minniture

[minniture]

dilf!kento thinks it's odd just how hot and bothered you get when he does the most mundane of things.

for example, he'll be getting dressed in the morning: hair mussed and eyes dark from the lack of sleep that parenthood brings. fingers working his belt through the loops in his slacks and fastening the buckle just to be startled by you, having leapt out of bed to drop to your knees before him and suck him off right there in the walk in closet.

or, later on, when he's cleaning up the kitchen after sending the kids off to school, and you walk in to find his sleeves rolled up, humming away to himself as he washes dishes in the sink. of course, the look on his face when he turns to find you already sat on the countertop and beckoning him over is as priceless as it is arousing.

or god forbid he starts paying bills. sitting at the dining table with papers scattered in front of him, pen held in his strong hand as those glasses of his slide down the bridge of his nose. god, he's so pretty when he's concentrated, working with numbers like a whore! he shouldn't be surprised when you weave your way between him and the papers to sit on his lap and start working at hooking him out of his pants. so you can sit on his cock and get your fill.

"keep acting like that, sir, and you're gonna be a daddy again."

he's gruff. tired. so fucking sexy. "i'm going over the credit card statement. did you spend five hundred dollars on—"

"mmm stop talking and fuck another baby into me, ken."

and, because you married the right man, a pair of strong arms are already hoisting you up and carrying you to the bedroom. "as you wish, love."

[minniture]

⟡ Honey, Lemons, And Apple Pie ⟡

(Alpha!Doctor!Steve Harrington x Omega!Fem!Reader x Rockstar!Alpha!Eddie Munson)

You’ve always known in your heart and soul that you are destined to be an omega, scent matched to your bestfriend, Eddie Munson. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake that feeling. Even Eddie gave up on you. Even if you are almost 30 and still haven’t presented. But when you meet a sexy, goofy doctor, things change drastically. And fast. It doesn’t help that your past is coming back to haunt you.

Warnings: Angst between Eddie and reader(but he makes up for it I swear and Steve is there being sweet and perfect to soothe the burn), best friends to lovers, alpha!Eddie Munson, Alpha!Steve Harrington, Omega!Fem!Reader, mentions of Reader being in therapy in the past and it’s implied that she has shitty parents, soo much flirty banter, pet names, typical omegaverse behaviors, knotting, scenting, marking, heats, rough unprotected sex, minor Steddie, one mention of blood, spanking, choking, pussy eating, hair pulling, face fucking, Eiffel Tower, cum eating happy ending! WK: 17k💀 18+MDNI!

You’ve made a nice life for yourself. You have a good job at a social media advertising company and you were able to save up enough to buy yourself a small two bedroom house. You have your cat, mochi, and your best friend, Lina. Who's also your personal assistant. You have lunch together every weekday and brunch on Sundays. Your life isn’t boring, per say, it’s comfortable. But no matter what you do to try and make yourself happy and secure you always feel like something is missing. What makes it even worse? Is that you know exactly what that void inside of you is and you have no idea how to fix it. 

Ever since you were old enough to understand what secondary genders were, you knew you were an omega. Everything in your body and soul told you so. But you’re almost thirty years old and you’ve still yet to present. You thought at first maybe you were just a late bloomer, trying anything and everything the doctors suggested to get your omega to come out. Not only did you not want to disappoint your mother who always assumed you’d be an omega because she is. You also knew for a fact in your heart of hearts that your best friend was meant to be your alpha. 

Eddie Munson. He presented when you were both sixteen and you both always assumed you’d follow short after him. You’d never fully crossed the line between friends but you fantasized about and planned your life together, banking on the fact that you’d be each other’s mates. But by the time you were twenty things started to look grim for you. 

Eddie had finally graduated and planned on moving to Chicago with the Corroded Coffin guys. A manager there offered them a shot and there was no way they weren’t going to take it, even if they failed. You weren’t quite ready to leave Hawkins yet, you wanted to stay until your little sister graduated since your parents hardly paid her any attention. It was only two years, you could save up and then go be with Eddie. You’d have to present by then. You just knew it. 

But your sister's graduation came and went and you were still just a beta. Eddie and the guys blew up fast. He was on his first headlining world tour following the release of their second album. But he still video called you once a week and texted you all the time. He still seemed like he had hope that you’d be together one day. That’s why when out of nowhere, on a random Tuesday in mid August, he called you to tell you he had found his scent match you were completely blind sided. 

You didn’t understand how that could be possible when you were Eddie’s scent match. You knew it in your heart and soul. An omega having more than one alpha scent matches is rare, but an alpha having two omega scent matches is essentially unheard of. You felt like your whole world fell apart that day. Suddenly the words of every doctor, every specialist, every peer and even your parents came crashing down on you. Maybe you really weren’t an omega. Maybe it was all in your head. You really questioned your sanity after that. You had a full mental breakdown. It took a lot of therapy, basically brainwashing you into believing what your body was telling you is a lie. Even if you never fully believed it. 

Eventually you were able to get to a point where those feelings of anguish were bearable. You pulled yourself out of that dark abyss and got a job at the local diner so you could save up and still move to the city. Not for Eddie, for yourself. It took years to get yourself to this point where you were comfortable with your life as a beta. A whole decade to be exact. But there is still that little piece inside of you that knows that isn’t true. In your heart you still know that you are an omega. Even if you are almost thirty and still haven’t presented yet. You just need to find out why. 

