#who said only one person can ride a bike??

[rat-ttinkle-ddinkle]

dailywisdom 7

I love bike riding >:]

#star trek fanart #star trek #captain kirk #bones mccoy #spock #art #mcspirk #me and the boys on the bike #who said only one person can ride a bike??

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fanfic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

[luversgirl]

TO BE SO LONELY, rafe cameron

summary: after all the pogues forget the youngest roguelege girl’s birthday she goes to the beach only to see someone she never expected remembered her special day.

notes: here’s me randomly dropping this since i’ve been lurking lately

warnings: y/n kinda maybe being dramatic?

“GOOD morning” y/n smiled as she watched her older brother walk into the kitchen.

“uh huh” john mumbled as she walked past the girl barely agnolaging her precise.

“where are you going?” the girl asked as the boy slip his shoes on and grabbed is keys from the counter.

“i’m gonna pick up jj and meet kiara and pope at the beach”

“what about me?” y/n looked at her brother as he opened the front door.

“um…” john b turned his head to look at his little sister “you can just chill here” he spoke before walking out of the chatue leaving the girl there alone not even giving her time to reply.

“happy birthday to me”

after texting the rest of the pogues to see if they remembered the girl’s birthday or even wanted to hangout, but of course they all forgot and didn’t seem to even want to be around her.

sighing, y/n placed her phone face down in the purple beach towel he was sitting on and brought her knees to her chest.

y/n was never one of those self centered people who expected all the attention on her she was just hoping to have a nice birthday seeing as it was the first one without her father, big john.

ever since he’d gone missing y/n watched her brother drifting farther and father away from her taking their, or dare she say his friends now.

leaving her alone.

as the girl stared off into the distance rafe cameron stood not to far from her wondering why she was sitting alone on her birthday.

“y/n” the familiar voice of the kook king came from behind the girl.

she quickly wiped her tears and turned to look up at him from her spot.

“rafe, please don’t start you’re shit just leav-“

“i wasn’t gonna start anything” rafe walked towards her up to the point where he was still standing but by her side.

“what are you doing?“ y/n asked as she watched the cameron boy sit beside her in the same position, knees to his chest.

“i’m sitting with you on you’re birthday”

the rougtledge girl instantly wiped her head to look at rafe in shock.

“h- how did you…”

“i remembered from last year” he said making a small smile make its way onto y/n’s face “it’s still the same day, yeah?” rafe joked making y/n giggled for the first time that day.

“yeah” she spoke through her light giggle making rafe smile.

“good, good” rafe looked at y/n as she looked at the scene in front of them “so.. where’s your little pogue friends?” rafe watched as the small smile on her face disappeared.

“um they went… out” y/n spoke as her smile dropped as she turned her head to looking back at the water.

“i think you’re lying” he stated arms wrapped around his knees closer as they touched his chest.

y/n sighed giving in “they, uh forgot”.

“what do you mean they forgot?” rafe ferwwod his eyebrows as he quickly turned his head to look at the girl.

“i think you know what i mean rafe” y/n chuckled lightly looking at him.

“how could they just forget? i mea-“

“rafe” y/n stopped him in his rant.

“no y/n, their you’re friends they should remember you’re birthday, even you remembered my birthday and i’m well uh…” rafe trailed off.

“…not the nicest person?” y/n spoke slowly hoping not to offend rafe since she didn’t have anyone else to talk too.

rafe reached his hand up scratching the back of his neck “yeah”.

“well not that this wasn’t the most awkward thing in the world…” y/n trailed off as she started to get up.

“wait!” rafe quickly exclaimed standing up as y/n did “do uh, maybe want a ride?” the cameron boy spoke.

“that would be great actually” y/n smiled at rafe making him grin and look down “my bikes over here” rafe and the girl started walking to his car.

“where did she go?” john b questioned for the 30th time in the same hour as him and the rest of the pogues sat in the chatue.

“john b don’t worry about it, i’m sure she’s with some other friends” jj spoke as he sat on one of the three couches in the sun room smoking a joint.

“yeah i mean she’s probably just hanging out with some other friends or something and forgot to text” sarah said as she sat beside john b.

“do her friends include rafe?” pope spoke up sitting up from beside jj looking past john b and sarah.

the rest of the group turned to look in to same direction as pope only to see y/n leaning against rafe’s dirt bike holding a bag from a boutique sarah recognized as he looked at her like she was the only girl in the universe.

“oh fuck no” john b muttered before jumping off the couch with the pogues following along “get away from my sister rafe!” he yelled at the standing pair.

y/n quickly turned away from rafe and to her brother annoyed at his loud antics and decided to give him and the pogues a piece of her mind.

“fuck off john b!” she yelled back walking towards the group with rafe filling beside her.

“you got this?” rafe muttered into y/n’s ear as they walked over close together.

y/n turned to look at him and nodded then slipping her hand into his making him grin.

“what the hell!” jj yelled as the group and y/n met along with rafe.

“what are you doing!? y/n that’s rafe!” kiara yelled at the girl confused and angry at her.

“yeah no shit kie!” y/n yelled back surprising the group with the out burst seeing as they’ve never seen her like that before.

“y/n, do you not remember what he’s done to us?!” pope yelled very angry with his younger sister.

“actually i remember what he’s done to you and honestly why should i care?!” the girl yelled back at pogues now angry with her as well as rafe.

“he’s literally the scum of the earth!” jj yelled making y/n squeeze rafe’s hand.

“well you know at least he can remember someone’s birthday!” y/n finally burst as she stared to tear up.

“someones birthday why does tha-“ john b started to yell.

“yeah, john b someone’s birthday. it’s not like they celebrate every single one their friends birthdays and spend ours panning partys for them and working triple shifts to get the money to buy them gifts!” the girl yelled not holding back.

“y/n we-“

“save it jj” y/n spoke not bothering to raise her voice.

“i do everything for you guys, i cook, i clean and i even do all you’re fucking laundry but now i’m done” y/n finished as salty trail made their way down her face.

seeing the girl in front of him, rafe lightly tugged on y/ns hand silently asking if she wanted to leave.

the roughtled girl accepted his offer turning way from the people she thought were her friends walking over the rafe’s bike and leaving with a single one of them stopping her.

taglist: @faeaura @prettyboystarkey @euthoricspidey @pankowfruitsnacks @rafecameronswhore @yunho-leeknow @outeredits-jess @totallynotkaibiased

#rafe cameron imagines #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron headcanon #obx rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #jj maybank imagines #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe imagine

[kimberly-spirits13]

Playground Chaos

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1450

Summary: Dick decides that everyone needs to go to the playground to kill time during patrol. Jason pushes you on the swing, and chaos ensues.

The inspiration video

Darkness loomed over Gotham as its heroes leaped from building to building, searching for anything amiss in the sounds of the city. The car lights from below reflected on the glass windows of the skyscrapers around you and the sounds of the streets filled your ears. Someone was playing a popular pop song very loudly in one of the offices below you and a different person was taking a smoke break by the front door of a late-night dinner. Neon lights danced in the night as you zipped along the grappling rope that you had shot from one smaller building to the bank, where the infamous Red Hood was perched. 

            “All clear on 2nd Street.” You said walking up behind the brooding figure, “Heard anything from anyone else?”

            Jason turned around to face you and lurched forward for a tight embrace, “Dick has been ranting about how bored he is for the past 15 minutes.” “I want to get out of here.” 

            “There’s only 30 minutes left of patrol and then we can crash.” You said, your head falling into the crook of his neck.

            A crack in the comms in your ears made you pull away to turn your earpiece back on to the group and not just Jason.   

            “We should go to the playground.” Dick’s voice rang out into your ear.

            “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.” Damian replied quickly, “We are elite fighters, not children.”

            “Technically demon-spawn, you’re a child.” The sound of a snarky Tim made you laugh as you reached up to reply.

            “What playground?” You asked.

            Jason shot you a look as you shrugged your shoulders, “Hey, Bats would not be happy if we came back early so, we might as well do something since there’s nothing else to do.”

            “I guess you’re right doll.”

            “Besides, we can probably bust some creep hanging around the playground.”

            “At this time of night?” Jason almost snorted.          

            “You never know in Gotham. At this time of night, they’re probably high of their rockers.”

            “We’ll meet everyone at the West End playground.” You said into the comms.

            The West End of Gotham was one of the nicer sides of Gotham. There probably wouldn’t be anything suspicious happening, but for the gaggle of vigilantes playing on the playground. You and Jason glided down the building using your grappling guns to keep from plummeting off the side of the bank. When your feet met the ground, you pulled your grapple back in and got onto the back of Jason’s bike, quickly followed by Jason who pushed the kick stand up and started the engine. 

            “You know, when you get your bike back from the shop, we can go on a road trip.” Jason said as you bolted out of the alleyway.

            “Sounds fun. We could ride up to Salem when the leaves get bright again.” 

            “That little coffee shop that you like should be open that week so we can book a room at one of the inns and stay there.” Jason agreed as he turned onto some other street leading towards where you were meant to be. 

            When you got to the playground, Dick, Tim, Damian, Stephanie, and Cass were already there. They must have been close enough already to beat you since it was unlikely that they would have made it faster than Jason’s bike.

            “Well look who finally showed up.” Stephanie came over to you and nudged your side, “We thought you got lost.”

            “I don’t get lost Steph.” Jason took your helmet from you and set it on the bike’s seat, earning a quite “thank you” from you.

            “Timmy lets go on the seesaw.” Dick ran over to the blue and silver seesaw like a kid with a sugar high and sat ready for Tim to climb onto the other side. 

            Cass and Damian got onto the other seesaw with the two casually talking. Dick and Tim were attempting to balance each other on the seesaw and you, and Stephanie were sitting on the swings, lightly swinging back and forth until Stephanie decided that she wanted to try and flip over the bar. 

            “Steph, if you die, I’ll give a warm eulogy at your funeral.” You said laughing at her attempts of gaining speed on the swing.

            “I really appreciate that Y/N/N.”

            Jason stood behind you and watched everyone contently. He saw the smiles on Tim and Dick’s faces and how Cass was coaxing Damian into laughing at whatever they were talking about. He worried for Steph and whether they’d have to carry her out together or if she’d successfully land whenever she inevitably went flying off the swing set. 

            “Jay, you know you can join us.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to you as you swung back and forth.

            “I’m good babe. Can I push you?” He started to walk behind you when you told him he could and lightly began to push you on the swing. 

            Jason didn’t push you too high, but instead talked to you about whatever came to mind as Stephanie began to attempt to flip next to you.             

            “You good Blondie?” Jason snickered seeing her try to make it over the bar. The entire swing set was starting to shake as she climbed higher and higher.

            “You know, I don’t think this is going to flip me anymore.” She said through giggles, “Is there something stopping it?” 

            “Yeah Steph, there’s a little bar on the top of the hinge keeping it from flipping.” You said, “You can still get a good jump off the swing though.” 

            You could feel the near disappointment radiating off Stephanie which was quickly diffused by her leaping from the swing and landing on her feet a few yards away. When she turned around, she gave a small bow and you clapped for her success jokingly.

            “Wait you guys are so cute!” Steph gasped as she saw Jason pushing you on the swing, something that she had not really been paying attention to when she was on her airborne escapade.

            You blushed and heard Jason laugh softly behind you as he grabbed onto the small of your waist, slowing you down little by little. Stephanie’s attention was taken off you when Dick and Tim started trying to launch each other off the seesaw.

            “I think your brother is about to die.” You started laughing at the two and saw Cass pull out her phone to film the two boys.

            “Which one?” Jason started playing with your hair and braiding it back into a messy fishtail.

            “Both.” You replied, earning a giggle from Jason before he finished off your braid.

            Laugher rang out into the night before Dick pipped up, challenging Tim.

            “Okay Tim, go all the way down.” Dick said, “Okay now jump as hard as you can.” 

            Tim did what he was told, lifting himself into the air harshly. Dick came down with a thud before flying into the air. The entire point of the two boys being insane on the seesaw was the lift themselves off the seat without falling off. In order to do this, the boys had to push against the handlebar of the seesaw to keep themselves from falling off the front of the seat. 

            When Tim threw Dick into the air, the expected happened where Dick didn’t hold on tight enough and he went flying off the seesaw, hitting the ground with a large thud. Laughter roared from everyone the park as Dick rolled over onto his back with tears of laughter coming from his eyes. Jason leaned against you laughing and couldn’t compose himself to stand up. Tim was laying on the ground wheezing and Cass was proudly filming it all.

            “Please, tell me someone got that on video!” Dick cried between laughs.

            “I did!” Cass yelled, “I got that on video!”

            “I thought I taught you to land better than that.” A deep voice came from the shadows, startling all of you.       

            “You saw that?” Dick screamed. 

            “From the launch to the fall.” Bruce was smiling, almost laughing at his oldest.

            “Why are you here?” Steph was the first to ask the question.

            “You guys are an hour late getting home from patrol, so I came to make sure nothing was wrong. When I saw that you were here, I figured you were killing time and didn’t know how late it was.” 

            “The Big Bats coming to check on his kids.” Tim laughed, “What a sight.” 

            You stood up off the swing after recovering from what had happened and grabbed onto Jason’s hand, “want to go home now?” He whispered into your ear. 

            “Only after I know I have that video.” 

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fluff #red hood imagine

[arc-misadventures]

The VTuber: The Ninja

VTubers are an eclectic assortment of fellows. Ranging form, humans, to catgirls, dwarfs to elfs, from dragons to loli’s. They were an odd sort.

There were various characters among this assortment of individuals as well. From dragons to knights, barkeepers to schoolgirls. Often times they were all of these at once. So it came as no surprise that one VTuber was a combination of two of these particular eclectic tastes.

Like a catgirl, and a ninja combined into one.

For that’s how one would describe the VTuber SushiandShibari. Aka, NyanNinja.

Least that’s how people described her appearance, when it came to her personality, that was a whole different can of worms to deal with.

~~~

Instead of doing, SushiandShibari’s usual stream videos; Playing romance game, to horror games, and the like. She was stuck in an unexpectedly awkward conversation with friend: DraGunShow.

SushiandShibari: So… Care to explain why you just jumped into my stream, call me a bitch?

DraGunShow: Ughhhhh…

DraGunShow: I lost the bet we made…

SushiandShibari: What bet?

DraGunShow: The one where you bet I couldn’t get, Errant to blush.

SushiandShibari: Oh that one, so you called me a bitch because you couldn’t get him to blush? That’s rude.

DraGunShow: No… My chat let it slip what was going on because they were making bets on whether, or not I could do it. So, he changed the game on me; Who ever blushes first loses, and wins their chats betting pool money. And, I lost… Oh god did I lose!

SushiandShibari: It wasn’t that bad was it?

DraGunShow: He asked me if I ride a motorbike, to which I do. So he asked if you have to grab the handlebar to drive it.

SushiandShibari: Is he thinking about getting a motor bike? Oh I bet he would look food on a bike!

DraGunShow: He would look damn hot on a bike~! Ahem! But, no that’s not what he asked about.

SushiandShibari: It wasn’t? Then what did he ask?

DraGunShow: He asked if he had to grab me by my horns to ride me.

SushiandShibari’s eyes inwidened as her mouth fell open, look at her chat in wild shock as she processed the words her friend had just said. Leaving her with, but one course of action to hearing that.

SushiandShibari: DAMNNNN! That is so hot!

DraGunShow: I turned tail, and ran like hell! I could not stay around him anymore! I have never been so thoroughly flirted with before in all my life!

SushiandShibari: Really? I thought you got flirted with a lot.

DraGunShow: No I don’t, I tend to teasingly flirt with other people.

SushiandShibari: Like me.

DraGunShow: Like you, but I don’t tend to be flirted with. Least most of the times I’ve been flirted with people tend to ‘flirt’ with my boobs.

SushiandShibari: With your boobs?

DraGunShow: ‘Hey babe, nice buns you got there, how about I put my sausage between them?”

DraGun’s voice dropped into what could only be described as her best ‘dude bro’ voice. Or that, Muscleman character, whatever you felt was more adept.

NyanNinja however looked on in horror for several reasons, least of all was the voice she impersonated.

SushiandShibari: A guy once used that exact same line on me?!

DraGunShow: Oh shit, really?

SushiandShibari: Yes, but he wasn’t talking about my breasts, bastard was talking about my ass!

DraGunShow: Ppfff-HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

DraGun burst into a fit of laughter as, NyanNinja’s ears flattened against her head as she glared at her friend.

SushiandShibari: Its not funny, quit laughing!

DraGunShow: Like hell it is! “Hey babe, can I hotdog your ass?” Pfft! Hahahahaha!

SushiandShibari: Grrrrrrr! Listen here you…?

NyanNinja was about to start berating her friend when an automated voice from a donation started playing.

: Hello Sushi, I noticed you lack of notifications sounds, and I decided to make one, adding it to your streams prompt pack. Enjoy.

SushiandShibari: Uh oh…

DraGunShow: Oi! Aren’t you supposed to review those before people are allowed to put stuff on there? In case someone put on something inappropriate that could get you cancelled?

SushiandShibari: I do! But, there is a filter, so if people say anything with certain words they’ll…?!

: Good girrrl~!

SushiandShibari: …?!

DraGunShow: …?!

The duo’s blood frozen in their veins as a shiver of excitement coursed down their spines. The pair looked to one another before addressing chat.

DraGunShow: W-W-Was that what I think it is…?

SushiandShibari: Please tell me it was!

: Good girrrl~!

DS: Ahhhh~!

The pair, for the lack of a better word fainted in shear excitement, and the coursing thrill as they heard those words, or more importantly who said those words. For it was a simple sound bite from everyone’s favourite paladin, Errant.

DraGunShow: He called me a good girl!

SushiandShibari: Like hell he did! This is my stream, I’m the good girl!

DraGunShow: Fine, but only the first one is yours, I get the second one!

SushiandShibari: Like hell! They’re both mine! Every time he says that it’s fucking mine!

DraGunShow: Then chat! Give me that sound bite too! I want to be called a good girl too! In fact! Give me every sound bite like that I want them! I want them all!

SushiandShibari: I want them too! Give me all the sound bits of him being sexy! I NEED THEM!

DS: NOW!!!

