Kinda rambling. Very soft. Low angst (but not none).
Note: Thank you to my ST rewatch for making me fall for Steve all over again.
Proofread by @specialagentmonkey | Divider by @silkholland
Steve Harrington was always an early riser.
As a honey-haired little boy, he spent Saturday mornings on the sofa watching cartoons with the volume dialled low as his parents slept. He knew not to make a mess with the cereal, or the milk, rewarded with a stack of pancakes or a new toy for keeping himself amused as Richard and Katherine Harrington slept off the previous evening’s dinner party hangover.
Always the first awake at sleepovers, he would wait with bated breath for Tommy to stir or feign a sneeze to wake him.
He never had to be dragged from bed to go to school during the week, always up and at ‘em to go see his friends, play tag and swap baseball cards on the playground.
As a sporty and popular teenager, he started running when he didn’t have early swim practice or basketball. Steve rose with the sun and waved to his neighbours politely as his shiny sneakers slapped the pavements of Loch Nora.
He was never sure what he was running from, or towards, but the burn of chilly morning air in his lungs made him feel alive.
When he started going to house parties and hangouts on Saturday nights, his Sundays still started early, dragged to show face at his parent’s church. It was less about faith and god and all about appearances. He snuck out of bedroom windows, hopped white picket fences as the sun rose, fought hangovers as the priest’s voice droned and caught the eyes of pretty girls from the convent school a town over - they always blushed when he smiled at them or dropped them a sly little wink as the collection plate was passed around.
When his parents started travelling more, after the shortlived re-commitment to the church, Steve’s Sunday morning hangovers were kept at bay with cold swims in the pool or hot coffee and loud music in the kitchen as he tried and failed to focus on homework.
Steve started working right out of school as punishment for unsubmitted college applications and lower-than-predicted grades. He volunteered for the opening shifts in Scoops Ahoy and Family Video - he liked the responsibility and having a purpose, having an excuse to be out of the house before his parents could tutt and fuss and lecture him. It was easier when they weren’t there; when the office in Indy needed Richard’s attention more than his wife and son did, when Katherine spotted smears of lipstick on his collars again and insisted she spend some time with him in the city apartment.
In their absence, the Harrington house was a mausoleum of failure that Steve couldn’t bear to be in. So he raised his hand for early delivery shifts and stock takes and drove his friends to school when he didn’t have to, already awake after another night of nightmares, memories of flying fists.
Steve Harrington rose early and burned bright; burned out quickly when he realised he didn’t know what to do with himself or what his purpose was.
He filled his time with making himself useful to other people, chasing and seeking a purpose or a person to fill the gaps and spaces in his chest; the hollows once reserved for the people who didn’t return the outpouring of love he offered so freely, so innocently. He found and made a rag-bag bunch of friends, a found family, who returned the love he deserved in the ways they knew how. Woven and knotted friendship bracelets, squished candy bars, mixtapes, weed sold and rolled at buddy rates or for nothing at all.
Steve Harrington moved to the city with his best friends; a Beemer and a battered van filled with boxes and suitcases. The early morning drive made Steve Harrington glow golden in the rising sun, his excited eyes hidden behind dark-tinted sunglasses as Robin Buckley snored in the passenger seat and Eddie Munson listened to metal at an ear-bleeding volume in his van and flipped Steve off with that big grin in the rearview mirror. They stopped for strong coffee and sweet pancakes and started a new chapter in the city.
When you fell in love with Steve in 1990, he found a reason to stay in bed a little longer. A reason to slow down, soak up the sunshine glow you shone on him.
You spent Saturday nights with friends, a patchwork group cheering on Corroded Coffin and selling T-shirts and tapes at a merch table when they scored a bigger venue and a bigger crowd. Movie nights and takeout Chinese food and a stack of new and old movies from Blockbuster. Date nights at swanky bars and restaurants, with flickering candles and pizza on the way home because you didn’t want the night to end yet. You spent hours in bed together, night and morning, talking about everything under the rising sun and dwindling moon, learning about each other’s life and mapping each other’s body with kisses and gentle touches.
In the morning he gazed at your sleepy softness and took his own pulse to make sure he wasn’t dying. No heart attack, just falling in love.
He brought you cups of coffee and sweet pastries from the bakery a block away when his limbs felt restless. He always got back into bed with you to cuddle and while away the morning without a moment wasted. With Steve, those mornings were syrupy slow; he worshipped you between your thighs and held your hands as the headboard bashed against the wall.
You became Mrs. Steve Harrington in the spring of ‘94.
A small wedding. A big party for your friends. A honeymoon week where every morning felt like a perfect lazy Saturday.
When Steve found his reason to stay in bed, together you created a reason that kept you from it.
Bethany Rose Harrington. Born June 21st 1995.
Beth had her Daddy’s eyes and her Mama’s nose, and the sweetest little dimples in her smiley pink cheeks. She was her Daddy’s little doughnut, her Mama’s little bee. She inherited Steve’s charm and wrapped her extensive collection of doting uncles and aunts right around her tiny finger. She took after you in the way that Steve was completely and utterly in love with her.
Just like her Dad, Beth liked to start the day early. After a few weeks of seeking out and settling into a routine, Steve spent the earliest part of the day feeding his little Bethie her bottle of milk in the cosy armchair nestled in the corner of her pale yellow nursery. As he watched her big brown eyes gaze and blink, felt her tiny fist wrap around his finger, Steve decided that these were the happiest mornings of his life.
On those soft and slow mornings, you could hear Steve’s low murmur to your little girl through the baby monitor when his excitement to see her gummy smile or stop her sad fat tears bypassed the off-switch. You fell back asleep to the sound of Steve telling Beth about how the Cubs and the Bulls (their teams now) were doing this season, or about the walk in the park you were going to go on once ‘beautiful mama’ was awake. He sang to her; never typical lullabies, Queen and ABBA and Dusty Springfield.
Steve basked in the joy of her little smiles, soaked in the soft cooing noises as Beth found her voice to talk back to her Daddy. When she fell asleep again, milk-drunk with her cheek against his heartbeat, Steve watched the morning sky shift and brighten and listened out for the sound of your waking time. The soft thud and shuffle from bed to bathroom, running water, your yawn and stretch, the gentle steps to seek and find him and your little treasure. You filled reams of camera film, documenting Steve as a Dad, your little girl's first weeks and months. Lit by morning light, by afternoon sun and the shade of the tree in your yard, and dusky nighttime lit by nightlights.
When your laundry list of chores allowed it, you took one of your three options on those mornings of parenthood - take turns to bask in the warmth of lavender and milk-scented baby cuddles while the other showered; bring the sleeping beauty back to your bed to gaze at the ten fingers and ten toes you had created together; or leave the sleepy and full-tummied grub to sleep in her crib again to spend the slow dawn hours holding each other and trading kisses, and knotting yourselves up in the sheets together once the doctor gave you the all-clear and a prescription for birth control.
You did plenty of all three.
Summer turned to Autumn, then Winter, and Steve balanced being a father and husband with keeping a roof over your heads and the final year of his programme to get his qualification to become a guidance counsellor. His mornings with Beth were part of his routine, leaving her smiling and drooly for you when he kissed his girls goodbye. Missing him during full days of supervised sessions and hours in the college library when he wasn’t in classes bonded you and Beth, thick as thieves and lovestruck for the golden Harrington boy-turned-man. You made sure that he never missed a moment with how many pictures you took, and Beth saved all of her firsts for when he was home. You coached her to say ‘dada’ in Steve’s absence and he sobbed happy tears when she parroted it back. (He had been coaching her to say ‘mama’ during their early mornings together).
Your late nights of talking turned to early-to-bed nights, sleeping when the baby slept and when your little home was some semblance of clean and tidy. Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bethie’s breath on the monitor, your heart under his cheek and the soft stroke of your fingers in his hair, along the length of his arm.
Both of you were exhausted. Neither of you had ever been happier.
When he graduated in the Summer, you and Beth cheered and clapped for your golden boy along with his best friends - the loudest bunch in the college auditorium. A picture of the Harrington trio - Steve in his shirt and tie and graduation gown balancing a smiley baby and his degree as you kiss his cheek and tickle Beth’s tummy for the camera - was placed with pride on his desk when he started a counsellor job that landed in his lap in the late summer of ‘96. He coached basketball two afternoons a week on the side; it was perfect for him.
You go back to work part-time and you balance taking care of Beth and each other with the utmost care. With help from your family and Steve’s trust fund from the Harrington’s, you make it work. You are what he holds dear, pride of place in the centre of his chest, once vacant and hollow. The gaping space he yearned to fill with the wrong friends, the wrong girls, watery beer and too many cigarettes.
By the Fall of ‘97, Steve had learned to sleep again. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Enjoy your days off. Enjoy every moment. He is. He’s so tired but never happier.
This morning, you wake first.
Your little house in the Chicago suburbs is bathed in autumn darkness on a lazy Saturday. Six a.m. and Steve snores peacefully.
Beth is silent, dreaming of her two favourite things: fairies and pancakes. That top five list favourites is rounded out by her Daddy and Mama and Mrs. Murphy’s orange cat that visits the backyard.
The littlest Harrington is an early bird too, twirling in your tummy beneath Steve’s protective hand. Until Steve can take the morning shift, you are the early riser.
Beth is your sleepy little dreamer, she loves her bed like her Mama. She sneaks in between you and Steve (and the bump now too) when she wakes too early; you spend those mornings gazing and counting fingers and toes again like when she was a tiny thing.
This baby however seems to take after her father’s love of sport, the way she practices the aim and strength of her kicks on your bladder. You don’t officially know yet (they were less than cooperative at the last ultrasound), but you know it’s a girl. Steve swayed to boy for a day or two before realising you were right. Maybe next time…
The flush and sigh-groan from your aching back pulls Steve from sleep. When you pad back in from the little bathroom, he’s just about upright and wild-haired.
“Y’okay?” Eyes swollen with sleep, he reaches blindly for you to help you back into the cosy nest of blankets.
“Mm, needed to pee.”
You try to keep your cold feet away but Steve sandwiches them between his own size fourteen and always warm feet. His lips brush your shoulder and the back of your neck when you settle into a comfortable position; Bump dictates what will suffice as ‘comfortable’ and settles under her father’s comforting hand. Harrington’s magic touch is famed in your home; settling gassy babies and working out knotted shoulders, fixing leaky faucets and carrying all of the groceries inside in two heavy handfuls, making shadow-puppet shows on the bedroom wall and holding back your hair when you’re not well.
Slowly, small-spooned by Steve’s bigger body, you drift again. Sleep comes and goes like an inconsistent tide, and you are anchored safely in his arms. Baby names ebb and flow into your tired head and you wish Steve was awake to tell you what he thought of ‘Heather’ or ‘Ava’. Whether your (very slow) re-read of Little Women was influencing you too much to ‘Josie’. You wonder about how much candy you should get for the trick-or-treaters, and whether Beth will be too scared to help you answer the door to them this year.
You wish he was awake - because you always wish your every waking moment was spent with Steve Harrington - but you’re so glad he is sleeping soundly, snoring sweetly behind you. You wish you could take more responsibility, take the pressure he puts on his own shoulders from him, but this pregnancy is less easy than the first and you hate that you can’t do it all anymore. You take solace in the fact that Steve is asleep, not awake worrying or nesting.
Turning in his sleepy hold, you place his hand back on the bump to keep the littlest Harrington settled and content, and watch your handsome husband look like the teenager you wish you had known. You map the laughter lines instead of the ones etched by worry, counting the happy memories (which are insurmountable) as you fall back to sleep with him at last.
Sleeping Beauty herself slumbers on until almost 8 a.m., meaning that both you and Steve sleep until almost 8 a.m. too - later on you will toast coffee (decaf for you) over that parent win. For the next few months, the weekends mean Steve will be hitting snooze on his body clock when the chances arise.
This morning Beth’s little voice sings his name down the hall. Steve wakes with a smile and kisses your sleepy face as you stretch and peel your eyes open.
“You’re up, Coach.” Your voice is a tired yawn, mumbled into the fluffy duvet Steve untangles himself from.
