#Luca you’re crazy for this one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joeloverture · 5 months

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hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax.

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing.

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky.

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining.

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down.

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…”

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee.

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head.

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.”

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel.

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?”

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

“Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips.

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become.

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel.

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him.

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is.

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!”

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller/f! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic

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lovebugism · 10 months

Note

“don’t you dare touch him” eddie x shy!reader

idk i need a situation where reader never really speaks up but she finally does when it comes to eddie because she loves him sm😭

thanks so much for your request! hope you like it!! — the one where eddie melts when his quiet gf sticks up for him in front of jason (shy!reader, fluff, 2.4k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The drive from Forest Hills to the arcade is spent with Lucas and Dustin bickering in the backseat and Eddie’s hand on your thigh.

“It’s been two years, and you still can’t beat my high score, Dusty Bun,” the former boy taunts. The nickname spills like venom from his smiling face. “Just give it up, okay? It’s not happening.”

Dustin grins back at him. It’s more so mischievous than it is taunting. His deep blue eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “You are so gonna be eating your words by the end of the night. When we leave, Princess Daphne is gonna be mine, alright? For good.”

Their arguing becomes background noise. With your cheek lolled against the hand you’ve got propped against the window, you’re pulled into the wispy lilac cloud your gaze is so heavily fixated upon. The sky billows lavender against a sea of pink and golden orange — a summer sunset so vivid you can taste it.

The only thing keeping you grounded is Eddie’s palm on your knee, wide and warm and all-consuming. His thumb rubs against your skin so softly you think it must be absentminded. It feels like static shock, anyway. He laughs quietly to himself, and his fingers tremble gently against you. This time they squeeze you with a newfound intention as he brings you back to him.

“What do you think, babe?” Eddie asks, pink mouth spread in a pearly white grin. His chocolate eyes glimmer with the golden hour sun as his gaze flits between yours and the road. “Think Dusty Bun has a chance here?”

You nod, scrunched nose and squinted eyes, silent in your support for the curly-headed boy who’s still yelling over Lucas in the back of the van.

“What about me?” he presses. And because he knows better than to give his quiet girl anything other than a yes or no answer, he follows quickly, “You think today’s the day I finally beat your Space Invaders high score?”

A beat passes. The momentary silence is filled with arguing boys, old tires on older asphalt, and Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” spilling softly from the radio. A quiet smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You purse the mischievous expression to the side as you turn away from him again.

Your non-answer makes him laugh. It sounds exactly like the colors of the sunset.

His beat-up van jerks when he puts it into park. The door on the side squeaks as the kids file out of it. Eddie’s does too, but you can’t hear it over him telling you to “sit tight.”

You wait patiently in the passenger seat like you always do, smiling to yourself as the boy rushes around the hood to open the door for you. The hinges screech in protest. His wild curls billow in the wind as he smiles. “C’mon, sunshine. Our palace awaits.”

The group of you stand beneath the spinning neon sign he parked next to — glowing orange and white beneath a setting sun. Someone calls from across the parking lot, “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Your heads snap in the direction of the painfully familiar voice.

Jason and the rest of his abnormally tall goons stand outside the new gym that just opened on the strip. The dark, vacant building wedged between The Palace and Family Video was no longer as scary as it used to be now that it was occupied. You were just hoping it’d be something more exciting. Forcing arcade nerds and gym bros into one spot feels like a crime.

“And they brought little miss wallflower, too,” Jason lilts with his pretty smile and straight teeth. His blonde hair is a darker shade of brown, damp with half-dried sweat. His lean form is unnaturally built underneath his white tank top and basketball shorts.

It isn’t any wonder why he turned out to be such a raging douchebag.

Someone so perfect needed at least one flaw.

“The gang’s all here, huh?” one of his other friends — Andy, you think — concurs from behind him, always in the boy’s shadow.

“Like what you see, fellas?” Eddie calls out from across the slab of pavement separating the group of you. He’ll never turn down an opportunity to take the piss out of the so-called jocks, all muscle and no brain.

“What do we do when those assholes give us hell?” he’d often ask when you’ve had a particularly shitty day with them. “We give ‘em hell right back.”

Jason’s thin lips curl into a more mischievous smirk. His blue eyes are lighter in the golden sunlight, and they twinkle beneath the neon signs as he looks you up and down. “Yeah, actually,” he hums with his unabashed ogling. “I do.”

Mike’s lanky legs sidestep to stand ahead of you. He does it so swiftly, so instinctually, you don’t think he even really meant to do it. Despite the raven-haired boy halfway covering you, you cross your arms over your torso in a further attempt to keep yourself hidden.

You feel so suddenly exposed in your frilly floral sundress — especially considering the only thing you wear to school is baggy jeans and baggier sweaters. You feel like you might as well be naked standing in front of them just now.

The younger boys stand on high alert as Eddie walks the short distance to Jason. The brief journey is made quicker when the blonde boy strides to meet him halfway. It’s a high school sort of standoff — neither particularly wanting to get physical because the real-life repercussions aren’t worth it. They just want to see who can piss each other off the most.

“She is pretty, isn’t she?” Eddie concedes with a grin, flashing you a brief glance over his shoulder. He turns away quickly at the sight of your wide, pleading eyes. He scrunches his nose in feigned sympathy. “I bet you’re real jealous, huh? Especially now that you’ve got nothing but your right hand keeping you company ever since Chrissy dumped your ass.”

“Watch it,” Jason warns through gritted teeth.

“I think I saw her riding around last week with Harrington, actually.”

The blonde boy’s sneakers scuff against the concrete as he takes a daring step closer. His piercing stare never wavers. “Don’t talk about Chrissy.”

“Don’t talk about my girl, and I won’t talk about yours,” Eddie retorts in lilt. And then, because he can’t help but twist the knife, he tilts his head to his shoulder and continues. “Well, I guess she’s not really yours anymore, is she?”

“I said don’t talk about Chrissy!” Jason repeats, louder than before, when he lets his anger get the best of him. One hand shoots up to shove at Eddie’s chest, using only enough force to make the boy stumble slightly back.

While Dustin, Lucas, and Mike gear up for a fight, Eddie only laughs in response — big, boisterous, and boyish.

You don’t even realize you’re stepping in front of the group until you’re already doing it. The words seem to fly from your mouth without you even thinking about them. “Don’t touch him!” you shout.

And even though it wasn’t particularly loud, it quiets in the mindless bickering all at once. Everyone turns to gape at you — Jason, Andy, Dustin, Eddie. Everyone is equally surprised by your outburst. Because you don’t speak. Ever. At least, not if you can help it.

And it’s not because you don’t have anything to say, because you do. It’s just that your brain works too much, and your mouth can’t keep up with it sometimes. It’s easier just to be silent.

That’s what you’ve been known for ever since you were little. You went through all of it — the bullying, the sad eyes, the talks with teachers, the ‘is everything alright at home’s. Everything was fine, for the most part. Your childhood was equally as middling as everyone else’s. You just had a harder time being human than most people.

Jason smiles again, amused by your warning. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You swallow through a tightening throat. Your sweaty hands clench into balls at your sides. The words come out quieter than before, but no less meaningful. “I said… Don’t touch him.”

“Oh, so she does speak. Here I thought no one ever taught you how to,” the blonde boy laughs. You feel disgusting when his attention settles solely upon you. The lingering sick feeling is eclipsed by your gratitude that Eddie’s no longer in his line of fire. “I’m gonna be honest… I thought you were cuter when you were quiet.”

You don’t know what he means by that. You can’t tell if he’s being genuine, or if he thinks you care enough about what he thinks to slink back into your shell.

“Leave Eddie alone,” you retort drily.

He snorts. “Yeah? Or what?”

There’s a thousand words you want to say. You open your mouth to spit all of them at the boy across from you, but nothing comes out.

“Yeah,” Jason laughs at your silence. “That’s what I thought.”

You stand your ground when he walks towards you. His strides are slow and menacing, like he’s expecting you to back away. You might’ve if you were anywhere else — if Eddie wasn’t a couple feet away and the rest of your friends weren’t crowding behind you. You’re made somehow braver by their presence.

“This is a really cute dress, though, sweetheart,” the blonde boy compliments with a thin smirk. “You should dress like this more often. You know what? You’d really fit in at the strip club downtown— what’s it called?”

“Pink Paradise,” Andy answers without missing a beat.

Jason smacks his lips against his teeth. “That’s the one.”

“Is that the one your mom works at?” you wonder with your arms crossed over your chest. Your head tilts to your shoulder as you squint at him. “Is she still giving those two-for-one discounts?”

Jason’s confidence stutters at your biting reply — even more so by the choked-back laughter accompanying it. Your boys don’t bother to hide their humored giggles, though the basketball team covers theirs by coughing into their fists.

“Ooh. I didn’t know you had such a much on you,” the blonde lilts as his blue eyes narrow. “I’m like… fifty percent more attracted to you now.”

“Leave Eddie alone,” you deadpan once more. “And go be a douchebag somewhere else.”

One of his friends breaks free from the pack. He’s tall, thin, and toned. He’s got the same haircut as Lucas: compact curls, squared off on the sides. You know him — Patrick McKinney. He’s the only one of Jason’s friends that was actually nice to you. Or, at the very least, he wasn’t a total asshole.

“Let’s go, man,” the boy ushers, nudging at Jason’s bicep. “Let’s go shoot some hoops or something. This isn’t worth it.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Oh, please— the only shooting Jason Carver does is into a kleenex. It’s why you were benched all last season.”

“I twisted my ankle!” the blonde boy defends, sounding weak and pathetic beneath the chorus of laughter as Patrick drags him away.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you mutter, perhaps too quiet for him to hear, as Lucas pulls at your forearm to guide you in the other direction. His touch is still gentle — it would be uncharacteristic of him to be rough with you. It would also be a terrible idea with Eddie just a few paces behind the both of you.

The walk to The Palace is a silent one. There’s too much to say, and everyone’s just a little too amazed to say it. Eddie, however, never had a hard time killing a quiet. He rushes on long legs to match your quick strides, reaching you rather easily.

“Hey, hey, hey— you okay, babe?” the worried boy wonders. He takes a gentle hold of your wrists when you reach the awning beneath the arcade. His chocolate gaze flits attentively over your form, nowhere near as leering as Jason had been.

He can tell by your heaving chest and glassy eyes that you’re a little overwhelmed. When he takes your face in his hands, he finds that your cheeks are burning, too.

You nod into his warm palms in silent reply, back in the comfort of your shell all over again.

“What’d you do that for, huh?” Eddie singsongs with a quiet laugh. His thumb dances over your cheekbones as he grins at you. “You know I don’t like you getting involved with those assholes.”

“They don’t get to talk to you like that… Or put their hands on you,” you mutter. Despite your soft tone, Eddie can see the fury flashing in your eyes, getting angry about it all over again.

His smile widens — proud and hopelessly in love with you. “No. They don’t. Especially not with my girl around, huh?”

“Nope,” you murmur, popping the p. A sheepish grin pulls at your mouth, equally as proud and in love.

Eddie leans down to kiss you, guiding your mouth to his with the hands cupping your jaw. It’s innocuously chaste, being that you’re still standing in a public parking lot. You could never quite stomach the attention of PDA, anyway. His pink lips lock with yours in a fleeting peck, and his arms wrap around you a second later.

He smothers you into his chest, and you revel in every second of it. He smells like cigarette smoke and the cologne he tried to cover it up with. He smells like a home you could live in forever.

You smile into the thrifted Blondie tee you got him — which he happily accepted because he loves you (even though he hates Blondie). He presses a kiss into your hair and smushes his nose into the crown of it as he laughs.

“‘Is that the one your mom works at?’” Eddie repeats with a soft chuckle, chest swelling with pride once more. “God, babe. That’s good.”

“Shut up…” you murmur.

“I’m serious! I didn’t know you were such a good smack-talker! I think you might be a genius, actually.”

“Don’t,” you grouse with a lighthearted scowl. You pull away from him only slightly — enough for him to put your face back in his hands again. You feel safest there, even if you are pouting up at him.

“You’re so cute,” the boy muses with a beam. His eyes glimmer like a sea of chocolate syrup, melting with all the love he has for you. “You’re like a cinnamon roll. A cinnamon roll that could bite people.”

“That’s exactly what I am,” you monotone and try your best not to smile.

Eddie couldn’t hide his grin if he tried. “And that’s exactly why I love you.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #eddie munson x shy!reader #bug's summer fic fest!

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wynnyfryd · 8 months

Text

Trailer Park Steve AU part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

September

He doesn’t talk to the Munsons much. (Doesn’t talk to anyone, really, aside from his mom and Robin and that one older woman who keeps renting and returning Gone With The Wind as an excuse to leave her house.) He keeps his head down and his nose clean, doesn’t care to make friends with the neighbors; just wants to get by.

One day Eddie approaches their door, waving a gas bill that got mixed up in their mail, and Steve greets him pleasantly enough.

“Stab anyone today?”

“Eat glass, Harrington.”

So it goes.

Steve watches the world pass and the weather turn, lets the hours bleed into weeks and squeezes his eyes shut against the flashbacks when they threaten to overwhelm.

Things with his mom are weird.

They don’t really speak, preferring to shrug their way past each other with careful, tight-lipped nods, and his mom takes these pills the doctor gave her that keep her perfectly pleasant and calm. Silent. Physically present but not really here.

And he can’t imagine how it feels to be her: Florence Harrington, ripped from the comforts of the upper crust and left to rot in a tin can seven miles across town. She spends most of her time letting out weary little sighs as she swans from room to room, drifting like a shade on the banks of the River Styx. (He can make that reference now because Robin won’t shut up about mythology. “It’s so gay, Steve. The Greeks were literally so gay.”)

Anyway.

Shit’s weird with the kids, too. He still drives them around — lets them loiter at Family Video when it’s slow; hangs around when they need a ride to the arcade or the movies or the skating rink; and he’s still on the hook for ‘ice cream. for. life,’ so…

It’s just not the same.

Like. Not to be dramatic, but who the fuck is Steve Harrington without the house and the pool and the free-for-all fridge? Just some kid with a car and a bat and a punchable face. And he can barely afford to keep the car now, anyway, so pretty soon they won’t need him for that, either. They’ll learn to drive; they’ll get their own jobs. Maybe Lucas builds enough muscle to take over as the party tank.

Maybe it’s better if he shelfs himself now before they realize he’s become obsolete.

“Oh, my god, you’re being pathetic,” he groans to himself. His voice is muffled where he’s lying face down on the couch. Ridiculous behavior, because everything is fine; Steve is fine. In the grand scheme of things where there are monsters and melted corpses and all kinds of crazy, horrible shit?

Yeah.

He’s being obnoxious. It’s a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon with just the right Autumn breeze going — gentle but cool; long sleeve polo weather; his favorite kind — and he’s sitting inside throwing himself a pity party.

Fucking absurd.

…Five more minutes.

Just five more minutes, then he’s getting off this couch.

He gets to a minute and a half when he hears the crunch of tires against the gravel, the clanging of a little bell from the handlebar of a bike, and then:

“STEVE!!!”

And that’ll be Dustin, trying to bang the door off the hinges and piss off the whole park at the same time. Kid’s nothing if not a multitasker. Steve lets another aggrieved groan loose into the couch cushion.

His mom’s out with the car; the lights are all off. Maybe he can just play dead ‘til Dustin leaves? He loves the kid, he really does, but his left ear is full of static, and he just wants to fucking sleep. Or sulk. Or both.

“STEVEN CHRISTOPHER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”

Jeeeeesus Christ. “Okay, chill,” Steve grumbles as he hauls himself upright and throws open the front door. His limbs feel like lead; there’s drool on his chin. “Wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, why don’t you?”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, and half the people here work nights.”

“Oh-kayy,” Dustin drags out the word, “but you don’t.”

Ugh. Whatever. He’s not gonna be shamed by a toothless teenager for his depressing loser tendencies. “Did you need something?”

Steve scratches at his belly hair through his shirt, feels a muscle twinge in his shoulder and send a spark of nerve pain skittering up to the base of his skull.

Dustin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve’s body is falling apart where he stands, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Uh, yeah. I need to know why you’re avoiding everyone? Mom’s tried to invite you to dinner six times now.”

“I was working.”

“All six times?” Dustin glares. Steve feels a little pinned by it, feels guilt seeping through the cracks as he fidgets with his bad ear. This kid’s gonna be the scariest lawyer some day. “She’s worried.”

Goddammit.

Guilt squeezes hard behind his ribs; he knows Dustin uses his mom as a mouthpiece for the feelings he can’t express. “I’m fine,” he sighs, letting his eyes and voice go soft. “Honest.”

Dustin holds firm, gaze fierce and fists clenched. “Bullshit,” he insists.

“Man, don’t—”

“Bull. Shit.”

Suddenly, their impromptu interrogation gets interrupted by a crashing drum fill, a shriek of electric guitar as Munson’s van squeals into the lot. He’s blasting some melodramatic metal shit about wizards or whatever; Steve doesn’t know. He only knows that the skitter of nerve pain he felt is ramping up to a fullblown migraine now because this guy has to listen to his racket at full fucking volume, apparently, and isn’t this all just “fucking great.”

—

part 5

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #trailer park steve au #steve can have a little depression as a treat #robin buckley #dustin henderson #claudia henderson #my writing #my fic

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andvys · 30 days

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter fifteen ⭐︎ I thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, a lot of fluff, alcohol consumption, clingy!reader, drunk!reader

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve gets to know a side of you, you have never shown him before, and he takes the final step towards realization.

Word count: 10k+

Author’s note: SO @hellfire--cult and I have been waiting for this chapter (and especially for the next one). I'm so happy that we're finally here, and as always I'm giving a special shoutout to my lovely Roe, who not only helped with ideas but also wrote the whole last paragraph, the drive home and all the fluff at Steve's house. Give her all the love she deserves ♡ ilysm roe thank youuuu

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Red, white and blue colors flash before your eyes, everywhere you look as you walk through the grocery store with Max. You can’t even bear to look at the holiday themed snacks and decorations on the shelves. All week, people have been preparing for a holiday, you used to love, now it’s nothing but a reminder of what you lost – of what Max lost.

You avoided going to Big Buy’s all week, for this exact reason.

But now you were the one who offered to go inside, when Eddie was the one who wanted to get the pre-drinks, you don’t even know why you did it, maybe it was to get away from Dustin’s and Lucas’s banter, or maybe you just wanted to prepare yourself for something much bigger.

The Fun Fair takes place this year, just as it did, last year. And you friends wanted to celebrate the Fourth of July there. You don’t mind, you really don’t, but every place you turn today, reminds you of a dear friend you lost.

Max walks beside you quietly. She looks around with heavy eyes and tension in her shoulders, she’s fidgeting with the bracelet that Lucas gifted to her, and keeps her eyes on the ground.

You didn’t say anything yet, not wanting to trigger any more sadness. You’re surprised that she even offered to go inside with you, she could’ve waited and stayed with the guys, but she didn’t.

“This day sucks.”

These are the first words she spoke out loud, ever since you stepped inside the store.

“Yeah,” you mumble, quietly, not knowing what to say, because all you can think about is Billy, and how he died on this exact day, one year ago, when you were still so unaware of the dark truth that lied beneath this town, when you thought that it was the fire that killed him and not one of Vecna’s creatures.

You weren’t even there, but thinking about it makes you sick and angry. You can’t even imagine what Max must’ve felt like that night. Or what she is feeling now.

When you stop in the drink aisle, you look around for the beer Eddie asked for, but instead your eyes fall on the one brand that Billy always used to buy. Sometimes he’d bring a six pack over and leave some cans in your fridge for some other time, you are pretty sure that there are still two leftover cans hidden behind all the other drinks in your fridge.

A sigh falls from your lips, “yeah, it does.”

She glances at you, sadness settling into her features, when she sees the way your eyes fill with grief.

“Billy would roll his eyes at us, right now,” she mumbles, trying to crack a joke.

A small chuckle escapes you, and you turn to look at her with a weak smile on your face, “yes, he would.”