~~~

Meanwhile while, ErrantryPaladin was watching a video recommended to him by chat, he hit pause as he stopped, and looked around. A worrying expression etched across his face as he looked about expecting some sort of monster to suddenly pop out, and attack him.

ErrantryPaladin: C-Chat… anyone else just get this foreboding sense of unease… Like something bad is about to happen…

Errant continued to look about before he stopped as he saw a message appear on his screen, offering him a deal he couldn’t help, but view suspiciously.

ErrantryPaladin: Okay… why the hell are you bribing me with thirty subs if I say, ‘ara ara’ in a seductive voice?

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #vtuber au

[sugaimhome]

next door again - jjk

pairing: yandere jk (though not so yandere anymore) x female reader

genre: smut, angst

18+

words: 1.8k

warnings: thigh riding, he's possessive, a bit yandere, he doesn't stop praising her. not much more than that tbh, don't want to spoil it but he cums too.

summary: jungkook doesn't like it when he sees you with taehyung, doesn't like it when taehyung won't step back. that's how you end up here, riding his thigh to prove who you belong to.

a/n: when i read this back i wasn't as proud of it as i hoped i would be... but i still love it lolol and i really love this couple. a special thanks to @zetaares who suggested thigh riding and deserves all the love in the world ty.

main fic

hardly proof read and not beta read ):

Monday had dragged on. After changing your weekend to spend time with Jungkook all you wanted to do was spend today with him as well, but one thought of those poor children with a substitute teacher… you had worked hard for this job and you weren't about to sacrifice it for some man. Even if that man was really good at sex. And was smoking hot. 

It's the end of the day, you're in the carpark waving goodbye to one of your students when two things happen simultaneously.

Taehyung places his hand on your shoulder.

Jungkook pulls up on his bike.

The thing is, you're still preoccupied with the first to really pick up on the second so as you turn to Taehyung, you begin the speech you'd had in your head since lunch. He'd sat next to you in the staffroom and failed to give you any room, his knee pressing against yours.

"Taehyung, I appreciate you as a boss but-" 

He still has a grip on your shoulder. You feel so uncomfortable. "But I really need some personal space" He tries pulling you closer by the shoulder. He's cornered you because he knows you won't make a scene with all of the children watching. 

He doesn't give up and he's looking at you as if he might-

"She said she needed her personal space." Jungkook's beside you, and you're grateful because there was no way you could have escaped that by yourself. You realise he has his hand on your waist only when he's pulling you closer to him and away from Taehyung. You don't consider what it looks like for a tattooed, pierced, sexy, motorcycle man to pull you close to him. Five year olds would never forget this. Neither would Taehyung, the look on his face. "And who are you?" Taehyung asks him.

"Her boyfriend, who is also a boxer, so don't try this again," he leans down and kisses your forehead. The action has you weak in the knees. You knew that he was only calling you his girlfriend to get Taehyung off your back but it was hot nonetheless. It sounded right. He holds your hand, pulling you away from the scene.

"Do you actually box?" you ask him as he pulls you away, a smile breaks out on his face.

"I'm a county champion" He's got that cocky smile on his face that you'd accustomed yourself too. 

"No way?" you exclaim, letting him hand you your helmet. 

"That idiot is still looking at us." He says, glancing at Taehyung. The area is pretty empty of children, a couple of mums hang about by the entrance, but they aren't paying much attention, and their children are running about mindlessly on the grass banks. "If there weren't children here." Jungkook turns and looks at you, his eyes wide and angry. "I would fuck you over this bike so he knows who you belong to."

"Oh" is all you can manage, heat rushing to your core. There's a part of you that would really like that, but you cringe at how weird and dirty it was so you climb onto the back of the bike behind him, snuggling into his back and gripping him tight. Jungkook revs the bike as he exits the car park. What a scene. You loved it. Taehyung would never bother with you again. Brilliant.

Your mind is clear of thoughts as Jungkook drives through the backstreets, he’s still careful when you’re on the bike with him, your confidence has risen, gripping him around his waist, pressing your whole body to his to keep stable. The helmet restricts the wind from running through your hair and you desperately wish it would, the bike gives you a feeling of freedom. It takes you half the time it would if you were to drive, Jungkook could easily skip the rush-hour traffic.  When you’re home, you climb off his bike and head to his house on instinct. You had practically moved in this weekend, and you had no intention of leaving any time soon. The second you walk in the door, you slip off your shoes and hang your coat up on the hooks, Jungkook walks past you, straight towards the living room where he sits on the sofa with his arms crossed and legs open wide. 

“What's wrong Koo” you ask him, and he huffs.

“Nothing” he mumbles, looking away from you.

“Hey” you say, concerned you’d done something wrong.

“Does that man always irritate you?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I am used to it.” you reassure him, unsure why jungkook's opinion on you and Taehyung even bothers you. It wasn’t as if you were dating.

Jungkook looks at you, then to his lap and you think he’s about to gesture for you to sit there, so you make your way over to him. Though he stops you before you can sit down, playing with the button of your trousers, when he goes to pull them down, you let him, watching as his eyes widen at the lacy lingerie you’d put on this morning, just for him. He spends a moment just looking at you before pulling them down and holding you as you step out of them. “So beautiful. All for me,” he tells you, and you blush. 

He looks up at you, as if to check you were okay. “Want you to ride my thigh.” Your eyes go wide, shocked at his want to please you. “Want you to leave a mark on my grey joggers.”

You shudder, your nipples hardening and heat rushing to your core as he spoke. You nod, and he grabs your waist to pull you towards his thigh. Your skin against the soft fabric of his joggers, and the hard muscles of his thighs underneath, makes you want to collapse, but he kisses you, still gripping onto your waist to keep in control of your body. With your lips pressed against one anothers, you bite and nip at his skin, desperate for him to let you move. When he pulls away you pout, “Jungkook please” you beg him, he smiles.

“What do you want, Love” Jungkook teases, as if he hadn’t been the one to suggest this.

“Wanna ride your thigh” you whisper, looking away from him as you speak.

“You do huh” he taunts, you're hot all over from the embarrassment of it. You hum anyways.

“Good girl,” he lets go of your waist, sitting back and resting his hands behind his head, relaxed as you slowly grind yourself against him. Trying not to moan, trying not to give him that satisfaction, because damn you’d never done anything like this before and it felt so good. He watches your cunt as it glides against his bottoms, hoping to get a glimpse of the wetness you’d leave there. 

“Do I feel good Y/N?” he asks, still watching as you rut against him. 

“Always feel so good Jungkook” you reply, letting a small moan fall past your lips in the process. Only causing Jungkook to smirk in response. You could tell he liked getting you off. “Do you like making me cum jungkook?”

“I do, could watch you cum every minute of every day.” he reaches forward, grabbing hold of your hips and helping you move on his thigh. The weight he applies onto your hips only increases the friction of your clit rubbing against his thigh. You shift your knee, grinding it against his clothed dick everytime you move forward on his thigh. “Fuck” he says, hissing though his teeth. From your mouth falls a constant chant of “oh my god, oh my god jungkook” in a repetitive circle. 

“This is going to make me cum in my boxers” he tells you, throwing his head back in pleasure, though quickly correcting himself when he realises he couldn’t see you with his eyes on the ceiling. You quickly make it your main priority to rub your knee against his confined cock, angry against the confinements of his boxers and joggers. 

The two of you are a moaning mess, receiving pleasure from each other in the weirdest way. You had never done anything so wonderful in your life. The warmth and firmness of Jungkook under you, the way your bare knee brushed his clothed dick.

“Jungkook-” you try to warn him, but you can’t speak, out of breath from the effort and pleasure of it.

“I’m close too” he mumbles, his ears red underneath his shaggy hair. “You’re so hot, so sexy for me.” 

You whine. “So good for me, my good girl.” the imprints of his nails will surely be embedded into your skin for days.

He’s just rambling because he's close to orgasm, but his words only make your release closer and closer. “Jungkook please” you say, though you don’t know what you’re begging him for.

“Damn it, I am cumming” he says, his hands still helping you grind against him. He throws his head back, and your orgasm hits when you see the dark patch of his cum stain the inside of his joggers. You sudder, hardly able to hold yourself up on his leg, you collapse forward, almost feeling like the world has paused for this moment where your mind goes blank of everything but complete bliss and satisfaction. It pauses for you and Jungkook, who runs circles on your waist with his thumb as you come down from your high. It feels like stepping off a rollercoaster, when your heart is still viciously beating. 

You’re breathing in sync with Jungkook until you both return to normal. Suddenly feeling one of your thighs cramping you sit up and use Jungkook's shoulder as an anchor to stand up. He hisses, cursing under his breath.

“Y/N, take my phone” 

You do, standing up on wobbling legs. “Take a picture of me from my stomach downwards”

At first you weren’t sure why, but once you took a few steps back you could see. His left thigh, where you had been grinding against him, was stained a darker grey due to your wetness, and his crotch is wet from his cum. He looked like some kind of sex god. You snap a picture, wobbling back to him and passing him back his phone.

“Might send this to your creep of a boss so he knows you’re mine.”

mini taglist:

@hoseokgrecns @chimmisbae @kkhope @hoseok666 @crazyforbangtan

ty all <3

#jungkook x y/n #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan

[s-brant]

Sweet Peach

An inside joke started by Eddie turns into torment for Steve when his girlfriend, Y/N, joins in on it. On a night out with their friends, his long-buried frustration comes to a head.

13k (18+)

Warnings: smut, thigh-riding, unprotected sex, public sex, daddy kink, exhibitionism, breeding kink if you squint, substance use, and strong language.

There are a lot of things Steve loves about his friends.

The first of which is that they are loyal. Not the standard type of loyal either, they're the die-for-each-other type of loyal. From slaying inter-dimensional monsters together to trying to pass finals, they have gotten each other through many arduous trials. Having each other's backs isn't even a question at this point.

The second thing he loves about his friends is their ability to turn any lame Tuesday afternoon into the night of their lives. It doesn't matter what they have to do in the morning, or that there isn't much to do in Hawkins in the middle of the work week, they find a way to liven the dull town and paint the greyscale world around them in technicolor.

Growing up being the infamous King Steve who ran with a group of vapid popular kids, he didn't know what true friendship was until he found Nancy, Robin, Eddie, Y/N, and the kids. His weekends used to be spent drinking at lame parties until his loneliness inevitably set in once he returned to his empty home, or meandering around with Tommy and Carol in utter boredom looking for something to occupy them. Now, every day is a new adventure. Whether that adventure is being Dustin Henderson's personal chauffeur or watching Robin and Eddie get high while he and Y/N swim in his pool, it's a better time than any he spent with his old friends.

His third favorite thing about his friends is their collective, almost hive-mind sense of humor. The layers of their inside jokes know no bounds, and while he appreciates it ninety-nine percent of the time, right now, he wishes he could wipe their memory for the sake of ending his torment.

It started over a month ago with a conversation they were having while the kids were piled up in the backseat of Steve's BMW with Robin and Eddie squirming underneath the gaggle of bony-limbed teens that were sitting on them. Somehow, Will, Max, and Dustin all managed to squeeze in on top of them. It wasn't safe by any means. The only people wearing seatbelts back there were Robin, Eddie, and Max, and the lack of safety was what sparked the new inside joke in the first place.

The younger teens dove into the backseat before Steve could yell that there weren't enough seats. He had expected Dustin alone, but when they pulled up in front of the Henderson residence, two more little nerds came running out after him.

"Hey! No, absolutely not, I'm not starting this car until you guys are wearing seatbelts," Steve said in the same stern but shrill tone often used to yell at the kids. "Will and Max, get out and trade with Robin and Eddie. You two can sit on their laps. You"—he was turned in his seat to point at Dustin—"bike to Mike's house."

Dustin scoffed.

"That's not fair. Why can't Y/N just sit on my lap?"

As he was mouthing off, Max and Will were already opening one of the doors and leaving the car as per his request, waiting for their older friends to unbuckle their seatbelts in order for them to switch. However, Dustin wasn't getting off of Eddie's lap until he made a decent effort in getting his way.

"Uh, because I'm not gonna let my girlfriend ride without a seatbelt. Duh. Precious cargo, Henderson," Steve said as if it were a fact as obvious as the sky being blue and grass being green.

The sound of Eddie and Robin yelling out an offended, "Hey!" in unison at his lack of care for their safety in comparison to hers fell on deaf ears. He was too preoccupied with scolding his favorite child to acknowledge them. All the while, Y/N watched the interaction from the passenger's seat with a soft smile and a blush creeping up her face to the tips of her ears at his "precious cargo" comment. The contact of the hand he already had placed on her thigh from across the center console could've burned a hole right through the denim fabric of her Levi's. His hands were always warm.

"But—"

Steve didn't give him the chance to continue his protests.

"No buts," he said, "Go."

The younger boy rolled his eyes and retorted, "Okay, dad," with a lethal dose of condescension laced in the second word for emphasis. Everyone else, both inside and outside of the vehicle, let out laughs at the snarky jab that snuffed out the gentle hum of Captain and Tennille playing from the radio.

Within the fumbling process of everyone getting out and rearranging their places in the car while Dustin watched from the curb in annoyance, they all began to build on his comment.

It was Will who said, "You know, you really do act like a dad. You should swap this thing out for a minivan so everyone can fit."

The smile on Y/N's face only grew as she listened to the interaction and watched Steve exaggerate an eye roll in her peripheral vision.

"I second that!" Dustin chimed in with a raised hand.

A seatbelt clicked into place behind them, and it ended up being Max, settled between Eddie and Robin who were motioning for Will to sit down with his legs stretched out across all of their laps, who spoke up next in outrage.

"No way! Are you insane? This car is way too cool to trade it for a minivan."

The hand that wasn't resting on her thigh raised to gesture back at Max as he spoke matter-of-factory to Dustin through the rolled-down window, "And that is why she's my favorite. She's funny, she listens to me when I say to switch seats, and she doesn't tell me to abandon Phoebe for an ugly minivan."

He and Y/N named his beloved BMW passed down to him from his dad Phoebe after seeing Fast Times at Ridgemont High together and mutually decided that Phoebe Cates was the hottest girl they'd ever seen. Thus, the hottest car in existence, in Steve's biased opinion, had a fitting name.

"Aren't parents not supposed to have favorite kids?" Eddie asked, then shifted to a teasing tone of voice, "That's kinda fucked up, daddy."

The chorus of giggles that erupted through the car drew a reluctant smile from him that he fought with every fiber of his being. Y/N watched his lips twitch with the urge to let it develop into a full-blown toothy grin, but he managed to remain strong and keep his amusement masked. In the end, he ended up playing into the joke and amping up the "dad act" he unknowingly donned around the kids for the sake of the budding joke.

He departed from the Henderson residence with a playful, "Wear your helmet and you might be bumped back up to favorite kid status," spoken to where Dustin stood, less grumpy now that the mood had shifted into something more jovial.

In their defense, he didn't resent the joke when it started. For a week or so, it actually made him laugh just as much as it made them laugh. He would pretend to scoff and roll his eyes, but they all saw him chuckle whenever they cracked another joke about it. Soon enough, every member of the group began calling him "Dad" instead of his name. The kids even pulled together their collective allowances together to buy him a "World's Best Dad" apron.

The problem stemmed from Eddie.

It began with him calling him daddy, and then, well, it stuck. Hearing Eddie call him that obviously didn't weird him out. It was a joke. But once Y/N caught on and began saying it, Steve was forced to confront new revelations about himself he wasn't fully comfortable with.

The first few times she joined Eddie in poking fun at him with the nickname, he shifted in place and let out a forced laugh to satisfy them. It was one particular instance that prompted this revelation, and he hasn't been able to end the torment it's caused him since.

Summer afternoons tend to be hottest in July in Hawkins. With Steve being the only one in their group to have a pool, this meant that everyone was to spend the fourth at his place, savoring the haven that was the cool water beneath the blazing sun, pigging out on grilled hot dogs, and, for the oldest few, drinking beers he swiped from the fridge in his dad's garage. Y/N hated beer, though, so he, being the whipped thoughtful boyfriend, came up with an alternative for his girl.

The apron the kids gifted him was tied around his waist as he poured a shot of vodka into the Shirley Temple he made special for her, placing extra maraschino cherries on top because she always complains that restaurants never give her enough, if any, of them. Her red bikini matched their vibrant shade when he carried it over and handed it off with a softly spoken, "Here ya go, peach."

Y/N's head jerked around from where she'd been focusing on Nancy and Robin, talking about a book they both read recently, to see him. The two other girls were sharing a lounge chair beside Eddie, who was lighting up a joint and sitting on the patio ground. At the sight of Steve standing there, she smiled, and it only grew when she caught sight of the drink being held out for her.

She knew without having to turn around that it was him. Other than the obvious indicator of the voice that she could recognize in a crowd of thousands, Steve is the only person to call her by that nickname. Neither of them remembers how it started in the first place, but other than the occasional "baby" or "sweetheart" thrown into the mix, he has referred to her as "peach" for the duration of their relationship.

With one hand, she took the glass from him. With the other, she guided him to lean down for a kiss by the collar of the apron he wore to cook the hotdogs on the grill for the kids. At that moment, the idea of them spending the rest of their lives like this was her deepest desire. She pretended if only for the short moment it took to pull him in and kiss him, that this was their house together, that they had children of their own, and he would work the grill while she watched over their brood of little Harringtons. It wasn't hard to picture with the "World's Best Dad" apron he wore either.

The hand she used to pull him in slid down the front of the apron over the ironed-on lettering that spelled out the words. She kept her palm flat on his semi-toned abdomen, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes, and patted over the word dad once as she casually spoke the words that damned him to his suffering.

"Thanks, daddy."

Something changed in him at that moment. The tectonic plates must have shifted, Pandora's box was opened, and there was nothing he could do but stand there with his eyes glued to her sitting in front of him in surprise. Not at the new nickname Eddie had given him, he was used to that joke now that they were a week deep, but at the unexpected effect it had to hear her say it.