“Bring her in for cuddles please.” You pout for a tired kiss and hum happily when he grants your wish.
Steve’s ankles crack as he walks from your room to Beth’s. She’s wide awake and wild-haired, matching her Dad, and she sits up in her bed with her bunny-teddy clutched in her fist.
“Hi bumblebee,” he gasps, his tiredness swept away by his genuine joy to see her. Steve lays down on her too-small-for-him baby bed and pretends to get comfy to sleep again. “Sleepover?” he asks, opening his arm for her.
“Nooooo, yo’bed!” Her sweet voice crackles with sleepiness and the remnants of a cold she picked up as the seasons changed.
In the warmth of your bed, you can hear the mini-eye-roll she’s giving her Dad as he plays up to her dramatics. Uncle Dustin has a lot to answer for.
“Bethie,” you call from your nest, “I miss you.”
Steve watches with barely restrained amusement as her face beams bright like sunshine before leaving him in the lurch to seek out Mama. “Hey! What about me?!”
You can hear his grumbling as he hauls himself up from the tiny toddler bed but your focus is the bundle of sunshine that bounds her way to your room in her sky-blue jammies. Pushing messy hair from her face, she squeaks happily as you lift her before Steve can beat you to it. You didn’t want another moment apart from your girl and she burrows against your chest under the toasty-warm duvet.
“Morning Betty Boop.” You press kisses to her smiling face and hear Steve stomp and flop back into the room and into the bed.
“Is Daddy not invited to this love-in? Just for Mama and Beth?” he asks, scowling at your smushed-together faces.
You cuddle Beth and stroke her back as the girl shifts her impish gaze to Steve. “What do you think, Betty? Kisses for Dada?”
She can never ever resist him and reach-grabs out to be gathered in his big strong arms for kisses and cuddles.
Steve lights up, features relaxing from his feigned annoyance, as he gives and receives morning kisses. You are gathered up alongside the titch of a girl and with her help, you smother kisses all over Steve’s happy face.
“Never ever not invited to the love-in, my love.” You kiss his shadowed jaw once and tuck yourself under his arm.
“Kiss d’baby?” Beth’s messy head pops up and looks at you hopefully.
“You wanna say good morning to Baby?” Steve asks, and she nods. “Mama?”
“I think she’s asleep, but I bet she’ll wake up when she hears Big Sis and Dada.” Beneath the pitched tent of the duvet, you lift Steve’s t-shirt and present the rounded bump for inclusion in the morning love-in.
Beth has been immensely eager to meet her baby since she took notice of your bump and realised the new baby was actually in there.
The little girl’s pillow-soft cheek rests against the curve as she hugs around your middle. “Moh’nin, baby.” Her little voice is still a little stuffed up, nasal.
Your heart and tears swell as you watch her with Steve, who kisses the bump and murmurs hello. You’re at that point of pregnancy where you could cry when the wind changes and you cover your eyes so Beth won’t go out in sympathy-tears with you.
Steve’s big hand squeezes your hand as he distracts Beth, who babbles in toddler talk to her sibling. His eyes are wide and worried as he looks up and sees the hitch of your chest. He’s had that worried look since you bled at ten weeks and the doctor put you on bed rest, just three weeks into actually knowing you were pregnant. Everything has settled bar your hormones and emotions; two perfect heartbeats, an active healthy baby, a happy but tired Mom. Steve is more scared now than he was with Beth but pretends to be brave for you.
You swipe at your hot tears, dry your hand in your t-shirt before reaching down to stroke through Steve’s thick hair.
“M’okay.” You give him a watery smile. “She’s just… so sweet, Stevie.”
Moving up to lie along your side, Steve wipes your cheek and presses a kiss to the trail of the tears left behind. “Sweetest. Sweet Bee. Feelin’ okay?”
His hand stays on top of your bump and then passes over Bethany’s bedhead when she looks up curiously.
Seeing that she is missing out, Beth decides she has had enough and wants to cuddle with you instead of the baby who won’t kick back hello. She wiggles up to lie on Steve’s chest, little fingers poking into the freckles and moles as he pulls the duvet back around you all like a cosy cocoon.
“Feeling good. You okay?”
Steve has tucked away his worry again, but you still see the pinch in his brow - though the curious little fingers might be the reason for that.
“Peachy.” He chases the poking fingers with a growling kiss, pulling a shrieking giggle from Beth. “Hello, can I help you? Why are we poking Daddy this morning, huh?”
You giggle with Beth and kiss where her fingers had pressed, modelling the gentle sweetness you know she possesses in multitudes. “Poor Daddy. See, Betty? Gentle kissies.” A kiss is snuck onto his mouth for good measure.
“Daddy,” Beth sing-songs, patting his cheek lovingly.
“Bethie,” Steve sings back to her, echoing her melody. He accepts a wet baby-kiss as you curl close to them both.
You twirl a finger in the messy wave of her hair. “What will we do today? Do you want to get some library books? Or we could… go to the park?”
Steve pats her back gently. “Oh wow. All the possibilities, huh?” His lips press to Beth’s forehead as she cuddles up to him, her fingers distracted by the gold chain he wears around his neck. “Gentle, please.” He kisses her head again and looks at you. “We can do both… Go get a t-r-e-a-t?”
You smile and nod, covering Steve’s hand on Beth’s small back. “I like t-r-e-a-ts. What do you want to do, big guy?”
Steve’s fingers slot with yours. His lips brush your head as you share his pillow - the firm one to help with his neck pain. “Just be with you two. Could stay right here all day and I’d be the happiest guy.”
You press your nose against his cheek and close your eyes; you’re both surrounded by your favourite people, it is utter bliss.
“I love you.” Your voice is soft and tired against his stubbly jaw.
“Love you. So much, babe.”
Steve tilts his head so you can share a morning-breath-be-damned kiss. He wishes he had woke up sooner, before the wide-eyed toddler, so that he could have showered you with kisses, made out like teenagers (despite the baby bump between you).
“No! Me!” The frustrated little whine makes you smile apologetically to each other, chancing one more peck before you both look to scowling Beth.
“Sorry, Bee. Mama’s too delicious for me to resist.”
“Steve!” you tuck your face in his neck as you laugh, an affectionate headbutt.
“What? The kid’s gotta know.”
The two-year-old smushes her face to her Dad’s chest, still too little to comprehend her Dad’s silly banter when she just wants to be the centre of both of your attention. You have a few months left to figure that out before the baby arrives, but it scares you that she might feel like she’s not the best thing that ever happened you (bar her Dad, of course).
Your pout matches hers and you push back the stinging Mom Guilt Tears. She is only coaxed away with sweet little cheek-kisses from you as you hum-sing Take a Chance on Me (accompanied by Steve’s tapping fingers on her back ‘take a chance, take a chance, take a, take a chance-chance.)
The girl's smile splits her frustrated face, a quiet giggle as she is serenaded by her current favourite song (you have just got I Was Made For Lovin’ You out of your head after Steve had introduced her to KISS in the car). Her little arm hooks around your head as you whisper how much you love her, soft voice tickling her ear and cheek.
Beth’s laughter coaxes a fluttering kick against your belly, which Steve feels against his side as you spoon against him. He wears the same wide-eyed joy on his face every time he has felt your babies kick.
“Oo, she’s awake again. Finally joining the party.” You rest your hand against the side of your rounded belly and telepathically tell the tiny one how much you love them too, how you can’t wait to meet them but please stay in there until they’re fully cooked and ready.
Steve’s free hand - the one not keeping Beth upright as she sits up on his torso - joins yours and echoes your telepathic communication to the littlest Harrington - I love you, I can’t wait to hold you, please stay safe in there and be nice to your Mom.
His wide palm on your bump settles the fluttering before she aims her kick right against it Hi Dad! Okay, Dad!
You share a secret little smile with him and kiss his cheek as his eyes shimmer before rolling onto your achy back, feeling the satisfaction of the pop and crack as your spine relaxes against the mattress. Steve’s hand stays on your belly, and you hug his arm to your chest, as Beth sings her toddler-babble version of an ABBA mashup for you both from her throne.
Steve’s face hurts from smiling as he listens to her, hears some semblance of the lyrics in Beth-speak. He doesn’t remember mornings like this with his parents, few and far between were the times he was even allowed to cuddle with them in bed on a weekend morning.
You glance at his face, watching shifting emotions come and go as he remembers, tries to forget and focuses on the memories being made right now in your cosy nest of a bed. You squeeze his arm and hold his hand on your belly - matching gold wedding rings clicking against each other as your fingers intertwine.
Steve squeezes your hand, three pulses. There is simply nowhere he would rather be.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington character study#dad!steve harrington#dad!steve harrington x mom!reader#stranger things#steve harrington fluff#steve stranger things#stranger things fic#steve harrington x f!reader#prosaic fic#bangaveragefics
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This might be bad but could you write a Steve Harrington story where he left the reader for nancy after they were secretly dating bc she’s plus sized. Then once he cleans up his act he writes her a letter. I was thinking it could be based on closure by Taylor Swift! Thank you !
Closure
This isn't bad ! I can totally do that. I listened to the song for the first time today so I hope you like this! Also, This is going to be a two part piece. I wanted to give some background context so that's what this first part is about. I'll be working on part 2 soon. I hope you don't mind.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x plus size!reader
Warnings: I'm not a basketball player nor have I ever been a manager. Honestly I've never really been to a basketball game so I'm not sure if this is all super accurate. Pls let me know. Cursing, Use of Y/N, use of the word girl, some self doubt.
Series Summary: You never knew Steve could be so shallow. When he leaves you to date Nancy Wheeler, you're left with a pain you thought he'd never leave cause you. Maybe you should've stayed friends.
*Not Proof Read* Stranger Things Masterlist
Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3
*****
Teenage love. Powerful. Fast. Fun. Potent.
The first boy I fell in love with was Steve Harrington. How couldn't I have? His perfect hair. Beautiful eyes. His flirty smile.
Every girl liked Steve at one point or another.
Steve and I grew up together in Hawkins. We never had the same classes together, but boy, I knew of Steve. We finally officially met in high school when I became the manager for the Hawkins High Basketball team.
Freshman Year - 1981
" Alright guys, huddle up. " Coach Ryan shouts to the sweaty boys drilling around the gym. " This is our manager. You will treat them with respect, you hear? I want none of that bullshit that went on last year. You got that Seniors? " Coach Ryan sends a pointed look at the upperclassmen. " If I hear of anyone disrespecting our manager, you'll be running on bleachers for the next month. I'm serious. "
What an introduction.
I shift slightly, a little uncomfortable with the gazes of the boys. I send a small smile to the team, trying to calm myself. " Hey, guys. Let me know if you need anything. " I scan the group in front of me. My eyes land on a familiar face on the back row. His friendly smile sends a wave of butterflies fluttering throughout my body. My eyes linger on him for a few seconds before I force myself to look away.
The last thing I need is for him to realize I like him. How awkward.
The coach makes a few more announcements before he dismisses the boys to the locker rooms.
" I needs you to gather up the balls and take them back to the equipment room. " Coach Ryan nods in the direction of the small closet on the other side of the room.
" Sure thing! Anything else? " I ask, reaching down to pick up one of the stray balls.
" Not that I can think of. I'll be in my office if you need me. " Coach Ryan nods a goodbye before heading towards the boys locker room where his office is located.
I look around the gym. Abandoned basketballs lay scattered around the gym. This is going to take a minute.
I pull the metal ball holder behind me as I begin picking everything up.
" Here ya go. " A voice startles me from behind.
I turn to see Steve holding two basketballs under his arms. He sends me a small smile.
" Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. " He sets the basketballs on the top rack.
I smile back at him. " It's all good. I scare easily. "
Steve jogs over to one of the balls a few feet away from us, swiftly picking it up.
" Oh, you don't need to do that. I've got it. It's my job anyway. "
Steve shakes his head, a looks piece of hair falling in front of his face. " I don't mind. It's kinda fucked up you have to clean up our mess. "
I shrug. " I mean, I signed up to do it. "
Steve nods. " Why did you sign up to be a manager? "
" Honestly, to get out of class. " I feel heat begin to spread over my face at the sound of Steve's laugh. " I hate biology. "
" Whaddya mean? Mr. Jackson's a world-class comedian. You're telling me you don't like his cell jokes? " Steve grins.