She purses her lips as she looks at the beer, “are you gonna let me drink tonight?”

You scrunch your nose, and shake your head, “are you crazy?” You scoff, as you step forward and reach for the beers, Eddie asked for, and the ones Billy would have gotten for himself. “How about you turn twenty one first, and then I’ll let you drink.”

Max laughs at you and rolls her eyes.

“You’re not even twenty one, and you’re drinking – oh! And buying the beers with a fake ID probably!”

“Shush,” you wave your hand at her when an employee walks past you, giving you both a weird look.

“I’m very close to twenty one,” you whisper.

“You’re not even twenty yet–”

“I’m turning twenty, this year. Now stop arguing with me, and get yourself a coke or something.”

Max groans at you, “fine,” she murmurs as she follows you, “why are you even getting any drinks now when you can buy some at the Fair?”

“I’m pretty sure that Eddie doesn’t want to buy any of those overpriced drinks that taste like absolute shit.”

She snorts, “he shouldn’t even be drinking, he’s driving.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll walk you all home if he gets drunk.”

Her jaw drops, and annoyance flashes in her eyes, “are you serious–”

You laugh at the look on her face, shaking your head at her, “I’m just kidding, when does Eddie ever get drunk?” You chuckle, “he’ll have one beer tops, no more, he’ll sober up till then, and if not then uh… Steve will drive you home.”

“Okay,” she sighs, as the momentarily amusement leaves her face again, and the sadness begins to sink back in, making you much more aware of your own.

“Hey, Max?”

She turns back to you, and raises her eyebrows in question.

“If you feel overwhelmed at some point, you can find me and we can leave, at any time, okay?”

She smiles a little and nods her head.

“Okay,” she whispers, “same goes for you, if you want to leave, I’ll go with you.”

“Okay,” you smile at her, “now let’s go pay for these and get out of here,” you mumble as you gesture to the beer in your hands.

You feel relief rushing through you once you are out of the busy store again. The golden evening sun hits your skin, still blessing it with warmth, the air around you smells like summer, like fresh cut grass, hot pavement and honeysuckle. The wind kisses your skin and blows through your hair, it’s warm yet refreshing, it feels nice.

“Did you buy that for me?” Dustin grins at you, pointing at the beers when you get into the passenger seat.

Eddie glares at him through the rearview mirror.

“Very funny, Dusty Bun.”

Lucas laughs at the nickname, nudging his shoulder against Dustin’s, “Dusty Bun,” he cackles, wiggling his brows.

“Shut up, dude.”

“You kids are too young to even think about trying beer,” you glare at the three teens in the back, most specifically at Lucas, who’s had some before.

His smile falls a little, and he clears his throat, “that was one time.”

“Yeah, it better stay that way,” you point at him.

Max snorts at the glare on your face.

“Yes, mom.”

Eddie and Dustin chuckle.

Your jaw drops, and you furrow your brows at the teen who is squished between Max and Dustin.

“You act like a mom sometimes!” Lucas raises his hands up in surrender, shrugging at you.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yeah, you do, you’re mama bear,” Eddie snorts, making Dustin laugh louder.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling us with your grumpy act.”

You squint your eyes at the curly head, who is grinning happily at you.

“Just accept it, Sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, “you’re the mom of the group.”

“No, I only joined this group a few months back, there has to be a different mom–”

“Oh no, we only had single dad Steve,” Lucas giggles, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “but we got a mom and a dad now, so…”

The smug look on his face, and the teasing in his eyes, isn’t exactly hard to miss. You know exactly what he is going at, what he has been going at for the past few months now.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if he somehow knows about your feelings for Steve, if he always knew about them, or if he is simply just teasing and still in the dark about everything.

You are good at hiding your feelings, you always have been, no one ever found out about your feelings for Steve unless you wanted them to, but if there is someone who you wouldn’t underestimate, then it’s definitely Lucas, he is too smart for his own good, sometimes.

Eddie snorts beside you, mumbling, “mommy and daddy.”

You elbow him, into his side, earning a groan from him.

“That wasn’t very nice!” Eddie grumbles as he shoots you a glare, and presses his hand against his stomach.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Edward.”

He squints his eyes at you.

“Who is Eddie then?” Dustin asks.

“He’s the cool uncle,” Lucas shrugs.

“Damn right, now stop yapping,” Eddie mumbles as he takes a look over his shoulder, “are you ready to throw up Hot Dogs after going on the roller coaster?”

All three of them groan in disgust, scrunching up their faces, making him laugh.

You shake your head at him when he starts laughing.

“You’re such a menace.”

Eddie only chuckles at you, he starts the car and turns up the music, and he rolls down the windows before he speeds out of the parking lot.

You embrace the moments of peace before the chaos of the fair hits you, screaming children, crowds of people, and the overwhelming smell of food on every corner are something you are not looking forward to despite the hollowness in your stomach. You couldn’t get anything down the past few days, you nearly threw up this morning when you walked into the diner with Eddie, and the smell of Bacon hit you.

The wind weaves through your hair as Eddie drives down the main road.

The sound of music distracts you from your sad thoughts.

The thought of him, filling your heart with life and your soul with hope.

He grounds you in your worst moments, and he doesn’t even know it.

The fairground is alive with music and screaming children, the sound of the roller coasters moving, conversations and laughter from every corner. The dazzling lights are a stark contrast against the dark sky, the smell of food wafts through the air.

Robin and Vickie are standing next to Steve, giggling about something as they sip on their mixed beers. He is looking around, trying to catch sight of you, but you are nowhere to be found, and he is beginning to worry.

Max and El had dragged you away for a roller coaster ride, but that was over an hour ago, and he hasn’t seen you ever since.

Max had warned him before, when she reminded him of what this day means to you, of what happened a year back, of what and who you had lost.

Steve doesn’t know how you deal with grief, how you feel on these kinds of days, there are too many of them in your life. He doesn’t know how you cope, he wishes that he could be there for you and give you a shoulder to lean on – but you aren’t very good at showing your true feelings or emotions, he only saw a glimpse of the truth that you hide behind those high walls you built around yourself and he doubts that you would come to him for comfort.

A dreadful feeling is gnawing in his chest the more time passes without you being seen.

“Hey Dingus, we’re going on the Ferris Wheel,” Robin nudges his shoulder, grinning at him.

He blinks, tearing his eyes away from the crowds, he nods at his best friend.

“Sure, have fun.”

Robin furrows her brows as she takes in the sight of his frown, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he murmurs and plasters a smile on his face, “go and have fun with your girl.”

She hesitates, her smile becoming weaker now, “you should go find Eddie or Dustin.”

“Yeah, I will, in a second.”

“Your feet are not glued to the ground are they?” Vickie asks, chuckling.

“Yeah, you’ve been stuck in this spot for like thirty minutes now!” Robin exclaims as she points her ringed finger at him, eyeing the way he is leaning against the wall with tension in his body.

Steve chuckles, and brings his hand up to the side of his face, cupping his cheek for a moment, “I’m just looking out for the kids.”

Robin snorts, though she gives him a suspicious look.

“Ah, but they’re not around,” she says, tilting her head as she gestures to all the strangers that surround the field, instead of the teens.

“I told them I’d be here if they needed anything,” he shrugs and waves his hand at her, “now go and have your kiss on the top of the Ferris Wheel.”

Robin slaps his shoulder, her cheeks taking on a deep red color, as Vickie giggles behind her.

He chuckles at her, wiggling his brows and smirking at his best friend.

Robin rolls her eyes and turns away from him, she offers her hand out to the redhead, who reaches for it, though with a blush on her cheeks and a shy smile on her lips.

“See you later, Dingus,” Robin waves at Steve, not giving him the chance to respond before she drags her girl away and pushes through the crowds with her.

Steve’s eyes follow them until he can no longer see them as they get lost in the midst of the chaos. Laughing children run around, chasing each other, a group of teenage boys carrying drinks they shouldn’t be allowed to buy, two young women walk past him, giggling amongst themselves as they eye him with interest in their eyes, Steve pays no mind to them, not even bothering to spare them a look despite the very obvious glances he is getting, even as they had already passed him.

His eyes follow a different sight and his ears perk up at the sound of giggles that sound like yours, his lips twitch at the sound and his heart flutters wildly in his chest.

He pushes himself off the tree he is leaning against and turns to look around. Steve’s hazel eyes soften the moment he finally sees you.

You are standing in a circle with Eddie and his bandmates who all keep pestering you over something. Eddie leans closer to you and pinches your cheek, while Gareth jumps around you like some hyper puppy, his curls bouncing and his face flickering with amusement when you keep waving your hand at him.

Steve smiles at the giggle that falls from your lips when Eddie swats your hand away after you ruffle his curls.

He watches the way your lips move as you stare at him with a smug look on your face, saying something to him that makes him clutch his chest and gasp dramatically.

Steve shakes his head as the metalhead lunges at you and you squeal in surprise before you turn around and run off with a giggle, bolting into the crowd with Eddie and Gareth hot on your heels, while Jeff and Grant follow the three of you slowly, shaking their heads in amusement.

Surprise lingers inside of him, Steve had never seen you so playful before, he had never witnessed you letting loose and having genuine fun. You are always on guard, always hiding away behind your brooding act that is slowly becoming less and less visible.

Something has changed, something in your behavior has shifted in the past few weeks. You seem happier, you seem to smile more, you seem to be kinder to the people around you.

Your walls are still up, but the foundation has begun to crumble, just like his did.

You let him see a glimpse of something he never thought was even there, he saw your vulnerable side and your soft one, he saw how lovingly you treated your baby niece, he saw how sweet and gentle you could be – he saw the real you and it only made him weaker than ever before.

There was always a part of him that left him feeling weak whenever he was with you – it wasn’t a bad kind of weak, but it was one that scared him.

It doesn’t scare him anymore.

He embraces the weakness now.

Something, someone crashes into his chest, making him stumble back from the force, when he looks down, he finds you staring up at him, with your arms now wrapped around his waist and a softened look in your eyes as a smile rests on your lips. The dazzling, colorful lights from the rollercoaster and the ferris wheel only brighten the color of your eyes, making him get lost in them so easily.

He feels your arms around his torso, and your hands on his back, your chest is now pressed against his and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the look in your eyes is a dreamy one as they look into his.

The warmth in his chest blooms, the smile on his lips grows bigger, something in his stomach flutters when you stand on your tippy toes and remind him of the height difference between the two of you.

“Hi Stevie,” you say softly.

He would be lying if he said, he isn’t caught off guard by the tone in your voice and the look in your eyes, by your arms that are wrapped around him and your body that is pressed against his, so tightly and intimately, despite all the eyes that could see.

“Hi Blondie,” he smiles as he slowly wraps his arms around you and acts on his feelings, when he brings you closer.

The smell of your perfume is intoxicating and it does nothing to weaken the fluttering in his stomach. You smell like the cotton candy that you had shared with Max earlier and the beer you probably had been drinking all night, which is surprising, considering how much you despise the bitter taste of beer.

“I missed you.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and his eyebrows shoot up, the fluttering in his stomach now growing even stronger than before.

You woke up in each other's arms this morning, you even sat at the kitchen table and drank your morning coffee together before you left to meet up with Eddie.

But you missed him.

You missed him, like he missed you.

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or maybe not – he hopes not.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

You nod, your eyes flicker to his lips, before they move back up, to meet his.

“I missed you too, Blondie.”

He nearly crumbles when your smile grows even bigger and a blush creeps up on your face, a breathy, small giggle falls from your lips. And then, you surprise him once again, when you bury your face in his chest and hug him tightly.

His heart rate picks up and his breathing becomes heavy from all the emotions inside of him.

He certainly never met this side of you before,and he never even knew that you could become much softer than what he had already seen of you.

Without looking around to make sure that you are away from prying eyes, he wraps his arms tighter around you, and hugs you in a way he wanted to all night.

Confusion, adoration and happiness floods through him, all at once.

Here he thought that this day would bring out some darkness in you, that you would hide in a corner and try to drink away your sorrows but instead the alcohol in your system brought something else out in you.

As Steve holds you in the middle of the fairground and you slide your palm over his chest, resting your hand above the place where his heart beats strongly, he feels himself falling into your embrace, losing all his vision of the people and the things before him, losing all the sounds around him, no longer feeling the ground beneath his feet – all he sees is you, all he hears is the beating of his own heart, all he feels is you, only you.

And as though, it didn’t hit him hard enough already, you place your chin on his chest and you tilt your head up to look at him, giving him a sweet smile, “kissy?” You ask, puckering your lips.

He could melt into a puddle, right then and there.

Despite not wanting to, he lets his eyes roam the space around you, making sure that none of your friends are watching, before he leans in to place a kiss on your lips – one that is way too quick for your liking, the pout that follows your puckered lips makes his heart burst.

You look at him with literal puppy eyes, glinting with a pleading look.

He almost doesn’t recognize you – you are not the Blondie that he saw a few hours back, but he is not complaining in the slightest, he really likes this side of you.

Cupping your cheeks, he rests his large palms against your skin, his fingertips getting lost in your hair as he leans down to kiss you again, smacking his lips against yours, he delivers a loud kiss, one that makes you giggle when he pulls away again and looks down at you with a lazy smile on his face.

“How much did you drink?” Steve asks, chuckling when you keep staring at him with a big smile.

“Just a little bit,” you slur, and raise your hand to show him as you furrow your brows and hold your thumb and pointer finger into an L shape, “so much.”

He laughs as he tucks your hair behind your ears, “alright.”

“I want something else now.”

“What, more alcohol?” Steve asks, raising his brows.

You shake your head, scrunching up your nose in a way that makes him smile as he looks at you adoringly.

“No, I think I had too much already.”

“Yeah, I think so too, honey,” he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue easily, almost normal, “you don’t feel sick, do you?”

“No, just thirsty.”

“Alright, let’s get you something to drink then,” he says, unable to stop smiling, when you look at him this way. He moves his hands away from your face and he reaches for your hand, sliding his palm against your own, he entwines his fingers with yours, and you welcome his action, happily.

Steve isn’t drunk, he didn’t have a single sip of alcohol this evening, not a single drag of Argyle’s joint and yet, he feels as though he is under the influence of something strong, his mind is in a haze, that careless and freeing feeling lingers in his chest, happiness and giddiness rushes through him and he feels as though he is floating with you.

He can’t even find it in himself to care if anyone sees him with you like this – smiling at each other, hugging and kissing one another, holding hands, and acting like a couple. He knows your friends are here, but Steve just doesn’t give a damn – not even when Heidi walks past him with her friends and they all look at you weirdly.

He hears the hushed whispers, he sees the squinted eyes as they look you up and down and their eyes fall on your entwined fingers. He pays no mind to the way they look at him, but irritation sparks at him when they keep staring at you. He can see the judgment, and the jealousy, it’s so obvious.

Steve holds back the eyeroll and he grasps your hand tighter as he begins to drag you away from the prying eyes and the whispers of envy. He would rather kiss you and flip them off but he cannot risk this, he can’t risk you two getting caught. Rumors would circulate, words would get twisted and it would only be a matter of time until all your friends would find out.

And he isn’t ready to get caught, he isn’t ready to lose this, to lose you.

He glances down at you, seeing the smile that didn’t leave your face just yet. You are unaware to all the eyes on you, to the looks you were given, you are still holding onto his hand as tight as before, stepping closer to him when a group of boys rush past you.

You turn to him and raise your head to glance at him, shooting him a sweet smile as you squeeze his hand, causing his heart to flutter and his smile to reappear.

You are so cute like this.

He pulls you closer and shields you from anyone who brushes past you as you walk through the crowd together, getting lost in the chaotic field, where the music is louder and the people are too.

Steve looks around, trying to catch sight of the teens or Eddie and his bandmates but he only sees the town people that he couldn’t care less about while you follow him like some lost puppy, clinging to his side and looking up with big eyes, every few seconds or so.

You both get in line at the drink stall, your hands are still joined, fingers entwined and arms still pressed together. You stumble into him, prompting him to hold you a little tighter.

“I’m sorry,” you slur as you reach your free hand up to grab his arm.

“It’s fine,” he chuckles at you, adoring you a little more and more as the seconds pass.

You are drunk – not tipsy, not slightly drunk, no, you are genuinely and definitely drunk. And as he stands here with you, eying you closely and watching the way you keep looking up at him with your widened pupils and your lazy smiles, he realizes that he had never actually witnessed you being drunk – high and tipsy? Sure. But never drunk.

“Why’d you drink so much, Blondie?”

“I didn’t even drink that much,” you shrug, “I’m just not used to drinking that beer.”

Steve raises his brows, knowing how much you despise the taste of regular beer. You only drink it when it’s mixed with something.

“What kind of beer?”

You furrow your eyebrows, your eyes flash with confusion, you seemingly can’t remember the name of it.

You look down and your eyes widen when you find a discarded can on the grass, you point your finger at it, “that one.”

Steve’s eyes follow your gaze and the direction your finger is pointing at, he raises his eyebrows again.

“You don’t even like beer that much,” he mumbles and turns back to you.

“Billy did,” you shrug.

Oh.

His features relax again and his shoulders slump a little, realization flickers in his eyes.

You didn’t drink for fun, you were trying to forget about the sadness and the grief that must’ve lingered all day.

He is surprised that the alcohol didn’t have a negative effect on you. Drinking while feeling sad can worsen those emotions, the alcohol can transform them into a darker sadness or even into anger and despair.

But you seem fine, happy even.

If only he knew that he is the reason for it.

“The fireworks are about to start,” you say, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinks.

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“Do you want to watch them with me?”

His heart skips a beat at the softness in your voice, at the hopeful look in your eyes and the sweet smile on your lips.

Of course he does.

“Yeah,” he smiles, nodding. “I’d love to.”

Your eyes crinkle as you beam at him, stealing his breath away with simple reactions like these.

Steve is not even sure if anyone had ever looked at him this way, no one has ever even made him feel this way, no one had ever stolen his breath away just from simply looking at him the way you do now.

You take him by surprise when you stand on your tippy toes and lean closer to him to place a kiss on his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess.

Your giggle sounds like music to his ears, your touch drives him crazy as you squeeze yourself against him and lay your head on his chest as your arms come around his torso again.

He could fall to his knees right here, right now.

Is this the real you?

Is this the side you’ve been hiding from the world?

Is this the way you would have always been with him, had you not experienced so much loss and pain?

Steve wraps his arms around you, unable to hold back from showing and giving you the affection that you are blessing him with in this moment, even when the anxiety of getting caught still lingers.

He cups your cheeks and leans closer to your ear, “where do you wanna watch the fireworks?”

“Maybe the woods? Or the big field?” You ask as you look at him with big eyes, “so we can be away from all these annoying people?”

He laughs when you gesture to the loud fairground visitors.

The lights that flicker around you kiss your beautiful face and your skin that he wants to feel on his at any time, your lips that always look so inviting, you look so delicate, so soft, so gorgeous, you look like someone that could ruin his life and right in this moment, he doesn’t even mind it, he would let you.

It hits him, in this second, it hits him just how bad he’s got it for you.

Steve Harrington is down bad.

Down bad to a point in which he almost calls you ‘my girl’ when he is about to order your drink, he catches himself just in time but he can’t hide the blush that creeps up on his face.

You don’t seem to notice though, you swing your joined hands back and forth and look around with a contentment in your relaxed features.

He hands you the ice cold pepsi after placing the ten dollar bill on the small desk, telling the teen behind the counter to keep the change.

“That was nice of you,” you say as you both start walking away from the drink stall and from the crowds.

“What, letting him keep the change?”

You nod and let go of his hand to open your can.

“Poor guy has to work on a holiday, he should get a good tip,” Steve shrugs, already missing the feeling of your hand in his, he raises his arm and wraps it around your shoulder instead, pulling you closer against him.

Your lips twitch at that, a smile forms on your face.

“Still, that was nice of you, you’re a nice guy,” you giggle.

“Well, I gotta make up for all the times I wasn’t a nice guy.”