You see, Steve never thought he was into kinky sex. After checking out a couple of dirty movies from the secluded adult section of Family Video, the conclusion came to him after two of them that he wasn't into the bondage thing. He liked to get rough now and then, sure, but that's normal. A little hair-pulling, aggressive doggy style with his girl wasn't anything to write a letter to the Penthouse over. This, however, was notable. It clicked with him about five seconds after she said it that he might get hard.

Oh, he thought. He liked that. A lot.

The fact that she was sitting with her face in front of his crotch and looking up at him played a part, but it was being called that by her that switched on a lightbulb in his brain he never knew existed. However, she didn't mean it the way he felt it. That specific kink is something she's heard brought up in some of Eddie and Jonathan's painfully lewd conversations whenever they're too high to care, but she never thought to imagine it in the context of her and Steve. Not yet, anyway.

Whatever Steve had conjured as a response died with an inaudible whimper in the back of his throat, and he was forced to gather himself quicker than he thought was possible due to having friends sitting around them. Nancy is far too perceptive to miss it if he starts acting funny, and if Eddie or Robin picked up on the fact that he was sporting a semi because she called him that, he would never live it down. Like, seriously, he would be destined to live in shame for all eternity.

With that in mind, he cleared his throat and said, "Of course." A charming smile was flashed in her direction. And for the sake of the voice in the back of his head always screaming at him to take care of her, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and said, "Drink some water too, okay? Can't have you passing out on me. Someone needs to help me keep those little shitheads away from the beer cooler."

The "shitheads" in question meaning Max and Lucas, who spent a decent half hour trying to sneak their way over to the cooler he stashed the cans in. He ended up shooing them off and used the cooler as his seat around the lounge chairs everyone was stretched out on in order to guard it.

Though the "passing out" bit was a gross over-exaggeration on his part when the alcohol consumption was a mere shot of vodka, it brought a familiar warmth to the pit of her belly. Feeling his hand resting on her head to pet her hair, looking up to take in the sight of him—his sun-kissed cheeks, the chest hair poking out from the edge of the apron tied around his bare torso, and the doting affection evident in those big doe eyes. It may have been easier for her to hide it, but that moment turned her on as well. She couldn't put her finger on what did it, but it was there. Something about seeing him paired with the soothing touch and the gentle command in his voice when he told her what to do...

She nodded along like a puppy, glad to do whatever he said so long as he didn't stop looking at her like that.

"Okay."

Had he not been sporting a noticeable bulge underneath the green apron, he would've sat with her for another minute while waiting for the hot dogs he just put on to cook, but he was quick to leave. Any excuse to get the hell away from whatever siren song she was singing and back to the grill so he could try to ignore the revelation he had.

From then on, she kept calling him that.

She and Eddie would greet him with the nickname every time they saw him. And, much to Steve's dismay, hearing it from her had him fighting off arousal every single day. There were more times than he could count that she would come hurrying up to him whenever they met, throw her arms around his broad shoulders to plant a kiss on his cheek, and say through a smile, "Hey, daddy."

It was like an itch he couldn't scratch. Every time that damned word fell from her lips, it killed him to refrain from reacting. Although, he'd be lying if he said it didn't have at least one positive effect on his life. The impact it made on their sex life, at least for him, was immeasurable.

The kids, along with Nancy, left his Fourth of July party before dinner time, and the combination of sun-induced exhaustion and alcohol consumption led to Robin and Eddie passing out on the living room couch. In other words, he and Y/N were free to do as they pleased in the seclusion of his bedroom. The size of the house gave them more privacy than they would find at her place. As long as the bedroom door remained shut and they kept as quiet as possible, their friends would be none the wiser.

The half-dry bikini tied to her body left damp patches on his sheets where he pinned her beneath him. His deft fingers had the straps undone on her top as he rutted between the legs wrapped around hips and whined into her mouth. He heard her calling him daddy on a loop in his mind and gave himself to it. The pleasure sparked by their needy grinding lowered his inhibitions. It allowed him to fantasize without shame or judgment, and when that wall came crashing down, there was nothing he could do to rebuild it.

He came in his shorts less than a moment later. It was embarrassingly fast compared to his usual stamina with her, and he could tell by the way that she looked at him as he trembled in her arms and chanted her name under his breath that it surprised her as much as it did him.

She asked, breathless, "Did you just come?"

The apples of his cheeks burned red. He ended up burying his face in her chest to hide it in embarrassment as he gave her a muffled, "Yeah," in response. It had been years since he came in his pants like that. If he had to guess, the last time might have been making out with his first girlfriend when he was fifteen, downstairs on the very couch Eddie and Robin were knocked out on.

And in the weeks since, it has been a frenzy.

Never in their lives has either of them had that much sex before. It was even more intense than the frequency at which they had sex at the start of their relationship when the honeymoon phase prompted them to undress at the drop of a hat. Most of it was him initiating considering she was jokingly calling him daddy every time they saw each other and he couldn't help but throw himself at her, but once she caught on to the sudden uptick in his sex drive, she began initiating it too. To be wanted by Steve Harrington was an addictive thing.

The "torment" aspect of the ongoing joke has to do with the fact that during this frenzy of sex, he can't say a thing about the new discovery he's made about himself. What if she thinks he's weird? What if she thinks he's some kind of creep? He'd never want to offend her and risk ruining what they have together for the sake of a kink he didn't know he had.

How is one supposed to break it to their girlfriend with whom they have vanilla sex that they think they would like to be called daddy in bed? It's not that he doesn't love the vanilla sex, he does. He loves plain old missionary. He loves holding her face in his hands and looking into her eyes. He loves making love to her, and he would argue that there is a difference between that and normal sex, but there's a part of him that wants to explore new things as well. And that part of him has been hard to ignore.

Especially tonight.

It was Nancy's idea.

With it now being late August, it's their last chance to be together as a group before she leaves for college, and she found the perfect way to celebrate before the send-off full of tearful goodbyes inevitably commences. She and Jonathan intended on dragging the older crew to a dive bar a few towns over that (allegedly) didn't check IDs. It wasn't necessarily about getting drunk, either, it was about getting out of Hawkins for one night. Far away from the place that caused pain and pleasure to them for a few hours of reprieve, or maybe even pretending to be the people they wanted to be.

The backseat of Joyce's car is packed. Jonathan borrowed it for the night, seeing as Steve's needed an oil change and he wasn't going to risk the twenty-minute drive if Phoebe wasn't ready for it. Jonathan and Nancy are sitting up front together while he, Robin, and Eddie are in the back.

His foot taps to the beat of the song playing from the mixtape Jonathan put in as they wait for Y/N to come walking around the end of her street. The hands on his wristwatch read eight-thirty. The precise time they told her to meet them down the road from her house. Steve likes to go up to the door to get her, ever the gentleman, whenever he takes her out, but this night is different. She couldn't tell her parents she was going out of town to a dive bar, could she?

Y/N smiles at herself in the mirror, swiping one last coat of lipstick on and taking a step back to review her masterpiece. The aesthetic of the makeup and outfit blend together with a cohesion rarely found in her wardrobe. Most often, she throws on whatever pair of jeans and top left that's clean and calls it a day. But something as big as the group's last night out together called for more attention to detail.

The fabric of the skirt wrapped around her hips is soft beneath the pads of her fingers running along the outseams. It's a mini skirt Steve gifted her last Christmas—short to an offensive degree and simple in design. Classic, one could say. Especially when paired with her knee-high boots, the sheer black button-down tucked into the waistband, and his favorite shade of lipstick. In other words, there's a likely possibility that she'll put her boyfriend into an early grave with how she looks tonight. He's told her what seeing her in this skirt does to him.

She spends another minute or so fussing over the way her hair falls before realizing the time and cursing under her breath, rushing over to her bedroom window as if a fire was lit under her ass. It's left open for the night breeze to infiltrate the bedroom behind her, but she doesn't care. Her parents never notice when she sneaks out, so she'll be spending the night at Steve's place after they return from the bar.

The impact of her feet on the hard dirt beneath her window sends a splintering ache up the sides of her legs that she ignores for the sake of running across her lawn.

And, suddenly, there she is one minute late. Running up around the bend of the road, she appears from the pockets of darkness between streetlights like a ship emerging from a cloud of mist—hidden one moment and towering above the voyeur with its commanding presence the next. Her, with her mini skirt and red lips. Her, with her hair swishing with the momentum of her strides in the breezy summer night. His sweet peach.

He doesn't stand a chance.

The door swings open for her, and there he is.

His hair is done differently than it is on a day-to-day basis. In a styled mess of grown-out strands, the general gist of his usual hairdo is altered to be a bit tidier. The sides are pushed back into place with hairspray while the top flops to the side in a swoop that is somehow disheveled and put together at the same time. He's wearing one of those stupid polo shirts she loves so much, and, God, one of these days she will suffocate beneath the weight of this eternal yearning.

His eyes rake up and down the length of her body multiple times before he manages to string together a sentence in greeting.

Bless him, she thinks. It's too easy.

"You look"—his mind cycles through the options, 'Gorgeous, pretty, sexy, good enough to eat, like I want to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you so good you start calling me daddy for real this time'—"beautiful."

Robin interjects, "I mean, we all know that 'cause, duh, but please keep it in your pants, Harrington."

The way he said it, especially when paired with that blink-and-you'll-miss-it surprised expression donned by that pretty face of his, tells Y/N what she needs to know. The little black skirt will be on his bedroom floor by the end of the night. Not that she has any qualms about it. Robin's comment is ultimately disregarded.

"Right back at ya, daddy."

This earns her a laugh from Eddie, a nervous smile from Steve, and a few lackadaisical chuckles from the rest of the car. The joke is beginning to get old, but, for some reason, she can't stop calling him that. Old habits and such.

A shiver runs down Y/N's spine at the contact of the hand he rests at the southernmost point of her spine to steady her as she crawls in to sit on his lap. Once she steps in with one foot, his palm dips down to cup her ass cheek over the skirt with her backside facing away from their friends to "help" her the rest of the way in. But, she doesn't take it as him making a move.

The thing about their relationship is, they both know he already owns her. Whatever part of her, whatever piece of her soul he wants, is his, and she willingly surrenders it to him. So, touches like this are commonplace. They both know it never matters to them if he touches her ass or tits without initiating sex. Sometimes, he slips a hand up her shirt and cups one of her breasts in his hand as they fall asleep on nights they spend together.

It isn't just her either, it goes both ways.

She keeps a hand in the back pocket of his jeans most times, and she loves to play with his chest hair if it can be accessed with the clothes he's wearing. But, it must be acknowledged that it is something different in each direction. Steve's possession of her is different than hers of him, and she likes it. She likes their dynamic. She likes how he makes her feel safe and protected and held whenever they're together. She likes moments where he touches her this way simply because he can. Because he knows how much power he wields over her and refuses to do anything but good with it.

The possession she has of him is...fuck, what isn't it? It's everything. It's free falling into an unknown pit. It's wishing he could do anything to make her better when she's low. It's the urge to protect her from whatever threats come their way, a dynamic forged in the life or death environment their relationship began in when they looked after the kids together as El closed the gate. The knee-jerk reaction he had to leap in front of her into the direct path of a demodog, already raising the bat to swing for a girl he met days ago. It's being wrapped around her finger and savoring every second of it.

She settles into place on his lap and thanks him in a hushed tone as to not interrupt the conversation Robin and Eddie launched into about how egregious the couple PDA within the group can get. A pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back with little effort so her back is flat against his chest with his body acting as a seat and seatbelt to keep her in place.

The motion of the car going forward rocks her ass back against his lap. He bites back a groan, and it ends up coming out as more of a shaky exhale that he prays she doesn't notice. As long as she doesn't call him...that...again and the car doesn't jolt around enough to move her on his lap, he'll make it through the drive unscathed.

For the first five minutes, all is well. Roadways are flat and smooth, she doesn't call him by her new favorite pet name, and he manages to ignore the nagging voice in his head reminding him of the dirty secret he's been harboring for over a month. It slips his mind as he listens to their friends' conversation with his chin propped onto the edge of her shoulder and his eyes trained on whoever is speaking.

But, right when they reach the six-minute mark, it begins.

The road doesn't become uneven and pothole-ridden out of the blue, it is she who starts to shift around on top of him of her own volition. As much as she loves cuddling, sitting on his lap with her knees pressing into the seat in front of her is getting uncomfortable, and she can't find a way to make the discomfort lessen no matter how she positions herself.

"So cramped in here," she whines under her breath and wiggles her hips in an attempt to sit without his hipbones digging into her ass.

It doesn't do anything to help. The only thing it succeeds in is arousing him. Luckily, the fleeting spark of pleasure he felt when she first got into the car was snuffed out by the distractions provided in the form of their friends, but this time...

Steve has to breathe in deeply through his nose and switch his chin to rest on her other shoulder, the one closest to the window, to keep the rest of them from noticing him shutting his eyes in concentration. It's an affirmation on repeat in his head to keep him from hearing her voice saying that cursed word to him: Do not think about it, do not think about it, do not think about it, do not—

There's movement to his left, the feeling of her head turning to look over her shoulder to him, and she asks at a volume so low, only he hears, "Are you okay?"

He curses himself for making it obvious. There's no way she wouldn't have noticed with their close proximity, but he hoped his deep breaths wouldn't attract attention. And once she turned her head to see his eyes shut, she assumed he was upset or in pain of some kind.

Well, he thinks, emotional pain. The crushing emotional anguish of not wanting to have this conversation here in front of their best friends.

"Yeah, peach, s'all good."

The reassuring words are punctuated with the soft squeeze of his arms tightening around her waist in a quick embrace, but there is an ulterior motive underneath. Perhaps if he holds her tighter and has better control, she won't be able to keep readjusting every two seconds and practically grind her ass on his soon-to-be erection. The thicker fabric of his jeans buys him more time before she notices to get it to soften, but, fuck, he needs it to hurry up and quit.

Knowing her, he should've known she wouldn't drop it. If she thinks he's not feeling well, she'll do whatever she can to reciprocate the care he shows her and try to make it better, but the last thing she's doing right now is making it better. Seeing her face and hearing her voice while feeling her pressed up against him is torture.

"Are you sure? Are you getting carsick?" Her eyes narrow and her brows pinch together as she asks it in a whisper. The soft pad of her thumb rubs the back of his hand in comfort. "You're breathing so heavy, you sound like you're gonna be sick."

She starts to squirm again in his strong embrace to turn to see him better, and the movement rubs the curve of her ass on his bulge just right. Through the thin layer of her panties, he can feel the warmth and softness of her pussy against his hardening cock. That's it. He's past the point of no return. Now that he's aware of it, he can't think of anything except how easy it would be to push her panties to the side, undo his jeans, and take her like this.

His arms unloop from her waist as casually as they can without drawing the attention of their friends, then he grips her hips with enough pressure to bruise the skin to halt her cruel movements. The feeling of his lips brushing her ear has her heart skipping a beat.

Steve says lowly, "Stop moving."

Her mouth is already opening to ask what the problem is, wondering if he's hurt in some way and she's making it worse when—

Oh.

He's hard.

It hurts her neck to crane it enough to meet eyes with him, but she considers it a necessary sacrifice to get the surprise she feels across. There's a silent pleading in his eyes. What it is he's pleading for, other than the obvious, she isn't sure until another few seconds pass and the sound of Nancy telling a story about the first time she smoked pot comes back to her. That's what he's asking her to do. Don't let them know anything is going on.

Those red lips are parted in shock, and Steve thinks he might burst out of his skin if he doesn't get his hands underneath that tiny skirt. Having to see her lips painted that color...

The reason he knows she did it on purpose is that he's told her, just like he did with the skirt, what it does to him. This one is less about his fondness for the color, although he does like it, and more so about the memory tied to it. It was Christmas of their senior year. Their fling was to remain on the down low until they knew what they wanted from it since it began shortly after they looked after the kids together amidst the chaos of the night El closed the gate. He dropped Dustin off at the Snowball where she waited for him, leaned up against the brick wall of Hawkins Middle School after walking Max over to ensure Billy didn't fuck with her.

He remembers that as the first time he knew he loved her. When he pulled up in front of the entrance to the gym and forgot about everything else in existence when he saw her there, taking the younger girl into her arms for a hug and waving goodbye. There was something about her that night that made him see her in a different light than when their relationship had been strictly a friendship with sexual perks. And when she got into the car after Dustin went in, he noticed how pretty she looked in her red lipstick.

The reason why seeing her wear it turns him on is far less wholesome, however. She gave him a blowjob for the first time that night and caught him off guard. He hadn't expected her to unbuckle her seat belt soon after they left and start undoing his pants, but she did, and red lipstick has been ruined for him ever since. It's a Pavlovian response at this point.

"Oh," she whispers, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

There's a light scoff, the loudest he's dared to be since she put two and two together, and she knows what he's going to say before he says it.

"Mhm"—the tip of nose brushes affectionately against the side of her neck—"You know exactly what you're doing."

Full honesty? She didn't realize her squirming in discomfort was causing his not-so-little problem. The lipstick and skirt were calculated blows, sure, but those were intended to get him worked up later. Not in a car full of people. And she definitely doesn't know what she's doing when it comes to the whole "daddy" thing. It's a silly nickname that stuck, that's all. She has no clue that her calling him that is the reason he can't get enough of her lately.

That's why she doesn't realize that what she's about to say is the worst possible thing for him to hear at the moment.

Her lips upturn in a teasing grin.

"Uh oh, daddy's mad."

Their voices are still low enough to not be heard over the music and chatter overwhelming the interior of the car, but that's the last fucking thing he's thinking about after what she said. That's it. He's done. He's done pretending that it doesn't affect him and feeling guilty for getting off on it. It could be the arousal clouding his judgment, but he says it before he has the good sense to stop himself.

"Quit calling me that." He mutters what comes next in a manner that is shockingly cavalier, "Unless you wanna get fucked right here in front of everyone. It's up to you."

Jonathan makes a sharp left turn onto a gravel side road that sends her shifting in Steve's lap, putting a delicious pressure on his aching cock that almost pulls a groan from his lips. The act of reaching out to stabilize herself with a hand on his thigh delays her reaction to what he said, but once the car straightens out on the new road and it clicks, her mouth runs dry.