Although you’ve worked so hard to achieve the life you have now, a big drive for you has always been being able to afford to go and get a full genome mapping done. To see if maybe, just maybe, there really is a reason you haven’t presented yet. And now, you finally can.

You take in a shaky breath as you look up at the sign on top of the large white building in front of you that reads “Omega Specialist and Treatment Center”. Today is the day that will make or break the never ending war waging inside of you. That gnawing feeling that something is just wrong or trapped. If they don’t find anything, you’ll finally accept yourself for what everyone’s always said you are. A beta. But if they do find something? You might be validated for the first time in your life. 

And it’s worth the risk. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

Your nurse is a nice, bright blue haired, beta woman who takes your vitals with a smile. She draws your blood with ease before kindly telling you that “Dr. Harrington” will be in shortly with your test results. You busy yourself by fidgeting and aimlessly scrolling on your phone. You aren’t even really processing what you’re looking at, your thumbs just idly tapping on your screen as your eyes glaze over. You’re so anxious you feel like you’re going to burst out of your skin. 

There’s a soft knock on the door before it pushes open and a whole different type of nerves roll through you. A man who you assume is your doctor walks into the room and he just might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Besides Eddie. You internalize a frustrated sigh at the thought. No matter what you do, you feel like you’ll never fully escape him. But that doesn’t take away from how absolutely gorgeous this man is. 

His perfectly styled, chestnut hair looks silky to the touch and his face is almost unreal. He has soft hazel eyes that instantly make you feel at ease. The pointed slope of his nose causes you have to stop your mind from going somewhere dirty and so do those plush lips, outlined in a thin layer of stubble. Like he hasn’t shaved in a few days. A sharp jaw that looks perfect for kissing and nipping on your way to the side of his neck that looks like it was made for shoving your nose in so you can inhale his scent. 

Which strangely enough, when this alpha walks into the room your senses are flooded with the smell of fresh laundry. There’s a hint of lemon and something sweet, like whipped cream. You’ve never had the ability to scent anyone before though, so he must just have a really nice cologne. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Steve Harrington and I'm going to be going over your lab results with you today.” He smiles at you kindly before sitting on the round rolling chair across from you. “So, you are almost thirty years old and haven’t presented yet.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to stop as it sinks into your stomach and you prepare yourself for the worst. Again. “Give it to me straight, doc.”

“Well, although you haven’t presented, your genes are almost entirely omega.” Your heart subtly beats again and you feel it start to rise back into your chest ever so slightly. “There’s just one gene that’s off, and it’s very rare but I think it may be the reason you have yet to present.”

“You’re still beating around the bush, Dr. Harrington.” You glare at him but there’s no malice behind it and it makes the corner of Steve’s lips tilt up. You’re his patient so he absolutely shouldn’t think so, but, you’re cute. And something about you feels comforting to him. Like he’s known you all his life. Even though he’s never seen you until less than five minutes ago. 

“Sorry.” He chuckles awkwardly but it’s endearing. “As I was saying, this gene typically only shows up when an omega has met their scent match and their alpha either rejectes them or left their life in some way.” 

“Oh…” Your heart sinks so far back down into your stomach you feel like it’s going to fall out of your ass. That or explode out of your intestines from how fast it’s beating. Your hands shake and tears well up in your eyes before silently spilling down your cheeks as you stare at the doctor, speechless. 

“I’m so sorry if I said something to upset you!” Steve immediately feels panicked, like he’d do anything to get you to stop crying and destroy anyone in the world that’s ever caused you any kind of pain. But all he can manage is awkwardly fumbling for the tissues in his desk and holding them out to you. 

“It’s just- let me make sure I have this right.” You take a wobbly deep breath. “You’re saying that I am an omega. But, I haven’t presented because my scent match rejected me?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, miss.” Steve’s eyes widen at the way you growl and slam your hand down on the paper covering the little plastic bed you’re sitting on. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You let out a dry laugh that completely contradicts the ocean of tears that flow from your eyes. You’re feeling so many emotions at once that it’s making your entire nervous system confused. 

'No, I uh - I’m deadly serious.” Steve isn’t exactly sure what to do or say but apparently his body does. He doesn’t realize he released an extra puff of pheromones until he sees the way your nostrils flare before your shoulders relax. Your tears don’t stop though. “Are you okay?”

“No? Yes? I don’t fucking know!” You throw your head back and groan. “It’s just, for the last decade I’ve been called a delusional beta, put in intensive therapy, and been laughed at.” 

You scoff out a dry laugh as you shake your head in disbelief. “And now you’re telling me, that after all this time, I was fucking right? Which I’m stoked about, don’t get me wrong. But you’re also telling me the entire reason I’m broken is because I was abandoned and that’s just- It’s just a lot to process, doc.”

“Abandoned?” A growl rumbles deep in Steve’s chest as he rises to his feet and takes a few steps toward you. He doesn’t even realize his actions until he sees the way your eyes widen and a faint smell of honey and chai tea hits his nose.  “Forgive me, I don’t know what came over me. That was extremely unprofessional.”