You don’t say anything to that, you can’t. Steve doesn’t even blame you, you witnessed him in his worst moments, you were his target, more than once.

You shot back at him but your words weren’t hurtful, your insults and your jabs were never personal. You got under his skin, but not in the way he got under yours.

He truly wasn’t a nice guy to you and that might be one of his biggest regrets. He was mean, awful even and now as he looks at you, at the cute frown on your face as you pop the can, at the way you take a sip of your favorite drink and smile afterwards, he can’t understand how he could ever treat you so unkindly, how he didn’t see you before.

You might’ve been rough, snarky and unapproachable but there was never denying of how beautiful you are, how beautiful you have always been.

How come he never asked you out?

He might’ve never seen this side of you before and he only ever knew one side of you, but your snarkiness wouldn’t have kept King Steve away from you, if anything, your little act should’ve made him more intrigued.

And now he can’t help but wonder what things would have been like had he not treated you the way he did, had he asked you out and fought for a chance with you.

Could’ve things been different then?

Would you have fallen in love with him?

Would you have prevented the heartbreak that Nancy had cursed him with two years ago?

The pain from his last relationship no longer matters to Steve, not since you, but this question still lingers.

“This spot is perfect.”

You pull him out of the past and back into the presence with a tug on his hand.

Steve looks around, you are no longer surrounded by people, instead it’s the trees that are around you and him, you’re at the edge of the forest, not far enough to drown at the music and the chatter but quiet enough to hear your voice clearer now, it’s much darker out here but he can still see you well enough.

You close your eyes and drink your pepsi, completely unaware of his unwavering glances. A sigh leaves your lips and you place the now half full can on the ground before you step closer to him and reach for his hand again, taking a look at the watch around his wrist, you squint your eyes and lean down closer, “it’s about to start any minute.”

He smiles at you, nodding his head slowly, “yeah.”

Steve feels the urge to pull you tight against him, to hold you and kiss you like he never did before.

You look up and meet his eyes when you notice his staring, a smile appears on your lips, “what?” You ask with a soft giggle.

He shakes his head and shrugs, “nothing.”

You bite your lip and he wants nothing more than to grab your face and kiss you breathless.

You raise your eyebrows at him and stare back at him, stumbling over air as you try to take a step closer to him, making you both chuckle at your drunken clumsiness, your hand falls against his body, while he grabs your waist, steadying you on your own feet, “whoa, easy tiger.”

You giggle at the nickname, making his own smile widen.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?”

You don’t even deny it, in fact, you don’t even answer the question as you keep staring up at him, keeping your hands against his chest as your eyes flicker from the spitcurl that hangs over his forehead, his eyes and his lips.

Steve’s stomach flutters just the way his heart does, his skin tingles beneath from your touches, the look in your eyes makes him want to kiss you even more.

“You’re feeling okay though, right?” He whispers as he slowly brings his hand up to the side of your face and he cups your cheek.

“Yeah, I’m okay now,” you nod, leaning into his touch, “I-I just… I miss him.”

Steve might never understand the friendship you had with Billy, he only knew the ugly sides of him but you knew more, you saw deeper, you were his friend – something Steve didn’t even know Billy had, he was sure the guy didn’t even know what the term ‘friendship’ even meant.

“And that’s okay, Blondie,” he says, giving you a sad smile, “it’s okay to miss people and to grieve for them.”

Tears well up in your eyes and your lips curl downwards.

Steve didn’t mean for this to happen, he didn’t mean to make you cry.

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling you closer as he catches the first tear with his thumb, “it’s okay, honey.”

You sniffle and roll your eyes at yourself, “he would punch me in the face for crying,” you joke.

Steve can’t help but laugh.

“And he’d make fun of me for being with you, he would like–” you pause and lean in to peck his lips, “he would smack my head if I did that in front of him!” You say with a giggle, despite the tears that still keep falling.

His cheeks heat up at the kiss, the need for more growing strong in his chest.

“He really didn’t like me, huh?”

“Not one fucking bit, Stevie,” you chuckle sadly.

Steve wonders how things would be if he was still here, would this thing between you even work out?

Would Billy keep you away from him?

“But nothing could take me away from you, he’d just have to suck it up,” you whisper as you peck his lips again, shutting down the worries in his head.

He almost feels his pulse in his throat as his heart beats faster, your words doing little to calm the beating of his heart.

“Oh?” Is the only thing he can say as all the other words freeze in his brain.

You nod as you look into his eyes deeply, refusing to break eye contact. He notices the way your chest starts moving faster as your breathing gets heavier, he sees the way your smile transforms into a nervous frown and your throat bobs as you try to come up with words.

His breath hitches in his throat when you whisper his name shakily.

“I–”

Whatever you were about to say gets lost in the wind as the loud explosion in the sky cuts you off and tears your attention away from him. The colors pop in the sky, illuminating the darkened space around you both.

You tilt your head to watch the lights that reflect in your eyes, the smile you wore before makes its way back into your pretty face, the tension in your body disappears and you relax into him again.

But while your drunken mind gets distracted by all of this so easily, Steve only really sees you. He doesn’t look up just yet, he lets himself admire you for a moment.

Your eyes light up as they meet his for a brief second, flashing with awe.

His heart could jump out of his chest from how hard it’s beating, his knees could give out any moment now.

“Look!” You beam at him as you point your finger at the blue colors.

His gaze follows yours but it returns to your face so quickly, something about you pulls him in, a magnet, a string, a strong connection – he can’t identify it yet, but he feels like his whole being yearns for you and not just sexually.

He wants to keep doing this, he wants to keep holding your hand, he wants to keep hugging you, he wants to keep spending time with you like this, he wants to stand under the night sky with you, and he especially wants to do this.

“Hey,” he whispers as he cups your cheeks with both hands, pulling your attention back to him.

You greet him with an adoring smile, “hi,” you whisper.

Steve caresses your cheek, he is starting to lean in closer, fading out the colors that flash in his peripheral vision, before his lips can even touch yours, you throw your arms around his neck and beat him to it, pressing your lips against his over and over again before you move on to both of his cheeks and even the tip of his nose as you start showering him in kisses, catching him off guard completely.

Steve giggles in surprise, his cheeks match the colors that lighten up the sky as they glow red.

And then, you finally pull him into a longer kiss.

You close your eyes and he does too, your lips start moving slowly, passionately. You rest your hands on his neck and steal his breath away by deepening the kiss as you slip your tongue into his mouth and let him have a taste of your sweetness, the cotton candy and the pepsi still linger on your lips.

Your noses bump into each other and you break the kiss with a giggle, giving him a sweet smile before you lean back in again, kissing and continuing to steal his breath away, not knowing what you have just done to his poor heart, how much life, how much hope you have filled it with.

A smile, a giggle, a simple kiss with you is all it takes for all the defense around him to crumble into dust.

Something he thought he lost seeps back into his heart, something he thought that stayed in the past and to never be touched again blooms in him.

Everything inside of him screams in joy, his stomach doing somersaults, his skin prickling from the excitement, his lips tugging into a smile even through the kiss that he deepens more and more.

This kiss is different from all the other ones you have shared before, this one means something, this one won’t lead to you tearing each other’s clothes off. No, this is just a kiss.

A kiss that means everything.

A kiss that changes everything.

You stole his breath completely and made it your own, you stole his heart, his soul, his whole being.

And the noise of the fireworks, the sparks igniting from them, match those in Steve's heart. Just exploding, bursting, burning him from inside out.

And he embraces the feeling fully.

He wants more of this, more of you.

He wants to cross a line, he wants you in a whole new way and he is no longer ashamed to admit it to himself.

It feels like forever as you stand there beneath the sparkling sky, kissing and staying in each other’s embrace as you both savor every second of this moment, only pulling away to catch your breaths before you lean back in for more.

The fireworks stop, but only those in the sky.

Your lips are still moving with each other, your tongues still mingling together, whines and whimpers fall from you – tonight, they don’t fill him with lust and need, no, tonight they fill him with adoration.

Your arms tighten around his neck, your nose is flush against his as you refuse to break the kiss but the lack of air makes it impossible and it forces you away from him, though you don’t pull away too far, only enough to catch your breath.

Steve leans his forehead against yours, slowly opening his eyes to look into yours, his heart flutters yet again when he sees how wide your eyes are, how they flicker with deep emotions.

Unable to hold back, he leans in to peck your puffy lips one more time.

“Steve,” you whisper as your hands begin to slip from his shoulders to his chest.

“Yes?”

“Can I be with you tonight?”

He furrows his brows at your question, he wants you to be with him tonight, he wants you with him every night.

“Of course, Blondie.”

You smile at him though it’s a weak one and it makes him frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, scrunching your nose.

“Are you feeling sick?” He asks, tilting your head up.

You shake your head again, “just really tired.”

Your words are still slurred, the alcohol still deep in your system.

“Let’s go home then.”

“Do you want to go?” You ask, looking at him with a cute frown on your face as you tilt your head to the side, “I-I can still wait if you want to stay here longer.”

Steve smiles at you, shaking his head, “no, I want to go home with you.”

The smile on your lips replaces the frown.

He brushes his thumb against your bottom lip and stares at you adoringly.

“Come on, we should tell Eddie.”

You pick up your discarded drink before you slide your fingers through his, intertwining your fingers with his again.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

You follow him without a single word, walking beside him quietly as you make your way out of the woods and back into the fair where the lights are bright and he can see you better now.

It’s still just as crowded as it was before and just as loud.

Steve keeps you close, glancing at you, he notices the squinted eyes and how displeased you look by all the noises and the people around you.

He holds your hand tighter, giving it another reassuring squeeze.

“I can’t wait to go to sleep,” you mumble, taking the last few sips of your soda before you throw it into the trashcan you pass by. You wrap your free hand around his bicep and squish your cheek against it.

Steve’s smile widens, his eyes glint with nothing but fondness.

“There you are!”

Steve turns to find Eddie walking towards you both, throwing his hands up with a worried look on his face that slowly begins to disappear when he realizes that you have been with him all this time, though his eyebrows pull together when he sees your entwined hands and the closeness between you.

Steve expects you to run away from him and into your best friend’s arms, but you don’t, you stick to his side.

“Hi Eddie!” You mumble lazily as a smile appears on your face.

You all halt in your tracks once you meet in the middle.

“Hey sweets, are you okay?” He asks, eying you up and down one more time.

“Peachy!”

“Where have you been?”

Steve clears his throat, “we watched the fireworks from the woods and now I’m gonna take this one home, she’s tired.”

Eddie squints his eyes at him, giving a once over now – the way he has been doing it for some time now, like he is suspicious of his actions, like he wants to figure him out so he can protect you from him and irritates Steve.

“I can take her home,” Eddie shrugs.

“No!” You protest, clinging to Steve’s arm, you hold him tighter not wanting to be pulled away from him.

Steve chuckles softly, he looks down at you adoringly.

“Don’t worry, Eddie. I’ll take her home to sleep, maybe shove some coffee down her throat, see if that helps. I am sensing I’m having a hungover Blondie tomorrow.”

Eddie raises one eyebrow at him, he crosses his arms over his chest, defensively. And Steve notices it from the corner of his eye, causing the smile to leave his face as a frown etches into his features instead.

“I’m not doing anything if that's what you’re fucking thinking, Munson.”

Eddie raises his hands up in surrender, “sorry, can’t blame me for caring.”

That… Stings.

That actually hurts his feelings.

He may not be as close to Eddie as you are to him, but Eddie knows him well enough to know that he would never do anything like this.

“You really think I’m that disgusting?” Steve asks, not bothering to hide the hurt in his voice.

Eddie sighs.

Of course he doesn’t.

He is just protective of his best friend, of her feelings.

Neither of you notice the way you keep looking between them, completely lost and confused.

“I don’t know what kind of deal you both have, Steve, but I’m allowed to care. I would’ve given her the same look if the roles were reversed.”

“She’s not like that,” Steve argues instantly.

Eddie sighs again, uncrossing his arms, he drops them to his side as he takes a look at the sky with a long sigh.

“I know she’s not, I know you’re not. Just… take care of her…”

Steve is still hurt by Eddie’s reaction, by the accusing look in his eyes, like Steve would do anything to hurt you.

He knows that it might only be because you are his best friend, because he feels protective of you, because he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you – but to know that he was worried about you while you were with him makes him feel sick.

Steve would never do anything to hurt someone, let alone you.

“Can we go now?” You ask, looking up at him with big eyes.

A weak smile appears on his face as he looks down at you, “yeah, we can go.”

Steve doesn’t notice the way Eddie’s squinted eyes linger on him, the way he looks down at your hands, watching as Steve pulls you closer despite you being glued to his side already.

He can’t help but sigh when he sees the way you look at him, the dreaminess and the love is so evident and it worries him, your feelings for Steve worry him because he fears that he will break your heart, that he will rip it out of your chest.

Eddie is so focused on his worries, he doesn’t even see the way Steve looks at you.

“I’m gonna call you tomorrow, Eds.”

Eddie smiles at you, “yeah, alright.”

Steve nods at Eddie, only giving him a small smile as he starts pulling you away.

“Bye man,” Steve mumbles as he brushes past him.

“Bye Eddie!”

“Yeah, sleep well, sweets.” Eddie smiles, waving at you.

Walking away from the fairground and leaving behind the crowds of people and your best friend feels like a relief to Steve. He can’t move past the glances the metalhead gave to him, the worried looks he spared you as though you were in some kind of danger with him.

He can’t confront him, he can’t talk to him about it and tell him how wrong he is though, he would give away his feelings and he can’t do that.

You walk beside him quietly, not a single word falls from your lips, you just keep holding his hand, looking up at him every once in a while until you make it to his car.

Steve opens the door for you, begrudgingly letting go of you so you can get inside, he helps you buckle in your seatbelt, a surprised chuckle falls from his lips when you use the opportunity to kiss his cheek and he can’t even help himself but do the same to you, smacking his lips against your cheek to give you a loud smooch, one that makes you giggle.

He can see the tiredness in your eyes, the way you slowly blink and how you sink deeper into the car seat as you yawn.

“Let's get you into bed, honey.”

Steve keeps the music on low during the drive home, you keep dozing off as your head keeps falling to the side but every time you open your eyes again, you look at him and you keep your eyes on him, making him blush beneath your softened gaze.

And then, you make his heart swell and his chest vibrate when you place your hand on his thigh and smile at him sweetly.

Everything about you drives him crazy today.

Every glance, every touch, every word, every kiss.

You have brought something out in him, something that was buried deep inside, hidden and locked away but you have found the key, you unlocked it, you brought something back that he thought was impossible to ever resurface again and you made it yours, you made him yours, all yours.

And now, he wants to give you everything.

He wants to take care of you, he wants to shower you with affection, he wants to be the one for you.

You’re making things complicated but in the most amazing of ways, in the most beautiful of twists that he couldn’t believe would happen again for him. Your small glances are enough to turn a flame in his entire body, your hand on his thigh as he parks at his home enough to send butterflies in his stomach, butterflies that he swore died when Nancy broke his heart.

Your touch is enough to make him tremble and make his knees buckle, when he helps you out of his car, both of you laugh as you almost fall right on your ass, even with his help. He is happy. He is content. He is extremely giddy when he is with you, as if he were fourteen all over again.

Even when you are not like this, when you are not this bubbly uncaring self, he still enjoys his time with you. He enjoys the accidental snorts that make him laugh as you swat him to try to stop him from laughing. The happy delighted moans you give when you try his cooking. The out of nowhere conversations in the mornings that you two now share together.

He likes it when you put on that strong wall, it makes you look cute, it makes him want to break it down. He loves the small banter, the pretend fights when you two are with the whole group, the way you pinch his side when you walk past him when no one is looking. He adores it.

When he finally manages to get you inside, he immediately urges you into the kitchen, making you drink water, not pepsi, despite your pouts and your teary eyes which almost make him become a puddle on the floor. He also gives you a leftover chicken sandwich he had in his fridge so you would eat something to absorb the alcohol.

“Eat at least half of that.” He commands and you just grumble something, cutely so, underneath your breath as you take a bite. He knew you probably didn’t eat anything at the fair, a possible reason for your drunkenness.

“I’ll eat… if you give me a kiss.” And just like that you pucker your lips his way and his heart can barely handle it. He licks his lips before leaning towards you and placing them on yours in a soft peck, a quick one. You smile before taking the first bite, and when you swallow it seems as if it turns on the hunger in your belly because you devour that sandwich in seconds.

He hopes you keep it down your stomach for the whole night and that it helps you feel okay in the morning. He wonders how you will act tomorrow, if you’ll remember all of this, if you’ll remember how much you kissed him, how you made him feel. He should tell you… He should…

But what if it’s the alcohol doing its thing?

“Okay, let’s go to bed.” And doing so turns out to be a challenge because as soon as you finish your food and water, your eyelids start to drop. Getting you off the stool and dragging you upstairs is easy but keeping you sitting up as he tries to change you into his clothes, that is another issue.

“I don’t wanna…” You mumble as you throw yourself back down onto the mattress, chest bare. He would have gotten riled up, if it weren’t for the fact he felt domestic, fluttery, and his chuckles came out easily out of his lips when looking at you.

“You have to, it’s just the shirt, come on.” His voice is soft as he talks to you, making you raise yourself up again, sitting in front of him and raising your arms up for him to slide his shirt on you. As soon as it’s on, you bounce back and get comfortable in his pillow with a contented sigh. He smiles at you as he takes off his shirt and starts unbuckling his belt in order to get comfortable. His own tiredness is starting to take a toll on his body.

He doesn’t notice that you had turned your head to look at him again, and a wolf whistle is heard in the room, making him turn to look at you. You have a cheeky smile on your face and he feels himself blushing slightly as he laughs, taking his pants off next, leaving him in boxers only.

“As if you haven’t seen it before.” He says and it only makes you whistle again as he saunters over with a shake of his head, a smile still plastered on his lips.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t adore it everytime,” you whisper.

And that makes the smile drop, but in shock. Your words went deep, soothing over wounds that had been created long ago, and he doesn’t mean his scars. He has to clear his throat in order to walk towards the bed and get inside right next to you, only for you to immediately crawl on top of him, laying your chin on his chest, looking at him.

It holds so much adoration for some reason, a sparkle that makes Steve’s stomach turn, hope that rose in his throat like vomit, ready to come out, overwhelming him. You are looking at him as if he hung the stars for you, as if he were your only person in the entire world.

And he knows he is looking down at you in the exact same way.

“What now?”

“You’re just so pretty… It’s stupid how pretty you are.” He chuckles, making his chest rumble and for you to bounce up and down with it.

You pout but it’s followed by a smile, “it’s true, you are.”

“I’m not told that very often Blondie.” He honestly replies and that makes you raise your head up and look down at him with determination in your eyes. “Wh–”

He can’t even finish his question because your lips start going crazy on his face, but softly, caring, taking extra time on following the lines of moles he has on his jaw. He is startled, shocked, for no one ever did this to him, not even his own mother. No one ever showered him with affection, with kisses.

And as though that wasn’t sweet and surprising enough, you nuzzle your nose against his, giggling when a big smile appears on his face.

You are cute. You are so fucking cute.

It is an overwhelming feeling, one that almost makes him feel like crying.

Your lips pressed on the tip of his nose as you pulled away, a proud smile on your face, and he wonders what is going through your mind right now. If it it’s all true, fuck, he wants it all to be true. He needs it to be true. He needs and desires that you are doing all of this intentionally to him, despite the alcohol.

“There, now you know.”

You really are beautiful, so beautiful. He feels drunk on you, seeing you, feeling you… his hand rises up, not able to contain himself as it runs through the back of your head and pulls you down to his lips, letting him give you a deep kiss. A kiss that made the fireworks he saw earlier explode inside his room again.

You follow his lips with a hum, and he doesn’t want to pull away. He needs it all. He needs you. Not in the way he has been having you the past month. Not at all, not even close.

He lets you pull away, and his hand caresses your cheek, pulling your head down to rest on his chest again as your legs intertwine with his underneath the sheets. He wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating. If it bangs your head from how hard he feels his chest being hit with it.