I cringe, memories of Mr. Jackson's awkward dad jokes and the silence following filling my mind. " I could do without. "
" You know, I don't think we've actually ever talked before. " Steve points out while heading towards another ball. Instead of returning it to the cart, he dribbles it towards the hoop closest to us. He shoots it into the hoop, the ball making a loud sound as it returns to the ground.
" Well, we've never had a class together. " I shrug, taking the ball from him as he hands it over to me.
" What a shame. "
Does Steve like talking to me?
" I mean, that doesn't mean we can't start now. We're gonna be stuck together for the next few months. "
Steve picks up the last basketball. " True. I gotta go get changed before my mom gets here. It's been nice. See ya tomorrow? " His eyes steadily hold my gaze.
I nod. " For sure. "
Steve's smile widens slightly. " Later, Y/N. "
" Bye Steve. " My throat feels tight from excitement. I can't believe that just happened. Steve knows I exist. He knows I exist! And he actually likes talking to me! This...this is fucking great.
Sophomore Year - 1982
" Hurry the fuck up, Y/N. " Steve groans, his sweaty forehead pressed against his forearm. He lazily leans against the now empty bleachers, his eyes following me as I finish writing down the total of money the team made off of concessions.
" I told you that you didn't have to wait for me. I have shit to finish up here. " I nod towards the clip board in front of me.
" I'd be a shitty friend if I left you here. What if you get...kidnapped or some shit. I'd be first on the suspect list. "
Friend. I'm only his friend. Gosh, I need to get over this stupid crush. I mean, it's been over a year since we met and he hasn't said anything about liking me. Why would he like me now? He's into girls like Chrissy. Why else would he flirt with girls like her and not with me? If he liked me he'd tell me. Right?
I roll my eyes, trying to shake off my thoughts and focus of the impatient boy in front of me. " Great to see you care about me so much. Definitely isn't because of your reputation. "
Steve lets out a small laugh. " You know I'm fucking with you, right? "
" I know. Look, I'm almost done. Grab your duffle from the locker, will you? By the time you get back I'll have everything finished. Plus it'll give me a break from your whiny ass. " I joke.
" Ouch. And here I thought you loved me. " Steve holds a hand up to his heart, humor clearly in his tone.
For a moment my heart begins to race. Love. He knows? He doesn't know. Shut the fuck up and be normal. He's a friend. Just a friend.
" What made you believe that? Tommy's obviously my number 1. "
I'm not the biggest fan of Tommy. He's hot a cold. Somedays he's decent, other days he's a complete shit head. He's changed a lot since middle school.
For a moment something flashes over Steve's expression. Surprise maybe? Annoyance? As quickly as it comes it's gone. His playful expression returns. " I'll be sure to let him know that. "
" Don't you fucking dare! " My head snaps towards him. " I'll kill you, Harrington. I'm not even joking. He'll never let me live that shit down, even if it's a lie. And Carol will beat the shit out of me. "
Steve raises an eyebrow in amusement. He leans back against the bleachers, crossing his arms. " Don't worry, I'll sell tickets for the show. I'll even cheer you on. "
I roll my eyes. " Of course you would. "
" I'm gonna go grab my stuff before the janitors lock the locker rooms up for the night. " Steve laughs, pushing himself up. " Hurry the fuck up before I leave you here. "
" You wouldn't dare. "
" Watch me. " With that, he strolls towards the direction of the locker rooms. His strides ooze with confidence, a kind only Steve can emit.
Steve truly is one of a kind.
Junior Year - 1983
" Are you going to prom? " Steve asks out of the blue. He doesn't bother looking up from his text book.
I swallow harshly, heat climbing up my cheeks. I hate when people ask me this. " Nah. Prom's overrated. "
Steve's eyebrow quirks up. " So you're a dance hater? "
I shrug. " I just don't see what the big deal is. Blowing a ton of cash for one night? I'd rather buy new records. " I debate whether or not to tell him the next part. " Plus no one's asked me. " They never do. Why would they when they could ask someone like Carol or Chrissy?
Steve finally looks up at me, his gaze finally meeting mine. Shock is evident in his expression. " Really? You haven't been asked? "
I shake my head, heat crawling up my face again. " Why would I? In case you haven't noticed, I don't really have a ton of guy friends. And my friend pool isn't the largest. "
Steve sends me a sympathetic smile.
Instead of comforting me, it annoys me. He doesn't understand. He's had girls asking him out and asking him to dances from the moment he was allowed to go to dances.
" Anyone would be lucky to take you. You're a great person, Y/N. "
I roll my eyes, laughing slightly. " Yeah. Lucky. "
Steve's eyebrows furrow. " Why are you laughing? I'm serious. You're like the coolest person I know. "
" Then you have a very unique perspective of the word cool. " I glance up at the clock on the wall behind him. " Shit, I told my mom I'd run to the store and pick up some potatoes for dinner. I'm gonna be late. I gotta go. " I rush to gather my notebooks off of the library table.
" Do you want me to take you? " Steve asks, getting up after me.
I shake my head. " It's fine. It's just down the street. You keep studying. Lord knows you need to. Gotta pass that calc test in Jones' class tomorrow. " Truthfully, I just want to get out of this conversation and I'm worried that if Steve gives me a ride it'll just reignite the topic.
" Are you sure? I really don't mind taking you. I can always study at home. "
" I'm fine Steve. Plus, if you try to 'Study' at home, you're not going to get anything done. I know you. "
Steve rolls his eyes. " I love your confidence in me. With your reassuring words I can do anything. "
I let out a small laugh. " Shut up. "
Steve grins.
Fuck he's perfect.
I need to get out of here.
" I'll see ya later Steve. " I wave at him, pulling my bookbag over my shoulder.
" Later, Y/N. Walk safe. Call me in an hour or two so I know you weren't kidnapped or forced to join a circus. " Steve's joking but a part of his expression seems serious. Like he's actually worried about me.
I let out a sigh. " I'll be fine but I'll call you. "
I wish I was the type of person boys would ask out. The type that don't have to do anything for people to crush on them.
But I'm not.
++++++
" Y/N, Steve's here! " My mothers voice calls up to me.
What? Why's Steve here?
Confused, I head downstairs. As soon as I reach the bottom my eyes widen. Steve's still in the doorway, a small box in his hands. His hair is styled perfectly, like always. He's dressed in a fancy suit, something I've only seen him do for fall sport award nights or very special occasions.
" What the...? " I finally get to the bottom of the stairs. " Steve? What's going on? "
" You're going to Prom with me. " Steve holds out the box, his comment more of a statement then a question.
" I don't have an outfit! " I protest, confusion still fogging my mind.
" Just put on whatever you have. Come on, Y/N. It's prom. You need to experience it at least once. Why not with me? "
I feel my stomach begin to churn. Steve's taking me to prom? What fucking dream have I been blessed with?
I chew on my bottom lip. " I'll be back. " I turn to run back up the stairs.
I can't believe I'm going to prom with Steve.
I do my best to get dressed quickly. I manage to find a semi appropriate outfit for the dance and we head out.
" Dinner first. The dance is at 9. " Steve pulls into a familiar diner. It's the diner the whole team eats at after winning a game.
" Oh, you forgot to put on your corsage. " Steve opens the small box, gently taking out a beautiful corsage.
" Oh Steve, you really didn't have to do that. " I stare down at the beautiful flowers. " This is too much. "
Steve shakes his head. " I want you to have a prom to remember. You deserve it. "
I send him a smile. " Thank you. You...you're really the best. "
His smile widens, sending butterflies through my body. He gently puts the corsage onto my wrist. His fingers are cool. They leave tingly sensations on the skin he touches.
For a moment it's silent. I try to find a way to calm my nerves.
He's your friend. Just a friend.
" Actually, Y/N. I also wanted to talk to you about something. " Steve breaks the comfortable silence.
" Yeah? Go for it. " I take a sip of my water, my eyes staying on him.
For the first time he looks nervous. Like he has so much to say but he doesn't know how to.
" Are you okay? " I ask, slightly concerned. He's always so confident. He knows who he is and he's proud of it. It's something I've always admired.
Steve nods, pulling his eyes away from his water cup. " I'm just going to say it. Fuck. " He runs a hand through his hair.
My heart begins to pound faster. What's going on?
" Fuck, I hope this doesn't make things weird. That's the last thing I want. Look, I really like having you as a friend... " He starts.
What the fuck is he going to say? Now I'm nervous. Does he have another girlfriend? Someone who doesn't like him being friends with me?
"-But...fuck, look I like you. " He blurts out, a small blush crawling up his cheeks. " I've liked you for years and I really want to be more than friends. And...I don't know if this makes it weird. If you don't like me, I completely understand. We can just pretend this shit didn't happen and go to prom and never talk about it again. I really don't want to make you uncomfortable-" Steve rambles.
" Steve. " I try to interrupt.
" It's just been something I've struggled with for years and fuck, I don't want to keep it from you. Not when we could potentially be something more. I mean - "
" Steve. " I try a little more forcefully.
Steve's clearly stuck in his head because he doesn't seem to hear me.
"-I just don't want to have any regrets. Especially about you-"
" Fucking hell. Steve Harrington, I need you to shut the fuck up for a second. " I say louder, attracting the attention from an older couple nearby. " Sorry. "
Steve looks at me with wide eyes, clearly not expecting my reaction.
" Let me talk. Please. " I look into his eyes, excitement bubbling in my chest. " I like you to. Fuck, I never thought this would happen. "
Steve breaks into a wide grin. His shoulders relax and he seems less tense. " You do? "
I laugh slightly. " I mean, yeah. You're funny, you're talented, you're nice. You're the whole package. Steve, you're one of the kindest people I know. It's hard not to like you. "
" Oh my...thank god. I was so nervous you weren't going to feel the same. " Steve leans back into the booth seat he's in across from me.
" Me too. "
Today really has to be a dream.
" So...do you want to be my partner? " Steve asks, his gaze holding mine.
I smile. " I'd love to. "
Senior Year - 1984
" I'll see you after class? " Steve grins at me. He pushes away from the lockers he was leaning on.
" Of course. I'll meet you at your car. "
I watch as Steve walks away. He's immediately swallowed up by the crowd.
Thing's have been pretty good. Ever since we started going steady, things have been really nice. Of course, some people in the school don't really approve. It's hard to ignore sometimes but we try. Not everyone agrees that Steve should date someone like me.
It hurts.
But what's important is that we're still together. Despite the shit people say, we're trying.
Sometimes I can see it gets to Steve. He's lost a bit of respect. It's so fucking stupid. I don't understand why people think it's so important for him to date a certain type of person.
Sometimes I feel guilty for us dating. Sometimes his teammates can be dicks. They don't see what he sees in me.
It doesn't matter. As long as we're both happy, that's what's important.
++++++
" Look, we need to talk. "
Those are the first words I hear when I get into Steve's car. His jaw is tight. He avoids looking at me.
" Oh, yeah. What's up? " I ask, confused about what's going on. " Are you alright? You look tense. Did something happen in fifth period? "
" We need to break up. " Steve blurts out. He still avoids my gaze.
My eyes widen. " What? What's going on? Steve, look at me? "
" I'm done, Y/N. I need out of this relationship. "
What the fuck happened? We were fine literally an hour ago. What the fuck is going on?
" Why? Steve, what the fuck are you talking about? "
I feel my heart begin to break at his words.
Steve shakes his head. " I just-look, you're a nice girl, Y/N. But...I can't date you anymore. " His voice waivers slightly.
" Steve, what did I do? " My voice crackles. I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. " What the fuck happened? "
" We don't look good together, Y/N. "
His excuse is fucking stupid.
" Since when have you cared about what other people think? Why now? "
Steve swallows harshly. " It's different now...I...you...we can't do this. You hear what they say about us, Y/N, don't you? What they say about you? "
Anger begins to bubble inside of me. This is what it's about. " It's me. You're embarrassed of me. " I'm silent for a second, trying not to let the tears come out. " Fuck you, Steve. "
Finally Steve looks up at me, hurt flashing over his face.