Holy shit.

And though it was never a thought in her mind prior to this moment, it now clicks into place for her the same way it had for him on July fourth. There's a pulse of pleasure felt at the apex of her thighs at the combined sensations of having him speak to her like that, the general concept of what he meant, and the feeling of him hard beneath her. It's a wonder she manages to catch the soft moan that tries to leave her throat.

She's never seen him like this.

Their sex life isn't boring by any means, but this is different. Liking it rough and engaging in casual dirty talk is worlds apart from hearing that your boyfriend gets off on you calling him daddy and realizing you enjoy it too. And it isn't uncommon for him to guide her during sex, doting on her and letting her lay back while he takes care of her, but saying he'll fuck her in front of their friends if she doesn't stop calling him daddy is not the Steve she's familiar with. He always has control over her in bed due to their natural dynamic, but not like this. Not in this way. The way she never knew she needed.

It's an easy decision in the end. It's a movement so slow and minute, he doesn't realize she's making it at first.

Y/N shifts in his lap one last time, sliding her right leg over and letting it settle between his, and spreads them slowly to allow his muscular thigh enough space to press up against her clothed cunt. The wetness he caused has soaked through the flimsy material of her panties, and she's certain there will be a wet spot left behind on his pant leg but doesn't have it in herself to care.

The fog in his mind delays his thought process for a few seconds, so when she first spreads her legs over his thigh, it doesn't hit him until a few seconds later what she's doing. Or, more importantly, what it means.

She's into it too.

If there was any chance of him going soft, it's gone now at the realization that she finds the "daddy" thing as hot as he does. And then there's the small factor of her wanting to ride his thigh in a car full of people. The long gravel road sends them jolting up and down and side to side. It didn't take long for her to realize the opportunity it offered. She's so turned on, it aches. She needs this.

Steve doesn't say a word as he pushes his thigh up harder against her, unable to do anything but watch in equal parts awe and desire, to let her use the gentle bouncing of the car to get off on him. There's no movement necessary on her part. Her sole responsibility is to sit back and enjoy it.

He hears her mutter a soft, "Fuck," at the friction of her clit rubbing on his leg through the cotton fabric of her panties and squeezes her hip in a warning to stay quiet.

"What was that?"

The sound of Robin speaking up from her left side drops her heart into the pit of her stomach.

She looks to see every other person in the car turning their heads to where she and Robin sit, the latter of the two looking expectantly at her for a response. It's difficult to focus long enough to come up with an excuse because the stimulation never ceases. It isn't her or Steve deliberately causing it, it's the bumpy road bouncing and grinding her on him. But, regardless of whether or not they can control it, it sends an exhilarating rush through her. Nobody but them knows what they're doing as they watch it, and she didn't know how arousing it would be until now. The attention of everyone's eyes on her doesn't turn her off, it adds fuel to the fire.

"Oh, I was just saying to Steve that I forgot to close my bedroom window when I snuck out. My room's gonna be too cold by the time I get back," she says.

The strength it takes to not to let out a moan in between words is immeasurable. The only thing she can think about is how badly she wants him inside of her right now. How badly she wishes he could pull her panties aside how he imagined doing and slip right in. She's so wet, he could do it. The mental image he planted in her head about calling him daddy during sex got her soaked.

Most of the car is shrouded in darkness, so none of them take notice of the positioning of her legs or his, nor do they notice his right hand playing with the hem of her skirt. His finger teases its way underneath it to caress the side of her hip.

"You can stay at my place tonight," he offers, and it infuriates her that he can keep his cool throughout the situation that threatens to unravel her composure.

His solution to her half-truth of a problem seems to do the trick, and the rest of them resume the conversation about where Robin plans on going to college next year. Mercifully, Jonathan reaches to turn up the radio as a Bowie song takes its turn on the tape. The opening chords to Starman are a distant symphony. With the pleasure spiking every passing second spent on this road that rubs her clit on his thigh, it sounds further away—as if she's been plunged underwater and listens from the depths beneath.

And she may be enjoying this, but he's willing to bet he's enjoying it more. He can feel her pulsating against his leg with every bounce the car makes. It's visible in the little ways that she's already getting close. For one, her right hand shoots down to squeeze his where it has slipped up her skirt. It's something she does whenever she's about to come. She'll cling onto him in any way she can as if he's at the risk of disappearing without her acting as his tether to the earth, and holding his hand is the best she can do.

The feeling of his breath hitting her neck sends her deeper into the fantasy she couldn't help but imagine to aid her in getting off. This road can't stretch on forever, and the last thing she wants is to get left high and dry, so she pretends. She pretends that he did exactly what he said he would and fucked her right here. She imagines the sounds he'd make in her ear, the heavy pants that would fan over the back of her neck in hot exhales, and it's a struggle to refrain from letting his new nickname fall from her lips.

Another minute or so and the gravel road will run out, but she doesn't need any longer than that. They both know it. His cock is hard against her ass, so hard it almost hurts, and she loves knowing that she did that to him. It's exactly what she needs to be sent to the edge, teetering right there between the earth-shattering promise of pleasure and the possibility of having it ripped away should the road run out sooner than planned. All she needs is a little push.

And he knows that. He has watched her, felt her, and listened for any cues she might have given through his own haze of need. Seeing that he's made her come more times than he can count, he can tell what she wants and when, and, right now, she wants to hear his voice. Dirty talk is the quickest way to push her over the edge. It must kill her that they can't speak to one another right now.

Well, she can't because she doesn't recognize how loud or quiet she is with what she's feeling, but he thinks he'll get away with it.

Steve whispers into her ear, bouncing his thigh to give her an extra bit of contact, "That's it." The darkness of the car alongside the fact that it's already jolting conceals the deliberate bouncing of his leg, and he can hardly contain his excitement as he finally gets to bring his fantasy to life. "Such a good girl for daddy."

With those words, the tension in the pit of her belly snaps and her orgasm sweeps over her with a strength far too cruel for the setting they're in. Her hand squeezes his hand in a need to do something, anything, other than writhe and moan throughout the pulses of white-hot pleasure rippling through her. It's a shock she doesn't cut off his circulation or cause her bottom lip to bleed with how hard she bites it. Her head is turned as if she's simply looking out of the window when, in actuality, she's riding out her climax. The noises were within her control, but she knew there was nothing she could do to control her face and turned her head to the side as soon as it hit her.

Having her head turned to the side allows Steve to watch her come, and, boy, is it a pretty sight. Her lip is tugged between her teeth, her brows are furrowed, and he can just tell she's dying to cry out for him the way she knows he likes. When they first got together, she was shy about making noise. It took a lot of coaxing for her to let loose and allow herself to do what felt right, and now that she's been conditioned to make as much noise as she wants, it's hard to stifle it.

The raspy croons of Bowie's voice come back in full force with the receding high that eases off of her. After a half minute or so, she has to adjust her position so she's sitting on both of his legs instead of straddling one. Her orgasm has left her sensitive to the touch, and though the road is due to shift back to pavement in seconds, she can't handle the stimulation any longer.

It's an effort not to slump against the seat in front of her or pant as obviously as she wishes to. The music concealed any slight moans that made it past, but there's nothing to hide her panting or exhaustion. Sweat slicks her skin beneath her clothes despite the rolled-down windows that allow cool air inside. The car takes the left turn and stops jolting as it did before, and, though the sleepy bliss of the afterglow, she can't help but turn her face from the rest of them and smile.

Steve sees it, though, and his hand raises from its position at her hip to pull back the hair masking half of her face. He may still be hard, but the only thought in his head for this small span of seconds revolves around how beautiful that smile is. As if given permission to move by his touch, she leans over on the open window's frame with her armed folded beneath her chin to pant the outside air. The wind blows tender across her heated face, a lover's caress, and it counteracts the raging heat inside of her for now.

The moment of post-orgasmic serenity stretches on for another minute before reality comes knocking. Jonathan brings the car to a halt on the side of the street across from the bar Nancy picked out for them, and suddenly the feeling of Steve's erection poking at her ass beneath the skirt is something she is hyper-aware of.

Everyone else gets out of the car swiftly in excitement, but Steve lingers just long enough for it to be excused as waiting for her to get off of him and pulls her back by her hips. The strength with which he does so robs her of her breath.

"Bathroom. Five minutes."

That is all the explanation he offers as to what he plans on doing with her next before he opens the car door and ushers her out after their friends. Her legs tremble ever so slightly beneath her weight on the walk across the street. She stares at his back as he walks a step in front of her and gets lost focusing on the movement of his back muscles beneath his shirt.

She's so consumed by him, she doesn't notice Robin and Nancy approaching until they've converged from both sides. Their arms looping around her sends her jumping in fear before seeing it's them. It takes her a delayed moment of looking back and forth between them for her to realize they said something to her.

"Huh?"

A knowing smirk grows on Robin's face, her eyes deviating from hers for a second to meet Nancy's in silent communication.

"We were asking if you wanted to do karaoke. Nance's friend from the yearbook club said they have a band on Saturday nights for it. But, if you're too busy eye-fucking Steve to listen to us thennn—"

Nancy barks out a laugh, and Y/N scoffs, saying, "Fuck off, I was not eye-fucking him!"

Ahead of them, she already knows Steve is listening and gearing up to tease her over it as soon as he gets her alone in the bathroom.

"Okay, well, are you in or not? We were thinking Heart of Glass or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," Nancy changes the subject as to not drag out her embarrassment.

She pretends to take the time to consider it as if it wasn't an immediate, "Yes," upon hearing the proposal to get back at them for the comment about eye-fucking Steve—which, honestly, she was doing. Nance and Robin both hang off of her arms, the latter of the two resting her chin on her shoulder and muttering a soft chant of, "Please, please, please, please," into her ear.

"Yes," she concedes, sending the two other women into a celebration full of high-fives and giggling, "but, only after we've had a few drinks. I don't think I have the balls to do that completely sober."

Which is code for, "I need to be in the bathroom with Steve in five minutes, so I'm going to make up some bullshit about needing to drink first so you won't notice my absence."

They accept the condition, and off they go into the bar. As promised by Nance, none of them get carded. They have to climb down a steep flight of stairs to the basement, descending into a narrow hallway dim with neon lighting to reach the seedy bar. And though it is quite gross with beer sticking the soles of her boots to the floor and a few abandoned items like unused condoms and cigarette filters, there's a strange allure to it that can't be denied. This is a place to come when you want to be yourself, no matter how messy that person may be.

Eddie and Jonathan head straight for the bar, whereas Steve says something to them that she can't hear but suspects is an excuse to slip away. She ends up following Robin and Nancy to sit at a table while the guys order drinks, but every second that passes is spent in nervous anticipation. Her leg bounces beneath the table with a force that could rattle it if they collided.

A glance at the clock tells her there's a minute left until he's expecting her back there. Time stretches on forever while she waits what feels like an inconspicuous amount of time to follow him to the bathrooms. Just before the big hand hits the top of the clock, she pushes her seat out and stands.

She says, "Be right back," and walks off in the direction of the stairs that lead down to the one-room bathroom.

It's darker the further she follows the path he took. The lights down here are no longer neon, but rather a buttery yellow that gets soaked up by the plain white surrounding her on either side. There are two hallways. A sign, which is actually a piece of paper taped to the wall with handwriting in sharpie, states that the manager's office is to the right and the bathroom is to the left.

There's a strange sensation bubbling in her stomach, and it takes longer than she'd like to admit to realize it's nervousness. The thing is, that’s a feeling she hasn't felt in ages in regard to being intimate with Steve. They broke through the awkward stage after the second time they had sex, and though the return of those nervous jitters catches her off guard, she can't say it doesn't excite her. Just thinking about what went down in the car, what she felt when she realized what he wants her to call him in bed, makes her press her thighs together to relieve the pulsing ache that has been reignited there.

Her closed fist knocks on the door a few times.

Silence.

"Steve," she says softly, then looks over her shoulder to ensure nobody is down here to see what they're up to. "It's just me."

There's a moment of pause before the door swings open and she is tugged inside by a strong hand that latches onto her wrist. It happens so fast, it's hard for her to keep track of their surroundings as the door is slammed shut, locked, and promptly used to throw her up against. The air is knocked from her body from the impact of him crashing into her, but she couldn't care less. The second his lips touch hers, she forgets any physical feeling other than those which he provides.

Steve's hands sink into her hair, cradling both sides of her head, and he uses it to direct her however he pleases. Whether he wants her to come closer or deepen the kiss, she is at the mercy of his desires. He bites down on her lower lip hard, and her mouth falls open in an inhale that he uses as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside. He kisses her as if the world depends on it. It isn't until she's on the verge of gasping for air that he gives her a break.

"God, you drive me insane," he murmurs into her mouth between little kisses that melt her heart. His hands wander anywhere she'll allow them to; her arms, back, waist, hips, ass, and tits. The warm palms of his hands explore her eager body as though he hasn't already done it a million times before. "You gonna let me fuck you, baby?"

She nods into the heated kiss, not wanting to waste a precious second of their time in here, but that isn't enough. No, he wants something from her. Something that he won't allow this to continue without hearing. With how wet she was for him in the car after he owned up to his newly found kink, he has blown past any reservations he once had for doing this with her. If anyone else were to know, he'd blush as red as a tomato, but she would never judge him. Least of all over something she finds arousing too.

His knee is pressed up between her thighs to put pressure on her overworked clit, and she cannot think straight to give him the response he wants. But she knows that's why he did it. A newer edge of muted sadism shows itself in him, not necessarily in the form of physical pain or punishment but in the form of enjoying her struggling. In giving her pleasure, he frustrates her, and it brings a smirk to his face.

He pulls his lips, now smeared with her red lipstick, out of reach, using the hands in her hair and the knee between her thighs to keep her pinned there. The lipstick is smattered along his lips and on the skin around it as well with a few marks left on his cheek and jaw. Not ideal for hiding the evidence of their secret tryst, but that's a bridge they'll cross later. As of now, he enjoys making her squirm.

She grinds forward against his knee for more as she whines, nose to nose with him, "Fuck me." Their lips manage to catch for a second before she whispers, looking up into his eyes through mascara-coated lashes, "Please, daddy."

For how shy she is trying out the new nickname in this context, she hides her insecurity well. Either that or he was too busy freaking the fuck out inside listening to her say that to care whether or not she was getting sheepish about it. Whatever the finer details are, it doesn't matter. Because that is the only thing he needed to lose what remained of his self-control.

Steve swings her around to face the sink in a matter of seconds. As she realized in the car, his strength is something she tends to overlook until moments like these. Sure, she'll always take the time to admire his biceps in his polo shirts or his thighs in a well-fitted pair of jeans, but it isn't until he starts to manhandle her like this that she remembers. In the past year he’s begun to grow into his tall frame.

A sharp breath is sucked in through her teeth as he bends her over the small, rickety sink. One hand is pressed to the middle of her back to force it to arch a little while the other makes quick work of the belt holding his jeans up. There isn't much time to spare considering their friends will expect them back in roughly six minutes, so he loses formality. It's urgent, almost primal, and they both know they're on the same page in regards to how hot they find it.

She is brought face to face with the dirty mirror and watches him undo his pants with his brows furrowed in frustration. Reading his mind isn't necessary, she already knows what's going on in there. After suffering through that car ride with her unknowingly pushing all of his buttons and getting him worked up, he's on the verge of crying, he's so sexually frustrated. Any delay in him getting inside of her pulls an annoyed little groan from the back of his throat.

The belt comes free from the buckle with an exasperated, "Finally," falling from his pretty pink lips as he yanks it out from the belt loops of his jeans and tosses it blindly across the room. It ends up hitting the metal trash can with a resounding, "Clang!" where the buckle collided with it, but they continue on in a frenzy.

Once his jeans and underwear are around his thighs, he wastes no time. He doesn't even wait to take her underwear off and stuff them into his back pocket to jerk off with later, he hooks two fingers into the crotch of her panties, pulls the wet fabric to the side, and guides his neglected cock to her. He teases her entrance for a split second. Both the release from her last orgasm and the precome collected at the tip of his cock makes for slick lubrication, and even if he wanted to, he doesn't think he could stop himself from slamming in the rest of the way once he nudges the tip inside of her.

They both cry out together at the feeling of their bodies merging so suddenly. For Steve, it's a cry of relief. He's been fantasizing about this for a month, and now that it's happening, he can't believe it's real. There's a dream-like surreality to it once it clicks with him that this is happening, that she really is bent over with her skirt around her waist for him in the bathroom of a dive bar, and it makes him twitch inside of her. More importantly, though, it makes him take a short pause to look at her.

He bends over so his chest is flush with her back—which makes her moan at the shift in angle caused by it—and brushes her hair from her face as she turns her head to the side. Her forehead is pressed up against the mirror, lips parted to take in deep breaths, and he feels her pushing her ass back against his hips and thighs in a request for him to move.

Still, he takes the time to admire her and says, kissing her cheek, "Love you."

This softens her tensed face.

She opens her mouth to parrot the words back to him but finds herself unable. Because the very moment she takes a breath to speak, he pulls out until just the tip is left inside of her and thrusts back into the hilt. Her jaw is slack with a mix of surprise and pleasure from the shift in pace, and she barely gets the chance to brace her hands on the edges of the sink for stability before he starts to pound her into it with all of his strength.

The sheer force of it jostles the sink beneath them to the cadence of his movements. It leaves her to hope it doesn't give out on them for a second before that thought disappears. It leaves her the second it appears because she has no capacity to think about anything other than what he is doing to her. And just because they have to be quick doesn't mean that he won't try to get one more orgasm out of her. Although she must admit, the idea of him using her like that elevates the gratification of it.

The intensified dominance he exhibits doesn't make it difficult to imagine. The way he keeps her trapped between his body and the sink, taking her exactly how he wants with no regard for where they are or if anybody overheard, it drives her wild. This new side to Steve is something she could get used to playing around with every now and then.

"Daddy," she whines, "I want you to use me. Fuck me like you hate me."