“Sleep Blondie.” He wishes anything but that, but he needs the silence, the time alone.

“Hmm… night Stevie…” And he knows your eyes are closed, that you mumble that with the last bit of strength you had. His eyes remain on the ceiling as his mind starts working, gears going round and round, going overtime.

He had been running from the definition of the feeling, even if he knew it was there, even if he accepted everything else that came with it. He kept running and running, and now he had hit a wall.

So it’s time to stop and turn around to face you.

Steve Harrington decides to stop running as he looks down at you and his lips press at the top of your head while his arms hold you tighter. You whine in your sleep, yet your cheek nuzzles even more into his chest.

He can’t deny you anymore. Not when you look like this in his arms. Not when you peppered his face with kisses he never received. Not when he saw you in a vulnerable moment of yours. Not when he gets to see you moan in pleasure because of him. Not when he gets to see you have fun with everyone else. Not when you saved his life, going headfirst for him. Not when you already send smiles his way that make his heart stop.

And if you wake up tomorrow with a headache, he will be waiting for you with coffee in hand, an advil, and some food, ready to help you. To take care of you. He will let you lay in his bed all the time you need, all in order to make you feel better.

Because Steve Harrington started feeling again.

He likes you. He terribly and adoringly likes you… and he is afraid because–

It’s nowhere near little. Not at all.

“Can’t believe I fell for you, Blondie.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht — chapter fifteen #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things angst

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turbulentscrawl · 6 months

Note

I need more shy s/o headcanons...

Could I ask for a shy s/o with two of your favorite idv characters? How would they react with someone shy?

Maybe sfw and nsfw? 👀

Can do eheh

I did keep these a bit shorter, since they're more specific. But I hope you enjoy ;)

Norton Campbell

SFW

-This relationship would take a good while to develop because neither Norton nor you are likely to initiate it. But once the acquaintance hurdle is jumped, you find out just how little Norton gives a damn about shyness. (In a good way.) He talks to you like he talks to anyone else, rarely reacting to or drawing special attention to your timidity. If you respond to him, great. If you don’t, you don’t.

-It’s both cute and hilarious when the pair of you interact with other survivors. You’re so shy, and Norton is so stoic, and inevitably you’ll end up flustered over something and just bury your face in his chest and he just does not care. If he needs to move while you’re occupied this way, he’ll ask you to stand on his boots, and just walks off like that.

-He’s also one of the tallest guys in the manor, so feel free to hide behind him. Again, he really doesn’t care. If you hide under or behind something else, he just nonchalantly pokes his head in when he needs to say something to you.

-The only time he ever gets frustrated by your shyness is if it causes problems while you’re in danger. If those situations ever do arise, Norton is quick to throw you over his shoulder and remove you from the situation himself, regardless of any protests. Safety and health come before comfort.

NS/FW

-Norton is a little different about your shyness here than in public; he’ll let you get away with it in the bedroom for all of five minutes. After that, the manhandling comes into play.

-Norton will respect a genuine boundary, but he thinks claiming ‘you’re shy’ is just another way of playing hard to get. And Norton is hard…that’s it, he’s got a hard-on. He’s ready to go.

-No he will not leave the room pitch dark just because you’re embarrassed about being naked. And no, he won’t let you hide under the covers the whole time either. And no, you will not hide your red face behind or muffle those pretty little sounds with your hands. Try it and he’ll rather effortlessly pin your wrists over your head with one hand.

-The one time he kind of lets you get away with any of this is when he’s got you face-down-ass-up on the bed. He’s a little preoccupied with pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, so if you plant your face in a pillow or something he’s less likely to reach over and rip it away. He will however definitely take it as a challenge to make you scream loud enough to be heard through the block.

Luca Balsa

SFW

-Luca is good with shy people! He’s energetic and talkative enough for several people, and he doesn’t mind carrying the conversation so long as you don’t mind his rambling. Honestly if his s/o is shy, then between them, Andrew, and Victor, Luca starts to look like the trope of an extrovert collecting introverts.

-He’s not crazy with PDA, but Luca does like leaning close to talk, and holds your hand whenever his are free. He always checks with you before trying to initiate PDA in a new kind of situation, but after that he just trusts it to apply to all similar ones. No sense in calling attention to your shyness and possibly making it worse.

-Luca thinks your blushing face is the best thing ever, so he does occasionally go out of his way to draw it out of you. While he doesn’t exactly have a poetic disposition, he has earnestness on his side. Who wouldn’t be flustered when he gets down on one knee and kisses your fingers?

NS/FW

-He thinks it’s fun to make your shyness a game. Whenever you hide away, it’s clearly because he has to earn seeing your best expressions.

-Cue Luca doing his damnedest to suck your very soul out, only pulling away periodically to ask through gulps of air if he’d “earned it yet?” No? Well, he’s not done yet. At some point you’ll be driven wild enough to choose pulling his hair over shielding your face.

-He’ll hold both of your hands with his own too. or, better yet, put your arms around him? He can deal with some angry red marks on his back for a while. Just expect a few revenge hickies.

-If you’re really so shy…he can be out of the room for your pleasure time. How? Oh, just this little remote-controlled thing he made for you. …Wanna try?

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #norton campbell x reader #luca balsa x reader #idv prospector #idv prisoner #spicy content

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wtfsteveharrington · 2 years

Text

sorry to interrupt / steve harrington x reader

content & contains: requested!! set during s4. you were on watch duty with steve, he convinces you to share the special treatment you receive at the wheelers.

reader wakes up to steve grinding against her, lil bit of perv!steve (my beloved), choking (steve receiving), thigh riding, hints of hung steve!size kink, hand job, pussy job, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie. mentions of bruising/hickies, tearing up, and scratching.

author’s note: realized after that this is all technically happening at his ex girlfriend’s house......... sorry nancy. all my love to @yellowharrington & @chestharrington who always encourage every unholy thought i have and eagerly read whatever brain rot i give them at all hours of the day.

word count: almost 4.9k

i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week

Out of all the random kids who run around his house, you’re Ted Wheeler’s favorite.

Everyone else was stuck piling into the cramped basement while Ted made a big show of letting you know that the guest bedroom was made up for you. It would be embarrassing if you weren’t so entertained by the groans of protest coming from Dustin and Steve.

Steve who then, suspiciously, made sure he was on watch duty with you.

The two of you took first watch and it went by relatively quickly. Steve was dozing off in his chair again while you kept yourself alert with one of the old puzzles that sat around the Wheeler’s basement. He wakes up after about 15 minutes, clearly startled before giving you a sheepish smile. You weren’t sure how well he was sleeping these days, so the sight of him knocked out for any amount of time? You would have let him sleep the whole night through.

There’s the sound of shuffling filling up the quiet room as he comes to sit next to you on the floor, the sides of your thighs pressed flush together under the low coffee table, and begins working on the puzzle as well. Sorting out edge pieces and making piles of what he assumes goes together. There’s an almost finished ocean scape in front of you when faint beeping started to come from Lucas Sinclair’s watch, signaling it was shift change. He’s groggy, sitting up and grumbling to himself as he tries to wake up.

Steve slides a soda, the only source of caffeine almost all the kids would willingly drink, and a few snacks across the table towards the boy. Lucas gives you both the best smile he can muster, scanning the room and finding Max sat on the floor by the desk. He’s grabbing the stuff off the table, the blanket from the couch, and stumbling his way through the dark room towards Max.

You and Steve start collecting your own things. He’s grabbing your bag out of your hands, slinging it on his shoulder so you didn’t have to carry it, grabbing his jacket off the chair while you get your shoes from the foot of the couch. You spare a glance across the basement, heart melting as you watch Lucas wrap the blanket around his and Max’s shoulders. He takes a sip of the Coke then offers the can towards her, giving her knee a squeeze once his hand was free. They easily settle into a hushed conversation and you catch Steve smiling at the sight too before you both make your way up the stairs.

Steve’s shared his bed with you. Twice. Once after a party at his house got a little too crazy and there was no way you could drive, or even walk, home. You woke up tucked into his bed, your hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail, and a cup of water with Advil sitting next to it on the nightstand.

The second time was late one night after the Starcourt incident. There had been a group of you who got together a week later once things settled down. Recounting what each person knew and had been through while everyone was apart. It wasn’t always the easiest to talk about but everyone agreed it was important that all information be out on the table. Almost everyone slowly trickled out one by one as the night got later, all except Robin who excused herself to the guest bedroom to sleep. You could have sworn she gave Steve a very pointed look as she left the living room, leaving the two of you alone on the couch, but you were pretty sure you imagined it.

It was Steve’s turn to fall asleep first that night. You let him sleep on your shoulder for about twenty minutes before exhaustion finally threatened to take over your body.

All you planned on doing was getting him upstairs to his room, but he grabbed your hand as you turned to leave and asked you to stay. Mumbling something about how it was late and, more importantly, how he felt safer with you around. Probably something he wouldn’t admit without the fog of sleep but it worked. You two woke up in a tangled mess, letting yourselves savor the connection for a little longer than you should have, quickly excusing yourself to freshen up once it began to drag on a little too long.

Robin grinned into her coffee cup that entire morning the three of you ate breakfast together, both of you pushing food around your plates while refusing to look at one another.

So yeah, sharing your bed with him tonight was the least you could do.

You’re getting ready for bed in a comfortable silence. Changing into an oversized shirt from your bag and taking off whatever remnants of your makeup made it this far into the night. Out of the corner of your eye you catch Steve stripping down to just his boxes then tugging a pair of sweatpants on. He’s scratching his bare chest and you focus on the way his fingers drag through his chest hair absentmindedly. You spare a thought as to what it must feel like to touch his chest before going back to getting ready for bed while he untucks the blanket and gets the bed ready for the night.

You guys settle into bed easily. Exhaustion taking over before either of you have the time to overthink being in bed together.

✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧

You were hot.

Like, depths of hell levels of insanely hot.

It takes a minute to register where this heat is coming from as you wake up... Low and behold, Steve Harrington did not stick to his side of the bed. At first you assume he’s just reached out to cuddle against you in his sleep. It would make sense. But then you feel something that quickly breaks down that theory and now you’re trying to process the fact holy shit he’s hard and holy shit he’s grinding on you in his sleep.

Maybe for the slightest, briefest of moments you allow yourself to enjoy the feeling. You’d be outraged if it were anyone else, but for some reason the fact that it’s Steve? The man who’s saved you life multiple times? The man who tucks his stupid shirts into his stupid jeans and loves to play with his stupid belt buckle absentmindedly when he’s thinking? The very same man who always seems to have his hand on your knee when you sit together or your lower back while you walk next to him? Maybe you’re having a little less concern towards the situation than you should.

You can feel Steve twitching against your ass, a low moan right in your ear. Part of you wonders what he’s dreaming about... Fine, maybe you’re solely wondering if he’s dreaming about you and oddly jealous if he’s not. He’s rocking up against you, a shockingly smooth motion.

Finally you reach backwards, gently squeezing his hip a few times to wake him up. “Steve? Stevie?” He’s grumbling against your hair, tightening his grip on your body and pulling the two of you flush together. You’re starting to get wet, heat building between your thighs as you squeeze at him a bit more frantically. “Steve Harrington wake up.”

He fully awakes with a jolt. Taking a moment to assess the situation before jerking his hips back from you and stuttering out a string of apologies. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry. How long have you been awake? Did you feel that? I can’t believe-...” Cutting himself off and burying his face in his hands as he lays flat on the bed. Did you feel that? There was no way you couldn’t have felt it.

You risk a glance back just to see Steve’s chest rising and falling so quickly, a noticeable bulge coming from under the blanket that’s slung low on his waist. You desperately want to reach out and touch him. “Not a big deal.” He’s scoffing now, hands coming down to his chest. You have to look away.

“Not a big deal? I have no clue what the hell came over me. Just give me like a second to collect myself. Gonna take care of this mess in the bathroom and then I’ll sleep downstairs tonight.”

The mental image of him jerking off in the bathroom doesn’t help your situation.

“Steve there’s like twenty people in this house and only two bathrooms. You’re gonna end up getting interrupted and I don’t wanna have to explain to people why you went from sleeping with me to jacking off in the bathroom. If you have to take care of yourself, do it in here. Won’t look, promise.” Sure, maybe it’s flawed logic but it’s late.

He doesn’t waste any time, throwing the blanket off his overheated body as you turn your back towards him. Steve’s pretending not to notice how the blanket’s now mostly on your side and in front of your body. Leaving your thighs, the bottom curve of your ass, everything exposed to him. He tightens his grip on his cock while letting his eyes wonder across the seam of your panties until they disappear between your thighs. Maybe it’s wrong, but he can’t help himself.

In the comfort of your half asleep haze, this didn’t seem like too bad of an idea... But now you hear Steve’s breathy whimpers as he strokes himself right behind you and you’re starting to question your decision. He’s spitting into his hand, now slick his fist around his cock sounds now is making you rub your thighs together for some ounce of relief. A motion that might have gone unnoticed if all of his focus wasn’t on you.

His head falls back on the pillow, cock twitching in his fist. “Fuck.” A high pitched, broken sound. You arch your ass out a little more, the cold chill in the air alerting you that it’s exposed. You’re mumbling into your pillow, “Someone’s gonna hear you… Won’t exactly help our cause”

There’s little shame. His moans are getting more out of control. Louder, drawn out. It’s making you throb and feel dizzy at the same time.

“Do I need to make you be quiet?”

The response comes quick, surprising you both.

“Fuck yes.”

You finally turn around in the bed to face him, body working on auto pilot because you can’t actually think about what’s happening. Maybe this is just some grand plot you’re dreaming up? That seems more feasible.

Throwing one of your legs over his thigh in order to straddle it, you adjust yourself until your core is flush against his skin. Telling yourself it’s just to keep your body balanced, nothing more. Yet, at the same time, the feeling of your warmth on his skin instantly pulls a loud moan out of Steve, his knee coming up with the same mental excuse of trying to give you stability. That’s all. Nothing more. You were just a friend trying to help him out and keep you both from getting shit if the rest of the group found out.

He’s moaning out your name now, a needy and wanton sound.

You never knew he could be so loud.

Again your body acts before your mind can catch up.

One of your hands comes up to clamp over Steve’s mouth, his eyes going wide as he now moans against your palm and the vibrations on your skin sending shivers down your spine. You watch as he’s clutching the sheets beneath you both, his cock laying on his stomach so heavy and so pretty. He notices that you’re stuck staring down at him, deciding to push his luck by arching his hips up towards you.

The action makes you smirk, feeling extremely drunk on power. You drag your nails down his chest with your free hand, slowly rocking your core along his thigh at the same time. Steve can feel you getting more wet, his cock once again twitching at all the stimulation.

“You want me to touch you?”

He responds by tilting his hips up towards his chest, desperately trying to get dick closer to your hand. You take some pity, swiping your pointer finger along his slit to collect the precum dripping out. Making a big show of sticking your tongue out and licking your finger clean. Steve’s kissing at your hand over his mouth, silently begging for you to give him anything before he combusts.

Your hand falls down from your lips to between your thighs, collecting some of the wetness pooling at your core, using that hand to finally wrap around Steve’s length. He’s bucking up into your fist, groaning out your name into your other hand. You lower yourself back on his thigh, rocking your hips along it in time with with the movement of your wrist. He’s just slighting moving his leg back and forth, adding a bit more friction.

Watching him writher under you while you work his length is a power trip like you’ve never felt. Steve’s going wild which only adds to your ego. Humming his approval at your motions.

It’s not until your fingers slide from his mouth to cup his balls, marveling the weight of them in your hand and tightening your grip around his cock that Steve really starts to lose all train of thought. Biting down on his lip to keep from getting too loud.

Your thrown off balance when his hands start grabbing at your hips, pulling your body towards him. You take the hint, eagerly straddling his waist and reaching down to push your ruined panties to the side. Lowering yourself until Steve’s length is tucked between your folds.

“Holy fuc-“

You’ll never know what came over you tonight, but your hand flies up to Steve’s throat. Gently applying pressure to either side while his adam’s apple vibrates against your palm with all the moans he can’t actually make. “Are you gonna be quiet if I let you fuck me?” He’s nodding enthusiastically, an almost panicked look behind his eyes at the thought of you leaving him now.

Steve’s not sure what is driving him more crazy - The slick sound of your pussy rubbing over his cock, the dizzying way you keep applying a fluttering pressure to his neck, or the way you keep whimpering out his name. Just barely a whisper. Quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear it across the room. But it’s his name, and his name has never sound as beautiful as it does falling from your lips.

The head of his cock bumps into your clit, your body giving a small jerk at the sensation. That small movement is his final point of no return and you barely have time to register the fact that you’re moving before Steve has you pinned under him. A cocky grin on his face as he easily takes back all the power you thought you had. You’re grabbing at his shoulders, withering uncomfortably under him as the tension begins building... You needed to be touched, stat.

Steve’s taking pity on you, his hands cupping your sides under your shirt, dragging them up your body. Your chest is now exposed to him, and he leaves you to fumble through fully getting your shirt off while his mouth wraps around one of your nipples. His thumb flicks at the other as you wrap your legs around his waist, rocking yourself up towards him. There’s a stray thought where you’re silently cursing yourself for not wearing cuter underwear, but in your defense who would have thought this was going to happen.

You’re bucking your hips now, freely letting yourself get a little needy because you can tell it does something to Steve. He’s moving from your nipple to the side of your breast, sucking on random spots that were sure to leave a pretty bruise on your skin. He’s pulling away from your tits before running his hands down your body. Only stopping the motion once the waistband of your panties are on his fingers.

He’s grabbing two fistfuls of the ruined material covering your core, tugging it apart with a grunt. Ripping off your underwear and throwing the scraps at the foot of the bed. You yelp out at the motion, the loudest you’ve been all night. He’s figuring out he likes breaking down parts of your self control.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll buy you more.”

His lips are dragging along your jaw while his hand finds your now bare center, cupping over it and keeping his hand flat and firm against you. Now it’s Steve’s turn to tease.

“Are you gonna be quiet if I let you fuck me?” Mimicking your question from earlier.

You instantly nod, arching your hips up off the bed towards him. The small power trip you had earlier almost all but gone as he now takes control. He’s kissing a path from your jaw to your cheek until your lips are just barely together. His ghosting over yours while both of you are a mess of broken and heavy breaths. That’s all you can give each other but somehow it’s more than enough.

“Can I kiss you?” Murmured against your lips. A thoughtful gesture that’s going to make you squeal when you think about this tomorrow, even if it feels a little redundant in the moment. You’re pressing a kiss to his bottom lip for an answer and as your lips finally connect you feel his two fingers drag up through your folds. His thumb presses up towards your clit while he wastes no time pushing those two fingers into you. You’re moaning into his mouth, jaw going slack as Steve’s fingers crook inside of you at the same time his tongue swirls around yours.

You’re reaching to push at his sweatpants and boxers, finally getting them all the way down his thighs and you’re amazed that his motions inside of you don’t stop while he kicks his clothes the rest of the way off. That familiar, uncomfortable tension is building deep inside of you again, your arms wrapping around Steve’s chest and your nails dragging along his skin. It entices a moan out of him and the sound goes straight to your clit.

“Need more, Steve. Need you to fuck me.”

He’s pulling back to look over your face, his fingers still working deep inside of you which makes it harder to concentrate on him. “Can’t fuck you tonight.” What the fuck? Frustration builds, your eyes burning with the threat of tears at the idea that you won’t get what you clearly so desperately need. There’s lips on the corner of your mouth, “No condom, Baby.” Steve’s head cocks to the side, glancing down where the hallway should be. “I wonder if Ted has any. You think he still gets laid? Bet you there’s some in those bathroom drawers.”

“Disgusting! Shut up! You are not going to fuck me with Ted Wheeler’s expired condoms.”