“It’s - it’s alright, no worries.” You squeak out. Your insides heat at his actions, adding a whole new level of confusion to your emotions. There’s just something about him that you can’t quite put your finger on, something akin to the first time the warm spring sun hits your face after a long winter. You want to drink it in and drown in it. “Is there… Anything I can do to fix it?”

“Other than being around your scent match? I’m not sure, if I’m being honest.” Steve rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he stands only about a foot away from you. But he can’t seem to get himself to back up. It’s like he’s cemented in place and the only way he can physically move is toward you. “There haven't been many studies on this gene in which an omega presents without the help of their fated alpha. The only exception being if they have more than one scent match and that alpha happens to come into their life, which is extremely rare. Otherwise they can go their entire life without presenting.” 

Your head hangs down between your shoulders as a sob wracks through you, tears dripping down onto your bare thighs where your pencil skirt from work rides up. Steve feels awful, the fact that you’re upset is really getting to him. He has to physically stop himself from taking you into his arms. “I won’t give up on you though. I’ll do some research on this gene and see what I can come up with, maybe there’s some type of loop hole.” 

That makes your head shoot up, tears still streaming down your face, smudging your pretty makeup. But there’s the tiniest bit of hope in your eyes and Steve feels like he will do anything to keep it there. He closes the distance between you and rests a strong hand on your shoulder while leaning down so he can fix you in a warm, hazel gaze. “We will figure this out, omega.” 

You’re taken back the title and it has another wave of tears streaming down your face. 

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry! What did I say now?!” Steve’s hand on your shoulder runs down your arm, caressing you gently. The fact that he’s upset sends off alarm bells in your head and you immediately feel the need to soothe him. 

“It’s nothing bad! I mean, it is, but it isn’t.” Your hand subconsciously rests on top of his as you're flooded with his warm, clean, scent and it makes your head feel a little clearer. You at least have somewhat liner thoughts for the moment. Steve makes you feel grounded for a reason you can’t seem to put your finger on. 

“No one has ever believed me. I have always known deep in my heart and soul that I am an omega and you’re the first person in my entire life to acknowledge me as such. Thank you, Dr. Harrington.” 

“I- Of course, miss, I’m just doing my job.” Steve offers you a lopsided smile even though he’s screaming on the inside. He didn’t even realize he called you by your designation title. You’re making his instinics go haywire and he needs to get away from you before he does something truly stupid. You pull your hand off his and he misses your touch immediately. He pats your arm awkwardly before turning around to grab your paperwork. “Here are your test results, my card is attached if you have any questions. I’ll do some research on my end and be in touch.”

You take the outstretched papers and smile sweetly at the kind, sexy doctor, the one who finally listened to you and confirmed every doubt you’ve ever had about yourself. “Thanks, Doc, really. I can’t put into words how much this means to me.”

“Like I said, just doing my job.” He returns your smile with a thousand wat one that makes you swoon. “Have a good day, Omega.”

“OH! I - um - Thank you, Alpha…” Steve turns and leaves after that and you can’t shake the feeling that he’s taking a piece of you with him. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

You decide you deserve your favorite take out and a comfort movie after the emotional rollercoaster that was that doctor’s appointment so you stop at your favorite Chinese spot on your way home. You ordered your food and you’re waiting at one of the booths but it’s so hot in here you feel like you’re suffocating. It’s a rainy February day but it feels like their AC is broken in the middle of summer. Your work shirt feels like it’s constricting your body and your vision feels hazy. 

It also smells horrible in here. It’s like you can smell every individual dish they’re cooking in the kitchen and the scent of the three alphas and two omegas in the restaurant blend together to make one sickly sweet, musky mess. If you didn’t already pay, you would get up and leave. 

But they finally call your name and you get up on shaky legs and make your way to the counter. Your body feels like it’s being weighed down by bags of sand and your ears feel like they’re underwater. Your muscles suddenly ache like you just worked out for two hours straight and your mind is so cloudy you can hardly think straight. 

You grab your food and right as you turn to leave the door swings open, bringing a scent that is like a saviour among the fragrances flooding the room with it. It’s the scent of a warm apple pie with a cinnamon glaze. One that someone’s cooking on a rainy fall day with the windows open. It reminds you of being at your grandmother’s house on Thanksgiving as a child. One of the few places you’ve ever truly felt at home. Home. It smells like home. 

It’s then you realize who the scent is being carried by. A man you haven’t seen in person in ten years but you’ve watched from afar through social media and his very public music career. Eddie Munson.

He’s even more beautiful than any camera could’ve ever captured. His curly brown locks brush against the leather jacket that’s taunt against his thick arms. His big, chocolate eyes hold so much emotion you aren’t even sure you could begin to unpack it. His cute button nose you used to always poke and give innocent kisses growing up has a million memories flashing through your mind at once. It’s the same as it always was, just a little bigger and he has a nose piercing now. His lips are as plump as ever and you want to bury your face in his thick, tattooed neck and inhale his apple crisp scent. 

Eddie says your name and suddenly you’re so dizzy you feel like the room is on an axis and you aren’t sure why the floor is coming towards you. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it pulsing in your ears and your eyes start to roll into the back of your head. Then your mind goes blank. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

Your nose is filled with the most relaxing aroma. It’s like sitting on a freshly mowed lawn after spring cleaning. The windows are open so you can smell the fresh load of laundry in the dryer wafting out while you have an ice cold glass of lemonade. But when you open your eyes you realize you’re very much not outside. 