A breathy moan escapes him at this, and she can feel his reaction in how different the next returning thrusts. More frantic and carnal, a knee-jerk reaction to hearing her say that. Their bodies mold together perfectly. Every curve and edge of her fits to him as if they were made for each other, and she thinks they were. Whatever it is that decides, whether it be fate, a religious figure, or their DNA itself, designed them with each other in mind.

Steve curses under his breath at her, then says, panting, "You're filthy, fuck"—there's an abrupt pause in his speaking seeing that she purposely clenched around him, trying her best to give him the best fuck of his life regardless of whether she gets off again or not—"God, you feel so fucking good." His voice is breathy and hot in her ear. "Perfect little pussy."

One of his hands sneaks between her and the sink and dips into her panties to start rubbing her clit. It's already obvious to them both that he won't last long, and considering the amount of time, or lack thereof, that they have, he won't try to stave it off for long. So, he is dead set on getting her to come before him. He pulls out all the stops, tries every trick in the book, and hopes her first orgasm warmed her up enough for another.

The other hand settles on her back again, his torso lifting up off of her back so that he's standing behind her, and presses down for her to deepen the arch of her back and push her ass up closer to him. With her positioned like this, he starts hitting that sweet spot inside of her on every thrust.

She gasps a soft, "Daddy," and another hard snap of his hips sends her clawing at the sink.

The whole time, he keeps working her clit in tight circles with his fingertips and praising her through every second of it. Everything he says right now makes up for the forced silence they endured on the ride here. He tells her every thought in his head, ranging from professions of love to whatever other filthy things that come to mind, and she soaks up the attention gratefully.

It builds inside of her like a spring readying to bounce—the anticipation of her climax is nearly undoing in and of itself. It's a weightless, unending type of pleasure that rids her mind of any shame or fear of being interrupted. Though it makes her face heat up whenever she calls him daddy, she doesn't hesitate to say it now. In fact, the closer she draws to her end, the more rapidly it comes from her mouth.

It becomes apparent that they like this more than either of them bargained for, especially her. She wasn't the one who proposed it, after all. She was caught off guard by how hot she found it when he admitted to it in the car, but now? Now, she's done for. Now that they've gone through that door, there's no going back, and she's glad for it. Though Steve has always been skilled when it comes to women, this is the fasted he has made someone come before.

She's so turned on that the wet sound of his cock pumping in and out of her fills the cramped room. It feeds into the perfect storm of stimulation that pushes her to the brink of another orgasm. All of it—Steve, the sound of his voice, the taboo of what they're doing, and the physical feeling itself—fulfills every fantasy she's had since figuring out what sex was in the first place.

"Steve," she whines and reaches back to squeeze at his hip. Though hearing her call him daddy gets him going, nothing compares to when she says his name. "M'gonna come—"

And being the sweet, caring man he is while simultaneously railing her half to death over a sink, he says, "Go on. I've got you, peach. I'm not going anywhere."

Y/N comes undone with a moan. The mirror presses harder into her forehead with every rough thrust that pushes her into it, though she isn't inclined to care about the dull pain amidst her second blissful peak of the night. And not only is he left to watch her come beneath him, he feels it too. Every wave of pleasure that washes over her makes her spasm and squeeze down around his cock tightly enough to bring him to the edge of release as well.

He holds off for the time it takes her to ride out the intensity of her orgasm, rubbing her clit and fucking into her at the same brutal pace he kept before, and waits until she's hugging the sink and squirming from him in sensitivity to do anything.

Steve pulls out of her with no small amount of dissatisfaction for the seconds it takes to lift her up on unsteady legs, flip her around, and hoist her up onto the lip of the sink.

The shift in height leaves her disoriented and clinging her arms around his shoulders as to not slip off, but, deep down, she knows she doesn't need to. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, and that's part of what she loves about being with him. It plays into the new kink they're exploring and the power dynamic of it, the sense of protection and safety that occurs when surrendering herself to him.

There's a brief moment of fumbling in which he tugs her to the edge of the sink and frantically tries to line himself back up with her entrance, but once he settles between her parted thighs and sinks into her again, there's nothing awkward or fumbling about his actions. Every needy thrust is precise in depth and force, chasing the same high she came down from seconds ago.

The hand he wraps up in her hair yanks her head back for him to look into her eyes. He follows down the curve of her jaw, her neck, and to the cleavage visible beneath the see-through top covering her body. As he does this, she takes the time to survey him as well. It's hard to think straight through the aftershocks of her orgasm mixed with a sensitivity that almost makes her start to jerk away from him, but nothing will stop her admiring him.

Strands of his hair have been jostled out of place by their exertions, and the red lipstick smeared over his lips, jaw, and neck suits him better than she would've expected. Although, it's Steve, so she shouldn't count anything out when it comes to him being able to pull off a look. He makes everything look beautiful in a cool, James Dean sort of way that oozes effortlessness. (It isn't effortless at all, actually. She learned that soon after getting together with him and observing his extensive hair routine).

"You look so good fucking me, daddy," she can't help but blurt it out in a starry-eyed daze. The arms wrapped around his shoulders slide up to circle his neck, tugging him in until their mouths are brushing on the upstroke of his thrusts. "I can't believe you're mine."

The sound of her name muttered under his breath like a prayer has a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. His efforts in fucking her have doubled at this point. Rather than indulging in the pace and depth she finds most satisfying, he simply uses her to chase his orgasm. It draws small gasps and whines from her, but he doesn't slow down. He trusts her to tell him if and when to stop.

She taunts, "You like this, don't you? Using me to get off like I'm just a little fucktoy?"

Steve nods with his face pressed against hers.

"I—fuck—yeah, I love it. I love you."

His voice is caught halfway between its normal tone and a whine as he says it. It's almost hard to discern what he's saying with everything else that's happening. Between the heavy breathing, moans, and the obscene sound of their fucking that can likely be heard on the other side of the door, his voice starts to get lost within it.

The next few strokes are particularly sloppy, laced with an urgency none of the rest have had, so she can sense him coming before it hits him. His cock twitches inside of her, and he's already moving to pull out and jerk himself off onto her belly before she intervenes. He has pulled out halfway by the time she wraps her legs around his hips to push him the rest of the way back in and whispers a hurried, "Stay, stay," into the hairswidth of space between their parted lips. And he can't do anything but surge forward to kiss her as he tips over the edge.

Usually, he tends to opt on the side of pulling out even though she takes contraceptive pills. There have been countless instances of her complaining about how messy the cleanup is, and half the time neither of them wants to deal with it dripping out of her and staining their sheets. But, in the rarer event that she asks for it, he goes nuts.

Steve slams his hips forward into her a few more times before stilling inside of her with his hands balling her skirt up into fists, making little thrusts as he pumps her full of cum. For him, there is nothing like coming inside of her. It takes an average orgasm and increases the intensity tenfold, and considering that she's still crying out for him, calling him daddy as she thanks him for coming inside her, this one is unlike anything he's felt.

He stays pressed deep inside of her until his cock begins to soften, then slowly pulls out. Cum drips from her fucked-out hole onto the sink while he watches for a second, transfixed by the lewd image that'll likely be his sole source of masturbation material for the coming months before he reaches over to grab paper towels to clean her up with.

"Everything alright?" He asks. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

"No, it was perfect."

There's no sign of the domineering side of him that came out in the car. Now, he's all soft touches and insistent chivalry—that is, if wiping cum from your girlfriend's thighs in the bathroom of a bar can be considered anything close to chivalrous.

The paper towel is tossed aside into the trash can and her panties are moved back in place to keep any more of his release from spilling out. She nods, leaning up to peck his lips. Her arms are still propped over his shoulders when she pulls away to speak.

"I love you too, you know that?"

Steve gives a hum in response. His eyes are heavy-lidded from the exhaustion felt from head to toe after what they did. He always gets like this after he comes, sleepy-eyed and affectionate to the extent that he often struggles not to fall asleep cuddling with her. He's far too hung up on something she said to him earlier to want to sleep, however.

I can't believe you're mine.

There was once a time when Steve worried he'd never meet a woman who felt that way about him. For most of his life, Steve was reduced to whatever role people wanted him to fill. For Tommy and Carol, it was the popular rich kid also known as "King Steve" who led the basketball team and partied with them. For his parents, it has always been the "seen but not heard" son who went from being a promising young man to a failure or inconvenience at best. For Nancy Wheeler, he was a placeholder for the next guy. And it isn't something he holds against her. He needed to go through what happened with her to get to where he is today, but that doesn't mean it hurt any less.

All Steve Harrington wanted was to be wanted. He wanted someone, just one person, who woke up each morning with him as their first thought. He wanted someone who didn't think his love for them was bullshit. He wanted someone who'd look after their "kids" with as much care as he did. He wanted someone who loved him, someone who he didn't have to fill a role for. And, with her, he doesn't need to be anything but himself. With, her Steve can just be Steve, and that's enough. For once in his life, he's enough.

With total security in his belief of the words, he says softly, "I know."

Then, since there always is one when it comes to his girl, the other shoe drops.

"You know, for someone who likes being called daddy in the sack," she teases him as if she wasn't equally as aroused by the whole situation. "You're a bit of a perv, actually."

There it is, he thinks to himself. Knew it.

"Oh, screw you!"

She doesn't miss a beat.

"You just did."

The couple erupts into a fit of tired giggles, their limbs still entangled in a mess of sweaty skin and their appearances an utter disaster. After a moment, the laughter quiets and leaves them with nothing to do but stare into each other's eyes in the dim lighting of the bathroom. It takes him a while to work up the nerve to ask her the question he's had on his mind since the car, though it may seem self-explanatory with how she reacted in here.

"You liked it, though, right? I mean, the whole daddy thing. I know it's a lot, and I know you were joking but I'm sure it may seem a bit pervy if you don't know me, and—"

His rambling is shushed by her finger pressing into his lips.

"Of course, I liked it." She means to go on, but then becomes distracted by the lipstick that stains her finger where it presses to his lips. Her thumb is sucked into her mouth for a second and returns to his face to start rubbing off the makeup. "Thank God it's gonna be dark up there or else everyone would know what we've been—"

A banging on the door behind him makes Steve jump in her embrace, spinning around and placing himself in front of her body to shield her on instinct before his mind catches up. It's no inter-dimensional murderer like Vecna or a Demogorgon coming to finish the job, it's a cranky, drunk old dude pounding on the door who's likely two seconds from pissing his pants by the sound of it. Hearing him yell through the barrier separating them relaxes Steve's tense shoulders.

He turns back to Y/N to see her already staring at him. Her eyes have turned from bright and mischievous to a softened, sympathetic expression. She treats him so gently, down to the way she looks at him, and it's something he's never known how to accept. He's always the protector, the first to throw himself into the line of fire, the babysitter, but rarely did anyone check up on him the way he does them. Until her.

"Come on," he says, "We better get back up there before any of them realize how long we've been gone."

They may have gone nine minutes rather than six, but, with all things considered, they'll take it as a win. Plus, they realize once they ascend the stairs once more and find their places amongst their friends, nobody seems to notice. They made sure to clean the lipstick off their faces, fix their hair to the best of their abilities, and triple-check to ensure there weren't any suspicious stains on her black skirt.

In the end, Steve joins Eddie beside the old "out of service" jukebox to give Y/N some girl time with Robin and Nancy. It's not like they didn't get plenty of one on one time in the bathroom. But, right when he reaches Eddie and outstretches his hand for the beer he'd been babysitting until his return, he is thrown off by his friend's eyes flickering up and down between his face and his crotch.

The explanation comes a second later.

"Your fly's down."

He utters, "Oh shit," and turns toward the wall to zip it back up.

The following minute and a half is quiet. He took the beer from Eddie as soon as he fixed the zipper situation and turned back around to lean against the wall with his face flushed pink. Luckily for him, it's hard to tell with this lighting. Unluckily for him, it doesn't take good lighting to read body language, and he wears his heart on his sleeve whether he likes it or not. By the end of this deafening silence, he's bracing himself for it. It's palpable in the air around him and visible in the smile gradually fighting its way to fruition on Eddie's face.

He watches from the corner of his eye as Eddie observes Y/N talking to the other girls at their table not far away. Though tamed by her attempts to put herself back together, her hair is sporting a bedhead-esque appearance that is a sharp contrast to the put-together style she disappeared downstairs with. They both take a sip from their glasses, then...

"Harrington, you absolute hound dog—"

"Shut it, Munson."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Final Part

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve starts with Dustin. Not for any particular reason. Dustin is just the first person he ends up seeing after an entire weekend spent at Eddie's house. They'd redone their date in Indy on Saturday, getting back into Hawkins late, so Steve stayed the night. He had a morning shift at Family Video but it was Robin's day off so he didn't see her.

Dustin called at 11:00am on Monday to ask for Steve's assistance with his bike's flat tire. He needs a ride to Melvald's for a new tire tube and pump, and since Steve's shift doesn't start until 2:00pm he agrees.

Steve picks him up and listens to him ramble about his weekend and how he the tube got a hole in it. He stays in the car while Dustin runs inside to make his purchases, and then they're back at Dustin's house. Dustin knows how to change out the tube on his bike; he's been raised by a single mother for longer than Steve's known him so he's pretty self-sufficient, but Steve still offers to do it and Dustin lets him.

It's little moments like these that really let Steve feel like Dustin's brother. Which is what makes it easier for Steve to say, as he is peeling the tube from inside the tire out, "hey, do you remember a week or so ago, when you said we were happy for Eddie and me?"

"Yeah," Dustin says as he's ripping open the package the new tube is in.

"You also told me to not hurt him. I- why'd you say that?" Steve halts his progress on peeling the tube out to look up at Dustin.

He watches as Dustin turns sheepish, "I. Well, mostly I said it so that when I talk to Eddie, I might feel less bad about threatening him."

"What? Why did you threaten him?"

Dustin finishes freeing the new tube from its prison before finally looking back at Steve, "I haven't yet. Mike was talking about how Nancy gave you a shovel talk a while ago, as Eddie's 'best friend'," he makes air quotes around the words, "and I'm your best friend, so I have to give Eddie one. But Eddie's also my friend, so I had to say something to you, too."

"That's so-" Steve cuts off, because he was going to say that's so childish but Dustin should be allowed to be childish just a little longer. Part of his childhood was stolen by monsters and Steve can give him a little bit back, "that's a nice thought but please don't shovel talk Eddie. Besides, Erica beat you to it."

"Shit!"

"Language."

"Well, since Erica did it there's really no point in me doing it. She's terrifying when she wants to be."

Steve laughs because Erica can be terrifying. "Give me the tube, or do you want to finish this?"

"No, continue," Dustin thrusts the tube at Steve, who takes it with a grin and gets back to work.

Robin and he are closing on a Wednesday night, so it's been slow all day, and while Steve wants to talk to Robin, he doesn't want to be interrupted. So, they go about their shift like normal and it's only once he's locked the door and flipped the open sign to closed that he seeks out Robin in the back room, where she's counting down the till.

"Can you pause after that? I need to talk," Steve says and feels his stomach churn. He's never.... he and Robin have never had a fight, never really had any issues that required a talk. Not about anything between them anyway. Robin's always just understood him, in the same way he's understood Robin. They've never been the source of each other's pains until now.

"Yeah, of course," Robin finished the coins, marking down the amounts on a piece of paper before shifting to give Steve her full attention. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

"It?"

"Whatever's hurting you," she says. "I don't know what it is, but I knew you'd come to me when you were ready."

"It's been heard to try and talk about," Steve confesses, "because it's never. It was never you that I've been- I still don't know what to say but I know I don't want to be..." he trails off, waving his hands as he grapples for the words he wants.

"Oh," Robin whispers, standing from the desk to approach. "I hurt you. Tell me what I did, so I can properly apologize."

"When you told me to be careful with Eddie," Steve says, "after I told you about our first date. I don't understand why you'd say that me."

Robin looks pained and swallows before she says, "I'm so sorry, Steve. I shouldn't have said that. And I don't- I don't even have a good reason why I did. I know you'd never hurt Eddie. I know you and what I said wasn't even about you. Not the real you, anyway."

"So, why'd you say it, then?"

Robin frowns and looks away from him, shuffling her feet before she says to a point at the wall, "I was friends, or friendly, with a lot of the girls you were with in high school. A lot of one and done dates that I had to hear about, while they cried in the bathroom or on their bedroom floors, wondering what they'd done wrong, why you didn't stay or-" Steve winces as the reminder of who he'd been in high school comes easily out of Robin, but not for the usual reason he winces. It's not because Robin's reminding him he used to be a douche; she's reminding him of all the people he hurt and never cared that he'd done it. He never apologized, and now it's far too late even if all those girls deserve to hear it.

Robin is still speaking, "or whatever. But that doesn't matter now. You aren't that guy anymore; haven't been the entire time I've actually known you and it wasn't fair for me to say what I said. I just- you took Eddie out, and the part of me that spent years of high school consoling friends who felt used by you just spoke. I-I need to work on filtering the words that come out of my mouth, because if I'd waited like, four more seconds to process your words and settle in the fact you went on a date we both thought you'd never be brave enough to ask for, then I never would have said it. I'm so sorry, Steve. I know you and I should have known better."

Steve swallows thickly, because it hurt to hear but he also knows she's sorry and that's enough. He steps forward and sweeps her into a hug, crushing her against him. She squeezes back just as hard.

Steve has never felt really hurt about Wayne's shovel talk. It was the first, and the only one he'd say he deserved. Not because Steve deserved to have a shovel talk given to him, but because Wayne should get to have the honor of giving one. Eddie's never had a boyfriend before, and Wayne had spent so long worried about how this town would treat Eddie if they knew he was gay.

So, when Steve sees Wayne again, he just smiles at the man, and gets a genuine smile back. He and Wayne are ok.

He and Jeff apologize to each other next time they cross paths on a Hellfire night. Steve apologizes for being snappy and rude. Jeff apologizes for automatically assuming the worst of Steve. They agree to a truce and a start over.

Steve's convinced he can win over Eddie's friends eventually.