“You’re right... They’re probably too small away.” Steve’s shaking his head as if he’s shaking the thought out of his mind. You were half convinced if there was one more mention of Ted Wheeler you were going to dry up. His wrist is twisting, hitting a new angle as he slips a third finger into you. You know, if you were already making questionable decisions tonight you may as well go all the way. “Just pull out?” It comes out sounding like such a pathetic little question. His jaw tightens and he has to think of every single horrific thing he’s ever seen in life to keep himself from finishing right then and there.

His hand slides out of you as you cry in protest, but it’s seconds later that you feel the head of his cock tapping against your clit. Firm and heavy pressure that has you dragging your nails so hard down his back that you’re leaving behind a mess of angry red marks. Steve swears he must have died at some point and managed to find his way to heaven.

“Never went without one before.” The tip of his cock his pressing against your hole and you can both feel as you tighten around what he’s barely giving you.

“Steve, holy shit. Please, please, please. Need you so bad I don’t even care if you pull out at this point. Just fuck me.” You’re a babbling mess and if you had any pride left you probably would be embarrassed. Every word is playing a risky game with his self control. His eyes are trained on you while he sinks into you slow, both of you savoring the sensation as he stretches you out inch by inch. It’s your turn to get a little loud, Steve instantly leaning in to start kissing you. All in an effort to keep you from getting them caught. You’re choking out a whine into his mouth and his eyes literally roll back at how angelic the sound was.

“Steve, fuck. Feel so full.”

“I know, Honey. Doing such a good job taking me, aren’t you? Your tight little cunt-... Jesus Christ, so fucking amazing.”

It takes every ounce of strength Steve has to not shove himself the rest of the way into you. Wrapped so well around his cock, the way you’re gripping at whatever inch of his body you can reach. This moment will be all he thinks about from now on. Unless he’s lucky enough to get to fuck you again. Then that might take the cake. Then the time after that… He’s refocusing himself on the moment at hand, licking into your mouth and fisting the bed sheets on either side of your waist for more stability.

You feel his trimmed bush on your clit, his balls resting heavy against you as Steve stays still to let you adjust.

He’s reaching down, wrapping his arms around the back of your thighs and bringing your legs up until your knees are over his shoulders. Tilting his head to the side and gently nipping at your calf before licking over the small bite marks. His breathing is getting shallow as he feels you mold around his cock, tightening yourself on his length as you get used to the feeling.

Steve thought you choking him was going to be the hottest thing he saw tonight, but something about the way your hand clamps tight over your own mouth to muffle moans you can’t hold back... It’s his undoing. You’re crying out into your hand as he starts to stroke his hips into you once you’re both settled in the new position. His brows knit in concentration as he sets the rhythm, all the way back just the head of his cock is left in you, then sinking in once again.

If he goes too quickly the wet sounds of his dick stretching out your pussy fill the room and it’s not exactly quiet. So instead he’s fucking into you with an intensity you had never felt before. His hands are gripping at your thighs and fuck he can’t decide what to look at - The way your tits are moving in time with his strokes, the blissed out look on your face, or the way he keeps sinking in and out of you.

Your thighs are already starting to shake, body on the edge of a much needed orgasm. “Want you to come in me, Steve.” A low, guttural sound rips out of Steve’s chest, his movements getting sharper. “Wanna feel you dripping out of me.” Another thing you’re not quite sure where it came from tonight, but he seems to be pulling a lot of unexpected things out of you.

“Fuck, yeah? Okay, shit, I can do that.”

You reach down between your bodies, toying with your clit while staring up at him. Even like this, forehead damp with sweat and his cheeks flushed, you can’t help but admire how pretty he looks. Oddly enough? Steve must be thinking the same thing because he pulls out of your admiring trance with a -

“So beautiful.”

Heat erupts in your chest.

You have to look away from him, content on staring at the wall until there’s a hand on your cheek, nudging you back to looking at him. “Wanna watch you... Can you do that for me? Let me see how pretty you look when you come and I’ll fill you up for being good to me.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Steve’s picking up his pace, noise level be damned. Fucking into with a fevered passion that you had never felt. You’re clawing at his chest with one hand, the other one still working at your clit, and fighting every instinct to close your eyes. There’s a part of you that fears he would pull out if you look away and it would fully break you if that happened.

“Can feel you’re close... Wanna feel you let go for me, Baby.” Both of your hands are grabbing at Steve now, arching your chest up towards him and it only takes one more deep stroke before the tension in your body snaps. Your orgasm rushing through every inch of you. He’s watching you fall apart, fully amazed at the sight.

He’s still fucking into your oversensitive pussy, the feeling making you cry out. There’s a death grip on your thighs as Steve chases his own thigh, taking just a few more strokes when you can feel him still his hips all of a sudden. Taking mere seconds before he’s unloading deep inside of you. God you feel so messy now. The mixture of you both is dripping out around his cock, both of you trying to recover. He’s carefully sitting your legs back on the bed, leaning forward while you stay connected to lazily kiss you.

Your hands tangle in his hair, his arms find their way behind your back. Neither of you care that you’re both a sweaty, sticky mess. In fact, you’re wrapped up so tightly against Steve’s chest that you’re half convinced the two of you are going to be permanently stuck together.

The two of you lay like that for a moment until the sound of your giggle breaks the silence. Steve’s pulling back, looking at you with a cocked brow. You’re reaching up to push the hair from his forehead, giving a small shrug. “Just can’t believe that happened... Can’t believe you’re still inside of me, can’t believe we just fucked in the Wheeler’s guest room, can’t believe it was the best sex I’ve ever had. Always thought you were all talk, Harrington.”

He’s scoffing now, leaning into your touch as your hands rest on his cheeks. “Trust me, that was equally as insane for me. Can’t believe you tricked me into coming in you.” You gasp at his words, pulling your hands from his face to playfully shove at his chest. “Excuse me! Certainly didn’t hear you complaining.”

Steve’s grinning down at you, slowly pulling his hips back from your which has you both groaning at the loss of the other. He’s kneeling back on the bed, holding your thighs apart and admiring just how pretty you look all fucked out. Only allowing himself to look for just a moment before he’s on a mission to get you guys cleaned up and back to bed.

You both end up stumbling down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible and praying no one catches you. There’s no way to explain what’s happening without looking guilty.

To both of your surprise Ted Wheeler does have condoms. They may have expired in 1972, but he does have them.

✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧

Robin’s propped up on the back of the counter, kicking her feet through the air as everyone stumbles their way through the kitchen to get their breakfast. “Hey there... Sleep well?” She says with a smirk. No way she knows, right? You start to panic a little, wondering if there is a stray hickey on display or if it just shows on your faces that ‘Hey! Steve came in me last night!’.

Were you limping that noticeably? The ache deep in your hips a reminder of what Steve did to you last night.

The counter turns left and comes out to separate the kitchen from the dining room. You walk over, hopping up on the part of the counter she’s not on, giving her the most normal smile you can muster. “Yeah, nothing crazy.”

Steve’s walking around the counter with two glasses of juice, handing you one with this sheepish smile that certainly doesn’t help your deniability.

Almost worse than the juice?

The way he steps between your legs, turning his back to you and resting his elbows on your knees while facing the rest of the kitchen. Your face feels so hot as he settles in between you, everyone stealing a side eye glance. You swear you can hear Dustin mutter something along the lines of “Holy shit, finally.”

Robin’s got this loud bubble of entertained laugher,

“Nothing crazy, huh?”

#s.h. ♡#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader

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faithshouseofchaos · 1 month

Text

Playful banter — dad!Daniel Ricciardo x mom!reader

I was inspired by the season one episode 48 of Bluey called teasing

Daniel Ricciardo taglist — @toasttt11 @thef1diary @the-ghost-lovwr @sweate-r-weathe-r @hrts4scarr @jeffs77 @amatswimming @clowngirlsstuff @tallrock35 @67-angelofthelordme-67 (this is all I could remember)

Daniel was a tease whether it was playful or sexual he loved teasing. It drove you crazy when he teased you. And when you had kids both of your children inherited Daniel’s playful nature. It was bedtime for Lucas and Sadie. Lucas and Sadie were currently brushing their teeth while you got out their pajamas and Daniel picked up the toys the kids had been playing with.

“Lucas stop it” you heard your five-year-old daughter yell out from the bathroom followed by Lucas’s laughter.

“I'm not doing anything,” Lucas says.

You rolled your eyes knowingly that Lucas being a mini version of his father you knew he was up to no good.

Daniel chuckled as he heard Lucas deny any involvement in what Sadie was upset about. “Do we need to go in and check what’s going on in there?”

Lucas chuckled. “Nah! Sadie is just being grumpy.”

Sadie spoke up. “Yeah… I’m being grumpy!” Her voice was high-pitched and had a tone of sass. “Lucas you better stop! Right now!”

Lucas spoke up in a teasing manner. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Sadie was getting upset and she was becoming more and more impatient. She threw her toothbrush into the sink and yelled out. “ I’m telling Mommy!”

Once again Lucas’s little voice rang out “And what’s mommy going to do about it?” Lucas was enjoying the back-and-forth with his sister, knowing that Sadie was getting more upset.

Sadie yelled out once more. “Stop that right now Lucas, or I’m going to…”

Sadie stopped speaking right before finishing her sentence. She realized if she continued with her threat then Lucas and her probably both would be in trouble.

Lucas once again spoke in a joking manner “ Or you’re going to what? “

Lucas was enjoying teasing Sadie while Sadie was getting frustrated and upset. Sadie looked over at you, expecting you to be frustrated as well and do something.

Lucas began to make faces at Sadie to try and tease her and make her more mad.

“Lucas, be nice to your sister,” you said, cutting in.

Lucas was quick to respond. “I’m just playing around. She’s being way too grumpy.”

And with that, his tone of voice had a sense of arrogance to it.

Sadie got more frustrated hearing Lucas not being reprimanded and getting upset with him once more.

“I am NOT grumpy!”

Lucas was quick to respond. “We’re just playing around daddy, she’s just grumpy”

Lucas put on his innocent face.

Sadie yelled out. “He’s not playing around, he’s making me mad on purpose!”

Lucas was quick to defend himself yet again.

“I’m not doing anything! Sadie over here is just being grumpy..”

Sadie once again yelled out at Lucas

“ stop calling me grumpy!”

Lucas was quick to chime in “Well, you ARE grumpy,” he said in a mocking tone.

“Okay, monkey butts knock it off,” Daniel says, wiping away the toothpaste from Sadie’s mouth.

“Sometimes I wonder where the two of you get your playfulness from” Daniel added

Lucas and Sadie laughed in response to their father's comment. But the truth behind the laugh was…

They were getting their playfulness from Daniel. They were following in his footsteps.

“Daddy you’re just as playful as us,” Sadie said. With a cheeky grin on her face.

Lucas quickly chimed in. “Yeah! And daddy teases mommy all the time!” Lucas said while still laughing.

Daniel chuckled at his kids' statements. Lucas was most certainly right on the money with that statement. Daniel did in fact tease mommy every chance he got.

“Okay… okay. You got me there. But do as I say and stop trying to bug each other okay?”

“Okay daddy” Lucas responded

Sadie had to get a comment in. “But daddy it wasn’t me starting it! He started it”

“I’m not going to argue over who started it okay?” Daniel responded

Both Lucas and Sadie sighed but agreed to not argue who started it.

“So come on get going and let’s get those pajamas on okay?” Daniel said.

“Your dads right kids now it’s time to up your pajamas on and then it’s bedtime” you said.

Lucas and Sadie both rolled their eyes. They most certainly did not want to wear their pajamas and go to bed.

Lucas responded back. “Daddy can’t we just stay up a little bit longer?”

Daniel chuckled and said “No sorry, your mom and I agreed you wouldn’t be staying up any longer. “

“But daddy!” Lucas responded back.

The begging tone had Daniel chuckle a little bit. Lucas knew exactly what he was doing.

Daniel responded “No buts, now come on it’s time to go to bed.”

Lucas once again tried his best to try and get out of bedtime.

“Please daddy?” Lucas responded

Sadie got in on it as well. “Pretty please with sprinkles on top?”

Daniel chuckled knowing full well the kids were trying to be cute in order to get their way.

“Nope, bedtime” Daniel says.

The kids both sighed out loudly. Neither one of them wanted to go to bed as you could tell by their body language.

Lucas spoke up “Daddy you’re no fun! “

Sadie also followed up with a comment. “You’re such a party pooper”

Lucas was trying to make his dad feel bad on purpose. He knew what he was doing.

Daniel laughed a little and said “Sorry guys, but no more playing around. It’s bedtime. “

“Okay” both of the kids said and they changed into their pajamas.

Lucas and Sadie both changed into their pajamas fairly quickly and got into bed. Lucas was quick to speak up though.

“Okay… but we can talk until we fall asleep right?”

Daniel chuckled as he said “Okay.. sure you two can talk until you fall asleep”

Lucas and Sadie were quick to get into bed and they began to whisper to each other.

Daniel chuckled as he said “Okay.. sure you two can talk until you fall asleep”

Lucas and Sadie were quick to get into bed and they began to whisper to each other.

Both of them were giggling at what they were whispering to each other. They were being cute and playful together as siblings. With their whispers, giggles, and the fact they looked comfortable made it appear as though they were heading off to sleep pretty quickly.

As the sounds of whispering began to fade… Sadie got one last giggle before the kids had fallen asleep. Lucas had already fallen asleep. It seemed like a very peaceful scene for the kids. Neither of them had any problems falling asleep which was not very common for kids… but at least these two slept well.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo f1 #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fluff

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turcott3 · 3 months

Text

wrapped around your finger

luca fantilli x fem! reader (ft. umich hockey team and gfs!!)

warnings?: cursing, alcohol, unprotected sex (p in v, public sex, spanking, choking (not really but kinda?), hair pulling, happy ending🥳

masterlist

“are yall ready yet?” rutger yells from the foyer.

“yes one second.” you yell back, deciding against the extra setting spray. it wasn’t hot outside, it’s not like you were going to sweat it off.

“we gotta go, i want a good view.” luca says grabbing his keys out of the bowl and heading outside. you opted to ride with luca since the group had to split but you always found yourself gravitating to him. the two of you had never spent time alone together but you always had a slight attachment to him, better described as a little bitty crush.

“have you looked at the set list yet?” he asked you, who got lucky and sat shotgun. the group was going to see post malone, and everyone was excited to go and get sloshed.

“i haven’t, i’ll check now.” you simply state opening spotify and reading it out to him.

“fuck this is gonna be so good.” he says, excitement lining his tone.

“does this venue id?” tyler asks from the backseat.

“no.” you answer quickly.

“may i ask how you know this?” luca giggles.

“i’ve been before, got absolutely hammered.” you say, reminiscing the last concert you attended.

“sweet, tj you’re off the hook,” he says patting the ginger on the back.

“thank god. they would’ve thought i was a fucking alcoholic buying all of those drinks.” he says, relief practically oozing out of him. you pulled into the venue closely behind your friends in the other car.

“everyone got their shit?” rutger asks and everyone replies ‘yes’ before shutting his trunk and locking the car. you made your way inside the venue, quickly finding a place to sit with a decent view of the stage. you loved that this tour was all outdoor shows considering the temperature in michigan in the summer was perfect. you laid your towel out and sat down, luca sitting his towel right next to yours.

“you’re gonna be my designated concert buddy?” you ask laughing at the position he sat in.

“sure am, we never really spend any time together so i figured this was a perfect opportunity.” he smiles and you giggle in response, keeping your cheeks from turning too red.

“drinks for the lot of ya!” jacob yells in a tacky british accent, approaching the group with tj, multiple beers and seltzers for everyone in hand.

“a seltzer for you of course.” luca says, handing you one of the drinks he grabbed.

“you just know my drinking habits so well don’t you.”

“we’ve been to parties together and how many times have i held your hair while you threw up?”

“it was twice luca.”

“and? i still did it.” he says and you roll your eyes, a smile spreading in your cheeks. it didn’t take too long for the openers to begin their set. you had never heard of them so you talked through it. you spoke with a couple of the guys and their girlfriends, luca talking to adam on the phone, sipping his beer. you couldn’t help but notice that he chose to sit with you, but you didn’t want to overanalyze. you drank and drank some more, without even realizing it. you were already somewhat drunk by the time the openers were finished, which wasn’t your intention.

“hey y/n.” luca asks nudging you.

“huh?”

“are you already drunk?”

“yep sure am, you?”

“a little buzz, nothing too crazy yet.”

“i am fully prepared to be absolutely fucked tonight.“ you reply, his expression becoming more difficult to read.

when post malone’s set finally began, you cracked a tall boy open, shot gunning it as well as you could. when you sucked the can dry you threw it on the ground out of breath, almost instantly feeling more drunk than before.

“luca.” you said, your words dragging out in a slur.

“what is it?” he asks, shoving his phone back in his pocket, his eyes reading drunk. you step closer to the boy, wrapping your arm around his back, singing whatever song was playing. you felt him do the same, his hand resting just above your ass on your hip.

the two of you sang together loudly and obnoxiously.

“can i try that?” you ask about the beer he held.

“yeah here.” he says, watching you intensely as you took a large sip.

“that is disgusting.” you reply, wiping your face with your hand as he chuckles. you leaned your head on his shoulder as you listened to the loud music. once the song ended you looked at yourself in the snapchat camera, makeup still in place just as you hoped. you couldn’t tell if the alcohol was clouding your judgment but you were feeling things. all the touching and flirting that had gone on over the last hour had your mind spinning.

“fuck i need a bathroom. luca come with me, i don’t wanna get kidnapped.” you say with a glimmer in your eye. a smirk grows on the boys face.

“okay, hey guys i’m taking her to the bathroom.” he yells at the group before you drag him off by his wrist.

“what’s got you in a hurry, we’ll still be able to hear it.” he giggles, jogging after you. you find a single stall, family restroom unoccupied. you open the door and pull the brunette inside with you.

“ive been wanting to get you alone all night.” you admit.

“i can’t say i haven’t felt the same way.” he replies, slurring his words. you two were both plastered but you know what they say about drunk words. in an instant, the boy pushes you by your biceps against the cold cinderblock wall, attaching your lips hastily and sloppily. your hands find their way into his hair, gripping at the strands as he swipes his tongue over your lip begging for entry. you swear hours pass by before he backs away.

“you look so fucking sexy tonight y/n.” he smirks as you two find your way to the sink.

“fuck you make me so horny.” you mutter, squeezing your thighs together as he picks you up and places you on the counter. your short skirt gave him easy access to your throbbing core, running fingers over your soaked panties and sucking them clean.

“god you taste so good.” he smirks, reconnecting your lips again, giving you a taste for yourself. he pulls away with hazy eyes, squatting down quickly and pulling your panties to the side.

“oh my fucking god.” you yell at the contact. his tongue twisted your already swollen bud in circles, sucking and rubbing it in a rhythmic fashion.

“fuck.” you say, gripping onto the boys hair as you finished, quicker than you could’ve imagined. he stands back up, his face soaked in your cum.

“you’re fucking incredible.” he says and you grab him by his shirt, which you unbuttoned hastily after you aggressively reattached your lips. he helped you finish the job as he pulled away, unbuttoning his denim shorts and pulling his throbbing cock out as quickly as he could. you stared at his tip as it leaked with precum and the pure size of him. he rubbed himself harder with a few strokes before looking back up at you.

“fuck me luca. please.” you beg and he instantly caves, pushing himself into you, his hands pressed against the mirror as he pushed into you for the first time. you moaned at the sensation. his tip hit the sweet spot buried deep inside you without even trying.

“god.” you moan out and he grunts. he thrusts into you deep and hard as he pounds into you at a decent speed. your moans snapping a high pitch after the first few thrusts. the music was quickly drowned out by the sounds of your yelps in a bathroom with poor acoustics.

“such a good girl taking me like this.” he smirks at you.

“you feel so good, god lu.” you say, your fingers gripping the hair on the back of his head.

“do you think anyone can hear me?” you ask.

“i fucking hope so.” he smirks, sloppily landing his lips back on yours as he stretches you out with every thrust.

“get down and bend over for me pretty girl.” he simply requests and you do so, resting your stomach on the edge of the counter. he pushes your skirt up further.