The fluorescent lights above you are nearly blinding and the medical posters on the wall tell you that you’re in a hospital bed. But not only does it not smell even the slightest bit like a hospital, the bed beneath you is warm and breathing. It takes a second for you to feel like you can move but when you’re finally able to tilt your head up you couldn’t be more surprised. 

“Dr. Harrington?” Your eyes blow wide as they meet soft hazel ones and as you look down and take in more of your surroundings you realize you’re laying nearly entirely on top of him in a tiny hospital bed. “Why am I here? What are you doing here? Why am I laying on top of you?”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Steve’s strong hand runs down your back and that fresh, clean scent thickens in the room, instantly relaxing you. “You presented. You fainted and when they brought you here they found my card on you and assumed I was your doctor so they called me… But when I got here I smelled you and…”

That’s when it clicks in your mind. Steve’s scent. He’s your scent match. You feel that same at home, bone warming, feeling you felt when you scented Eddie earlier and that’s when it all really starts coming back to you. 

The doctor's appointment. Stopping to get food. Running into Eddie. 

“You’re my scent match.” You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face despite the events that got you here. You presented and this handsome, slightly goofy doctor is your scent match. “That still doesn’t explain why I’m laying on top of you though…” You giggle.

“You were whimpering in your sleep and your scent was filled with distress…” Steve sighs as he brings his hand up to smooth your hair. “Instincts kind of took over and I felt this overwhelming need to be close to you. I’m really sorry if that’s weird or invasive, I just-”

“Steve.” The sound of you calling him by his name for the first time is like music to his ears. “It’s okay, I’m glad you’re here. I’m feeling sort of… strange. Kind of like I want to cry tears of joy and sorrow simultaneously. If that makes sense.”

“It does.” Steve cups your jaw and rubs his thumb along your cheek. You nuzzle into it and he feels like he could melt. “You’re basically going through puberty again at thirty. Not only that, but you've had a lot of big changes today. It’s only natural that you’re feeling emotionally overwhelmed.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I woke up this morning not knowing if I’d ever present and now not only have I presented but I have two scent matches… It’s a lot to process.” You sigh and subconsciously shove your nose into his chest, inhaling his scent. 

“Speaking of that… Your other alpha is here…” You tense in his arms again and Steve lets out a puff of pheromones to try and calm you. 

“He’s not my alpha.” You growl. “I don’t want him anywhere fucking near me.” 

“It’s okay, honey.” Steve grabs onto your wrist, bringing it up so he can run his nose along it, the smell of chai tea and honey filling his nose. Your scent is much stronger than it was just a few short hours ago. 

“He’s in the lobby losing it because they won’t let him see you. He keeps telling them you’re his omega but there’s no documentation of you being mates and you aren’t marked. They can’t just let any alpha back to see an unmated omega. Honestly once they see me in your bed I’m worried they might kick me out too.” 

“I won’t let them.” You let out another little growl that Steve can’t help but think is adorable. “This might sound crazy but the thought of being away from you right now sounds like actual torture.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy, we might have just met but we were meant for each other. It’s normal for us to feel an instant attachment to each other. Being away from you sounds like torture too. I feel this overwhelming need to protect you.” Steve runs his nose along your wrist again and it sends shivers down your spine.

“You smell so fucking good by the way. Like chai tea and honey.” Steve chuckles gently. “Which is funny because I’m not a coffee person. I drink tea in the morning and at night. It soothes me and so does your presence. It’s fitting.” 

“You smell so good too, doc.” Steve chuckles at the nickname. He might be goofy but as far as he can tell so are you and he already loves that about you. “You smell like fresh laundry, warm spring days, and perfectly sweetened lemonade.”

“Dr. Harrington, that is hardly appropriate! Get off that patient right now!” You and Steve are broken from your little bubble when your nurse comes in with an alarmed look on her face. You’re sure this looks bad, an unmated alpha in the hospital bed of an unconscious, umated omega. 

“No.” You grip tightly onto Steve’s chest and wrap your leg tighter around his waist. Your body heats and you suddenly start to feel the same way you did in the chinese restaurant. You want to tear off all of Steve’s clothes and ride him like your life depends on it right in front of this nurse. “He’s mine.” 

“It’s okay, I’m her scent match.” The nurse furrows her brows as if she’s assessing the situation.

“Why are you written down as her provider then? And why wouldn’t you mention that when you got here?” You know rationally that this nurse is just doing her job to protect you but that part of your brain that is starting to feel clouded wants to tear her eyes out because why is she so concerned about what your alpha is doing, does she want him for herself?

“It’s a long story, but the short version is that we didn’t know until I got here. She has a condition that made it so she didn’t present until now so she’s having heat spikes, which is what’s happening right now. But I swear on my medical license there’s nothing weird going on.”

“It’s the truth, he’s mine.” You muster up enough rationality to know you need to defend your alpha but it’s really hard to think about much other than his knot being buried deep inside you. 

“Alright, well, in that case you can’t be her physician. But all of her tests came back normal so I’ll send in another doctor with her release forms and get you guys out of here as soon as possible.” The nurse scribbles something down on her clipboard before exiting the room. 