" You're an asshole, you know that? Since when have you given a fuck about someone elses' opinion? You're really doing this because of what other people have said? You're just like fucking Tommy, you know that? Like all of the other shallow assholes going to our school. " I open my door. " I hope you're happy. You'll finally get your spot as King of Hawkins back. I wish I'd never met you, Steve. "
" Y/N-" Steve begins, his arm reaching towards me. " I'm sorry- "
" Fuck you. " I slam his door, rushing away from his car. I hear a snicker as I walk past a few of the cars. Tommy and Carol whisper to each other, their harsh gazes glaring holes into my frame.
Steve's always had a bit of a reputation for being a dick to certain people. He's had a bit of a bullying streak. I thought that shit was over. I thought he'd grown out of it, I mean he was never mean to me.
I was wrong.
+++++++
Two days later he started dating Nancy Wheeler and I quit being a manager for the basketball team.
Fuck you Steve Harrington.
#fanfic#fanfiction#x reader#x you#x female reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x plus size reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things x plus size reader#x plus size reader#plussize!reader#plus size reader#chubby reader#x chubby reader#fem reader#female reader#reader x character
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“IF NO ONE ACCEPTS YOU, YOU HAVE ME”
Lately I’ve seen the narrative around Krist shifting from “he’s homophobic” to “he was homophobic, but he got better :)” so!
Let’s go back to a moment in 2017 during a ceremony where Krist and Singto accepted an award from the Thai branch of the gay magazine Attitude (now defunct). That’s the magazine that published this photoshoot:
[Attitude, 2018, promoting SOTUS S] (they also did one in 2016 for SOTUS)
Krist said that a friend of his once came out to his parents, and the parents wouldn’t accept him, so Krist told his friend, “It’s okay. If no one accepts you, you have me, and I accept you for who you are.”
So, yes, Krist was hotheaded when people kept harassing him about his sexuality, but can anyone truly blame him? No one looks at all the times he answered politely. Just the one time he broke. [EDIT: I just spoke with someone who was there when the infamous IG story was posted, and they said: “Krist's tone and demeanour when he emphatically said "no" was like, y'know, still friendly. It's like when friends tease you relentlessly and you say ‘no’ more forcefully to get them to stop?” And that actually was my first impression of it back in 2020—a joke that landed badly. And it lines up with his first apology: that he felt badly because his answer was taken out of context.]
There are people today who film these guys at the urinal. Who treat them like property because of money and time spent on them. Who hire trucks to drive around their company building making demands. And it’s 2024. GMMTV has legal teams on this stuff now. But you and I can’t imagine what kind of invasiveness Krist and Singto went through in 2016 as one of the first pairs in the BL industry to gain overnight fame and rabid, unprecedented focus from millions. Of course he snapped. It’s widely known that fans and reporters target Krist over Singto to get information even today because Singto never gives anyone the satisfaction of a reaction, but Krist is a people-pleaser and truly struggles with saying no to people. He’s always been the emotional one, the one who overthinks, the one desperate to make people happy. And when fans wanted to force KristSingto to publicly say that they were secretly dating, fans thought they could get Krist to break first, and they were right. (Personally, I always thought the Instagram story was an exaggerated joke that was a barely veiled “drop it.” EDIT: I’m glad at least one person who was there at the time can corroborate this.)
Then interfans came along, marked him as an easy target, and maliciously miscast him as a bigot to wave after wave of new interfans who never bothered to research further after a random person on the internet told them he’s a homophobe.
Krist asked his parents for their blessing to audition for SOTUS when he was still a teenager. He was afraid of what they’d think, but because his parents are lovely people, they supported him. And they still do. Krist’s father has a running joke that he’ll let Krist marry Singto if Singto brings a durian for the dowry.
I never included Singto in my clarification thread because I knew how quickly people would dismiss anything with Singto as conniving, tricksy fanservice. But you really don’t know anything about Krist until you see him with people he considers his safe spaces. That includes people like Mike. Like Gawin. Godji. Oat. These people who love him because he’s earned it.
I know I talk about this a lot. But I won’t ignore it when people try to twist his character, especially with I see them making assumptions about the premise of Ex-Morning. All I believe is that he was angry and afraid and overwhelmed. Then he reacted, apologized, and learned how to handle the fame and the invasiveness better.
Please stop trying to claw marrow out of a past mirage.
#krist perawat#i’m just gonna post this now before ex-morning promo and kristsingto activities really get going#leave my son alone thank you
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hii can i request a sacred the thread with bucky barnes where it’s a tlou au and bucky and the reader are sent to go find an old friend of sam’s. like an enemies to lovers kinda thing. and congrats on 3k! :)
Labyrinth
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X fem!Reader
Summary: You and Bucky learn to get along when you are sent out on a mission together.
Warnings: Crying, Bucky is mean to the reader, arguing, some insults, there is an age gap between Bucky and the reader (Bucky is 42, the reader is 33), some cursing, kissing, idiots in love, tlou au, mention of guns, mutual pining
Word Count: 2.6k
a/n: i hope you like this!
my 3k follower celebration!
the gif below does not belong to me
For as long as you and Bucky had known each other, you’ve never gotten along. But that wasn’t your fault, you tried to be nice to him like you were to any other person in Jackson. But he just seemed to always treat you horribly anytime you spoke to him.
And you never understood why, but you weren’t going to kiss up to him. If he hates you, there’s nothing you were going to do try to change that. Even though the very thought of him hating you made you feel like your heart was slowly breaking in your chest because you were in love with him and had been for months. But the way he was treating you showed you that he quite obviously didn’t feel the same.
Little did you know, Bucky was in love with you too. He had been in love with you since the day you arrived in Jackson and he had seen Sam showing you around. But he had been scared of the feelings he has for you and has been immature about this whole situation ever since. He was being mean to you just because he liked you and he didn’t know what to do about it like he was still a young boy and he hated himself for that.
The only reason you two interacted at all was because Sam — who ran the community in Jackson — had assigned you to do patrol together every other morning. And right off the bat, Bucky had started to just be an asshole to you and only you.
He’d mercilessly tease you, insult you, torment you about how you lived alone and mostly kept to yourself. “Y’know, I’m not surprised that you live alone, doll. I don’t know why anyone want to live with you or love you, you’re always quiet and when you do talk, you’re just boring.” He had said to you one morning, causing tears to start to well up in your eyes. “Fuck you, Bucky.” you had said in response as you faced away from him and swiftly wiped your tears away.
And as much you would’ve liked to run home anytime he insulted you, that wasn’t an option during your patrol shifts. So you stayed there and tuned him out, not letting what he was saying to you bother you. But that particular statement, really dug deep. It hurt to hear the man you were in love with say these things to you.
You wished that he would just give up on insulting you. And little did Bucky know, the reason you were so introverted was because you had survived on your own for years since you were a kid and teenager and hadn’t gotten used to living close to other people again without worrying if you were in danger. You were taking it all one slow step at a time because that’s what worked for you. If only Bucky knew that, then maybe he’d stop being mean to you.
————————————
One morning in early December when you and Bucky weren’t on your patrol shift, Sam had called you two into his office because he had something he needed to discuss with you and Bucky. You were dreading to find out what he wanted to talk to you about. What if Sam sent you out on a mission with Bucky? Would you even be able to survive being completely alone with that man?
And that fear ended up becoming your reality just minutes after you got to Sam’s office. Sam was sending you and Bucky to find an old friend of his by the name of Joaquin Torres. This man used to live in Jackson and run the community along side Sam but he had randomly disappeared five years ago and Sam had finally gotten some insight on where Joaquin might be hiding.
So he decided to send you and Bucky — his best fighters and scavengers — to find him and bring him back. The two of you would leave tomorrow morning at 9am and start heading north.
You groaned and rolled your eyes the second Sam had told you that two of you would be going on a mission together. “Isn’t there someone else you can send with me?” you asked Sam, desperately hoping that he’d say yes.
Sam sighed as he began to respond to your question, “No, there isn’t. I’m sorry, (y/n) but you and Bucky are just going to have to learn to get along.” he had said to you, causing you to let out another groan.
You took a deep breath, “Fine.” you replied, getting one simple nod of his head from Sam in response.
You then stormed out of Sam’s office to go pack for the mission, leaving Bucky behind in the room. And once you were gone, Bucky looked down at his feet and let out a deep breath as he thought about all of this for a moment.
Sam knew just how much Bucky loved you and he didn’t know how long he was going to last on this mission before he started apologizing for everything and then admitting his feelings to you.
But now that he was actually thinking about it, that didn’t sound so bad. He just hoped that you would forgive him when that time for him to apologize came around. Bucky then looked at Sam one more time, nodded his head in understanding then left, off to pack his own bag for the mission.
And as you walked home from Sam’s office, this mission was starting to not sound so bad to you as well. Maybe this would give you and Bucky the chance to actually get to know each other without the arguments and insults. Maybe he’d fall in love with you too.
————————————
The following morning, you got up early and went to meet Bucky at the entrance to the community after grabbing some things you would need, your shotgun and bag strapped to your back, the horse Sam was letting you borrow standing at your side.
You arrived at your meeting place at 8:59am, earning an eye roll from Bucky.
“Do you even know how to be on time? We have to leave right now, we don’t have anytime to make a plan for how this mission should go.” Bucky complained, glaring at you as he got onto his own horse.
“Oh sorry, I was just busy getting enough of the resources we’ll need on this mission so that we don’t die.” you sternly replied, glaring right back at him as you got onto your horse, the bottom of your bag gently bumping against its back as you got on.
That sentence made Bucky’s eyes widen and it reminded him that all you had ever been was nice to him, even when he had been quite the opposite to you. But he was still too full of his pride to apologize so he simply nodded in response and motioned for you to follow him on the path you were supposed to go down.
————————————
The two of you road your horses on the path you were supposed to be going down for the next 8 hours in complete silence until you had to stop because the sun had started to set. You set up camp in a part of the forest you had come across with a large amount of trees that surrounded a small clearing.
You hopped off of your horse and tied her reigns to a nearby stable tree branch, petting her head before you went to unpack your sleeping bag, your silent way of telling her to lay down. You then got your sleeping bag out and set it down on the ground and took out a large blanket you had brought for your horse, gently unfolding it and setting it down on top of her now that it was getting colder outside.
Bucky watched in complete awe as you did all of this, you looked so gorgeous in the orange light that filled the forest as the sun set. He couldn’t bear to look away from you and he wished that he hadn’t been such an asshole to you from the start. Maybe then he’d have a chance with you.
You turned to face Bucky after you finished setting up your side of the camp, you had felt him looking at you the entire time you were setting your things up. “What?” you asked while you softly shook your head side to side and looked directly into his eyes.
His eyes widened at that and he shook his own head, to bring himself out of spacing out while he stared at you in his case, “Nothing, doll. Don’t worry about it.” he answered, sending a feeling of shock through your system while he crouched down to start the fire in the middle of your camp with some nearby branches.
That was the first time he had actually spoken to you without being mean in some way. Maybe this mission would bring out Bucky’s kinder side? At least that’s what you hoped, all you wanted was to see the side of him that he didn’t let anyone see and have him let you love him.
Sure, he was an asshole anytime he spoke to you. But some part of you just hoped that he loved you too and was just being an asshole because he doesn’t know what to do about these kinds of feelings, as stupid as that may sound. After all, you know it’s been a very long time since he’s had a lover, same as you.
And once Bucky had finished getting his side of the camp as well as the fire set up just ten minutes later, you sat down on your sleeping bag and crossed your legs.
You then reached back into your bag and pulled out two of the sandwiches you had packed for the mission. You threw one to Bucky and it landed in his lap, making him smile and softly chuckle for just a second. But you saw every reaction he’d just had, which caused your cheeks to heat up.
You let out a sigh as you took the first bite of your sandwich. If you and Bucky were going to be alone together for a while, you thought that now would be a good time to tell him more about yourself. Specifically your past, the reason for your solitude that he felt the need to make fun of.
“Y’know there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Bucky.” you said, starting off this sort of conversation in a relaxed manner. You hoped that he would listen to what you had to say.