Steve can't talk to Nancy. There's too much left unsaid between them for him to feel comfortable with telling her she hurt him. But it's okay. He and Nancy aren't close friends, and she's leaving for Boston in a few weeks for college. He's sure that the distance, and not seeing her weekly for Lunch Date Day, will help.

So, he's a bit surprised to answer the knocking on his front door to see Nancy. It's an exact recreation of the day she shovel talked him and immediately Steve tenses.

"Uh, hi," he says.

Nancy takes a deep breath and says, "I'm sorry. I thought I was being funny when I gave you that shovel talk, but I- someone made it clear to me that we aren't friends enough to be able to make jokes like that. That's my fault, too. For everything I've done and never apologized for. So, I want to say that I'm sorry."

Steve's a little stumped, a bit perplexed even, so he speaks on autopilot, "It's fine, Nance. We're good."

Nancy squares her jaw and narrows her eyes and says, "no."

"No?"

"No. Don't forgive me. Not yet. Make me earn it."

Steve don't respond right away. He wants to just forgive Nancy, but when he thinks about it, he just wants to do that so Nancy will quit looking so defensive. He's not sure he does forgive her. "You're right. I- we'll work on that, then. Being friends one day."

"Good. Good," Nancy nods. "I'll see you are Lunch Date day, yeah? Or... or would you like me to stop coming?"

He shakes his head. "No, please keep coming. There's, what, three more before you're off to college? We can work towards friends in that time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Nancy gives him a small smile, "see you then, Steve."

"See you," Steve replies and shuts the door as she heads down the walkway back towards her car.

He wants to know if Eddie or Robin gave her the dressing down that brought her here to say sorry.

(It wasn't Robin or Eddie. It was Mike, learning what Nancy had done and telling her it wasn't her place to do that.)

There is one final shovel talk for the remainder of their relationship.

It's the final day in Steve's room at his parents house. He's moving in with Eddie and Wayne, at least until the kid's all graduate. Then he and Eddie might go off somewhere on their own.

He's finished packing up his things from the bathroom, and looks up in the mirror. He sees himself, and almost doesn't recognize the reflection staring back. He looks happy. Actually, really happy.

Eddie appears behind him in the mirror, leaning himself against the doorjam, smiling softly at Steve through the mirror.

"All done, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, babe," Steve says. "Just one more thing."

"Oh?"

Steve slides his eyes away from Eddie in the mirror, back to himself. He lifts a finger and points one accusingly finger at himself and says, "if you fuck this up, Harrington, I'll kick your ass myself."

Eddie's full belly laughter rings loudly in the bathroom and Steve just smiles.

#shovel talk(s) #steddie #my fic #SURPRISE! Bet ya didnt think id ever finish this fic #but neither did i so here we are‚ surprised together #i was talkin' with the besties about this and fell asleep thinking about it and decided i needed to finish it or it will haunt me forever #sometimes an apology doesnt need to be an apology. sometimes the explanation is enough #sometimes you need to apologize for a thing you said even if the reason you said it has solid logic behind it #and sometimes you just need to admit you were wrong and say sorry with no explanation

[paper-mario-wiki]

I'm sure you've been asked this before, but I need a source who isn’t wildly out of touch with what it's like to be a normal person. how financially viable was it to move to japan as a 20/21 year old? did you move there with assistance from a study program? were you able to afford everything relatively easily without an extreme amount of financial stress? sorry for being nosy. I dont need specifics, I'm just terminally curious for a firsthand account from a person who isn't independently wealthy or a 70 year old retiree. ❤️

For one semester of tuition I (my parents) paid:

$5000 without scholarship

$3000 with scholarship

Scholarship was granted on the basis of academic promise and financial guarantor status, and some students had their fees reduced by 75% and 100%.

Tuition was the thing my parent's helped me with the most, as they had saved up for all my siblings to go to college, and only my sister and myself did. But like I said, there was also significant tuition help for students worldwide at my school. Everything else I paid myself.

Before I moved I made sure I had no less than $5000 in pocket money for paying my move-in fees at my apartment, getting a Japanese phone, bank account, insurance, and a bike. After that, home appliances and necessities. When you make your budget, you always want to over prepare. I made sure I had $1000 wiggle room on top of my budget because once youre there, YOURE THERE and home is a long puddle away.

My rent was $600 for a small 1 room apartment (pictured here) that I would have paid less for if I spoke Japanese (paid the gaijin tax by going through an english speaking rental company)

I chose this apartment because of its proximity to the Karasuma subway line, which I could ride directly to school. There and back was about $4 a day, as I went all the way up town. I paid about $40 in utilities on low-use months, and up to $120 on high-use months.

Monthly insurance was $70 without student subsidy, I believe closer to $10 monthly with it. This covers basically everything healthcare-wise.

Food was cheap in Kyoto specifically. Most restaurants had meals under $10, and if you're moving there for school theres a high liklihood you'll be in the city, which means you'll rarely be more than a 3 minute walk from a convenience store which has lunch sets you can take home or reheat and eat in the konbini's sitting area (not guaranteed to have one but more frequent than not having one). I spent maybe a few hundred monthly on meals, mostly because I couldn't cook due to how small my kitchenette was (it's that little stall in the back left corner of the room in the picture).

As an international student, if you're performing above a certain threshhold in your studies you can get a baito visa, meaning on top of your studies you can work a part time job for up to 20 hours a week. This can help a lot, and I knew a few people who worked at clubs, as translators, and as baristas.

If you are making money, you are expected to either pay tax to Japan, or your home country. This is something I absolutely cannot give advice on.

All that said, in my case, living in Japan as a solo adult was easier and significantly more affordable than living in the US with 3 roommates.

#anon

[avatar-anna]

Ithink the first time professor interrupts one of harry’s workout sessions, she definitely gets all blushy and bashful, and he definitely notices and loves it.// can you make it a blurb pleaseee with harry teasing prof about oggling him, only if you're comfy with that?? thanks!!

Let's Get Physical

The Professor Series

You didn't know how he did it.

Here you were, body bent over as you heaved—even though you knew it would be easier to get air in your lungs if you stood up straight—hair falling out of your ponytail and sticking to your sweaty cheeks, which were probably an angry shade of red. Your legs had been the consistency of jello twenty minutes ago, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to walk back to the car without falling over or passing out or both.

In other words, you were an absolute disaster.

Turning your head to the side, you looked at your boyfriend, who had broken a sweat but otherwise looked almost exactly the same as when he woke up this morning and suggested you go on this infernal run with him. He looked better even. His sleeveless shirt revealed muscles that were glistening with sweat, and when he lifted the hem to wipe his brow, your eyes zeroed in on his stomach, the butterfly tattoo, the trail of hair that led down to—

And now your face was red for a completely different reason.

"You okay down there?"

You rested wobbly arms on your hips and slowly straightened to look Harry in the eye. "No."

Harry grinned, clearly amused by your disheveled appearance. He looked too good for someone who just went on a run. You knew how you felt on the inside, which probably translated pretty well to how you looked physically, and Harry was just standing there fresh as a daisy.

Running. In the morning. You'd never been much of a morning person, but you were definitely not the type to exercise regularly. You got your fix by riding your bike around, and you made sure you got your steps in at work, but physical exertion? On purpose? And once again, in the morning? Absolutely not.

The things you did for love.

"You did really well," Harry said, stretching his arms above his head as he did so. While his head was tilted up, you couldn't help but stare, your mouth hanging open slightly.

You'd never been the type of person who based your affection for someone solely on looks. You valued relationships of the mind, being with someone who could somewhat keep up with you when you spoke to them. Harry was one hundred percent that person, but right now the only words that came to mind were two that you overheard your students using a few weeks ago: stupid hot.

"My whole body hurts," you managed to say, unable to keep the slight whine out of your voice. "I'm overheating, I probably have blisters, and these shorts are riding up my ass. Meanwhile, you look like one of the marble statues in the Classics Department—it's unfair."

You could tell Harry was trying to hold back a laugh as he digested your mini rant. You didn't mean for all of that to come out, but you were tired, and maybe a little delirious. He was making you delirious. You knew Harry was handsome, you saw him nearly every day, but something about his post workout appearance was putting you on edge. How his shorts weren't driving you crazy was also plaguing your mind, but mostly it was the overall look of him that had you at a loss for words.

"I think there was a compliment in there somewhere, so thank you," he said. When all you did was huff and glare at him, he took a couple steps closer to you. "I know those red cheeks of yours are from more than just the run. I can see right through your huffing and puffing, darling."

Your heart fluttered even more at the way his breath tickled your ear, but you were still cross with him for getting you out of bed to go on this run in the first place. Your perfectly soft bed in your temperature controlled bedroom. His teasing was noted and not appreciated.

"You're so—"

"Sexy? Devastatingly handsome? Hot?"

"Yes—No—Don't put words in my mouth!"

Harry's grin was smug as he said, "Doctor Y/l/n, are you getting a little hot?"

"I've been hot, that's what I've been trying to say! And you—you're not helping!"

He finally did let out a laugh then before leaning over and kissing your cheek. "Let's get you home."

"Please," you said gratefully, wanting to launch yourself at him the minute you returned and lie down and never get back up at the same time. Cardio had never really been your thing, but for some reason you let Harry pull you out of bed way before you should've been awake. Why you'd gotten up before your alarm at all was a mystery, but here you were, and now you were wondering if you'd ever catch your breath.

With Harry looking the way you did, you didn't think that outcome was likely.

You settled for holding Harry's hand as you walked back to his car, putting all your focus into not tripping over your feet. Your heart finally stopped beating wildly in your chest, which was a nice feeling, though now you were aware of all the sweat—on your back, your hair, your arms and legs. There was simply no way people actually endured this kind of physical exertion for fun.

"I love you, but I don't think I'll be joining you again," you said as you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car. Once he was in and had his seatbelt on, you rested your head on his shoulder. "I don't think I'll be doing anything ever again."

"You could've stayed home," Harry said, resting a hand on your knee as he peeled onto the street. "Don't get me wrong, I love seeing you all hot and bothered—"

"Shut up," you said, moving his hand off your knee, even if, but he only moved it back.

"But," he continued, rubbing his thumb on the inside of your leg. It was such a casual touch, and he wasn't even looking over at you as he did it. He was just...happy to be near you. Harry always was. So even though he'd made you all flustered and promptly teased you for it, you rested your hand over his and patiently waited for him to continue. "Exercise means a post-workout shower."

There was a suggestion in Harry's tone that made your stomach flip and your heart pound the way it had been when you'd been desperately trying to keep up with him this morning. As he let his clear offer to take a post-workout shower together settle in, you just looked at him and sighed breathily through your nose.

He truly was the most handsome person you met. The hair under his ratty blue baseball cap curled perfectly, his jaw had just the right amount of stubble covering it, and there was a bead of sweat that was trailing down his neck, drawing your eyes as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he hummed along to the song playing from the car's speakers.

If you knew how to draw, you would capture this moment with a pen and paper. You technically had a perfect memory, but there was something so much more intimate about recalling each detail you loved about Harry and using it to create rather than just pulling it from where your brain had stored it. But your line of thinking was just so clinical. People often found your intelligence remarkable, but you'd always admired the kind of genius that lied in art and creativity. It was why Harry intrigued you so much when you met. He was so different from you, yet was so remarkable in his own right. He could express himself in ways that you couldn't, he saw things differently than you did, approached the world and his life at a different angle than you did, but was no less precise or right.

But he was different, today was clearly an example of that. Sometimes you were surprised by how well you and Harry seemed to get along when he was just so—

"Did I lose you?"

Blinking, you blushed and said, "No. I'm right here."

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said, voice soft and curious, the way it always was when he said those five words.

"Lots of things," you said honestly. "How I'm going to get out of this car let alone up the stairs to shower, for one."

"I'll carry you, of course," Harry said, smiling as he neared the street leading up to his house. A few moments of silence passed before he continued. Squeezing your leg, he said, "Don't hide from me, love. Tell me what you were thinking about."

You flipped the hand that was on your leg so that his palm was facing up and began to trace the lines on it. Parts of his hand were callused and rough, something that you weren't quite used to when you first met. But now you found Harry's hand steady and reliable, a source of comfort whenever you became nervous or overwhelmed. It didn't take a long time to realize you didn't want to hold anyone else's hand but his for the rest of your life.

"Did you know that Julius Caesar chose his soldiers by reading their palms?" you asked instead of answering his question.

"A sound military plan," Harry replied, knowing you weren't ignoring his request, just taking your time getting there.

You shrugged. "Not the worst in history."

Harry hummed, then asked, "Do you ever think about teaching history?"

"Instead of psychology?" you asked.

Now Harry shrugged. "I don't know. You seem passionate about it. Might be an interesting change."

You did like history, and you loved talking about it. It would be hard to narrow down what subject you actually wanted to focus on, especially when there were so many to pick from. But ultimately, "I kind of just like talking about it with you."

You were still looking down at Harry's hand, thinking of all the precision it would take to sketch the lines and creases in it. You were so transfixed that you didn't even realize the car had come to a stop in front of his house, or that Harry was blushing all the way down to his neck.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. No one ever listens to me the way you do, you know?"

"Well, that's because no one explains it to me like you do."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Harry's hand slipped from yours as he opened the door on his side of the car. As promised, he came around and opened yours, arms outstretched like he was fully prepared to carry your jelly limbs into the house.

"What do you mean?"

Harry tucked a strand of hair that had fallen from your ponytail on your run this morning. Most of your hair had fallen out, actually, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"You explain it like you were actually there. It's cute, and interesting, like I'm listening to a story."

"A good one?"

"The best."

You couldn't help but smile wide at that. Instead of letting Harry carry you out of the car, you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands cupping his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs against his skin affectionately. Harry didn't hesitate to rest his own hands on your waist before creeping under your sweater.

All those thoughts you had about him this morning came flooding back to you in one huge rush, making you wrap your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. Your lips hastily moved to his jaw, then his neck, trailing down and nipping at skin until—

Harry's breath hitched and you grinned as he lifted you out of the car, closing the door behind you with a definitive slam. Peals of laughter left you as Harry began to nuzzle your neck, his stubble tickling your skin the way you both knew it would as he made his way into the house.

*.*

A few weeks later, you stirred from sleep as you felt the bed shift as Harry sat up. Through squinted eyes, you watched as he stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his back flexing and popping rolled the sleep out of his shoulders. You watched for a minute, admiring your boyfriend while still half asleep before reaching a hand out and lightly running a hand along his back.

Only startling slightly, he turned around, grinning down at you when he saw your half open eyes.

"Morning, Professor. I was gonna head out for a run this morning if you wanted to—"

Your hand had been trailing up his arm and across his shoulder until your index finger found the gold chain of his necklace. With one swift tug, you pulled his lips onto yours and his body until it was hovering over you.

"No, you're not," you said.

Harry grinned into the kiss, his hands already searching for the hem of your shirt. "No, I'm not."

#harry styles #harry styles x professor y/n #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[blueicequeen19]

Liars & Bonfires 🔥

Warnings: exes, oral, unprotected outdoor sex, jealousy

“It’ll be fine. We’re all friends. There’s no picking sides.” Sarah reassured you for the hundredth time as you huddle for warmth on the log by the fire. You nod, the knot in your throat and the tightness in your lungs not going away anytime soon.

You hear dirt bikes in the distance and you know the boys are back from their beer run. It’ll mark the first time in weeks since you’ve seen your ex. Your toxic, jealous, ex who only wanted to smoke weed and fight. Or fuck.

Your cheeks heat as images of the last time together flood your mind. He’d fucked your throat so hard that night, you didn’t have a voice the next day. Warmth coats your panties and you shudder as you push away the thoughts just as the guys approach. JJ takes one look at you and nods in acknowledgment before diverting his gaze for the rest of the night after handing out beers.

The tension is thick and you know the group can feel it. The usual carefree, funny, obnoxious Pogue was sitting in silence while drinking and smoking. His eyes watched the flames in the pit while every now and then he’d chuckle at something someone said. You hated it. You felt like you were to blame for his change in behavior.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Pope cheers, making everyone groan in unison.

“What are we fifteen?” Kie scoffs.

“It’ll be fun!” Sarah smiles.

The game starts with questions from an app and you start to tune everyone out, unable to tear your gaze away from the sulking blonde.

“Last person you had sex with?” Kie reads, making you look up when you realize she’s speaking to you. You swallow when heated blue eyes meet yours. The tension in the air makes it hard to breathe as you debate lying. Out of the corner of your eye you see Sarah and JB exchange a look of concern.

You were fairly certain JJ had already moved on. He was a flirt like that so there was no harm in lying. He’d never find out.

“Um, probably that cute Pogue Sean.” Your face heats with the lie and you hear the crunch of a beer can and boots as JJ stomps off.

“That was really shitty.” Kie says dryly, signaling the end of the game as she slumps back in her chair.

“On that note, I’m going to call it a night.” Pope jumps up to fist bump everyone and follows after JJ.

“Give me a ride?” Kie calls, jumping up to jog after him.

“I’m going to apologize.” You murmur to Sarah, her and John B watching as you wait for the sound of the dirt bike to get further away. Sarah gives you a weak smile before you pass and make your way down to the dock. That was his favorite spot. He wouldn’t go anywhere else to stew in his anger.

You stop opposite of him, keeping your distance as tension radiates off his body. Even from this distance you could smell him. That familiar JJ scent that makes your insides tighten.

“I lied. I’m sorry.” You say softly after a long pause of him not acknowledging your presence.

“I know you did.” JJ snaps, downing the last of his beer and slamming the bottle down almost hard enough to break.

“Then why are you mad?”

JJ spins around, eyes wide and angry as he advances on you. You stumble back a few steps but he’s quicker, wrapping his hand around your throat and shoving you against the wooden rails. His grip is firm but not tight enough to cut off air as he presses his firm body against yours, making your insides flood with heat and need.

“J—.”

“How would you like it if I told you I let some girl suck me off?” JJ growls, burying his face in your neck.

“We aren’t together—.”

“Or that I buried my cock in the neighbor?” Your body bristles with anger and jealousy, churning your stomach so hard your knees nearly buckle.