“Don’t leave me.” You whine as you squeeze onto Steve and shove your face into his neck. You vaguely processed him saying something about heat spikes but you’re struggling to focus. You just know you can’t be away from him. “Come home with me. Need you.” 

“I can do that, honey.” Steve caresses your back and politely ignores the way you’re subconsciously grinding down on his leg. Even if it does make his cock twitch in his pants. “I need to go by my place and get some stuff and then we can go to your house, how’s that sound?”

“Mhm, yes. I just wanna be near you.”

“Me too, sweet girl.” Steve sighs contentedly. “Do you want to sneak out the employee entrance so Eddie doesn’t see you?”

That snaps you back to reality right quick and you feel a rush of embarrassment over your behavior over the last few minutes. You can’t see Eddie like this. You aren’t even sure if you want to see him ever, despite the fact that your body is screaming to be near him. You won’t cave that easily. Not after everything. He only wants you because you’re an omega now. He abandoned you. He lied to you. 

“Yes, please.” You whine and you want to slap yourself. God you’re a mess. “I’m sorry for-”

“Shhh, stop apologizing. Being an omega is going to take some getting used to, don’t be embarrassed. I’m here for you all the way.” Steve gives you that sweet, warm smile as he perfumes for you and you can’t help but swoon. “Let’s get you out of here and then we will figure the rest out together, yeah, omega?”

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily. “That sounds good, alpha.”

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

You’ve been living with Steve for two months now. After the first night he stayed with you, you asked if he would stay for a while. And a week later you asked him to just move in. Your place was bigger and nicer than his so he had no issue giving it up. He brought his clothes, his extensive mug collection, and three full bookcases that now line the living room wall. It always felt like there was something missing there. He also brought his fat orange cat, Puff. 

Being with Steve is as easy as breathing. There was no awkward phase, just a getting to know you phase. You wanted to know everything about each other. From your favorite colors to your mom’s middle names. 

On days you both work, you get home around the same time and immediately get in comfy clothes. You cook together or order take out before curling up on the couch together. You watch each other's favorite movies, chat for hours, sit next to each other while you read. You’re even binging old Jersey Shore episodes together right now. You drink tea together and he cuddles up with you in your bed every night. But he still hasn’t fucked you. 

There’s been lots of kissing and several make out sessions with heavy petting, especially when your heat spikes hit. But it hasn’t gone further than that. And you can’t help but feel like maybe it has something to do with you. Maybe he isn’t attracted to you physically, just your scent. And now he’s stuck with you. You want him so badly though. Especially since your first real heat is coming in the next few weeks or so. You want to be sentient the first time Steve fucks you. 

You got off a little early today so you came home and took an everything shower, fixed your hair, and put on your sluttiest pajamas that could almost be lingerie. It’s a little pink silk tank top and shorts set with lace bordering. 

Steve got home about an hour ago and he’s now in the kitchen, prepping dinner. In nothing but a pair of fucking grey sweatpants. They’re hanging low on his hips and there’s the tiniest bit of bush poking out of the top. It leads up to his happy trail and all the way up to his delicious chest hair. You swear this man is actually trying to drive you insane. You walk up to him and lace your arms around his waist. He smells so good you can’t help but nuzzle into the skin on his mole covered back and inhale his scent. You place a gentle kiss on his back and follow it with another. And then another. 

“Hey beautiful.” You can hear the smile in Steve’s voice and his hand comes up to caress your arm that’s tucked around his waist. You continue your trail of kisses, letting them get gradually wetter and more open mouthed as you go. You’re trying to kiss every single mole on his back and connect them with your lips to form your own brand new constellation. You run your hands up his chest and back down as you press your body tighter against his back. “Mmm, that feels nice.”

“I missed you Stevie.” Steve twirls around in your arms and takes your face in his hands, giving you that smile that makes your insides melt. He leans down to kiss you gently but you lace your hands in his hair to pull his mouth against yours more roughly. You run your tongue along his bottom lip and he immediately grants you access, swirling his tongue with your own. You moan into the kiss and Steve grips onto your hips, pulling your body flush against his. 

“I missed you too, honey, so bad.” Steve’s voice is breathless from your kisses and he leans down to shove his nose into your neck so he can scent you. You feel his cock start to harden against your stomach and you can’t help but grind against him. Steve groans before pulling back so he can look at you. “Let me cook for you.”

“Steve. Do you not want me?” You hate how vulnerable you sound but you’re tired of walking around not knowing. If he’s not attracted to you you’d rather find out now rather than later. 

“What?” Steve gasps and his eyes blow wide. “Why would you even think that? Of course I want you, baby. I want you so bad it hurts.”

“Then why won’t you fuck me?” You can’t help but pout. 

“Honey.” Steve runs his thumbs along your cheeks. “I just don’t want to rush you. I don’t want you to think I’m some meat headed alpha who feels entitled to sex because we are scent matches.”

“That’s really sweet and all, and I’m really glad that you respect me but I really need you to start disrespecting me before I go fucking crazy, Steve. I need you to fuck me before my first heat. I wanna be fully here for it.” You rub your stomach against his now fully hard cock and run your manicured nails down his back to prove your point. 

“I’m also nervous, if I’m being honest. I know once I cross that line with you I’m going to lose control and I don’t want to scare you off…” 

“Scare me off… how?” You raise a brow at him. You don’t know what he could possibly do to scare you off. 