He looked up at you from his own sandwich and smirked at you, “Oh, yeah? What don’t I know about you?” he asked as he looked into your eyes, showing you that he was listening to you and prompting you to continue on with what you were going to say.
You took one deep breath before you started your story, “There’s a reason why I live alone and I don’t interact with other people in the community as much as everyone else does. I was 10 when the outbreak hit and I was made an orphan right away because my parents had been infected. So, in all of the chaos I was forced to survive alone and figure everything out on my own. I haven’t lived so close to other people without worrying that I was in danger since I was 10 and I only moved to Jackson last year, so I’m still getting used to living so close to it all again. We’re all going through different things and I understand that what you are going through may be the reason you are taking your anger out on me.” you explained to him, your story causing tears to prick at Bucky’s eyes but he wiped them away before they even had the chance to fall.
You had been through so much and even though he was mean to you, you were never once mean to him. You always treated him well, even when he didn’t deserve it. You had been on your own for 22 years and you still didn’t let that destroy your kindness or the goodness of your heart.
“Oh god, (y/n), I had no idea. I’m so sorry, for every mean thing I’ve said to you. I’ve been such an asshole to you and you don’t deserve that at all.” he made known to you, his apology that you had been waiting months to hear making you softly smile as you continued to eat your sandwich.
“Thank you and I accept your apology, Bucky.” you told him after you swallowed the bite you had just taken, that soft smile still on your face making you look extremely beautiful to Bucky.
He was in shock, “You forgive me? You should be furious with me.” he said, you pointed your face down towards your lap and softly chuckled at that.
You looked back up at him, complete honesty in your eyes, “Yes I do because life is too short to hold grudges against people, especially in the world we live in now. Plus, I don’t think I could ever bring myself to be genuinely mad at the man I’m in love with.” you said, a gasp quickly escaping your mouth after that last sentence, Bucky was in shock too. You hadn’t planned to admit your feelings for him as impulsively as you just did.
But the very second that this shock wore off, Bucky was on his feet and quickly making his way over to you. He fell onto his knees in front of you and lovingly took your face in his large, warm hands. You placed your hands over his, showing him that you were okay with his touch. There were tears in his eyes once again and this time he let them fall.
“God, I love you so fucking much. I’ve been such an idiot.” he shakily told you through his tears while your face remained in his hands, laughing a little at himself while he briefly looked away from you.
You inched yourself a little closer to him and looked up into Bucky’s eyes once more, a look of love only for him in your eyes.
“Me too.” you replied with a nod of your head, laughing with him, “I love you too, Bucky.” you made known to him, prompting Bucky to crouch down more so that he could press his forehead against yours and just feel you. He wanted to feel that you were real, that you were actually here and that you loved him back.
He pulled away from your forehead a few minutes later and looked down into your eyes again, “Can I kiss you, doll?” he asked, a tone of desperation in his voice as he continued to gaze into your eyes like you had hung the stars and moon in the sky just for him.
You nodded right away as tears started to form in your own eyes, not having the strength to verbally tell him yes because you were overwhelmed with everything you felt for Bucky. And with that, he pressed his lips to yours and passionately kissed you. You began to stand up on your knees while you kissed him back, loosely wrapping your arms around your neck and pulling him even closer to you, letting yourself indulge in the handsome man.
“I love you so, so much.” Bucky muttered against your lips in between kisses, causing a new feeling to bloom in your chest. Happiness.
You now had each other and everything felt truly perfect for once. The two of you clicked together like two pieces of a puzzle and you hoped that you would stay that way, in love and connected — the way you were always meant to be — forever. You had finally gotten through the worst of what was the labyrinth of falling in love with someone.
My 3k follower celebration!
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I have this scenario in my head where Daryl and Reader have had a slow burn romance since Quarry, dancing around each other and their feelings but finally getting together at the prison. But because it’s Daryl’s first relationship, it’s slow. He’s shy, it’s unknown territory for him and the most the ever get to do within their relationship is sleepovers in each other’s cells and makeout sessions that never went further.
It’s something new, blossoming and innocent. Then they get to Alexandria and the only way Reader can get Daryl to shower is with them, and so they shower together and it’s all innocent and sweet, taking their relationship a step further. Then! (No I’m not done 😈)
Their first time ends up being a couple days or so before the huge hoard comes hurdling toward Alexandria. And it’s so intimate, slow and vulnerable of them with Reader telling Daryl they love him whilst he’s buried in them and it makes it all the more romantic. So after that it’s shy smiles and lingering gazes about finally doing the thing they’ve wanted to for so long…before chaos insues and the wall comes down and Negan and yea! 🤣
I don’t know why but this is how I’ve imagined Daryl’s first time to be with someone!!! I think it would take a while for him to really go all the way with his partner but between walkers and constant trouble, it would be quite far and few between. Also considering how he goes hunting and recruiting in Alexandria 🤷♀️
I totally agree with you, this is absolutely how it would go and I love gentle Daryl.
Now… I’m not going to try write this like a proper fic because I really don’t think I can do it justice but I’ll give my detailed thoughts??? Is that a thing??? I’m so sorry anon😭.
Warnings: cream pie, p in v, mentions of scars, mentions of premature ejaculation, ummm I think that’s it ❤️
18+, mdni!!
Darylxfem!reader
Sleepovers and making out in each-others cell… your cell because Daryl doesn’t have one . The first time, it’s very teenager-ish, facing each-other, sat crossed legged. You guide the first kiss, holding his jaw as you first give him a peck and you can feel his skin heat up under your palm. You pull away and his eyes are darting around the mattress, shy to make eye contact. You push his hair away from his face and he finally looks up, his eyes look needy but nervous.
“Would you like to kiss me, Daryl?” Straight to the point but with a soft voice is how you speak.
He nods but makes no advance so you guide his hand to your cheek and eventually he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. He gives you another peck but then to your surprise, kisses you again, tilting his head slightly. He’s messy and sloppy with it, he has no clue what he’s doing but you don’t care, Daryl’s perfect and you’ll let him kiss however he likes, lord knows if you tell him he’s not doing it right he won’t try again, he’d feel humiliated.
You part your lips, inviting him to start using his tongue and as soon as he notices, he pulls away. You assume it’s too much too fast and that’s completely okay. You’re about to tell him that you can stop but he speaks first.
“Ain’t dun it b’fore… dun know how ta… uh… do the… tongue part”
His face is glowing red now and he can’t look at you.
“That’s okay, you don’t have to, we can stop for now if you like”
Daryl shifts his legs so that they uncross, one folded and the other hanging off the edge of the bed with his foot planted on the cool ground, he scoots his hips back too. Your eyes travel down to where his body subtly squirms and you can just about see his arousal that he’s trying to hide with this new position and you smirk.
“Did you… want me to show you how?”
Daryl nods a little too eagerly than he’d like to admit but you take quick action, leaning in for him to kiss you, you put your thumb on his chin to pull gently so he parts his lips timidly, giving you the chance to run your tongue against his lips and then push your tongue gently against his own. You move your lips in a timely rhythm that Daryl easily matches and you make out. It’s still sloppy but it’s incredible, especially when you notice Daryl getting a little breathless, his hips keep twitching slightly.
After a good amount of time, you pull away and he exhales deeply through his wet and kiss-swollen lips.
“I liked that”, you whisper as you smooth his hair over.
He replies with a shy nod, he definitely enjoyed it, if he had to be honest, he was way too close to cumming in his pants, but that’s as far as it’s gonna go for now, until Daryl says he’s ready for more. You reassure him that everything can be at his pace and he doesn’t need to feel guilty or silly for being ‘late to the game’.
After that first time, the two of you would have make out sessions every night that you could, pretty much always ending in your panties being uncomfortably wet and Daryl having to wait out a painful erection or sneak off to the showers to take care of himself if it was late enough but he didn’t really like doing that, he felt like it was disrespectful toward you.
After the prison fell, it felt like Daryl put your relationship on the back burner. You understood, he was stressed and scared but wouldn’t show it. He stopped talking to you like you were his girl and more like a partner in crime and it hurt but you tried not to make it a big thing.
Daryl felt guilty, he knew he was being dismissive of your relationship but there was so much in his head that he just couldn’t, he didn’t wanna mess anything up and he was scared so he did what he knows best, he pulled away.
He continues on this way for a while, even after Beth had gone, you really tried to get through to him because you knew he was in pain but he wouldn’t break. You knew he’d gone off into the trees to cry and although you wanted to be the one he cried to, you were glad that he knew well enough that he had to get it out.
When Daryl had come back to tell the group about the barn he’d found, he didn’t look your way, he knew that you knew and he couldn’t take the guilt. He knew you wanted to be there for him and he was pushing you away but he didn’t know how to stop.
Before the storm hit the barn, you were sat with your back to the wall, knees drawn to your chest when Daryl quietly sat next to you, shifting so his shoulder touched yours. His hand made its way next to yours on the hay-scattered ground and his pinkie linked with yours without words. It felt like a breath of fresh air, now you knew that he was aware, he was aware you were feeling left out from what was going on with him.
His voice was whispery and low when he spoke.
“M’sorry y/n… gon’ try harder…”
You took his hand fully into your own and bring it to your lips to kiss it, the kiss silently saying that you appreciate him, you believe him, you trust him.
As soon as the group integrates into Alexandria, you feel Daryl become more attentive and clingy. He’s uncomfortable within the community at first, even when the group finally gets out in separate houses, Daryl doesn’t come to bed with for the first week, he sleeps on the couch like a guard dog. He’s so anxious about your safety that he just cannot relax.
However, after that first week, you manage to coax him to share the bed with you and… he’d never admit it but he slept like a baby, his mess of hair sprawled across his face with his head rested on your chest. The closeness felt good but the pang of guilt still hasn’t left, feeling as if he simply doesn’t deserve any of this but then he opens his eyes to your face and he just… he doesn’t care, he wants to deserve this, he wants to be part of this if this is how he gets to live.
So he’s happy when he’s given a job by Aaron Raleigh, he’s happy when he’s out scouting and scavenging and he’s most happy when he can bring you back something from a trip. A stone, a flower, a figurine, anything that makes you say “thank you my love”. He leaves notes in the mornings when he leaves too early to say good bye and he kisses your forehead when he comes home. He feels it growing, the feeling in his chest and he just wants to be with you in every way.
Since before you’d found Alexandria, the sexual frustration between the two of you was obvious and it was getting to be too much for the two of you. It was at the point where Daryl would be on a run with Aron and without realising, his mind would wander to how your body would feel against his, how your hands would feel on his skin that nobody had touched before, how he hoped he could make you feel good… god he just wants to know what you look like when you cum. He knows that you must touch yourself, especially after the amount of times he’d cut make out sessions short, practically leaving you hanging and he felt guilty for not going the whole way, but now he felt ready and quite frankly, his hand wasn’t doing the trick anymore.
One day, after a particularly tiring recruitment mission with Aaron, Daryl had returned home, sweaty and more frustrated than he’d ever been. He could feel that he was leaking and he felt humiliated that he had been that way for half the day since you’d been stuck in his head.
He entered through the front door of your shared house, quickly dropping his crossbow and kicking his boots off. He pretty much speed walked up the stairs and stopped the door of your bedroom. He knocked of course, it was his room too but he respected your privacy as you would do the same. He waited a few seconds before he lifted his hand to knock again but then the door opened, he nearly punched you square in the face.
Your eyebrows raised and then you giggled.
“Eager to see me?” You smiled, and scanned his body quickly and he did the same to you.
You were stood in just a towel wrapped around you, your hair wet.
“Did ya get out the shower to answer the door? M’sorry, didn’t mean to make ya cut it short, know ya enjoy em…”
Your eyes linger on his crotch and then flicker back to his eyes, his situation was obvious but you weren’t exactly sure why he was worked up down there. Maybe he was feeling just as pent up as you.
“No, no, don’t apologise, I was getting out as you knocked” you move to the side, giving him space to enter into your homely bedroom.
He stepped past you and took a few steps toward the bed and just stood awkwardly, shifting his feet subtly, trying to make his obvious erection not-so obvious. He moved his hands in front of his crotch to try and hide it but now it was more obvious, Daryl never stands like that.