“look at that ass, god damn.” he says spanking you once before placing a gentle hand on your, now bright red, ass cheek pushing himself back into you. he grabs onto your hips pulling you onto him as he thrusts. your eyes roll into the back of your head with overstimulation, your sweaty hand slapping onto the mirror for better stability. he pounds into you at an unforgiving speed, wanting to get a good climax out of it. he wraps his hand around your hair, pulling you up flush against his chest as he continues his quick thrusts into you, turning you from moaning to practically yelling. gently he wrapped a hand around your throat as you looked in the mirror at the two of you. your mascara now smeared around your eyes, his cheeks red and forehead dotted with beads of sweat from the steamed bathroom.

“look at you, taking me so fucking good huh?” he asks, making eye contact with you in the mirror. he bucks into you sharply, a yelp leaving your mouth in an instant. carefully, he picks you back up, placing you on the counter. you could tell by the speed that he was getting closer, but the fact of the matter was that you were even closer. he pushes back into you easily sliding back in, a sensation you could never get used to. the way he hit your sweet spot was almost more intoxicating than all the alcohol you drank that lead you to this moment.

“fuck luca, i’m gonna come.” you moan, your nails digging harshly into his back, your speech broken up by his spastic and deep thrusts. moments later, you feel your body relax as a knot came undone in your abdomen. he fucked you right through your high into his own climax. spilling his seed deep inside you. he pressed his forehead to your chest as the two of you sat, gasping for air for a few moments. he runs his fingers through the salty mix of your climaxes between your legs attempting to somewhat clean you up, his drunk mind not thinking about the toilet paper that sat on the back of the toilet 2 feet away from you. you grab his hand and suck his fingers clean, surprising him and showing him that you swallowed every drop of the nasty mixture.

“fucking god y/n you’re gorgeous, let me help you down.” he says, tucking himself back in his pants, lending his hands for you to hop off the counter. you pull your panties back over your sensitive core, and tug your skirt down.

“lu, can you help me fix my makeup.” you whine, referring to the black streaks that formed around your eyes.

“yes baby, hold still.” he says, your heart fluttering at the pet name. he licks he thumb, gently wiping away the mess from around your eyes.

“how does that look?” he asks as you turn around.

“good enough.” you giggle turning back around.

“luca your hair. i’m sorry.” you giggle as he smiles, wrapping his strong arms around you.

“i don’t care about my hair.” he says as you press your cheek to the warm skin of his chest.

“we should go back.” you say patting him on the chest.

“yeah they’re probably getting suspicious by now.” he giggles, taking your hand and unlocking the door, seeing a long line outside the bathroom. the two of you chuckle as you jog past the impatient people in line, back to your spot on the lawn.

“you missed like 6 songs, where the fuck were you gu- oh.” rutger started before getting a good look at you two.

“what?” you ask.

“oh nothing.” he giggles, whispering to his girlfriend who he stood next to.

“girl where did you go?” franks girlfriend asks, tugging you away from luca’s side.

“i had to uh-“ you start and then turn around to see luca dapping up his teammates, clearly spilling what had gone on in the bathroom, “we fucked.”

“in the bathroom?” jacob’s girlfriend says interrupting.

“yeah we did.” you smirk.

“well was it at least good?” frank’s girlfriend asks.

“oh my god yes. his dick is so big, i don’t think i would wanna fuck anyone else like ever again.” you giggle with them, your drunkness seeping back into your vocabulary.

“you guys would be cute, i see the vision.” she says stepping back and looking at both of you.

“i think we would be too, not to be vain or anything.” you joke.

“go for it babe, luca doesn’t fuck just to fuck. or at least that’s what jacob’s told me. he fucks to date.” she says nudging you on the arm.

“honestly i probably will go for it, let’s see how this goes, hey lu?” you call out, catching his attention instantly. he walks over, hugging you to his side.

“what’s up?” he asks, his thumb grazing over the fabric of your skirt.

“maybe you guys are right.” you laugh and he appears confused. the two of you enjoy the rest of the concert, hugging onto each other and singing your hearts out for the final few songs.

“everyone’s asleep.” luca giggles as you pulled back into the driveway.

“awe look at them so cute.” you reply.

“are you gonna regret what we did tonight?” he asks, his voice in a whisper.

“not in the slightest.” you say placing a hand on his cheek and connecting your lips softly for a moment.

“you have no idea how badly i wanted to hear you say that.” he smiles as you pull away slightly.

“i can’t let anyone else have that dick or that hair. or just that boy in general.” you say locking eyes with him. instead of replying he reconnects your lips once again, the kiss lingering for a what seems like an eternity. an eternity that you hoped would never come to an end.

“we should wake them up.” you whisper on his lips.

“yeah probably.” he smiles, pecking your lips one last time before waking everyone up to come inside.

#luca fantilli #luca fantilli smut #luca fantilli x reader #luca fantilli imagine #umich hockey #umich imagine #umich boys #hockey imagine #hockey smut #turcs’ talk

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katyawriteswhump · 16 days

Text

(You’re just) too good to be true

For @astrangersummer week 3 prompts, flowers and/or hugs. Thanks to bananas and yesdanger on discord for the extra prompts to get me going. I have tried to get as many in as possible.

Summary: Steve wakes up in hospital after everything is over and can’t quite believe how well everything has turned out…

Rating: T. WC: 1460 CW: None. Other tags: Steddie, platonic stobin, angst, sickfic, hurt/comfort, temporary amnesia, fix-it fic, everybody lives.

…

Steve flutters his eyes open and spies Robin sitting by his bed. Mascara streams down her face, and her hair’s a literal disaster zone.

“Steve! You’re awake!” She grabs his hand. “You’re gonna be okay. The doctor should be here any minute.”

Doctor!?! Where the heck am I?

His throat proves too dry for words. Robin garbles way too fast for him to understand and she’s wringing his fingers ever tighter.

If she’s touching me, I guess it can't be rabies.

His memory triggered, the shitshow slams back. First, the bats, the bites. Then everything that happened after, until they journeyed again into the Upside Down to try to kill Vecna.

Oh hold on, scratch that.

To fail to kill Vecna.

Staring blankly through Robin, he fixates on the terrible parts. Eddie lying bloodied and dead in Dustin’s arms. Dustin sobbing his eyes out. Max was pretty much lost too, and Vecna was alive, gone to ground, and…

What happened next? Why am I in a hospital bed? Jesus, I was fine!

There’s one of those IV thingies in his arm. He shivers though can’t tell if he’s cold or hot. The doctor arrives, jostles him, talks at him, shines lights in his eyes. He’s not in pain, but his brain is all woolly, and he’s confused and weak and lost.

He needs a hug more than ever in his life. Robin peeps at him over the doctor’s shoulder, bouncing like a spooked bunny-rabbit, then she’s gone.

It’s all too much.

He quits, sinking back into the darkness.

…

When Steve next pries an eyelid open, he spies Eddie breezing into the hospital room. Eddie joins Robin, who has moved to the window to pick at her nail polish.

Eddie is gone, which means… Oh, no, no, no, no, no! I’m dead too? Or dreaming?

His throat is achy and tight. He closes his eyes again, hot tears welling. More memories trickle back.

“Make him pay,” Eddie had said.

He recalls that last, lingering look between them. The one that slammed him like a freight train, because... Wtf? For some strange reason, that moment doesn’t feel like the end of a story anymore.

It feels like a beginning. Which is just dumb.

Eddie is no more.

He peeps again, watching a dude who is very definitely Eddie pouring bottled water into a vase of flowers on the windowsill. Robin seizes the bottle from him: “What are you doing, shit-bird? Those are silk—his mom brought them. They don’t need water.”

“Riiiight.” Eddie pulls a silly face, which Steve finds freakish levels of adorable. Suddenly, he wants to crush Eddie to him, tell him that he’s insanely happy he’s here, even if this is some crazy dreamworld, and…

… he wants to shove his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and kiss him stupid.

Huh?

Steve licks dry lips. Most bewildering of all, he somehow knows how awesome kissing Eddie is. As if they’ve done it before.

More than once.

Eddie sneezes dramatically. “If those flowers are fake, I’m allergic to WASP chintz. Which checks out, I guess.”

Robin laughs, though it’s sad and nervy. He catches a glimpse of Eddie’s bambi eyes, and they’re anxious, haunted, too. Then Lucas and Max walk in.

MAX? She’s in a coma!

Steve’s head throbs miserably from trying to make sense of this mad place.

He quits and drifts back to the darkness.

…

When he next peeps, Robin and Eleven are sitting by his bed, sharing a packet of cool ranch doritos.

Which makes less sense than ANY OF IT.

Robin’s gotten real picky lately about sharing food. At least, with anybody but him. He’s vaguely pissed, because these two hardly know each other. The way they’re huddled on the same chair, like close buddies, suggests otherwise.

Yeah, he’s vaguely pissed. And kinda jealous. He sort of hates himself for being needy... but he really wants that hug.

Then another memory flashes back. Some alien desert landscape, with Eleven blasting Vecna with everything she’s got. Eddie sprinting toward him—tailed by what looks like a medium-to-large demogorgon with at least a dozen extra flailing limbs—and Robin yelling, “Steve! El’s got this—help Eddie!”

He finally forces his eyes wide enough for them to see he’s watching. “R-Robin?” he croaks.

“Steve!” She leaps to her feet, nearly knocking El and the chair flying. “You’re really, actually awake this time? Please say yes.”

There’s noise and confusion. The doctor arrives again, checks Steve’s vitals, then bitches that there’s too many kids in the room: “It should be family only,” she says.

“We’re his family,” argues Robin. “His parents only come during official visiting hours.”

Robin is allowed to remain. She helps him sip water, and then he says, “Look, I think was dreaming earlier, or off my head on meds, because I saw you with Eddie, and I know that’s impossible, because…” He swallows hard, mumbles the hateful words: “He's gone, right?”

“Oh my God, you don’t remember?”

“Jesus, Robin! Remember what?”

“We won, Steve. Everyone lived. We even got Crissy back. Vecna’s the only one who’s history. If you hadn’t got hurt, it would’ve been the perfect revenge.”

This time, he manages to take more of her story in. He gets lost in the part where Robin and Dustin figure out time travel—some crazy shit about the proximity of alternate dimensions causing rumples in the space-time continuum. The rest of her tale unleashes a slew of badass memories that squish all the terrible ones into the dirt. Instead of Eddie being dead, he recalls…

“You and Eddie totally slayed this nasty-ass demo-squid-monster,” says Robin. “It got pretty intense, and when you survived, you had, like, an EPIC hug. Aaaand might’ve kissed. Then, later, you threw yourself at Eddie to save him from flying debris, then you rolled into a crater, and he wound up on top, and…”

Steve suddenly recalls that moment vividly. Eddie straddled his hips, and his own hands landed not entirely accidentally on Eddie’s butt. Once they’d gathered their breaths, Eddie leaned forward, swiped hair from his face, and whispered:

“About what you said to Wheeler. If you still want to win her back, that’s fine, I’ll back off, but… just so you know, six kids is cool with me, Stevie. Not like we need to adopt. When you’re around, they simply rock up.”

“So, yeah,” Robin says, ripping Steve from these mind-blowing revelations, “it took us half a dozen attempts to get things right. In the final boss-fight, it was just you, me, Eleven and Eddie. We were lost in the Upside Down for weeks, before we exploded Vecna into a billion disgusting pieces. Because you're you, you were closest, got caught in the blast. You lost a lot of blood, but all important appendages are still present and correct, including, um… any important appendages you were particularly worried about. Not that I’m saying you were, but… Ugh!” She facepalms. “This so isn’t where I meant to go with that.”

He faintly smirks. “You dug that hole, not me, Buckley.”

“No need to gloat. You’re gonna be fine. Everyone is going to be just fine.”

It’s still too much to take in. One question bugs him the most: “Eddie and me, erm… How far did we..?”

“I didn’t stand there and count the bases, Dingus! He’ll be back in five. Ask him. But, you know, there was talk of picking out rings, getting matching tats and—”

“You’re kidding?”

“A bit. Seriously, by the third week, you two seemed chill. Happy. I really hope you remember it all soon.”

He takes a beat. Warmth pools in his chest, because everything Robin says sure as heck feels true. He gives her hand a little pulse, and their fingers intertwine.

“Robin,” he says. “At the risk of sounding downbeat, it’s all a bit too perfect. I’m kinda worried I’m dead.”

“Oh! You’re really, really not. I’m all sticky and gross 'cos I was here all night, but… would a hug help?”

He nods, levers himself up a little, suppressing a wince at the effort. He wraps the arm unencumbered by the IV around her, and she awkwardly cuddles him. He rests his cheek on her bony shoulder, and breathes deeply, while she rubs juddering circles in his back.

She’s sweaty and clumsy and real.

“You’re not dead, I promise,” she whispers. “If you were, I’d be so mad with you, after all that effort to fix things. Besides, you still got hurt, and we were all out of time travel opportunities. Long story. Anyhow, it's been hell, till the doctors said you’d be okay, and even then… We’ve been so scared.”

Her trembling shakes through him. He tries not to sniffle, but he can't seem to help it. Everyone survived. Eddie’s alive. Eddie and he are…

His heart gives a crazy squeeze that says everything he needs to know.

“As soon as you’re out of here,” whispers Robin, “this summer is gonna be the best ever.”

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

#steddie #steve harrington #stobin friendship #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #a stranger summer #eddie munson lives

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notjustjavierpena · 9 months

Note

OKAY HEAR ME OUT Husband Javier and the reader are fighting the whole day but trying to repress it because of their kids- After they're asleep the two are arguing again and then boom makeup sex 😋 thank you angel !!!!

Fight

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This request literally had me up all night, and now it has come to life and possibly turned into one of the most sensual pieces I’ve ever written. I’m obsessed with them.

Summary: You feel overlooked and unappreciated. Javier says the wrong thing and hell breaks loose, but he also knows how to say sorry.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (mdni!), domestic life and dynamic, grownups being assholes to each other, hurt/comfort, saying sorry to each other and to your kids because I’m healing my inner child, crying, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, passionate and rough sex, MAKEUP SEX!!!, clit stim, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, love love love, they are just crazy about each other

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49596877

Fight

Chucho Peña is coming over tomorrow and that’s fine.

You’ve made plans to make plans at this point though. The list of things you need to do before he arrives still gets longer every time you have a moment to think about it to yourself, teeny tiny details adding up to a day that’ll keep you busy from the moment you wake up. It would have been fine if you didn’t have to get the kids out of bed and prepared for school, and then go to work too, right on top of cleaning, shopping, cooking, and hosting — at 34 weeks pregnant.

Javier is Javier about it, reassuring you that it will be fine and that you just need to take a breath whilst he stands in the door to the garden, back towards you and smoking his morning cigarette whilst you try to tell Inés that she should have cornflakes instead of lucky charms for breakfast.

“Oh,” Javier says after stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray that Lucas has made for him in arts and crafts class. He turns around and rests against the doorframe, “Can we have that chocolate cake you made last time? The one with the white chocolate frosting?”

You never personally thought that you’d ever get into an argument about chocolate cake. If you’d said this to the child version of yourself, she would have laughed out loud and told you that nobody could ever be angry about anything to do with dessert. Especially not chocolate desserts. Yet here you are, letting your fatigue get the better of you.

“Sure,” you let out a loud sigh, dragging it out to really let your husband know that you are not happy about his input, “Sure, Javi, I’ll just add it to my ever-growing list of things I need to do for your father.”

You hear it as soon as it leaves your mouth but you’re too stubborn to backtrack, watching Javier go rigid in the door. He furrows his brow in confusion, and then his expression turns into a frown and eventually a scowl. He doesn’t look downright angry but not happy either.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks defensively, body language telling you that he is getting ready for another attack. He enters the kitchen like he is walking on eggshells, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I only asked you if we could. You have every right to say no, and not be pi—“

Inés looks up at him with big brown eyes that are similar to his own. He swallows down the word, replaces it with something more child-friendly, “And not be rude about it.”

“Say no and watch you be a giant toddler about it? Great, I’ll definitely choose that,” you scoff, running on autopilot and clearing the kitchen counter whilst you argue. Out of the corner, you see Inés starting to squirm in her seat but you’re too far gone by now, “It’s not even my father, and I have to do everything for the preparation because you’re oh-so-important.”

“So we’re just never having my dad over ever again?” Javier seethes, mouth twitching in anger and threatening to put on a violent smile. He has some kind of ability to piss you even more off when he is just about to smile during arguments.

“That’s not what I said, and that’s not the point,” you stubbornly bend down, hand on your round belly, to put your own plate into the dishwasher. Sebastian is due soon, kicking you as your pulse rises due to anger. Javier looks like he is contemplating whether to help you straighten again or not.

“Then what is the point?”

With a hand on the edge of the kitchen counter, you manage to stand upright once more. You face Javier, finally scowling right back at him and he seems to shrink a little underneath your fury, “I’m exhausted, Javier. When do you think I have had a night to myself? I know you have a busy schedule, I do, but God—“

You drag the last word out, running a hand through your hair in frustration, “But you went out with Steve just days ago. I need to cook, clean, do the grocery shopping, take care of two kids, and - by the way - do it all with someone kicking my bladder every goddamn minute of the day. Which - by the way - is your doing.”

There is no reason to sound as venomous as you do, but you suspect that half of it is exhaustion and the other half is hormones getting the better of you and ridding you of better judgment.

“Fine, you win,” Javier makes a display of holding his hands up in surrender but he mixes it with a roll of his eyes, and you almost go for his throat, “I’m a terrible husband.”

“Oh, you did not ju—“ You raise your voice.

Suddenly, you hear sniffling beside you. It pulls you right out of your head and makes you observe your surroundings, and with the way that Javier flinches, it seems to be doing the same to him.

Inés' little voice breaks your heart, the sight of her even more so when you see she has covered her ears with her hands, “Mamá. Why are you yelling at Papá? Don’t you like each other anymore?”

Javier sends you a look that makes your stomach drop, something that tells you that you are not done here. He looks absolutely furious with you, especially after seeing his daughter cry.

But then he sucks in a deep breath and crosses the room to crouch down beside Inés. He rubs her back soothingly, “Nos gustamos mucho, mija.”

Your legs have made you join them before your brain can even get the idea. Ever so gently, you run your hand over Inés' hair, “I’m so sorry, baby. We won’t shout anymore. Sometimes we get bad feelings. Remember when we talked about those?”

Javier looks at you with his mouth still a thin line and you glare back at him without Inés seeing. He straightens to get a piece of paper towel, first dabbing his daughter’s eyes and then blowing her nose afterward.

Lucas Peña peeks into the kitchen from the hallway. He looks like someone who has just woken up, hair sticking out in the same way that his father’s sometimes does, but it’s accompanied by a concerned expression on his face as he watches the scene in the kitchen, “Why were you fighting?”

“We weren’t fighting,” you reassure and hold out your arm. Lucas goes to press into your side, and you respond to his affection by resting a hand on his head, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucas replies but he doesn’t sound convinced.

From the outside, it probably looks like the perfect family portrait but you can feel Javier is fuming underneath the surface. He leaves Inés’ side to throw the snotty paper towel out, his shoulders still tense.

“Lucas, can you take your sister into the bathroom and brush your teeth?” You say as neutrally as you can muster, faking a smile down at him as he looks up at you, “I’ll be right there.”

“What about breakfast?” He asks.

“I’ll make you a sandwich for the bus ride. Whatever you want, but we’re already late,” you tell him, and it seems to work as he takes Inés’ hand in his own and leads her out of the room.

When Javier and you are alone again, an uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. Javier stands against the counter, palms flat on its surface and you can hear the sound of the clock in the background, ticking by as the silence stretches.

You are just about to apologize when Javier turns around. His eyes are wild with fury, not at all as submissive as just moments earlier when you had been the angry one. He points at you, mustache twitching with disgust that you are sure must be directed at himself too, because he says, “Never in front of the kids. I don’t care how angry you are. We don’t do that.”

You can feel your bottom lip tremble.

Javier leaves the kitchen instead of comforting you.