“With my um - sexual preferences.” Steve clears his throat awkwardly as he looks anywhere but you. 

“So let me get this straight, doc.” Steve can’t help but smile at the little nickname you’ve given him. Your comforting scent fills the room causing his shoulders to relax.

 “You’re telling me that I not only scored an alpha who’s hot as hell, a doctor, you’re goofy, smart and you’re a freak in bed? I think I scored the alpha fucking jackpot.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve bites his lip as he looks down at you nervously. “I know I seem like kind of a boring guy but when it comes to sex…”

“Steve.” You giggle. “I want you to fucking tear me to pieces and fuck me like a rag doll.” 

“Yeah?” Steve smiles down at you like you just told him he won the lottery. 

“Yeah, silly.” You press up on your tiptoes so you can run your nose along his scent gland. “Why would the universe destine us to be together and not make us sexually compatible?”

“That’s good.” Steve laces his fingers through your hair and yanks your head back so you’re looking at him. “Because I’m about to fucking ruin you, baby.”

“Do your worst, Dr. Harrington.” You giggle and smile at him mischievously. 

“Oh, now you’re just asking for it.” Steve chuckles as he uses his grip on your hair to spin you around so you’re bent over the counter. Steve leans over you, covering your body with his firm, strong form. He runs his nose along your scent gland possessively before brushing the shell of your ear with his lips. 

“I don’t know how you could ever think I don’t want you. You smell so fucking good and then I come home to you wearing this? God, you’re so fucking sexy.” 

“Mmm, thank you, Stevie.” You hum as you wiggle beneath him, grinding your ass back on his hard cock. Steve inhales your scent again and licks along the column of your throat before leaning back. He runs his hands down your body, letting the silky material of your pajamas caress his skin. He suddenly pulls his hand back and lands a harsh smack on your ass causing you to moan loudly as you jolt forward. 

“I love this perfect ass. You’re so perfect for me.” Steve admires the way your back looks arched over the counter, the way that silk hugs your curves perfectly. 

Steve spanks you again and is nearly hypnotized by the way your ass bounces in retaliation. He gives the other cheek the same treatment before taking the globes of your ass into his big hands and kneads it. He spreads you open and not only can he smell the rush of slick that drips from your pussy, he sees it wet that pink silk right before his eyes. A wave of your lust filled pheromones hit his nose and that’s when instinct truly takes over. Steve’s grip on your satin shorts tightens until they rip at the middle seam. The torn material falls down your legs and you aren’t wearing panties so it leaves you completely bare for him with your slick, glistening cunt on display. 

“Steve! These are my favorite jammies!” You gasp.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’ll buy you new ones.” Steve gets down on his knees behind you and grips onto the backs of your thighs, pulling you open. Slick drips out of your pussy and onto the floor and he can’t help but growl at the fact that it’s going to waste. “But right now I’ve gotta fucking taste you.”

He shoves his face between your legs, running his nose along your wet slit, groaning as he inhales your honey-sweet scent.

Steve flattens his tongue, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth before bringing his tongue back down to swirl it around your entrance. He shoves his tongue deep inside of you and flicks it against your walls, practically scooping up your wetness. 

“Oh my god, Steve.” You moan loudly as your back arches further and it shoves Steve’s face deeper into your pussy. 

Steve feels like he’s going to go insane. He’s drunk on your pretty moans and your sweet taste. He could eat your pussy until your legs gave out if his cock didn’t feel like it was going to explode. He needs you to cum on his face first though. His lips wrap around your pulsing clit as he circles two thick fingers around your entrance before pushing them knuckle deep inside you. 

“Fuck, that’s so good, you’re gonna make me cum.” Steve curls his fingers against your sweet spot while he circles his tongue around your clit and it has pleasure wracking through your entire body. If you weren’t bent over the counter you’d probably fall on your ass from how bad your legs shake. Steve pulls his fingers from inside you and sucks them into his mouth before licking up the slick that is dripping from your pussy.

“You taste so fucking sweet, just as good as you smell.” Steve mumbles against your skin as he peppers messy kisses on your thighs. He kisses your ass before sinking his teeth into it, not enough to break the skin, but enough to sting deliciously. Steve stands up behind you and pushes his sweats down his hips before kicking them off. He takes his thick, hard cock into his hand and runs his tip through your slick. 

“Please Alpha.” You wiggle your ass against him and Steve lines up with your entrance before thrusting balls deep inside you and you both moan in unison at the stretch. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s brutally thrusting into you. Steve grabs onto one of your hands and pulls it behind your back and the other comes up to press your head into the side of the cool marble countertop. 

“I’ll never make you beg, baby girl.” Steve uses his grip on your hand and your for leverage as he pounds into you. “Unless you act like a fucking brat, then maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy.” 

“Fuck, I guess I’ll make a note to get on your nerves sometime.” You chuckle but it morphs into a loud moan when Steve’s fingers lace through your hair and yank your head back. 

“God, you really were made for me, huh?” Steve pulls your head to the side so he can shove his nose into your neck and greedily inhale your scent. 

“Mark me.” Steve slows his thrusts to deep pumps of his cock inside you and pulls back so he can look into your eyes. 

“Are you sure?” It takes literally everything in Steve to not just sink his teeth into your throat the minute you ask. 