“You alright, D?”
Daryl looks at his feet for a beat then back up to you and nods, he’s so fucking shy. Why? You’ve been together for so long now, why can’t he just say he’s going insane because he wants to be in you, he wants to love you in every possible way.
You walk over to him, sitting on the bed and pulling on his arm so he sits beside you. You know what’s going on, of course you know, you always do, can always see right through him.
“So… is there something you want to talk about sweetheart?… you know you don’t gotta knock, right? This is our home…”
Daryl nods, but now you’re not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to.
“Was thinkin’ bout ya all day today… well… every day... for a while now an’… I thought I should tell ya tha’… um… I can’t- I dun-…”
You chuckle softly then squeeze his shoulder, sensing that he was getting all caught up in his head as usual.
“Daryl? Relax huni… can ya tell me what you’re meanin’? Whatever it is, ya don’t gotta be afraid, okay?”
It’s that soft smile that brings him back to earth, making him feel like nothing he could say could be wrong. He takes a deep breath and quickly gathers himself and his courage.
“I… I wan’ be with ya… like… ya know, I need ya in the way I ain’t had ya yet… I have for a while but I been scared to say ‘cause… ain’t never dun’ ‘at b’fore but I dun… I dun think I can wait no more”
He takes a deep breath and then finally looks up at you, straight into your loving and understanding eyes.
“Okay” is all you reply with.
“…Okay?” He asks.
“Daryl, do you have any idea how badly I need you? How torturous it is to watch you get dressed every morning? Those fucking arms flexing with every movement and that fucking hair framing that pretty fucking face.”
Daryl stares at you silently, bewildered.
“Sorry… you’re just so beautiful to me Daryl… and I’ve been feeling the same, probably for a lot longer than you have so… yes. And it don’t matter ya ain’t done it before Darlin’, we can take it slow, or at whatever pace you want”
You take his hand in yours and bring it to your lips and kiss it. You’re sure that by this point, your mans situation must be starting to feel a little painful so you quickly move to kiss at his jaw and then his lips, softly holding the side of his face. Daryl whimpers a little, his hips involuntarily twitching upwards like they always do but this time you were gonna make him feel good.
You pull away from the kiss and move your hand to his belt.
“May I?”
He nods.
“Need your words, Dixon.”
“Yes, you can…”
You make quick work of undoing his belt and then the buttons on his jeans, you can feel how hard he is just beneath the fabric and you can tell that even just the feeling of you unbuttoning his pants is enough as he has his face in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily against your soft skin. Once they’re undone, he lifts his hips from the bed and pushes them fully off, leaving them in a puddle on the carpet. He finds some confidence somewhere within him and he caresses your jaw and leans in to kiss you. It’s the neediest kiss he ever given but he’s not as sloppy as he used to be, he’s a great kisser now and you can feel yourself getting wet.
Your fingers fiddle with the first few buttons of his shirt to get them undone and he pulls from the kiss. You know why, you’ve seen the scars before but this is different, you know how scary this must be for him. You see a flash of humiliation in his otherwise love drunk eyes and you give him a reassuring smile.
“I know baby, I know… you don’t need to feel ashamed or nervous, I promise to handle you with care but it’s your call… on or off?”
He stares into your eyes then looks down at your fingers on the buttons of his dark grey shirt.
“Off… want ta.”
And with that you unfasten the rest of the buttons, pushing the fabric off his shoulders and he shrugs it off, leaving him in just his underwear. He goes back to kissing you and you place his calloused hands on the edge of your towel, he quickly gets the message and he pulls at it and it drops, revealing your soft skin to his gaze. He drags his pupils across your bare chest, taking in the sight of your perky breasts, and without even a second though, his palm is covering one of them, kneading gently before he drags his thumb across your stiffened nipple and he lets out a shaky exhale as you make a small whimpering sound.
“So pretty… my girl…”
Your cheeks redden, you know you’re all his but when he says it out loud it feels good, possessive, and you like that.
You push the towel off of you, letting it join his clothes on the floor. That’s when you glance at his bulge in his boxers. A considerable expanse just below the waist band is pretty much soaked from his intense arousal. You run your hand along his thigh and you can see his cock twitch beneath the fabric, a new bead of precum soaking through the cotton.
“Shall we get these off, baby?”
You didn’t expect it but as soon as you said that, he had his thumbs hooked under the waist band and was dragging them down his thighs, his dick slapping against his lower tummy, his pink tip shiny with precum.
When he stood up to kick them off his feet, you scoot to the middle of the mattress, laying on your back with your knees up.
When Daryl looked back, he visibly shivered at the sight of your glistening folds, all for him, he can quite believe his luck with a woman like you.
You sense him getting caught in his thoughts again so you reach your hand out to him which he takes and then you lead him to sit on his knees in front of you. Then he leans over you, his elbows either side on your head as his face comes down to yours, your lips connecting once again.
You’ve waited long enough now, you buck your hips up, causing his throbbing cock to rub against the fold between your thigh and your pussy. He lets out a low groan then his left arm shifts down so his hand can grab at your hip and hold you still.
“Don’t… don’t do that sugar…”
You whimper at his subtle display of dominance and ultimately hold still like he asked.
“M’gon’ get to it, sweet girl”
He gives you one last kiss before sitting back on his heels and pulling you closer by your thighs so your legs are now either side of his hips.
“Please” is all you can get out of your mouth as his eyes fixate on your dripping arousal.
“You’re so beautiful, y/n… I love you… so much”
He said it, he meant it.
Tears almost brims your eyes.
“I love you too, Daryl… so much”
He squeezes your thigh as he smirks a little then letting go to grip the base of his cock. Running it against your folds and pressing the tip to your clit.
“Need you, Daryl… please”
“I know baby, I know”
You’re a bit stunned at this newfound dominant side to your lover, maybe its because of his desperation but you don’t have much time to ponder over it because then he’s pushing the tip into your tight entrance.
“Fuck, y/n… you’re so tight Darlin’”
You whine loudly, “y-you’re so big… shit…”
He strokes some hair off your face and looks at you with care.
“Need me to stop?”
“No! For christ sake, don’t fucking stop”
He chuckles at your profanity, for a girl who’s usually so soft and sweet, you can be demanding when you want to be.
He slowly pushes all the way in, his breath shaky, he knows he won’t last long, it’s his first time after all but he can already feel you clenching around him.
He pulls out half way and then thrust back in with a deep moan. He watches how your eyes squeeze shut as you try to adjust to his size and the your face turns to pleasure as he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit.
“Daryl… Daryl…”
He starts up a steady rhythm with his hips, pumping his cock into your wet heat.
“Wanna watch you cum baby… cmon…”
You bite your lip at his words, feeling the heat spread in your lower tummy and then he starts to rub his thumb in circles on your swollen nub.
“M’close... I’m… gonna…” you practically mumble out these words.
“Me too, sugar… cum for me… fuck…”
He kisses your neck as your walls clench around him as you reach your climax, clawing at his shoulders and thats enough for Daryl. His balls draw up tight as he lets out a whimpery moan, shooting his thick, hot cum into you in fast spurts.
He continues to rock into you a few more times before he falls limp on top of you then slowly rolling onto his back beside you after he pulls out his softening cock.
“Ya okay?” He asks, almost straight back into his shy demeanour.
“Thank you, Daryl” you turn your head to look at him, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and you giggle at the fact that neither of you barely lasted five minutes.
“We both needed it bad, huh?”
He scoffs then gets comfy on his side, giving you a forehead kiss.
After that first night, it was all shy glances and pink cheeks when you crossed paths during the day in Alexandria. Of course carol caught on, as she always does, and teased him relentlessly but was overall ecstatic for him. Most of the group could tell something had changed since Daryl was less snappy and you were more social.
The times after, the both of you managed to last longer than five minutes which Daryl prides himself on and you think that’s adorable. Your relationship only grows stronger, with more trust and understanding, as well as uncovering some unknown kinks on Daryl’s side and you swear not to tell a soul.
Just realised I completely missed out the quarry part and the shower part but I guess I kinda replaced it with the bed thing, so I’m sorry! But I would guess it would be him pretending to be annoyed by you or something… I hope this is okay!!! I wasn’t sure how to end it 😭
#daryl dixon imagine#the walking dead fanfiction#twd daryl#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x reader#daryl dixon smut#daryl smut#norman reedus#twd smut
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Can you please do 141 where the reader and them are talking about there Highschool years and like “I would have dated you in high school “ type thing THEN they see a pic of reader in high school (prom,first day,or any thing for that time) SHES FINE FINE like imagine 90s type vibe, then they remember what they looked like in that same year and they say back “ IM glad u didn’t meet me then cause u would have no interest “ AND SHES STILL FINE FINE where they think it’s a recent photo!
idk know what I’m doing I just got an idea and your my favorite writer so I wanted to let you know!!!!
YOU ARE LOVED!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️
thᥱ most bᥱᥲᥙtιfᥙᥣ ᥕomᥲᥒ ιᥒ thᥱ ᥕorᥣd
Task Force 141 + fem! reader
I ABSOLUTELY love this idea!!!! Like as soon as they see your pictures they‘re like "damn. I‘m glad we didn’t meet back then because she would definitely reject me and on top of that probably make fun of me." I‘m sorry but especially with Soap😭 This dude probably had the craziest hair back then (he still has but we love him for it).
Also I‘m so thankful for your kind words🥺🥺 They really mean so much to me and you just lighten up my entire day<33 I wish I could hug you right now☹️ Remember that you’re also always loved by someone and MEEE🫶🏻🫶🏻💘💘
Thank you really so so much 🌸💕💕
‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵
Simon Riley
It was a quiet evening at the your apartment . Simon found himself reminiscing about your high school years. As the conversation flowed, nostalgia filled the air.
"You know, Y/N, if we had met in high school, I would have totally dated you." Simon said with a playful smirk, leaning back against the wall.
You chuckled, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. "Oh, really? And why is that?"
Simon's gaze turned thoughtful as he recalled those distant memories. "Well, you are always confident and stunning. I would have been a nervous wreck around you."
Grinning, you teased, "Are you saying you weren't attractive back then?"
Simon chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair. "Let's just say my teenage years weren't my finest hour. I had an awkward sense of fashion, let’s not talk about my hair... Definitely not the smooth operator you see in front of you today."
Curiosity piqued, you both began reminiscing about those high school days. Simon had a mischievous idea and suggested pulling out old photo albums to see just how different you both were.
Rummaging through the dusty boxes, you stumbled upon a photo of your younger self. It was a picture from prom, in your beautiful dress. You were radiant, your smile lighting up the frame. Simon's eyes widened as he took in the sight.
"Damn, Y/N, you were fine then, and you're still fine now!" he exclaimed, feigning surprise.
You laughed, not realizing his little trick. "Well, thank you, Simon. I try my best."
Simon's expression shifted, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "You know, seeing this picture reminds me of why I'm glad we didn't meet back then. I don't think I would have stood a chance with you. You would've rejected me in a heartbeat."
Your smile softened as you leaned in closer. "Simon, you underestimate yourself. I would have seen the incredible person you were, braces and all. It's the person you are inside that truly matters."
Simon's eyes locked with yours, and a genuine smile graced his face. The air was filled with a sense of camaraderie as you both laughed at the absurdity of it all.
As the evening came to a close, Simon made a decision. He carefully tucked the photo of your younger self into his pocket, a keepsake of a moment he cherished. You remained unaware of this little secret, but somehow, deep down, you felt that this memory would always be a part of your bond.
John MacTavish
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and John and you were lounging on the couch, flipping through old photo albums. The nostalgic memories flooded your minds as you reminisced about your high school years. The room was filled with laughter and teasing as you playfully pointed out your younger selves in various snapshots.
John looked at a picture of you, radiating confidence in a stunning prom dress. He couldn't help but stare in awe, captivated by your beauty and timeless charm. With a grin, you turned to him and said "You know, John, I would have totally dated you in high school."
John's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat at your words. He never expected you to make such a bold statement. "Really?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in his voice.