“Maybe I came inside someone else’s pussy.” JJ whispers, running his tongue up the side of your throat as his hands squeeze your ass hard.

“I don’t care.” You bite out, digging your nails into his chest through his shirt.

“Liar.” JJ hisses before fisting your hair and bringing you in for a punishing kiss. You whimper, opening your mouth to him and letting him claim you the way he always has. You can break up a hundred times but the fire he created in your blood never went away.

“God, I love you. You fucking know that. You think breaking up with me means you’re not mine?” JJ yanks your shorts and panties down in one go then bends you over the built in bench.

“JJ.” You moan, just as his hot tongue finds your slit, his nails biting into your hips. You grab onto the railing for support, his tongue only teasing it’s way around your clit and labia.

“Don’t ever say you’ve let someone else inside you.” He groans between your thighs, the warning clear. Suddenly his mouth is gone and his cock is ramming it’s way inside you. You moan loudly out into the marsh, his thrusts hard and fast.

“Shh, baby. Wouldn’t want our friends to think we’re back together again. We all know how weak you are for me.”

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #outer banks x reader #blueicequeen19 #outer banks fanfiction #tw unprotected sex

[letstripdotcom]

cold- matt sturniolo x fem!reader

a/n: i’ve looked at my first fic so many times that i’m starting to hate it so i’m gonna try and change up my style a little bit!

summary- due to the freezing weather, the triplets have to stay with you until the weather lets up

warnings- smutttt🤷‍♀️ kinda longgg but i rly like a good build up so bare with me

i have known nick matt and chris for as long as i can remember. our parents were best friends all throughout highschool, so growing up we spent every second together. I have a single mother, who raised me and my twin brother nate, so she always said marylou was just another parent for us.

they were there for all my birthday parties, they were there when my parents fought, they were there when i broke my leg for the first time, my first crush, every first day of school, and so much more.

nick was my all time best friend, i told him every detail about my life. he knew every one of my secrets. he knew all of my crushes, all of my fears, he was there when i got my first period, i called him after i had sex for the first time, and he was there when i cried in his arms after getting my heart shattered for the first time.

nick was basically the male version of me, so it was no surprise to him when i told him i had a crush on his triplet brother, matt. “it was obvious when you asked him to teach you how to ride a bike instead of me” he said popping candy into his mouth “nick i was like 9” i laughed. “the truth always unfolds” he says in a singy-songy voice “plus you’re the only person who laughs at his stupid jokes”

nick was right, every time matt would tell a joke it was like everything in the world was so funny. it was always like that around matt. every time i saw him it was like i had no control over my actions. i was just as close with him as i was nick and chris, but it was just different.

i discovered i had feelings for matt the summer before 8th grade. we were all at that age where you’ve just hit puberty and everything changes. we were out by the pool hanging out like the 5 of us always did when matt suddenly came up behind me, picked me up, and jumped in the water. after i got back up he made sure i was okay before laughing at me, and i laughed with him. he looked me in the eyes and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. my heart fluttered

matt had always been so sweet to me, but this summer it was different. we spent so much time together. we were attached at the hip for the rest of the summer. that was until school started back, and we didn’t have any classes together so we never had time to talk

one day a new kid came into my class and he was super cute. the teacher sat him in the empty desk next to me and we immediately hit it off. “hey i’m derek” he spoke as he sat down. “y/n!” i replied flashing him a sweet smile. we sat by eachother for the rest of the semester. one day he needed help with the work, so i gave him my number to talk to me after school. that night we stayed up on the phone for hours.

he finally asked me out on valentine’s day. i knew that deep down i still had feelings for matt, but i had to put them aside and focus fully on derek. we dated all the way from eighth grade to the middle of sophomore year. he broke up with me after the homecoming dance, and for a while i thought my world was going to end.

i left the dance early with nate and the triplets, and cried with them by my side for hours. once they went to bed, nick stayed in my room with me and i cried in his arms for hours. the next morning when i went down stairs, there was a basket of all my favorite candies, a blanket, and a card that read “i’m super sorry about the breakup. i love you so big and hope you get better soon. love, matt” i called matt and thanked him for the basket.

fast forward through sophomore and junior year, and now it’s winter break of our senior year. nick and i are still best friends, but me and matt aren’t nearly as close as we used to be. and just to clarify, winter in boston is terrible. it never gets above 20 degrees, and it occasionally gets higher than 10. right now, we were currently in the middle of a snow storm, so we were trapped inside. my days consisted of watching my favorite movies while occasionally being bothered by nate.

it was getting late, so i decided to get in the shower. i grab my usual sleep wear, a small tank top and whatever pajama shorts i have in my drawer. i was home alone, but about 20 minutes into my shower i hear ringing at my doorbell. i hurry up and get dried off and dressed, when the doorbell rings again. “coming!” i yell as i hurry down the steps

i open the door as i’m greeted by a strong gust of cold air, and my 3 favorite faces. “hey guys come in!” i said as i stepped out of the way “our pipes are entirely frozen until the ground defrosts, nate said we could stay here for a bit” nick said explaining the sudden visit. just as matt walked through the door, he leaned down close to my ear and whispered “you must be so cold in that outfit.” i looked down at ny chest, my nipples clearly hard from the cold air. fuck. i quickly ran upstairs to cover myself before coming back downstairs.

“nice hoodie” is all i hear then i look up to see matt staring at me. i look down to see the hoodie i was wearing. it was one matt gave me last winter when i didn’t have anything to wear one night at their house. i smile back at him and say “yeah i got it from this really weird kid on the side of the road once” “he must have good taste” he said matching my energy.

that was the thing about matt. i could go forever without talking to him and still feel like it had only been a day. as the three got settled on the couch. i grabbed blankets from my basket and distributed them. “aww no way you still have that!” chis said referring to my blanket. i looked at it and noticed it was the blanket matt gave me after my breakup. i know it’s old, but it’s always been my favorite blanket. i used it on every occasion, and it’s seen many tears.

as the movie started i couldn’t help but stare at matt when he wasn’t looking. the way the screen lit his face so perfectly in the dark light of the living room. then he opened up his phone and began typing. i few minutes later, i hear my phone go off.

matt: you seemed so cold earlier i’m glad my hoodie and blanket can keep you warm.

me: i’m glad too 😛🥶

matt: i almost forgot how good you looked in my hoodies.

me: matt what?

matt: you know how i feel about you.

just because you changed in 8th grade doesn’t mean i forgot about us.

i put my phone down and ran to my room. all it took was one text from matt and now i’m all hot and bothered. i sat on my bed trying to catch my breath. once i my hands stopped shaking so dramatically, i started typing up a text for nick.

before i could hit send, i heard footsteps coming up my stairs. “nick?” i said my voice obviously trembling. “sorry it’s just me” matt said entering my room. “look y/n i didn’t mean to scare you i jus-“ i cut him off my smashing my lips on to his. after a second i pulled back and immediately felt regret

“matt i’m sorry” i said “don’t apologize” before i had time to speak again he was kissing me hard. eventually the kissing turned into a very heated makeout. he sat down on the bed and i straddled him on his lap. both of us were clearly very needy. our teeth clashed and we groaned into each other’s mouths. i had my hands running through matt’s hair tugging on his brown curls.

he squeezed my ass and pulled me closer to him causing me to moan. i grinded on his lap steadily as we kissed eachother making him groan several times. his hands gripped my waist as my hands trailed up is shirt. i then ran my nails down his sides which caused matt to wince a little.

in one swift motion he let go of my waist and tugged my his hoodie off of my body, leaving me in the tiny tank top and shorts i was in earlier. “you must be freezing” he teased then stuck his hands down my top and cupped my bare breasts causing me to moan. matt saw that as ammunition and continued to massage my boobs.

“fuck matt don’t stop” i begged. i sounded so needy but i didn’t even mind. i had always wanted this moment with matt. he stopped and removed my top leaving my chest exposed. he then attached his mouth to my nipple, swirling his tongue around, then he moved to the other nipple and repeated those motions.

when he got up i ripped his shirt off then he attacked my neck leaving wet sloppy kisses. i dug my nails deep into the skin on his back which made him let out a slight whimper. he moved his hands down my body then he grabbed the waistband of my shorts. he looked at me in the eyes asking my for my permission.

“please matt” i whined almost a little too loud. he pulled my shorts down leaving me in just my panties. he lowered his head down to my waistline, leaving kisses all over. “fuck matt don’t tease” i whined. “just be patient, i’ve had to wait all my life for this” he demanded, his hoarse voice turning me on even more.

i rubbed my legs together hoping for some kind of friction. he gripped my thighs holding them still. he began to massage them as the continued to kiss my waist. the then made his way to my thighs kissing up til he reached my underwear.

he took them off tauntingly slow. the second they were off, he stuck his head between my legs and immediately latched his mouth onto my clit. i bit my lip hard trying to silence my moans. he sucked and licked and nibbled so well sending me into a euphoric state.

he started to finger me with one finger while he ate me out. my back arched so high off the bed i thought i could snap. my stomach tightened and i moaned his name “matt i’m bouta cum don’t stop! pls don’t stop!” all he did was hum, sending vibrations all up my body causing me to release.

he sat up with a corny smile on his face and looked me in the eyes. he grabbed my waist and quickly flipped me onto my stomach causing me to gasp. he lifted me so my ass was in the air “how do you wanna go about this?” he asked.

“fuck me like you mean it” i demanded, needing him right then and there. with that being said he removed his pants and his boxers in a flash, exposing his inches. i winced at the size, but i didn’t let it get to me.

“if you need me to stop just say ‘pink’ okay? it’ll be our safe word” he said. i nodded my head frantically becoming impatient.

suddenly he rammed into me at full speed causing me to almost scream, disregarding the people downstairs. he shoved my head into the pillow muffling my noises as he rammed ruthlessly into me.

this was a completely different side of matt. normally he was so sweet and gentle, but right now he was tearing me apart. not that i’m complaining. he thrusted into me with so much power i swore i could feel him up in my chest.

i screamed into the pillow and arched my back upwards causing him to get a better angle, hitting my g spot repeatedly. “fuck y/n you feel so good” he moaned. my legs shook once again. i clenched around matt causing his jaw to fall open as we both came. he fucked me through our highs never losing pace.

“remeber if you wanna stop now the word is pink” he said signaling he wasn’t ready to stop, but i wasn’t either. no matter how overstimulated i was becoming, i just couldn’t get enough. “please don’t stop matt” i begged.

he flipped me on my back where he can look me into my eyes and fucked into me slowly this time taking in every detail of my face. i had tears running down my eyes, my hair was a mess, and i couldn’t control the muscles in my face. i was an absolute mess under him but i didn’t mind at all.

he thrusted into me slowly as he dropped his head in the crook of my neck. “fuckkk. just like that. oh my g-god you feel amazing. i could do this forever.” he whispered praises in my ear sending me over the edge. i bit down on my swollen lip, causing it to bleed just a little as i released.

matt smirked as he pulled out and released thick white strings of cum all over my chest. he then licked it completely clean and smiled at me. “god you’re so beautiful, i’ve wanted you to be all mine forever” he said looking in your eyes.

“god matt i’ve loved you since we were 14” i admitted. he smiled at me and kissed me sweetly “ i knew you would be mine the second i laid eyes on you” he said “matt we were infants.” i joked “that’s besides the point, y/n. be my girlfriend?” he asked. “of course dummy” i kissed him.

kissing matt was so addictive. i just couldn’t stop once i started. “okay now let’s get you cleaned up and get to bed i’m so tired” he said standing up. he then picked me up bridal style and carried me into the shower.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

AHHH THE ENDD I HOPE YALL LIKE BC I LOVED WRITING ITTTT

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

[risetherivermoon]

annnd now heres a ton of kiddads headcanons as well because i love them

- unlike his dad Sparrow actually needs to wear glasses, and hes practically blind without them

- Lark does the thing where your dad stands either in front or behind the couch to watch the TV while ur watching something, he'll do this to Hero whenever shes watching anime constantly

- Terry Jr. started writing the journal the teens read, before the forgotten realms trip, it was something his therapist told him might help with how angry he used to be, he just ended up using it to also record all of the things that happened in the forgotten realms (it went from angsty teen bs to horror stories real quick)

- Nicky has a minions tattoo

- Grant would skip most of his PE classes except when they were playing soccer

- Lark has beef with one of Normal's teachers at Teen High because Normal said she was being rude and stressing him out (he went to Norm's parent teacher conferences just to threaten her, Sparrow had to hold him back)

- Nicky once drank a glow stick, not on a dare or anything, he just wanted to know if it would make him glow (it didnt)

- Sparrow learned to paint and draw from Mercedes

- when Lark pisses people off who he actually doesnt want to be pissed at him, he'll bake them a pie (for some reason thats always his go to for apologies, luckily Sparrow really likes pie)

- Terry Jr. gets his nails done every two weeks, the workers at the nail salon know him

- Grant can take apart and put guns back together, he does this when hes anxious

- after losing his arm, Nicky would refuse help when doing things, instead he would just use his teeth constantly

- Sparrow drew all the other kiddads as furries when he was a kid, Nicky still has the drawing

- Lark is really good at driving but cannot ride a bike for the life of him

- Grant got Nicky to pierce his ears without telling his parents

- Terry Jr. cries at every sad movie he ever watches

- when Hero was born and Sparrow was going between working for D.A.D.D.I.E.S. and taking care of her, he used to get so overtired he would lecture the other kiddads about certain things in a gentle parenting tone (it worked on nicky)

- Nicky is a really good cook, if the doodler hadn't been released he was thinking about going to culinary school

- Terry Jr. used to babysit the teens (excluding scary ofc) when they were little a lot (he was the only person Grant trusted to watch Lincoln)

#theres always more of these but here's what ive got for now! love these guys #dndads #dndads s2 #dndads s1 #dungeons and daddies #kiddads #dungeons & daddies #terry jr stampler #nick close #nick foster #nicky close #nicky foster #nicholas close #nicholas foster #nicky close foster #grant wilson #grant li wilson #lark oak #sparrow oak #lark oak garcia #sparrow oak garcia #sparrow oak swallows garcia #autumn rambling #🍁

[bloodynereid]

Rulebreaker

pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x fem!reader

a/n: there is a criminally low amount of warren fics and daisy jones & the six fics in general so I'm trying to rectify that. also I listened to the Aurora album on repeat when writing this so if you haven't listened to it already go do that. requests are open for all characters if you want to send anything in. i also love chatting with all of you so send in ur opinions or thoughts :)

tw: mentions of period typical misogyny, cigarette smoking, swearing

description: the night you met warren rojas, all of your rules fly out of the window.

Y/N: Being a female producer in the 70s was… how to put it delicately… absolute shit. But I tried my best. I had a list of rules to live by: don’t date anyone related to my job, never stay later than 7pm, always have more than one person in the room with you and never drink on the job. Not even coffee. I broke most of those rules the night I met Warren Rojas.

It was 9pm (rule break #1) and you had just finished mixing one of the last songs for an album you were going to show George tomorrow. You were about to head home with a cup of coffee (rule break #2) you had snatched from the snack room when suddenly one of the doors to the recording rooms slammed open and a whole gang of people poured out. The noise had startled you so much that the cup in your hand sloshed and hotstingburnoww the liquid fell onto your hand.

“Shit!” You had realized in the last moment that your little expletive caught the attention of the last people milling out, a curly haired guy and one of best known producers of the time, Teddy Price, otherwise known as your mentor. “Oh hey Teddy.”

“Y/N! I don’t think I’ve seen you here this late before.”

“Just had to finish mixing a song you know me.”

“Oh I do. That’s why it’s surprising.” You rolled your eyes with a smile and then looked over to the man standing next to him.

“Who’s the new band? Haven't seen them around here before.”

“The Six. This is Warren Rojas, their drummer. This is Y/N L/N, she’s one of the best producers out there.”

“You flatter me too much. It’s nice to meet you, Warren.”

“You too.”

“Either of you need a ride? I’m heading out soon.”

“Nah I’m fine. I’ll just go with the band.”

“Yeah I’ve got my bike.”

“You parked close?” Teddy asked with his usual protective tone.

“Just a 5 minute walk.”

“I would walk you but I’ve got to finish looking over some tapes.”

“I’m heading the same way. We can go over together.”

“You sure?” You asked as you took a sip from your coffee.

“Yeah, I’m sure the band can wait.”

“Great. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Bye Teddy.”

“See you.” 

You and Warren set off to navigate through the maze of recording rooms and offices. (rule break #3) He had lit up a cigarette and when he offered you one, you graciously took it, throwing out the finished coffee cup.

“So if you don’t mind me asking. Why do you call yourselves the Six if there’s only 5 of you?” Warren laughed and looked at you with a smile.

“I honestly have no idea. Something about there already being too many iconic bands with the number five in them.”

“Right well, I can’t be one to judge anyway, I can't even sing.” 

“I can’t either so I think we’re on the same playing field here.” You laughed and nudged his shoulder. So he was funny on top of being ridiculously attractive.

“So how did you get into producing?” And he wasn’t being a anti-feminist asshole, unlike SO MANY people in this industry.

“Well I liked music and I would record demos for my brothers when I could. It was honestly just pure luck. I met Teddy when I was interviewing to be a secretary here. He taught me some of the ropes and then persuaded the big bosses to hire me. I really only produce for smaller names but… it’s my passion, you know.”

“As part of a smaller name, we appreciate your help.” He said with a mischievous smile whilst wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shush. So I guess now it’s only fair to ask how you got into The Six?”

“Well, Graham got us into this band when we were like 14 and then he persuaded his brother, Billy, to join. Then some random dude convinced us to head out here and try our luck with Teddy Price so here I am. We actually used to be called The Dunne Brothers and then we changed it for some reason, I think we all collectively decided against that name one night at a diner.”

“Well if you’re getting produced by Teddy then you have to have at least a modicum of talent.”

“Don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.”

“Take it as you want.” His eyes flickered under the streetlights as you made your way out onto the street. Warren Rojas has a majestic quality to him and well, he was also nice and exactly your type. Okay so maybe rule number #1 was meant to be broken.