“Of course I’m sure, you’re my mate. Mark me. Make me yours forever.” Steve leans down and kisses you messily before yanking your head back to the side by your hair and sinking his teeth deep into your neck. It makes your pussy pulse around him as an orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami. Steve pulls back and licks the blood left behind from his teeth marks and then pulls out of you, manhandling your ass onto the counter. He pushes your legs apart and grabs onto his cock, thrusting back into your glistening cunt.  

“Your turn.” Steve bares his neck to you and you feel like he just offered you the world. 

You loop one of your arms around his neck and rest the other against his chest as you lean forward to kiss along his scent gland before sinking your teeth into his skin. You feel your bond snap into place and it’s like a piece of you that was always missing is finally a part of you. You can feel Steve in every fiber of your being and it makes you cum so hard your vision goes white. 

“Oh fuck, I feel you everywhere, alpha.” 

“Mine.” Steve growls and grips onto your thighs as the pace of his hips picks up. It only takes a few pumps of his cock to have him cumming right along with you. His cock twitches inside you, ropes of his cum spilling deep into you. Steve grips onto your face and kisses you deeply. While you’re kissing you feel his knot start to expand inside of you before locking in place. It makes you yelp out but it quickly morphs into pleasure as you cum around his cock a final time.

“Everything feels so right.” You sigh dreamily as you look into your handsome alpha’s eyes.

“Yeah, it really does. You’re fucking perfect.” Steve gives you that boy next door smile that makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. “I’m sorry for knotting you right here on the kitchen counter though.”

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re such a fucking dork.” You giggle and swat his chest playfully. “One second you’re spanking my ass and ripping my shorts off my body and now you’re apologizing for knotting me. I could stay here all night, honestly. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

You’ve been doing surprisingly well not thinking about Eddie. Having a super hot, super funny alpha like Steve has helped a lot. But the closer you get to your heat, the more often your mind starts to wander to him. And more and more you start to feel like another piece of you is missing. It’s almost like he can sense it too because you don’t know how he found out where you live but he’s started sending you courting gifts. 

A few days ago there was a knock on your door and when you opened it there was no one there, but, sitting on your doormat was a little black box. Your eyes immediately filled with tears when you opened it. There was a silver chain necklace with a little bear charm hanging from it. You didn’t need a card to know who it was from. Your Teddie. 

Then the other day when you got home from work there was takeout from your favorite Chinese place sitting on your doormat. The place you passed out in just a few weeks ago. There was a note attached, that read: “I hope this is still your favorite.” 

It wasn’t signed, but you’d recognize that messy handwriting anywhere. You’ve seen it a thousand times. Passing notes in class, doing homework together, notebooks filled with pages and pages of D&D campaigns. That combined with the fact that he remembered your Chinese order brought tears to your eyes all over again. It’s like he’s trying to make sure you can’t forget about him when you’re trying everything you can to keep him out of sight out of mind. Even if you are still stalking his socials. 

Which you’re doing right now. You’re supposed to be working but you have a few minutes before your meeting with your new client so you took it upon yourself to pull up Eddie’s Instagram. 

He hasn’t made any new posts but you look at the old ones like you haven’t seen them a thousand times before. His many pictures from Corroded Coffin shows, pictures of his hands and his toned, tattooed body. He’s so fucking hot it pisses you off. He posts pictures of his nice cars and his husky dog. God, the cats would hate that. You immediately scold yourself for letting your mind wander to thoughts of what it would be like if Eddie joined your little pack. 

He hasn’t made any new posts but he did post on his story. A flyer for an upcoming festival, a picture of his lower stomach tattoo that has to be one of the banes of your existence because every time you see it you can’t help but imagine running your tongue across it. And lastly, there was a selfie of him with a caption announcing that he would be going live tonight at 8PM. 

“Miss, your 1 o’clock is here.” Your assistant Lina pops her head into your office and you give her a small smile as you let her know you’ll be in the conference room shortly. You aren’t exactly sure who this new client is but your boss said it’s for a big record label. You take a final longing look at Eddie’s instagram before standing up, straightening your pencil skirt and walking out of your office. 

As you pull open the door to the conference room you’re hit with a waft of deliciously sweet apple pie. At first you think your client brought an actual apple pie with him but when your eyes roam the room it only takes you seconds to realize the true source. Eddie fucking Munson is sitting at the head of the large table with a mousy looking beta man that you assume is with the record label. Your body immediately fills with rage at the sight of him. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You laugh dryly. “Is this a fucking joke? You really think you can just walk into my work after ten years like it's just casual?”

“Princess, please just hear me out.” Eddie looks at you pleadingly and you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Hear you out? Hear you out?” You scoff as you round the table so you can get in Eddie’s face. His scent distracts you but it doesn’t outweigh the anger you feel towards him. “You fucking lied to me Eddie. And you wanna know what that lie did to me? Not only did it break me into a tiny million pieces and make me question my sanity, your rejection suppressed my omega gene for a quarter of my life!! And now that I’ve presented you suddenly want me?! Fuck that!”

Eddie sits there wide eyed, his jaw nearly on the floor as he processes your words. “I didn’t - I didn’t know. I was just trying to protect you. What if I really did find my scent match and she didn't want a beta around? I thought - I thought I was doing the right thing… But I never stopped missing you.”