You nodded, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, absolutely. You are the mysterious and brooding type. I was drawn to that kind of intensity back then."
A flicker of doubt crossed John's face as he remembered his own high school years. "I'm glad you didn't meet me then" he said, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. "I had this crazy hair phase, and trust me, you would have immediately rejected me."
You chuckled, playfully swatting his arm. "Come on, John. Show me that picture. I'm sure it couldn't have been that bad."
John hesitated for a moment, then reached for another album. He turned to a page and revealed a photograph of himself, his hair styled in an over-the-top, eccentric manner that seemed to defy gravity. His expression was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement as he looked at his younger self.
You burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching your stomach. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to compose yourself. John couldn't help but join in, the embarrassment fading as he found joy in sharing this memory with you.
Once the laughter subsided, you looked at him with a smile. "John, you have no idea how much I would have loved to meet that version of you. That hairstyle is absolutely cute!"
John's face softened, his heart swelling with affection for you. "You're incredible, you know that?" he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Even if I looked like a total goofball, you would still find a way to make me feel special."
You reached out and took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "That's because I've always seen the amazing person you are, regardless of how you looked or what hairstyle you had."
John leaned in and gently kissed your forehead, his love for you evident in his eyes. "I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side," he whispered and kissed you on the lips.
John Price
You and John sat side by side on the couch, flipping through an old photo album filled with memories from your high school years. The two of you had decided to take a nostalgic trip down memory lane. You couldn't help but smile as you stumbled upon a particular photograph that brought back a flood of memories.
"Oh my gosh, John, look at this!" you exclaimed, pointing to a picture of yourself at the high school prom. You were dressed in a stunning vintage dress.
John's eyes widened as he gazed at the photograph, taking in your breathtaking beauty. "Wow, you were absolutely stunning" he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "If I had known you back then, I would've also been head over heels for you."
A playful grin spread across your face. "Oh, really? So you're saying you would've dated me in high school?"
John chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Well, I probably would've been too intimidated to ask you out. Plus, I had a weird sense of style back then. Trust me, you wouldn't have been interested."
Curiosity piqued, you leaned closer, showing him the photograph of yourself. "Well, let's see if that's true" you challenged him.
John's eyes widened even further as he looked at the picture. "Wait a minute, is this recent? You look exactly the same!"
You burst into laughter, your heart warming at his genuine surprise. "No, John, this is me in high school. That's why I said I would've dated you back then."
He let out a low whistle. "Well, damn. I definitely lucked out then."
You playfully nudged his shoulder. "Come on, John, you can't be that bad. Let me see your high school days."
John reluctantly handed you another photograph from the album, showing his younger self with a mischievous grin. He sported a rather peculiar outfit that seemed to be a mixture of different styles. It was elegant and had a touch of cowboy style, mixed…
You burst into laughter once again, unable to contain yourself. "Oh, John! I can't believe this was your fashion sense back then."
He smirked, looking slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, I had a bit of a weird phase. Trust me, if we had met during those years, I would've been instantly rejected."
You shook your head, still laughing. "Oh, John, you have no idea. Even with that fashion sense, I would've been all over you."
His eyes sparkled with affection as he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Well, I'm glad we met when we did, then. I wouldn't change a thing about how we found each other."
You smiled, savoring the warmth of his embrace. "Me neither, John. We're perfect for each other, weird fashion choices and all."
Kyle Garrick
Kyle and you sat side by side on the couch, surrounded by photo albums from your high school days. You decided to take a trip down memories from back then together. As you flipped through the pages, looking at the good old times, you stumbled upon a photo of yourself from prom night.
"Oh, wow!" You exclaimed, holding up the photo for Kyle to see. "Look at me back then. I can't believe how much has changed."
Kyle's eyes widened as he took in the sight of you in your beautiful prom dress, radiating a timeless beauty. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret as he thought back to his own high school days.
"I would have dated you in high school" you mused, oblivious to the effect the photo had on Kyle. "You're such a great guy, I would have definitely dated you."
A small smile played at the corners of Kyle's lips as he stared at you, captivated by your words. "Thank you love, but believe me, you're better off not having met me back then. I was a total nerd."
You furrowed your brows in confusion. "What are you talking about? I‘m sure you were cute."
Kyle's expression turned pensive as he reached for another photo album and opened it to a picture of himself from the same year as your prom. His hair was a mess, his glasses too big for his face, and his clothes screamed "geek."
"See?" Kyle pointed to his photo, his voice laced with self-deprecating humor. "I was a freak. If we had met in high school, I would've been immediately rejected. You would've never given me a second glance."
Your eyes widened in surprise, and then you burst into laughter, shaking your head. "Baby stop. You look adorable!!"
He blinked, unable to comprehend your words. "Wait, what?"
"I'm serious!" You continued to laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man beside you. "You're looking at this picture like it's some embarrassing relic, but all I see is the person I fell in love with. Baby Kyle looks so so cute here"
Kyle's gaze softened as he absorbed your words. The weight of his insecurities began to lift, replaced by a newfound confidence in your unwavering love. "I‘m 17 here love… not 6…"
Placing the photo album aside, you leaned in closer to Kyle, intertwining your fingers with his. "High school was just a phase, but what we have now, this incredible relationship, is what matters. I love you, Kyle Garrick, then, now, and always."
Kyle smiled, his heart overflowing with love for you. "I love you too, more than words can express."
#call of duty#fanfic#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 2#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#cod john price#captain john price#john price x reader#john mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mactavish#kyle garrick#kyle garrick x you#cod x reader#ghost call of duty#call of duty ghost#call of duty john price#call of duty fanfic#call of duty kyle#call of duty john mactavish#cod soap
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No no because I love your depiction of Jet??? Oh my god?? Like hell yeah hes a fearless leader of a freedom fighting rebellion group he built from the ground up but he’s also?? JUST A TEEN!! JUST A BOY!! Teenage boys get butterflies too!!??
🌾 ・ POCKETFUL OF BUTTERFLIES
summ. Operation: Creeping Cricket was a botch. It looks like you and Jet aren’t gonna be headed home anytime soon.
pairing. Jet x f!medic!reader
w.count. 1.1k
a/n. ANON YOURE SO RIGHT. Sometimes we forget Jet is really just a teenage boy grappling with hormones and feelings and everything inbetween! Enjoy this short continuation to Hand in Loving Hand!
You take a mental note to thank Longshot and his squirrel-like tendencies to hide emergency stashes up in trees for times like these.
“Here,” Jet says softly, “Y’might catch a cold soon.”
The change of clothes he offers you is weathered, but a warm welcome respite from the frigid chill that’s settled into your bones.
Operation Creeping Cricket had been a complete bust. Your narrow escape is a stroke of luck with all things considered, and at least the rain has finally stopped. It doesn’t help that both you and Jet are soaked head to toe, however, and the fact that the temperatures in the forests by Omashu can drop critically.
Your cheeks are raw; your fingers ache— but you manage to begin peeling off the layers of your clothes one by one to dry by the campfire. From across, Jet’s already managed to change out. He frowns in concern from where he’s sitting by the fire, watching you tip over a boot of water.
“You’re shaking.”
“Shivering,” you correct, trying to stop the chatter of your teeth. You wonder if biting on a wheat straw like how Jet is doing right now would help. “But, yes. Same thing I suppose.”
Then you’re untying the strings of your tunic, and pulling it swiftly over your head.
Jet barely has time to react.
He practically snaps his neck turning away, eyes wide.
The whiplash, the innocent attempt at privacy, has you biting back a laugh.
Ever the gentleman.
“You can look now,” you finally say, after a quick minute, and Jet is careful to turn.
The garments that Longshot had stashed practically drowns your figure, sleeves bundling at the wrists; collar wide and dipping low enough to reveal the corded necklace you never remove. And then there’s the glow of the fire, honeying you in amber light as you run your fingers through your damp hair.
You’re… effortlessly beautiful. He’s not quite sure there’s any other way to describe you.
“That bad, huh?” you ask, pinned under his gaze.
Jet startles. “Sorry, I— No, you just, look cold, still.”
He clears his throat as the tips of his ears burn. He hopes to the Spirits beyond you hadn’t noticed them go red. (You did.)
“Well, so do you.” You reach back into Longshot’s knapsack and tug out a blanket from inside, before making your way across to the log Jet’s settled on. The material is tanned and threadbare, but it would do for the night.
Your hands brush as you wrap the cloth around the both of you.
It’s difficult not to focus on just how warm Jet is. Even more difficult not to lean against him.
It hadn’t mattered much in the end, though; Jet shifts closer, and presses his shoulder against yours.
“Y’okay?” You ask, gentle.
Under the dim firelight, his hard edges seem to soften. The fearless leader of the Freedom Fighters can be surprisingly endearing. Suddenly, Jet is simply another survivor; another casualty of war.
He shrugs lightly, careful not to jostle you, and makes a face. “Eh. We’ve faced worse, haven’t we?”
You laugh, ducking into his shoulder. Jet wonders if you can physically feel the butterflies taking flight in his chest.
There’s a spill of flowers behind you— budding Moonflowers, he recognises; native to Earth Kingdom wildlife— and has half the mind to pluck one and hand it to you.
He chews harder on the straw in his mouth instead.
( He knows you don’t see him that way, anyway. You’d made that clear before. ‘We’re family,’ is what you’d told him; Him and the rest of the Freedom Fighters. ‘Found family.’ And while he isn’t complaining, he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t imagine atleast once what it’d be like to be something more with you.
Even if you did, he’s not quite sure he’d act on it. He’s not quite sure he can allow himself to be that vulnerable to someone. Not when he's a wanted man; not when subjecting someone into his dangerous lifestyle is the last thing he wants— even if said someone had signed up for it. )
“I’ll take first watch.” he says, after a moment.
“Y’sure? I don’t mind doing it. I promise I’ll wake you up this time.”
He laughs at the old memory. The smile, however, doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be fine. You need rest.”
Quietly, you read him. Measure the micro-expressions that pass his face. Having fought alongside Jet throughout the years of survival made it easier. Whenever night falls, and the weight of his duties could settle if only for a little while, you could finally see all of him. Just a teenager who’s fighting for what he believed in; a kid who had to take on the world too early.
That illusion of 24/7 confidence falls around you often, though never around the younger rebels. You’ve kept the privilege close to your heart.
“You’re worried.”
He picks on the hearth for a moment, listens to the crackle of the fire.
Jet doesn’t doubt the Freedom Fighters’ capabilities. Longshot’s probably camping out somewhere in the trees with Smellerbee and The Duke, and Pipsqueak and Sneers can navigate these forests even better than him. They’ve all probably made it home already, knowing them.
And yet. And yet—
“Yeah,” he says. He didn’t like admitting it, because it implied they couldn’t protect themselves. It’d have meant he isn’t confident in them; that he, to some degree, didn’t trust them. It’s a twisted mindset, he recognises, but he can’t quite help his way of thinking these days. He didn’t like admitting he cared more than he really should— it’d be a concession. An admission.
An admission that he might truly snap if he lost any of the Freedom Fighters; that he might truly break if, Spirits forbid, he’d lose you.
The thought sends a frisson up his spine.
That shouldn’t scare him. It shouldn’t.
He blinks, shakes his head. “That obvious?”
“No. But I’ve known you for years now,” you nudge. “It’s okay to worry, y’know? You can care. You do care. There’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to act like you don’t for the sake of appearing calm and collected and… cool.”
He cocks his head at that, musters a playful smile. “Ah. So you think I’m cool?”
It’s meant to derail the conversation. Fortunately for him, it’s successful. Jet watches you bow your head and laugh; the bright one, the kind that makes his heart sing.
Camaraderie, he reminds himself, swallowing thickly as he reluctantly turns away from you. Nothing more, nothing less.