“Warren! Hurry up man or we’re leaving without you.” A man yelled from one of the parked vans. He was leaning out of the window and pushing on the car horn.

“Well it seems my luck is still going strong cause that’s my bike.” You point at the black motorcycle that is parked next to the colorful van. He sent you a beaming smile as you both wandered over to where your separate vehicles lay.

“So will I be seeing you again?”

“We work in the same building so probably.”

“You know what I mean.” I stamped out the cigarette and winked at him.

“I might come around to see how you sound tomorrow.”

“I’ll be sure to be playing the drums to the best of my ability.”

“I'm sure you’re supposed to be doing that anyway.” You smirked at him as swung your jean clad leg over the motorcycle and twisted the key in the ignition.

“Warren!”

“Yeah yeah, one second. Give me your arm.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re really pretty and I want to give you my number.”

“How do you know I’ll use it?”

“I’m taking a gamble.”

“It seems like you take a lot of those.” 

You held out your arm anyways and let him scribble down his number in black ink. Your helmet went over your head after he finished and you looked down at the list of numbers with a little heart next to them. So he was a sap as well.

“I’ll be seeing you, Warren Rojas.”

“I sure hope so, Y/N L/N.” You smiled and gave him a little wave before revving off. But not before you heard a last: “Warren! What the hell man I’m starving over here.” Which made you chuckle.

Y/N: I ended up going to that recording session the next day. And the next and the next. Teddy even let me mix a few of the songs. I also wrote down his number immediately after I got home. I’m pretty sure I still have the receipt where it’s written on somewhere. Anyways I ended up breaking that first rule after the tour. Warren asked me out when we were surfing. Actually I was surfing and Warren was trying to. God that was a beautiful day.

Warren: The sun was just about to set and I had given up trying to surf so Y/N and I were just sitting on our boards watching the sky turn different colors. We had been friends since that night Teddy introduced us and I was obviously attracted to her. But it was then when I realized I was in love with her. I ended up asking her to marry me at that exact same spot a few years later.

Y/N: I immediately said yes, both times. Warren and I just work. He is like a part of me I can’t bear the thought of losing.

Warren: I love her with my entire self and more. I can’t see my life any other way. I think one of the greatest things that came out of the band was not just the music but it also led me to my soulmate.

Y/N: Rule breaking is really one of the best things I could have done. I met my other half and worked with people I would consider my family. Sometimes plans just aren’t meant to be followed.

Y/N Rojas is one of the top producers in the music industry. She shared producer credits with Teddy Price on Aurora and has gone on to produce some of the biggest names in the 80s and 90s. Currently she lives on a houseboat with her husband, Warren, the former drummer of Daisy Jones & The Six and their twins, Teddy and Karen. She owns a music label (Reconstitution Records) which will be producing the newest album of the reunited band, Daisy Jones & The Six.

hopefully I did Warren justice cause it's my first time writing for him

taglist: (lmk if you want to be added to the warren taglist or general daisy jones & six taglist)

@pinkdaiisies @just1riqht

#daisy jones and the six #billy dunne #graham dunne #karen sirko #daisy jones #camila dunne #daisy x billy #warren rojas #warren rhodes #eddie roundtree #taylor jenkins reid #amazon prime #warren rojas imagine #warren rojas short story #daisy jones and the six imagine #djats fanfic #warren rojas x reader #warren rhodes x reader #djats #daisy jones and the six x reader

[saetoru]

tee…. tee could you… WOULD you write smth abt isagi

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。TAKE CARE — ISAGI YOICHI.

✩ — word count: 2.3k words and not proofread (this was meant to be a drabble sobs)

✩ — contents: stepcest + dub con + dark content, minors begone, aged up pro! isagi, jealous stepbro! isagi, fem! reader, descriptions of puberty (breasts and periods), fingering, manipulation + coercion, writing this does not mean i condone this in real life this is fiction.

✩ — notes: juno my bestie. for you, anything. this was not even supposed to be stepcest it just had a mind of its own sobs

“c’mon yoichi, it’s not as big as you’re making it,” you roll your eyes.

“actually it is,” isagi counters, “sorry if my sister and teammate dating doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

if you were to tell anyone, isagi yoichi is a good stepbrother—everyone around you knows it, your friends and neighbors and even the mailman too.

truthfully, you’ve always wanted an older brother, and he fills that spot easily. you’ve always craved someone to give you the bigger half of the chocolate bar, someone to threaten the older boys on the playground, someone to treat you well so you know the bar isn’t on the ground.

he does his part—he’s nice to your mother and helps around the house, he’s reliable and always puts you first, and he always makes sure to never cross the line that treads towards disrespectful. he comes into your house as a stranger, but he makes it a home filled with family. and he even spoils you, laughs that kind and sweet little chuckle of his as he mumbles about what good’s an athlete’s salary if i can’t spoil my little sister?

isagi is a good stepbrother—the best, even. so you can do this one little thing for him right? after all he’s done, you can do this much for him, can’t you?

“it’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” you insist.

“no. you can’t go out with my teammate,” he shakes his head, making you frown.

it’s not an unreasonable boundary—getting intimate with a teammate only makes room for an awkward tension for him if things don’t work out. it’s a mix of his personal and professional life. it’s a tug of war between his family and his friends (and technically, coworker too.) and it’s not like you didn’t count on the possibility of his disproving gaze…it’s just that with a brother as wrapped around your fingers as isagi, well….you figure he’ll let you have this one if you just give him your best pout.

“but he’s cute,” you huff, “c’mon it’s just for fun.”

“you can’t have fun with anyone else?” he asks gruffly. there’s something about him—something a bit rougher, a bit harsher, a bit angry almost.

isagi is a good stepbrother—he never gets mad at you. he’s patient and understanding, let’s you off the hook more than he should, lets you off with a gentle warning instead of scolding you. so when he looks at you like that, jaw tight and eyes narrowed, you can’t help but wonder what’s happened to that sweet, precious older brother of yours.

“but bachira’s just so…so…” you snap your fingers, looking for the right word to describe his friend.

isagi’s eyes harden. his hands are crossed over his chest as he licks his lips and raises a brow. “he’s so what?” he asks lowly, “sweet? funny? hot?”

“yeah,” you shrug, “i guess he is. he seems like a good time.”

“a good time,” he nods slowly, as if testing the words on his tongue. “that so?”

isagi is a good stepbrother—he taught you how to ride a bike, he played pretend with you growing up, he pushed you on the swings and always let you go down the slide first, he played card games and let you win when your spirits were crushed. he’s always kept you entertained…hasn’t he? so why is it that you’ve never said he’s a good time?

“well, yeah….” you trail off, “i’m not sixteen anymore,” you roll your eyes, giving him a scoff, “you don’t have to baby me anymore. i can handle it if your little athlete friend isn’t who he seems to be.”

“that’s what you say,” he grunts, taking a step closer.

sometimes, it hits you how much isagi’s grown. his arms aren’t skinny and small anymore, there’s muscle on his biceps that ripple as they flex. he’s not that short and shy kid anymore, he’s taller now and talks a lot more confidently. he’s not the same size as you or just a bit bigger anymore, he’s bulkier now, has a broadness to his shoulders and chest that make him bigger than just his height.

“what are you—”

“when that asshole cheated on you a few years back who picked you up?” he demands, making your brows furrow. “and then when you got with him two more times, who listened to you cry on the phone, hmm?”

“yoichi, that’s not fair. i was like…seventeen—”

“when that one guy left you on the side of the road, who came and got you? huh?”

“what’s that got to do with anything—”

“i’ve always cleaned up your messes, haven’t i?”

“yeah, so?” you ask as he takes a few strides towards you, making you step back until your back meets the cool wall behind you.

isagi is a good stepbrother—he takes care of you like you need, always makes sure your safe and sound, always comes running when you need him most.

he’s almost perfect….almost. there’s just one small, tiny little blemish on his records. every time you’ve cried those innocent tears of yours (no boy deserves your tears) he’s always had that phantom thought that maybe, just maybe, if it was him—then you’d never cry.

how could he not? he watched your breasts grow slowly but surely over the years, he was there when you got your first period, he bought you your first lipgloss, he saw you in every dress first before school dances. he’s watched you grow into the woman you are….so who better to treat you right than him?

he doesn’t get it, why you’d choose bachira when he’s been there all this time—all because what…his father’s married to your mother? because you call him your darling older brother even though there’s not a shred of dna you share?

isagi is a good stepbrother—but if you just gave him the chance, you’d know he’d also be a perfect boyfriend.

“how do you think it feels?” he asks, voice a low whisper, his lips barely a millimeter away from your forehead as he speaks. it almost feels intimate, the way he talks to you, like he’s telling you feelings he’s buried deep down. “to watch you cry over all these shitty ass men that make don’t know how to take care of you?”

you swallow thickly, uncertainty washing over your face as you stare up at him. “yoichi…i…”

“you think i like it? watching you waste those pretty tears on those douchebags?”

“you don’t trust your own friend?” you can barely manage your voice to be a low whisper, throat dry from the way his forehead is now touching yours.

you can feel his breath, can breathe it in if you want—and a faint part of you registers that brothers should not be standing this close to sisters, should not share air this close or feel each others heartbeats from proximity alone.

you feel almost filthy when you realize you don’t mind it. that you like it even—that if he tilted his head, his lips would touch yours and….and you wouldn’t even shove him off would you?

no—you wouldn’t.

it’s disgusting. it’s unholy. it’s wrong in ever regard. it’s shameful and it would get you shunned from everyone. people would whisper. what would your mother say? his father? your friends? the neighbors? the god damn mailman?

you almost taste bile….but it’s hardly important when your chest is beating so wildly and your fingertips feel clammy with anticipation.

“no,” his voice is gravelly, deep and…and is that lust? “no, i don’t trust any boy around you but me. you know that?”

“yoi—” your voice breaks off a bit, breath hitching in the middle of his name as you register what he’s just said.

he closes his eyes, almost like he’s savoring the way his name sounds on your tongue like that.

“only time you should be crying is from something good,” he hums, “you think these boys can give that to you? do you think they care enough? think they love you enough?”

“i…i don’t—”

he doesn’t let you get more than a word or two in, plants two strong and rough palms on your waist and squeezes gently. it’s enough to distract you, to pull your eyes from his eyes to where his hands are.

by the time you look up again, his lips are hovering just above yours.

“only one person has loved you like a real man,” he mumbles, “you know who?”

“w-who,” you ask shakily.

you hate that you know. you hate even more that you want to hear him say it.

“me,” he growls—and then his lips are on yours.

he has you pressed against the wall. the same wall your mother measured your heights on with markers as you grew. the same wall you counted against for hide and seek as you played. the same wall you stood against and took pictures together on birthdays. the same wall that’s watched you get older and him too—under one roof, under one home, under one family.

his lips are soft, gentle yet firm as they feel your lips. they mold against you perfectly—it’s like that missing puzzle piece only family can fit in. you gasp against his mouth, and his tongue slides in.

he tastes you—tastes every corner of your mouth as his tongue presses against yours, feels every inch of your lips as they sear against his. it’s hot, it’s needy, it’s desperate, it’s wrong, and it’s sinful.

but it feels so good. so right. so exciting.

because he’s right—no one takes care of him like you, no one puts you first like he does, no one knows you like isagi yoichi.

his fingers are hooking onto your waistband in no time. let me do this, baby. the petname makes you shiver. don’t worry, i’ll make it good. somehow you trust he will. you’ll see why no one’s good for you. the way he kisses you alone has already convinced you. i’ll make it good, yeah? just for you. you know he will. i’ll take care of you. i always do. he does—and he always will.

“y-yoichi, what if…what if someone walks in a-and—”

“shh,” he cuts you off, “no one’ll be home,” he grins a little too widely, “just relax, i always take good care of you, don’t i?” he waits for an answer before asking a bit more fiercely. “don’t i?”

“yes,” you whisper. you nod slowly once, then confidently a second time. “yes, you always take care of me when no one else does.”

“‘s right,” he hums in approval. his fingers move your underwear to the side, ghosting over your slit as he collects your slick on his fingers. “poor thing,” he hums softly, sickeningly sweet. “who’s gonna take care of this precious little pussy? guess i’ll have to do it. want me to do it? hmm? want me to show you how real men treat perfect pussies like yours?”

“y-yeah,” you breathe.

it’s aching—the pressure between your legs is painful, it’s desperate for relief. you need to feel him, feel full of him, feel the friction of his touch against your most sensitive parts.

he knows it too—because soon, his fingers sink deep into you, pressing against your sweet spot instantly. because he knows you, inside and out, he knows you. he doesn’t need to try to find the vulnerable parts of you.

“o-oh,” you breathe, gripping his arm as your eyes flutter shut.

“that feel good?” he grins, thrusting his fingers in and out of you, letting his palm glide over your swollen clit. you gasp at the feeling, clenching down tightly against the intrusion as he stretches you open.

“yeah…yeah that feels….so good,” you moan, breathy and whiny and so, so cute.

“yeah, i knew it would,” he kisses your forehead. “know everything that’s good for you—you trust me, right?”

“d-don’t stop,” you gasp, whimpering when his fingertips slam against that soft, delicate spot deep within your walls.

he growls, slowing his pace a bit and squeezing your cheeks together. “right?” he presses, “you trust me, right? you know i just wanna take care of you? give you what you deserve? cause i love you.”

“yes, yoichi—i know,” you whine, legs quaking as your orgasm approaches. his fingers rub against the sensitive walls of your cunt, leaving a wet, filthy sound to echo through the room as he sinks in and out of you. “i love you too,” you babble, “love how you take care of me. always put me first, always drop everything for me. always know how to cheer me up.”

“that’s my girl,” he coos, “my good, good girl.”

he kisses your forehead again—it feels familiar. you’ve known that sweetness since your were a kid. it feels new. you’ve never felt tenderness like this until now.

and then you cum—shrieking high pitched and broken as you gush around his fingers, letting the velvet of your walls constrict around him until he’s groaning into your neck, grinding the tent in his pants against you as he thrusts his fingers to ride you through your high.

“yoi—yoichi, yoichi,” you breathe, moaning his name like it’s some prayer.

it’s not right, but it just can’t be wrong if it feels like this.

“baby,” he whispers that name again—and you think for a second if you ever have to hear him call you anything else, you might just die. “can i feel you? gotta take care of me too,” he pants, needy as he grinds against your thighs, stuttering on moans, “‘s what i always taught you right? we always take care of each other.”

you nod, looking at him with doe eyes.

isagi is a good stepbrother—he plays all the roles you need him to as the man of your life.

“right,” you hum, “i’ll always take care of you too.”

this is technically my first time posting dark content on this blog wow

#teepods.writings #thirstee! #thirsts. #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi smut #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk smut

[myobsessionsspace]

"My last point is that I don't really see JK being a club going person."

I was going to say this a well. I quite don’t get why some people portray him as a party boy when he has shared several times that he’s more of a homebody and feels more comfortable chilling with friends or relaxing at home - which, for an introvert, isn’t surprising at all. He seems like someone who has a small close circle of friends and doesn’t really socialize outside of it. Sure we don’t know him in private and it’s not like he never goes out obviously but I’ve always felt he was pretty transparent and sincere with us. So I really don’t get the need for some fans to portray him as a person he hasn’t shown to be. It’s weird, it’s like he’s not enough for them so they have to twist his personality to make it fit the way they would like him to be. That’s not exactly what I call love, but well..

~Ask Anon is referring to~

Hi lovely!

Right?! Talk your talk 💪

Like how many times has Jungkook shown and spoken about his MTBI?! He’s an introvert through and through. From what we’ve seen he has his select few that he’s himself with and has fun with but we’ve seen him when not working like a dog, at home or working out.

Introvert in the wild

He drinks at home, due to sasaengs he works out at home, he sings karaoke at home, he cooks at home.

Of course he must do things with people that we don’t see or know about but the pervasive notion that he’s some addict fuck boy boils down to ta few things, the main ones in my mind right now, small mindedness and baseless rumours.

Small mindedness because according to the teen book, movie, tv, fanfic stereotype the dark clothes, piercings, tattoo, bike riding, quiet type can and only ever will be a ‘fuck boy’. He has a group of 97z idol friends that one outing, that made headlines, determined his character from that point forward. What else has he done that warrants such judgements? Drink at home in front of his phone? Have boxing as a hobby? Own a motorcycle alongside owning cars too?

The Wattpad f*ck boy of their dreams 😑 I’ve literally SEEN countless Wattpad covers, some actually entitled ‘f*ck boy’ or with a fuckboyjungkook! tag, no joke!!!

Rumours because his blonde foreign, dancer, idol, older actress, tattoo artist girlfriends all can attest under oath to his ways, no wait it’s the random online account holders that can attest under oath due to their inside knowledge

No matter how often he shows himself to be a homebody. No matter how often over the years the members and Jungkook talk about how Jungkook likes to stay in. Jungkook saying he’d rather join in on other people’s plans as he’s not one to do much of left to his own devices. Namjoon saying Jungkook likes to stay at home and Hobi saying ‘he’ll go for Jimin’. Jungkook saying he stays in and when given Netflix suggestions says he’s watched them all, used to stay in and play video games, draw and create etc it’s not enough to shift certain people’s mindset because his outward appearance sets it in stone for them. Oh that and his FICTIONAL music videos where he holds a woman’s hand and starts at another woman’s forehead

When the camera is rolling for the MV character, the pop idol

When the camera isn’t rolling for the MV character but to capture the man Jeon Jungkook

There are so many side to this young man who has an aesthetic expression that people will not get over.

Curteous

Kind and respectful

Loving

Tender and caring

Cute. Sorry Jungkook you are a grown man, yes, but still so damn cute!

You’re right in my opinion anon but I will say one thing…

You said: ‘It’s like he’s not enough for them […]’

I say: He’s too much for them, so they have to simplify him to a caricature because him as a whole is someone they can never appreciate, how he deserves to be appreciated. Him as a whole can’t be the person they’ve deemed their fantasy or enemy.

Thank you for your ask😊! As you can tell I needed to get that out and you gave me the opportunity 🙈

💜

#Jungkook #Anonymous Asks #Jikook #the last tag just because…