You force a smile, trying your hardest to sound cheerful while tears spill down your cheeks, “Lucas, what do you want on your sandwich?”

The rest of the day goes by without any resolve, and it feels like there’s a brick lying heavy on your chest and making you on the verge of tears all day. Despite this, you manage to get everything on today’s list done before dinner and yes, you buy the ingredients for the stupid chocolate cake, making an effort to ‘casually’ leave the recipe on the counter for Javier to see. It results in him emptying and refilling the dishwasher without a word.

During your bedtime routine, Lucas looks worried. He tugs at your hand when you are just about to leave and you can see the cogs turn in his head as he strings together a sentence, “Mom… It’s okay if you and Dad were angry at each other. I just don’t like it when you cry and… and I want you to say sorry. That’s what you make me do when I get angry at you or Dad. Or Inés.”

Your heart hurts from the love that’s barely able to be contained inside of it. With every single muscle in your body being strained, you manage to bend down to hug his head close to your chest, “Mijo.”

“No, don’t be sad,” he says quickly, hugging you back.

“I’m not, baby. These are good tears because I love you so much,” you kiss his head, “I’m so proud of being your mom, baby. You know this, right?”

Lucas pulls back and you quickly wipe your tears away. He studies your face for a second, “Y-yes, I love you too, Mom, but you need to say sorry to Dad.”

You nod, struggle a little as you try to get up and say your final goodnight. On the way out, you desperately brush more tears out of your face because looking at the photos in the hallway makes them well up in your eyes once more.

Javier is tying the strings of his pajama pants as you enter your shared bedroom. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you strip yourself naked except for your underwear, and not even when you pull a tank top over your head that’s barely covering your pregnant belly anymore. You’re unsure of what to say to get a reaction from him. The silence screams.

“I’m sorry,” you eventually settle for.

Javier turns to you then. His eyes rest on you for a moment before he speaks, “I’m sorry too. I get it… wanting time to yourself. I just didn’t know that was what you needed.”

He is hugging you soon after, strong arms around your exhausted frame. Your round stomach bumps against his flat one, and he lets go with one arm in favor of resting a hand where Sebastian usually kicks during the evening hours. It’s thankfully quiet right now, as if he senses that you need it.

“I wish you could just see how much invisible work I put into this house,” you say softly into his shoulder, “I feel so underappreciated and overwhelmed sometimes.”

“And I wish you would tell me how you’re feeling instead of treating me like a damn mind reader,” he sighs deeply, and you respond by getting defensive again. You’re just about to pull away with an annoyed groan.

“No, no, c’mere,” he tugs you back into his arms and you let him because you’re feeling generous. His hands cradle your face, “I don’t wanna fight. Please. I hate fighting with you. I’m sorry.”

“You make me so furious,” you whine as he bumps your nose with his own, feeling tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and one sliding down to drip from your chin. Javier tuts, catches it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, baby,” his mouth curls downward as he says it, puppy dog eyes on their highest setting, “I know how much you do. I do. I’m just— you know how I am. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Javier embraces you once more as you blink tears away, dragging in a deep breath. The air in the bedroom smells like him, comforting and safe, and it makes it hard to keep concentrating on your fight and easier to fall into him.

“I love you,” you mumble into his shoulder, and holy fuck, you do - every single day, hour, minute and second. He is your best friend, your husband, the face of your children, and most importantly, you know that he does his best for you.

It seems that those three words are exactly what he wants to hear because you feel his hands curl around the hem of your tank top. You don’t protest, relishing in the gentle touch of his fingertips against your back as he pulls the piece of clothing up and over your head.

Your shoulders come down to relax from having been tensed up. You haven’t even noticed how much energy you have been using on straining your muscles, but now that you are calming again, you can feel how upset you’ve actually been throughout the day.

“I love you too,” he promises. Your heart drums in your chest. The way he says it makes arousal burn below your belly button, a gentle tingling, and swirling sensation pleasantly taking over your whole pelvic floor.

You look down between the two of you to see that Javier is already half-hard in his pajama pants, words seemingly having had the very same effect on him too. You start untying the strings of his pants slowly until you can tug them down over his hips, and he mirrors you to remove your underwear.

Both of your bottoms pool around your feet, and when you have both stepped out of them, Javier pulls you close by your elbows. He catches your mouth in a desperate kiss, and you melt into him in a way that an apology could never make him feel.

He pushes you back towards the bed whilst never breaking the searing kiss. Your hair is a mess in his hands, heartbeat speeding up as everything moves so fast from then on out; he helps you down onto the bed like the gentleman he is, manhandles you onto your side like the man you were swept off your feet by years ago and finally presses his front up against your back.

“I want you,” you say in unison, and it makes you giggle at how in sync you are with each other despite having spent the day fighting over something already long forgotten. Especially when his arm scoops underneath you to cage you against his chest, hand tightening around your shoulder to hold you in place.

Javier leans over you slightly to kiss the giggles away, bends your knees a little with his free hand so he can let it wander over you. He touches you up along your thigh as you place a pillow under your pregnant belly, takes his time holding you tightly, “Get hotter and hotter every day, mi amor.”

You press your ass back into his crotch, cunt throbbing with impatience as you hear the tiny groan that he lets out. He is so hard against the roundness of your behind, cocktip leaking steadily against your warm skin when he grinds right back into you.

“Put it in,” you plead softly. Your hands come up to grip his forearm that is secured just above your tits, “Javi, please. I need it so bad.”

He is silent behind you as he works. The anticipation is unbearable when it is mixed with the unnerving need to have an outlet for all the intense emotions that you have just been through, your pussy quivering in desperation to be deliciously stretched out to transform your feelings into something physical.

Suddenly, you feel the thick head of his cock between your thighs and you ready yourself for intrusion. Luckily, he doesn’t make you wait, guides himself into you in a slow motion until he is fully sheathed inside you.

“Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can, nails digging his arm from how hard you are gripping it.

“I know, ahh fuck, shhh,” he soothes but the way his voice sounds makes you believe that he is just as close to losing his mind, “Be quiet, baby. Just let me make you feel fucking amazing. Need a pillow between your knees too?”

You nod, and he is right there with his own pillow to help you get even more comfortable in bed with him. God, why were you even fighting? Something about cake? Either way, it seems beyond ridiculous.

His nose is in your neck, his hand travels up to cup your breast and then he moves his body for a very first thrust inside of you. It makes your eyes nearly roll back into your skull when he keeps the pace lazy and deep, barely pulling out with each roll of his hips.

“You feel so good,” he praises whilst mouthing along the most sensitive spot on your neck, “Makes me never wanna leave. Wanna live here.”

“Inside me?” You chuckle breathlessly.

“Forever,” he gives you a slightly harder thrust, the first where the noise of his skin slapping against yours resonates through the bedroom. You moan in surprise, and he hushes you once more, “Don’t let them wake up and think momma is in pain.”

“Definitely not in pain.”

Javier lets out the quietest laugh. It’s almost unfair how good he is at keeping it down compared to you, but you don’t think you’ll mind having his big palm cover your mouth if you end up causing trouble. It almost happens when he pinches an overly sensitive nipple, making it harden immediately under his touch.

“Help me spread my legs a little more,” you beg at a low decibel.

The hand on your tit gropes obscenely and shakes for a moment before it slips down and caresses your belly on the way. Still lying on your side, he smacks the fleshiest part of where your ass and thigh meet before he cups the back of your knee so he can lift.

The move gives you the access you need to rub your cunt, two fingers going in taut little circles around the swollen nub. You rock with him too, and it goes on until you come with your back arched, releasing a short and hot breath that you didn’t notice you had been holding until it turns into a loud and accidental moan.

“That’s my girl,” he moans too as you clench rhythmically and choke his dick when you release the built-up tension. When your orgasm reaches its peak, Javier’s hand on your shoulder moves to cover your mouth at the fear of you making enough noise to have the door burst open with unwelcome visitors, “I know it’s hard, mi vida, but - shit - but be quiet.”

You take the opportunity to let out a drawn-out and helpless cry into his hand as the sweet pleasure goes on for a few moments more. Then you slump, and he gently moves your leg down again to put less strain on your body.

“My God,” he talks into your ear, thrusts never slowing down and you swear that you can feel his cock jump with every weak noise you make, “I love you so much. Love your little cunt too, she takes me so well.”

Javier’s hand comes down to grip the extra pounds on your hips. He tugs at the flesh almost painfully, but your exhaustion and dopamine overload are making you too delirious to notice that it’s to the point of bruising. He holds tight and uses the grasp that he has on you to pull you down onto his cock over and over.

It takes no time to make a second orgasm stir in the pits of your stomach. Your moans change once more as your body starts responding to him fucking you so hard.

“You think you can come again?” He rasps into your ear, and when the head of his cock slides teasingly over your favorite little spot inside of yourself, you nod frantically and it feels like you are about to cry actual tears. Fuck yes, you can come as many times as he wants.

“Mhm, won’t take long,” you whimper and use all your willpower to lift your leg over your husband’s thigh until you are spread widely. Your belly is still comfortably supported in the new position, but now that your front is stretched taut and fully exposed like a well-trained and submissive animal, it enhances the feeling of Javier gliding over your g-spot repeatedly.

Javier removes the arm that he has caged you in with, but whereas it gives you a moment to heave a breath of air into the very bottom of your lungs, he quickly takes it away from you as he reaches up with his other hand to grab your throat. He doesn’t squeeze like he normally would when you are not pregnant, but the anticipation of him doing it makes your head swim.

And then he is absolutely brutal in his thrusts, and before you know it, you are coming with your clit untouched and a strangled sob. The convulsions are so intense that your thighs shake, your toes curl and your eyes screw shut.

You reach up to put your hand on the back of Javier’s head, holding on tightly as he pounds into you from behind throughout your orgasm. The way he pants tells you that he is close, and when you yank the tiny curls at the nape of his neck, he starts to chase his release.

“Javi,” you whisper loudly as he slams into your sensitive cunt, “Give it to me. Pleasepleaseplease. Need you to fill me up.”

“Fu— oh shit,” Javier swears in a low, rough growl as he snaps his hips a few last times before stilling inside of you. He feels impossibly big inside your cunt as he pumps you full of his come, cockhead resting at your cervix and coating you in warmth.

“Jesus, we’re terrible at being quiet,” you whisper as he pants. You let your leg come down onto the other once again, a giggle suddenly building up in your chest. He starts laughing whilst still inside of you, hugging you tightly into his chest and nuzzling his nose into your cheek.

“They sleep through it, don’t gotta worry about it much anymore, I think,” he notes without care, kissing your cheek repeatedly despite still not having calmed his breath. You smile widely as you stare at the ceiling, overtaken by the love you feel for him every time he gets you to post-orgasmic bliss.

“We need a date night soon though, Jesus. Perhaps Pop could take the kids home with him tomorrow after dinner and I could… do this again,” he smacks your ass playfully, then strokes your hip in soothing circles, and you almost purr like a cat at the gentle move, “Without a mute button on my pretty wife’s mouth, of course.”

“I’d like that,” you say with a soft and sweet sigh, acknowledging his attempt to make things from earlier up to you, “Been a while since you’ve made me scream. Wanna take our time.”

Javier reaches down between you to pull out before he is completely soft. You hiss at being left empty when you are so spent, but Javier quickly distracts you with another string of kisses to your cheek and the corner of your mouth. He adds to the fantasy, “And then I’ll draw you a bath and you can spend as much time alone as you want. Don’t gotta be no one to anyone.”

He moves on the bed as far as his arm that’s trapped beneath you allows him, going for the packet of wet wipes you keep on the nightstand. He had suggested them when it had become too hard during your third trimester for you to get out of bed after sex. He hands you a few and you hold them over your mound, enjoying the coolness of them.

“You know the way to my heart,” you say, wiggling a little and feeling his come seep out. It makes your nose crinkle.

“Well, I did convince you to marry me,” he replies.

“Worst decision I’ve ever made,” you tease. Javier wraps his other arm around you, hand splayed on your belly.

The position you are in is uncomfortable; Javier’s arm underneath you has got to be asleep by now and you feel damp with sweat due to him being like a furnace against your back.

Still, you both drift off slowly into the soundest sleep. You don’t wake up until two unexpected visitors barge in at the most ungodly hours of the morning, causing you to scramble for the blanket to cover your bodies up and hide the come-stained wet wipes in the nightstand drawer.

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asbealthgn · 1 year

Text

“Tonight is the night,” Nancy says.

She says it with so much gravity that it makes Eddie look up from his spot on the couch, drawing his attention away from the email he’s reading (lyrics from Jeff that he wants input on). He whistles.

“Damn, Nance, you look good,” he says. She has her hair and makeup done and she’s wearing her favorite dress, the one that looks black until the right light hits it and reveals it’s actually purple. Eddie may be as gay as they come, but he can recognize that she looks sexy as hell. “The night for what?”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m going to ask Robin to be my girlfriend.”

“Hell yeah!” Eddie says, putting his hand out for a high-five. She returns it before sitting on the couch next to him. “You have a date tonight?”

“No, remember? It’s the party.”

Right. Nancy spent twenty minutes the other day trying to convince Eddie to come with her to the party that Robin and her housemates are throwing. He refused. He’s met Robin a few times and really likes her—and he knows Nancy is completely head over heels for her—but he’s not big on house parties where he doesn’t know anyone. Especially because it’s a guarantee that Nancy will abandon him immediately to be with Robin.

“Do you think that’s a terrible place to do it?” Nancy asks, “And do you think it’s too soon?”

Eddie shrugs. He’s shit at relationships, so he doesn’t know the rules. “I think you’re fine,” he says, “You guys are clearly crazy about each other. I think you could take her to, like, a sewage plant and ask her to be your girlfriend and she’d still be over the moon.”

She gives him a tiny smile. “Will you please come?” she asks. “I’m just so nervous about it and it would really help to have my best friend there.”

Unfair. She’s giving him her biggest doe eyes. It shouldn’t work on him because he knows she only makes that face when she’s trying to manipulate him. But even though he knows what she’s doing, she’s just so adorable. He can’t say no to her.

He sighs. “God, fine,” he says. He looks down at his worn out t-shirt and hole-riddled sweatpants. “I probably have to change, huh?”

Forty-five minutes later, Eddie is circling the block looking for a spot to park. Normally Nancy drives when they go somewhere together because she hates his driving, but he insisted tonight because he has a feeling that she’s going to end up staying the night and he doesn’t want to be trapped. As they drive, Nancy has been giving Eddie the rundown on Robin’s housemates. There’s Max and Lucas, the couple who are Nancy’s brother Mike’s age. She’s convinced that they would get along really well with Mike and his boyfriend Will, so she keeps trying to figure out an organic way for them to meet. She tells Eddie that she invited them to the party but never heard if they’ll actually be there. Then there’s Steve, Robin’s best friend who works with her at the same library where Robin and Nancy originally met (because Nancy was doing research for a story and had to access the archives for some records that were never digitized). Nancy keeps telling Eddie that she thinks he’s either going to fall madly in love with Steve or hate his guts. So Eddie guesses he’s about to find out which one it’ll be.

He finally finds a spot on the street around the corner. He squeezes his van into the tiny space and puts it in park before glancing over at Nancy. She looks nervous, taking slow, even breaths to steady herself while her hands shake.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand out. She puts her hand in his and he squeezes it tight. “You’ve got this. Robin’ll be a goddamn idiot if she says no.”

She gives him a small smile. “Thank you,” she says, then tosses her shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”

They get out of the van, where Nancy makes him stop so she can fix the collar of his battle vest that’s standing up. It’s a pretty warm night, so he’s had to forgo his favorite leather jacket plus vest combo. Instead, it’s just the vest over top of a Nekrogoblikon t-shirt paired with his favorite black jeans. He feels really underdressed next to Nancy, but she told him it was fine when he showed her the outfit for approval.

Inside, the house is pretty packed. Right away, Eddie sees that Mike and Will made it after all, along with Will’s sister El. They’re all sitting side by side on a couch talking to three people who are sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of them.

“That’s Max and Lucas,” Nancy tells Eddie, pointing out two of the kids on the ground. “Not sure who the other one is.”

As they get closer, Mike glances up and waves. But the group seems pretty engrossed in their conversation, so Eddie and Nancy move deeper into the house.

Eddie feels Nancy clench his wrist. “That’s Steve,” she hisses, nodding significantly in the direction of the kitchen. His eyes find the guy she’s pointing out, ladling punch into a red Solo cup and—

Fuck.

He’s the most beautiful guy Eddie’s ever seen. Nancy way undersold him. He gets that there’s a certain amount of leeway he needs to grant to her as a lesbian since she can’t really tell, but come on. Eddie could be full on blind and still recognize that Steve is unreal. His swooping brown hair catches the last of the setting sun coming in through the window and turns it all shades of honey. His eyes are the same, amber in the dying light. And it’s like his face has been sculpted from stone—not marble—something better than that. Some stone they haven’t invented yet because nothing else currently on this earth could capture him.

Belatedly, he becomes aware of Nancy laughing at him. Somehow, she can always follow his thoughts. Always knows when he’s composing terrible sonnets in his mind. But just as she’s opening her mouth (definitely to make fun of him), Robin appears in front of them. Eddie watches her cheeks flame as she looks Nancy up and down.

“Hi, Nancy!” she says, “Glad you made it!”

“Of course I did!” Nancy says, eyes practically turning into hearts and popping out of her head. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Robin reaches her hands out to grasp Nancy’s. “You look gorgeous,” she says, “I love that dress.”

Eddie can tell this is going to veer into territory where he can’t follow very quickly, so he cuts in. “Hey, Robin, nice to see you.”

Robin blinks at him. “Oh, hey!” she says, “I didn’t see you.”

That was apparent. Not that Eddie’s upset about it. He loves seeing the two girls like this, loves that Nancy has found someone who matches her intensity.

They get through the bare minimum small talk (work is good, yes they all watched that new episode of that show, yes it was crazy), but Eddie can see that Nancy and Robin want to be alone. So he lets Robin drag Nancy away, presumably to her bedroom. And now he just needs to figure out what he’s going to do now that the only two people he knows here are preoccupied.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. He knows Mike, Will, and El. He looks over, but they’re no longer sitting in the living room. He scans the crowd for them and sees Mike and Will have moved to the kitchen (apparently Steve has moved on—that’s unfortunate) where they’re talking to Lucas and the other guy Eddie doesn’t know. Eddie makes his way over to them, stopping by the punch bowl on his way.

“Eddie!” Mike says as soon as he sees him. “Lucas and Dustin here play D&D. Can we invite them to Hellfire?”

Eddie crosses his arms and surveys the two guys, sizing them up. Dustin looks like the type, with a Star Wars shirt and a goofy grin. Lucas looks way too athletic to be into D&D though. Not nearly enough of a loser.

“I don’t know,” he says, “Are you guys any good?”

That causes both boys to launch into tales of their various past exploits on campaigns, apparently not giving a shit that they’re yelling over each other so Eddie can’t tell anything they’re saying. He feels the passion, though.

“Alright,” he concedes, “You can sit in for a session. If you’re good, we’ll let you stick around.”

Whooping, Mike and Will high-five each other, then Lucas and Dustin.

“Where’s your sister?” Eddie asks Will.

Will nods over to an adjacent wall. “Over there talking to Max and Steve,” he says. Eddie follows his gaze and sees the trio. More specifically, his eyes are drawn to Steve. He’s so goddamn beautiful, even in the artificial light now that the sun has disappeared below the horizon.

Well, isn’t this a perfect opportunity? “I’m gonna go say hi,” Eddie says casually, nodding in farewell to Will, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. Then, red Solo cup in hand, he starts heading in the direction of El, Steve, and Max.

In a way, it’s just too damn predictable.

Eddie is walking toward the group, feeling pretty good, doing his best to look cool and nonchalant. He’s about five feet away and Steve glances up, eyes flicking over him. And Eddie’s so caught up in the euphoria of being seen (and maybe admired?) by Steve that he completely misses someone’s purse on the ground. He trips over it, doesn’t manage to right himself, and goes sprawling. To add insult to injury, he doesn’t manage to keep hold of his cup of punch and manages to spill it all over himself and Steve.