#the pining & denial combo is SOOO#obsessed with Jet just behaving like a normal a teenage boy his age tbh#JET YOU STUPID PRETTY BOY#let him be a kid!!! he’s lost so much already!!#AAAAAA#atla#natla#avatar the last airbender#avatar: the last airbender#live action atla#netflix atla#jet atla#live action jet#jet imagine#jet x you#jet x reader#jet x y/n#jet x oc#atla live action#atla imagine#atla jet imagine#atla fanfic#sebastian amoruso#🪷 ; atla#🪷 ; wishing well
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Henderson's older brother is kinda fine :/ [Part II]
me: I'll write a blurb and nothing else
popular demand: *slides into my DMs* [Part I] [Part III]
They finished Eddie's assignment that first day but Dustin invited him over again the next week. He told him to bring whatever homework he has, and they can brainstorm it together.
This time Eddie braced himself as he approached the door, expecting to run into the older brother again. But to his surprise, Dustin was the one to open the door.
"They left you unsupervised?" He raised his eyebrows as he stepped past his friend.
Dustin rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.
"Very funny. Steve had the morning shift today, but he should be back for dinner."
"Ah, the things we could get up to until then," Eddie's eyes sparkled with mischief but Dustin slapped him in the stomach with the strength of a dwarf.
"Yeah, like helping you graduate."
"Oof," Eddie winced, twisting away from his deceitfully powerful hands. "You're no fun, Henderson. Where is your adventurous spirit?"
"At the DnD table, duh."
"Touché."
So Eddie put on his mom-charming pants (they worked the best when no actual moms were involved, just like all his other pants) and did not go looting around his friend's house. Instead, he spread his latest assignments on Dustin's bed, claiming it as his territory for the time being. Dustin worked on his own stuff at his desk, like a civilized human being. Barf.
An hour of relative silence had passed before Dustin set down whatever he was doing and turned in his chair.
"I think you're like Lucas."
It took Eddie a moment to even process the words. He looked up to find his younger friend propped up on his elbow and staring at him.
"Huh?"
"I think you might be like Lucas," he repeated with his customary eye roll.
Eddie thought about the sporty jock-wannabe Sinclair, scrunching his nose.
"How?"
Dustin seemed pleased to be asked that as he sat up eagerly to proceed with his reasoning. Which were for sure very scientific and not pulled out of his ass. Eddie braced himself for an impromptu lecture.
"His grades dropped when he got his own room. But he aced all his tests when it was being painted, and he had to bunk with Erica for a few days. So, we made an experiment and whenever he would study or do homework with someone else in the room, it got better results than when he worked alone," he paused, eyeing his friend. "Are you following?"
Eddie clicked his tongue.
"What I'm following is you used your friend as a test subject."
The boy threw his hands in the air in the way that always made Eddie grin. The kid was so delightfully dramatic.
"For his benefit. And now for yours!"
Eddie huffed in thought, simultaneously hopeful to find a solution for his skittery brain and irritated it might have been that easy this whole time.
"So I just need a study buddy?" he asked, scrunching his nose.
"Yep," Dustin grinned at him. "I know your uncle isn't home most of the time, but you're welcome here whenever you need to work on something."
Eddie mulled that thought in his head, weighing pros and cons and asking his gut how it felt about it. His gut likes the food in Henderson's house though, so it might be a bit biased.
"You know what, Henderson? I just might take you up on that."
As if on cue, the front door opened and closed, the sound of keys dropping in the bowl following.
"Dustin?"
"Up here!" Dustin hollered and if Eddie was a lesser man, with shittier taste in music, it might have damaged his earbuds. But they were honed in by the sweet tones of metal, therefore a screeching teenager was not enough to break them at this point.
"Oh, hi Eddie!" Steve was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath and hair not as magnificent as Eddie got used to seeing, a poster boy from a hairspray commercial no more. Ah, what capitalism does to people.
"Your hair looks sad," he observed with a slight tilt of his head.
"Uh," the guy raised his hand to his hair, pulling at the flat fringe self-consciously. "Well, sorry I didn't have the energy to doll myself back up after 8 hours of customer service."
Eddie snorted.
“Doll yourself up? Who says that?”
“I do,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms but the reddening apples of his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. Good. What grown-ass man refers to himself as a doll? Even one looking like an animated Ken. But that would be dark magic, which Eddie of course doesn't condone.
“I think Robin started it,” Dustin offered, unhelpfully. “She was trying to bully him, but it backfired because he actually likes it.” He made a disgusted face.
“Hey!”
“A doll, Steve? That’s kinda gay,” Eddie shook his head feigning disappointment. Instead of morphing into irritation though, Steve’s face hardened, and suddenly he remembered his nerdy friend’s brother was actually a jock. Former, reformed, doesn't matter. Abs were abs.
“Yeah? And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, eyes set on Eddie, unblinking.
He took a quick glance around the room. The window was open, but it was the first floor and Gareth would kill him if he broke as much as a finger again. So he dusted off the little matchbox of courage that was left somewhere inside him, and offered:
“Uh, nothing? Gays are cool. Dolls are cute. All is good.” He stretched his lips in the best attempt at a smile he could muster right now.
Steve still has not blinked, which was starting to stress Eddie out. Were his eyes always this piercing? He was staring for too long, could match their exact shade to one of the trees surrounding the trailer park by now, but was too afraid to look away. If he showed weakness, he might get chewed alive, spat out and stomped on, for a good measure.
“Good,” Steve said finally, and Eddie could breathe again. “We don’t badmouth gays in this household.”
“We don’t,” Dustin nodded feverishly, eager to get his brother out of the room. This indeed seemed to appease him, as he finally unclenched his jaw, uncrossed his arms and rapped his knuckles against the door frame.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower and start on the dinner. You stayin’?” he asked, eyes back on Eddie, who was paralyzed enough, that Dustin had to swoop in and answer for him.
“Yep, he’s staying.”
“‘Kay,” Steve slapped the door frame, suddenly smiling again, and closed the door. If not for the slow breeze from the open window, Eddie would be already dead in the vacuum-sealed room, because he surely took away all the oxygen on his way out.
He scooted on the bed to face Dustin, who was about to open a book and start reading like whatever had just happened hadn’t just happened.
“Soo, is Steve…?”
Dustin looked at him. Eddie looked at him back.
“Is Steve what?” Dustin prodded, in that annoyed tone of his.
Eddie was a wordsmith, he could write and lead campaigns, produce not-half-bad lyrics and lie his way out of trouble. Usually. He got this.
He opened his mouth. Frowned. He did not get this.
“Gay?” he asked quietly.
“Pshhh, no,” Dustin waved his hand. “He’s a ladies' man.”
“Right, yeah,” Eddie nodded like the bobbing head figurine on his uncle’s dashboard. “Then why…”
Dustin shrugged, the unhelpful bastard.
“I think his father is a homophobe? And Steve was kind of a jerk a few years back, he’s trying to be better now. Overcompensating a bit, if you ask me but eh,” he shrugged again. The helpfulest kid in Hawkins. Baby Henderson opened his book, closing the topic, so Eddie fell back on the bed, taking a well-needed break from his study break.
Normally, when the topic of gays was brought up, it was unpleasant and long-winded, full of exchanged opinions, usually hateful ones. Here, the Hendersons were treating it like small talk, not the can of worms that just opened in Eddie’s stomach. Okay, gross. They would crawl around, who knows in which direction? And the can itself? So many sharp edges, so unsanitary.
Needless to say, it wasn’t something Eddie would forget about quickly like they seemed to expect him to.
Alas, he was Dustin’s study-guest, so the kid gave him five minutes to ponder on the worms crawling inside him, before slapping the side of his head with a book to get him back on track. He wouldn’t even let him out on a leak pass until he showed he was done with the chapter he started.
Finally free for a second, Eddie left the bathroom but instead of returning to Dustin’s room, he was lured downstairs by the atrocious sounds of ABBA. Was ABBA gay? He was going to overthink everything now, wasn’t he? Honestly, the whole pop genre felt gay. Metal, that was manly as fuck. Very heterosexual.
For a second he stood in the kitchen’s door frame watching the older Henderson sway his hips around in a yellow apron. It would be almost endearing if the music didn’t make his brain try to collapse on itself.
He quickly approached the radio and slammed the pause button to save the poor man from further eardrum damage.
“What is this?” he asked when Steve turned to face him.
“Uh. The radio?” he frowned, the poor guy having no idea what he was saying. The top 40 made him delirious.
“What was the radio playing?” Eddie asked in his most condescending tone, eyebrows raised.
“.... ABBA?”
Eddie scoffed.
“I’ll bring you some real music, hang on a second.” And he was gone, on a quest to educate the masses. “Masses” being one Steve Henderson, but as an older brother and Dustin’s role model he had a duty to uphold and Eddie was generous enough to help him out.
He ran out to his car and rummaged through his cassettes, wondering which one was most appropriate for a cooking background. Not a thing he would practice himself, but metalheads eat too, sometimes, so it couldn't be such a farfetched concept. Right?
Eventually, he dumped an armful of tapes on the counter, grinning at Steve wildly.
“One of them has to work for…” he waved a hand in the general direction of chopped-up vegetables. “Whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I will not believe you haven't cooked before.”
Eddie only shrugged at that and popped the first tape of choice into the player. Steve frowned at the tunes but wisely didn't object.
“Since you’re making yourself comfortable in my kitchen, why don’t you help me out a bit?”
“Ah, I’d love to, but there’s this solo I just have to-” he broke into an elaborate air guitar, imitating the riffs from memory while banging his head. He couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he was undoubtedly impressed. Eddie looked metal as fuck. He was super cool, super manly.
“I thought you were just taking a dump but then, guess what? I hear Iron Maiden from the kitchen!”
What wasn’t cool, was being scolded by a fourteen-year-old.
“Got lured by the sweet tunes, huh, big guy?”
“Dustin please, take him away from me.”
Dustin looked between the older boys, one maniacally jumping around, the other wielding a knife and a carrot. He considered his chances and favorable outcomes.
“If we switch to Metallica I’ll help with cooking,” he offered, to which Steve shrugged and Eddie gleefully switched the tapes.
He jumped around, watching the two Hendersons work together and to his absolute terror, he felt a teeny tiny desire to join in. Thankfully, his pride was still hidden beneath a half-dead tree.
He circled them like a curious cat, getting closer and closer, until his face almost squished against Steve’s arm, still dutifully chopping.
“What are we making?”
“We,” Steve accentuated, jostling the intruder's head. “Are making baked vegetables. You are jumping around like a lunatic.”
Eddie gasped.
“I am providing entertainment!”
“Can you provide the baking pan?” Dustin asked dryly. “It’s in the oven.”
“Only if it means I get to taste the fruits of my hard work.”
“You don’t have to help us to get dinner.” Steve bumped his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “But, helpers get an extra cookie.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?”
Eddie was truly a genius. He got to help out his fake little brother and his older brother without outwardly asking to be included! And to think he failed senior year twice.
“Go do your nerdy things, I’ll call you when it’s done,” Steve wiped his hands on a towel, food in the oven and the timer set. Dustin was more than happy to leave, and was first to run up the stairs. Eddie was about to follow but a light tug on his shirt stopped him. He turned around, confused, only to be met with Steve pressing a finger to his lips, which, more confusion.
Not easing his grasp, he pulled him back into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, where he grabbed a jar and popped it open, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.
“One,” he ordered, and without having to be told twice, Eddie reached in to find a chocolate chip cookie.
“You trying to poison me?” he asked, even if his tongue was one slip away from tasting the treat.
“I would never put poison in my baking,” Steve made a face like the mere suggestion offended him. Eddie raised his eyebrows.
“You made this?”
“Fucking- Eat it before Dustin comes looking for you. I’m trying to be nice.” Steve gritted his teeth, putting the jar back away.
Eddie felt a little bad for pushing him, but only a little. He finally put the cookie in his mouth and took a bite.
Holy shit.
“This is so fucking good!” he mumbled, crumbs flying everywhere, which earned him a disgusted expression.
“Good thing I haven’t swept yet,” Steve murmured, looking at the floor with disdain. “Now scram. Don’t show up until dinner.”
“Yes, sir!” Eddie saluted, crumbs dripping, and ran away, before Steve’s deadly kitchen rag could reach his butt.
User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3
[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]
#mine#steddie#ff#eddie munson#st#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things 4#steddie fanfiction#fanfic#Steve henderson#steve is a henderson#eddie is an idiot#older brother steve#the hendersons#The Hendersons
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