Great.

“Fuck, man, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says, hopping to his feet and putting his hands out like he can—what? Wipe away the bright red punch from Steve’s white shirt? God, he’s so stupid.

Steve is looking down at himself in surprise, then back up at Eddie. “It’s cool,” he says. Fuck, his voice is so sexy. Eddie can’t believe that the first thing he did when trying to approach this guy was spill punch all over him. When did he become such a mess?

Max laughs. “I told you not to wear white, dingus,” she says. Steve scowls at her.

“Only Robin gets to call me dingus,” he says. “And you told me not to wear white because you think I look ugly in it, not because you thought I would spill on it.”

Max shrugs. “Different reasoning, same end result,” she says breezily.

Alright, Eddie is definitely gonna need to befriend this girl as soon as he stops wanting to die of mortification. If that happens.

“Seriously, man, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says, “I can, like, buy you a new shirt, or—”

Steve waves him off. “Seriously, it’s cool,” he says, “Honestly, I got this shirt in a pack of five from Target so it’s not a big loss.” He looks over Eddie again. His all black ensemble probably doesn’t reveal the punch as much, but Eddie can feel the wet patches sticking to his skin. “C’mon, I’ll lend you something to change into.”

Not about to complain about the prospect of seeing the inside of Steve’s room, Eddie follows him down the hall and through a door. It’s a nice bedroom, tidy without feeling sterile. There are posters for bands on the wall that Eddie doesn’t listen to but doesn’t disrespect either. An acoustic guitar is leaning against a desk that’s stacked with neat piles of books. There are twinkle lights along the bedframe, giving the room a cheerful glow. And it’s a comfy looking bed, with a thick white comforter and fluffy pillows.

Stop staring at his bed, you absolute creep.

“I’m Eddie by the way,” Eddie says, looking back over at Steve. Who is very shirtless. Apparently having peeled his wet shirt off, he’s now standing facing the closet. Goddamn. The smooth expanse of his back is on display, toned and freckled. Eddie wants to bite it.

Steve looks over his shoulder at Eddie. “Yeah, I know,” he says.

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Steve grins, turning more fully around. Don’t stare at his chest don’t stare at his chest don’t stare at his— “After Robin met Nancy she made a whole ass PowerPoint of her Instagram photos. You’re in some of ‘em.”

Eddie feels a little flustered that Steve knew who he was before Eddie knew him. What did he think? Did Steve think he was good looking? Or was he even paying attention? Then Eddie wrinkles his nose, the rest of the context registering.

“A whole PowerPoint, huh?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs (his shoulders are so pretty, fuck). “Yeah, it’s kinda what we do,” he says, “Anything significant happens, we share it with each other in excruciating detail. And Robbie knows I’m a visual learner so slideshows work pretty well.”

“Fair enough.”

Steve turns back to the closet and rifles through the hangers. “Good news is I think we’re about the same size,” he says. He produces a plain black t-shirt. “Does this work?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” Eddie says (God, he hopes that comes off less horny than it sounds to his ears). “I’m the one who spilled punch all over us.”

Eyes fixed on Eddie’s chest, Steve comes back over. Eddie resists the urge to cross his arms over himself. But obviously, Steve’s just looking at the stains, not him. “Your vest was mostly saved,” Steve says. He touches a spot below one of the buttons on Eddie’s chest, making Eddie’s heart leap into his throat. “There’s a bit, but I think Max has some stuff for stains we can borrow.”

“Cool,” Eddie says. His voice definitely sounds unnatural, and he thinks Steve notices, eyes flicking up to his. Those pretty, pretty eyes. Up close, his eyelashes are so long. And his face is dotted with moles. Eddie wants to touch every one of them. “I’m not really that worried about it,” he chokes out.

Shrugging, Steve hands him the black shirt. And then he just stands there, watching. “Um,” Eddie says. Does Steve really expect him to just strip down right in front of him? He can’t present his incredibly mediocre shirtless self to the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Steve lifts his eyebrows. “What’re you waiting for?”

“Uh, nothing,” Eddie says.

This isn’t weird. Right? It’s only weird if he keeps acting all weird about it. But he can be all cool and casual about this like Steve was. So he shrugs out of his battle vest, draping it over the desk chair along with the borrowed shirt, and then tugs his own shirt over his head. Steve’s standing a little closer than Eddie realized, so his arms bump against him as he untangles them from the shirt. Totally fine, totally normal. Totally not gonna obsess about the feeling of Steve’s skin against his for the next 3-5 business days.

As soon as Eddie has laid his shirt over his battle vest, he feels featherlight fingers brushing over the demon tattoo on his chest. He sucks in a breath, frozen to the spot. What is happening right now?

He risks a glance at Steve, whose eyes are trained on Eddie’s tattoos. “I was curious what these looked like up close,” Steve says, “I should admit I actually have seen you shirtless before. I kind of stalked your Instagram.”

What? That’s not computing. First of all, Steve, most gorgeous man to ever exist, stalked Eddie’s Instagram? Second of all, Eddie has shirtless pics on his Instagram? He doesn’t have the confidence to post that kind of thing. Except no, there is a picture on there from when he went to the beach with Gareth and Jeff a month or two ago. But what? Steve has seen it? And it was significant enough for him to remember?

Steve looks at Eddie, eyebrows furrowing. “Is that creepy?”

“No, but—” Eddie shakes his head. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Steve grins. “I think you’re pretty.”

Maybe Eddie hit his head when he fell. Maybe he’s hallucinating this. Maybe he’s gonna wake up on the floor out there, and Steve calling him pretty will all have been a delicious, far-fetched dream. Because there’s just no way.

“You think I’m pretty,” Eddie says. When Steve nods, Eddie almost laughs. “And have you happened to look in a mirror recently?”

Steve laughs. “Yeah,” he says, “But somehow, I’m not my own type.”

He keeps leaning in closer and it’s making it very hard for Eddie to come up with something intelligent to say. He should make a joke or something to prove that he’s very cool and collected, but his brain turns more and more to static the longer he stares into Steve’s eyes.

“Um,” Eddie says. Clever. What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t usually get this flustered. But then, he doesn’t usually talk to guys who look like Steve.

Steve’s smile is very self-satisfied as those gossamer fingers of his trail down past Eddie’s tattoos and brush over his nipple. Eddie takes in a sharp breath. “You often invite strangers who you’ve been stalking into your room to get ‘em shirtless and feel ‘em up?” he asks, aiming for aloof and entirely missing the mark.

“Hmm, just the ones that spill punch on me,” Steve says, pinching Eddie’s nipple slightly. “And just the ones that I catch staring at me.” He leans in, putting his mouth inches away from Eddie’s ear. “I don’t think you’re as subtle as you think you are.”

Unable to resist any longer, Eddie slides his hands around Steve’s waist. His skin is so smooth, so velvety. “Who says I’m trying to be subtle?” he asks.

Grinning, Steve wraps his free arm around Eddie’s neck and pulls him in. Eddie kisses Steve eagerly. His lips are heavenly, so much softer than most guys Eddie has kissed. He tastes like strawberry lipgloss and punch. And he kisses like they have all the time in the world, which maybe they do. Nancy’s off with Robin somewhere, so there’s no reason Eddie needs to rejoin the party any time soon.

They wind up on Steve’s bed, Steve on his back under Eddie. Eddie gets the fingers of one hand tangled in Steve’s hair. So silky, just like everything else about him. The man defines the word soft. It makes Eddie a little crazy, makes him want to dig his teeth and fingers in, ruin the undisturbed perfection. He goes after Steve hungrily, attacking his jaw and throat and collarbones like he’s starving. Steve seems happy to let him, pulling Eddie’s hips down flush with his and rolling his own hips gently up.

Eddie’s just thinking that he’d be happy to never stop kissing Steve exactly like this when there’s a knock at the door. He pulls away and looks at it while Steve sighs.

“I have to answer that,” he says, sounding resigned.

“You sure you have to?” Eddie asks, brushing the hair back off Steve’s forehead. He looks sort of wrecked, red marks already starting to form on his neck.

Steve nods. “If it’s Robin or Max they’ll just let themselves in after thirty seconds.”

He edges out from under Eddie and crosses over to the door. Eddie feels vindicated that he has to adjust himself in his jeans before opening the door a crack.

“Hey, Robbie,” he says, “What’s up?”

“Steve! I have huge news!” Robin says from just out of sight. “Nancy asked me to be her—wait, why don’t you have a shirt on?”

Steve is forced back as Robin pushes the door open farther and pokes her head in. She looks over at the bed, sees Eddie, and grins. “Oh, that’s why,” she says, mischief in her voice.

“Hey, what’s up?” Eddie says, trying to sound casual.

“Eddie?” He hears Nancy’s voice from the hall, and then her head is appearing in the doorway next to Robin’s. As soon as she sees him, she gives a triumphant laugh. “I knew it!”

Eddie buries his face in his hands, sure it’s burning.

“Alright that’s enough,” he hears Steve say. Then there’s the overlapping protests from the girls before the door clicks shut again.

Removing his hands, Eddie risks another glance and sees Steve coming back over to the bed, shaking his head. He slides onto the mattress next to Eddie and puts his arms around him. “Can you believe them?” he asks, not quite managing to hide his smile.

Smiling back, Eddie pinches Steve in the side. “You sure you should have closed the door on them?” he asks, “Sounds like they had big news.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says, “They can tell us in the morning.”

“Morning, huh? Think we’re gonna be occupied until then?”

Smile turning devious, Steve kisses Eddie once before rolling him onto his back. “I think I can come up with a couple things to keep us busy,” he says.

And as Steve kisses him again, Eddie’s pretty sure he agrees.

#i started this forever ago and finally finished it #so please enjoy <3 #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #ronance #ficlet

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flowercrowngods · 8 months

Text

felt like letting mike and steve work through some shit again

cw: descriptions and imagery of them being lost and self-sacrificing, left alone with trauma they have no means to work through, could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

🤍 also on ao3

“What do you want?” Mike asks when Steve sits down beside him, gravel crunching, their feet dangling over the dark and endless abyss that is the quarry at night.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t really know what to say now that he’s here, now that he found him. He looks so small, now more than ever, and it reminds Steve so painfully that he’s still just a child. He was always just a child, and children shouldn’t—

It feels like they got their rights at a childhood revoked years ago, and then they were just… supposed to be okay with it. It was expected, it was implied when nobody came to talk to them after.

When all they got was one NDA after another. When none of the professionally trained adults took one look at the children that they were, and asked, Are you okay? What do you need to be okay? I will talk to you once a week and make sure you learn how to be okay again.

Steve feels like a big brother to most of the kids now, sure, but he’s not their shrink, and he sucks when it comes to actually talking about shit. He can be there to drive them anywhere, can provide an evening of distractions and as much of a sanctuary as a house as haunted as his can be.

With everything else, though, he’s helplessly lost. So he says nothing, weighs his words to make sure they come out right — especially for Mike, who’s always just waiting for him to say something wrong and throw it back in his face with the sunny disposition of a feral, rabid cat.

“Hey,” Mike says then, irritated again; but his voice is hoarse, too. Tired. No heat behind it after that stupid fight with Dustin and Lucas earlier tonight that made him snap and leave Steve’s house in a frenzy. “I said, What do you want?”

Steve shrugs, looking ahead into the darkness that feels endless and alluring and deeply terrifying.

I miss my friend! My best friend, Mike!

“Making sure you’re okay.”

You’ve changed, you know that? You’re not the guy who would jump off a cliff for me anymore, I don’t think I even know you anymore!

Dustin’s voice echoes in Steve’s mind as it undoubtedly does in Mike’s, too, and he can only imagine how much that hurts, especially if he’s shivering like that even though the night is warm for early September.

“I’m okay,” Mike says, sounding endlessly annoyed about the fact. Steve almost huffs out a humourless laugh. Yeah, right.

“Sure you are,” Steve says, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Mike’s shoulders without a comment, half-expecting him to just throw it into the darkness below. But Mike doesn’t move, is eerily still beside him, pretending not to notice that Steve’s watching him.

“But you know it’s, like,” he starts again and trails off, looking for the right words because this is unfamiliar terrain and the ground beneath his feet is quite literally nonexistent. “It’s fine if you’re not, right? It’s actually really fucking normal to be more than a little fucked up after everything, all that crazy shit. Or just… in general.”

You were twelve, he wants to say. You were twelve and you jumped off from here. You were twelve and you were going to die. And not because of those monsters, not yet. Just because… you were twelve.

Mike doesn’t say anything, but the gravel crunches once more as he reaches for a handful of stones to throw them into the darkness one by one, the void beneath them so enormous that they don’t even hear the noise of impact.

You jumped.

The longer Mike remains silent, the more Steve wants to scream, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to make him see and understand that Steve knows about the scars a decision like that leaves, especially when you live to deal with the consequences.

He gets seizures to deal with the consequences. His ear is fucky, his eye is twitchy, his head is aching constantly, he gets migraines that knock him out for a day or two, all because he wanted to protect his friends. All because he did protect his friends. It worked. They’re safe.

But they’re also unaware of… of everything. Of the horrible stillness as clarity dawns and all signs point to the one way that always seems to work. The one easy way out, and still the hardest of them all when the plan goes wrong and he makes it out alive. When It’s gotta be me is the only thing to say, but later turns into an angry It never should have been me because the world looks different when it’s smeared with your blood.

And it’s always the lost boys who make decisions like that. Steve wonders, some nights in cold sweat, what happens if he makes these decisions without immediate danger. What happens if he just… decides to jump. Decides to run. To give the world more of his blood. Without saving anyone.

It’s not like he wants to — but he’s terrified that it’s just who he is. Who he’s turned into, terrified that his friends will forever expect him to.

And he’s even more terrified knowing that Mike jumped before he learned about monsters. Before he learned about fighting and surviving.

You were a kid, he wants to say again, but his throat is closing up on him.

“I don’t think that’s okay actually,” Mike says after a while, tearing Steve away from his fears. They’re still both looking ahead rather than at each other, but it’s fine. They’re still here. “Like, people say it is, but it feels so empty when they do, you know? Like, sure, yeah, I’m not fucking okay, but what the hell do we do about that now? Oh, right, I know! Let’s throw it in my face that I’m not good enough for you anymore now that there’s no monsters to kill anymore. Now that I’m just Mike, who’s not even enough to be that anymore, sure. Right. Yeah. Let’s pretend it’s all fine, Steve, let’s pretend it’s okay to hurt all the fucking time!”

Mike is shaking now, violent tremors running through his body, and Steve’s first instinct is to reach out and pull him close, to keep him from that edge and take him to his car; turn on the heating and talk there. But Mike seems to need the darkness, seems to need to be faced with endless depth to give voice to his thoughts.

“What Dustin said was messed up. He shouldn’t have said that.”

Mike shrugs, throwing more pebbles into the darkness, though his motions have lost their vigour. “He’s right, though.”

Steve sighs, though not unkindly. “No, he’s not. Hey, listen to me.” He waits until Mike turns to meet his eyes, and he leans forward. “It’s not okay. It’s not right what he said. You don’t deserve to have that shit thrown in your face just because Dustin is a tactless little douche bag.”

Taking a bullet for someone is not the baseline for friendship, he wants to say, and it occurs to him once again how fucked up their perception and idea of friendship must be, now that they’ve all bonded over the most horrific shit and actual grief they never learned how to work through.

It’s not even Dustin’s fault, not really. They’re all just collateral damage to something Bigger, and all they have is each other, leaving them in a vicious cycle that is so, so fucked up.

“Why’d you jump?” he asks eventually, quiet in case the darkness tries to listen in. “Back then, why did you jump?” And do you wish El had let you? Do you sometimes wish that? When your room is quiet and it’s only you living with all those silent, terrible decisions?

Mike shrugs again, but there’s not much fight left in him, Steve can see that, can feel it in the air between them.

“Will was gone,” he says like it explains everything— and it sort of does. Steve has seen the way these boys look at each other when the other’s not looking, he has seen the hurt and the anger and the gentleness stored there, the words unspoken and the fear that, despite interdimensional monsters, kinda goes unmatched.

Because they have each other. They only have each other. And if someone’s suddenly different than what they thought they knew, if someone’s suddenly different, then… Everything might just fall apart.

And Steve wants to grab him again; wants to pull him close and say, I’m the same. We have the same scars. We have the same!

Slowly, carefully, he does lean over now, weaving an arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“I get that.”

Mike swallows heavily and exhales shakily. “I don’t think you do.”

“No. I think I really, really do. But it’s okay, Mike. You won’t be alone with this, okay. I’m on your side, you little shit.”

A pause, a beat, a moment’s respite. Then, “Why?”

“Because,” his heart is racing, his mouth trembling around forming the words for the first time, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Knows it’s important.

Knows it might just save a life.

“Because I fell harder for Eddie Munson than I ever thought possible, and once i found out what was happening, I kind of wanted to jump off a cliff, too. But I didn’t, because I had someone with the same fears as me, and instead of stupid shit we just… Cried together sometimes. Screamed into our pillows. Laughed with and at each other, calling ourselves hopeless, and— I don’t know. It’s really fucking scary, and that doesn’t go away just because you have someone to talk to. But it‘s… better. It’s so much better.”

He huffs, swallowing around the lump in his throat, smiling into the darkness.

“So I’ve got you, okay? Whatever it is, whatever makes you feel like it’s not fucking okay, I’ve got you. You come to me, yeah? Lucas does, Dustin does, even Max does. This is your official, standing invitation and whatever, okay, dickhead?”

Mike shoves at him lightly, still not parting from the rather awkward side-hug they’ve got going on, and Steve is glad for it.

“Okay, okay, geez,” the little shithead says, rolling his eyes which Steve can see even in the dark, and it feels like the edge has moved away from them, like they have solid ground beneath their feet again.

Steve doesn’t say anything more after that, just waiting for Mike to stir to lead him back to the car, load in his bike and take him wherever he feels like spending the night.

But Mike doesn’t move for another long while, and it makes Steve feel like something big has just happened between them. Like they finally have found the common ground that Steve’s been suspecting they had for months now, even years.

Eventually, as they make their way to the car and Mike goes to grab his bike, he speaks up again, but more subdued now.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Does… Does Eddie know?”

“About what?” My tendencies to take a leap off the edge?

“You. Being…”

“Oh!” A smile as he unlocks his car and opens the back door to squeeze Mike’s old bike in there with minimal smears of dirt. “I’d hope so, we’ve been dating for months.”

“You’re dating?! You? Eddie’s dating you?”

“Yeah, listen, do you want me to just leave you here or would you rather be thrown out in the middle of nowhere?”

Mike grumbles something unintelligible as he climbs into the front seat, waiting for Steve to start the engine before he speaks up again.

“It’s just, you’re so… How did you even do that?”

Steve laughs at that, disbelieving and all, because, “Trust me, I have no idea. Must have been the ol’ Harrington charm and all that.”

Mike rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, sinking lower in the seats to pout. “You’re so lame.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over how much I have a boyfriend and you don’t.”

If his heart skips a beat because it still feels like a forbidden truth saying the word out loud despite the playful banter, then he’s ignoring that in favour of revving the engine.

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“Grow up,” Mike says, but Steve can see the smile he’s not even trying to hide, and he mirrors it with his own as he turns on the radio catching the final tunes of Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark.

They’re not okay, none of them. But the car is warm, the cliff’s edge is behind them, and they’re not listening to the same ten songs anymore.

They’re getting better, step by tiny step.

#stranger things fanfic #steve & mike #steve harrington #mike wheeler #steddie #<- mentioned but established #byler #<- implied & yearning #i am projecting HARD with this one #i’m so so convinced steve and mike are directly juxtaposed in their development with very similar trauma #this probably makes sense to no one but me but alas #let them be fucked up while life continues and let them be unable to handle it #i feel like it’s all over the place but if you’ve ever had a single vulnerable conversation then you’ll know this is how they can go #dio words

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