“I find that really hard to believe, Edward. You’ve been living out all of your wildest rockstar dreams, I really doubt that you’ve spent all these years thinking about some girl you grew up with.” You feel tears start to burn the rims of your eyes but you force yourself to keep them inside. He doesn’t deserve to see you cry. 

“Sweetheart, you’re not just some girl to me. You never have been” Eddie looks at you pleadingly as he reaches for your hand but you snatch it away and he deflates. “Please, just give me a chance?”

“You want a chance? Bombarding me at my place of work isn’t the right way to go about it, Eddie. This wasn’t cool.” You shake your head frustratedly. “I can’t take this deal, I’m really sorry. I’ll have my assistant give you the card for our sister company and I’m sure they can help you out.” You look at the man who is awkwardly sitting next to Eddie in silence and shoot him a polite smile. “Have a nice day.”

You turn around to leave but Eddie calls your name and as much as you don’t want to give him the time of day you can’t help but look back at him. 

“Please, don’t shut me out. I need you. I miss you. I’ll do anything.” The look in Eddie’s eyes and the way his shoulders sag make the omega in you want to curl up in his lap and shove your nose in his neck, anything to make your alpha feel better. But you fight against it.

“You don’t want me to shut you out, Eddie? Maybe find a better way to go about it than this.” You sigh heavily as you look into his eyes. “Thank you for the necklace, I’ll see you around.” 

You turn and walk out of the room but not before Eddie’s eyes flash to your chest where he sees the little silver bear resting against your soft skin. You’re wearing it. Maybe there’s a chance for him yet. He will do anything and everything to prove to you that he wants you, that he’s always wanted you. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

“Whoa, hey! What’s going on?” Steve’s eyes blow wide as he gets up off the couch to rush toward you. You pushed the front door open so hard that it slammed against the wall before slamming your purse on the kitchen island. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“He has some fucking nerve showing up at my job like that!!” You growl as you rip your coat from your body and throw it on the ground. “Who the fuck does he think he is?! Bombarding me at work after not seeing me for a fucking decade!!”

Your chest heaves as you kick your heels from your feet across the room. It only takes Steve a second to gather who “he” is. Especially considering how worked up you are. He can’t help but think you’re adorable huffing and puffing around like this. He’s also worried though.

“Baby.” Steve walks over to you and lets off a wave of his pheromones to try and calm you. It works a little, enough to get you to stop growling long enough to look at him. He rests his hands on your shoulders before running them up and down your arms soothingly. “Did Eddie show up at your work? Is that what’s happening right now?”

“Yeah! He fucking got his production company to set up a deal with my office just so he had a reason to see me!” You growl. “He just showed up after all these years, looking sexy as ever, smelling like a goddamn apple pie, with his stupid fucking face calling me that stupid fucking nickname he gave me when we were eight. Looking at me with those wet, pathetic, puppy dog eyes, ugh!!”

Steve can’t help but chuckle a little. He has to give Eddie props for creativity. 

“I’m sorry he did that to you, sweet girl.” Steve hums as he leans down to kiss his mark on your neck and it lights up every nerve in your body. “But it kind of seems like you were a little happy to see him…”

“What?!” You gasp and pull back so you can look in Steve’s eyes. He’s smirking and you kind of want to slap him. “I was not happy to see him, Steve! I can’t stand him. It’s like you’re on his side or something.” You pout. 

“Hey, don’t get it twisted. I am loyal to you first and foremost. At the end of the day I will do whatever makes you happy.” Steve takes your face in his hands. “If you want to give Eddie a chance, I support that. If you want to reject him, I’ll support that too. But I will say that I think you will regret the ladder. You’ll just be hurting yourself all over again if you reject him. I do think you should make him work for it though.” 

“What did I do to deserve you, Steve Harrington?” You look at him with teary, wonder filled eyes. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“I could say the same thing about you, my love.” Steve smiles at you sweetly before leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. “But I do think you should think about what I said.”

“I will.” You nod and press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I might have seen that he’s going live tonight when I was stalking his instagram earlier… Would it be weird if I tuned in?” You bite your lip anxiously. 

“Not at all, I think he’d probably cream his pants if he saw your username pop up.” Steve smirks down at you. “Especially after that display today, it seems like he’s desperate for your attention. Throw the dog a bone. But like I said, make him work for it. You deserve the world, make him prove to you that he’s worth forgiving.” 

Eight o’clock rolls around and you’re cozied up on the couch with Steve and the cats. He bent you over in the shower and ate you like a starved man before fucking you until you screamed. Eddie is supposed to go live any minute now and anxiously scroll through instagram while Steve reads his current book of the week beside you. You finally get the notification that he’s live and your hand shakes when you click on that little circle with his photo in it. 

“Hey guys.” Eddie smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes the way you remember. He looks so fucking good though. He’s wearing a tight black tank top, displaying his toned, tattooed arms. And his fluffy hair is up in a messy bun, like he just took a nap. You can’t see the lower half of him but he has his knee propped up in view of the camera and he’s wearing fucking grey sweatpants. What is it with these men in your life and grey sweatpants? It’s like they’re trying to make you a puddle of slick or something.

“It’s been a while since I went live. But I have a song I wanna share with you guys, I hope you like it.” You watch as Eddie pulls his acoustic guitar in his lap and begins to play. 

He plucks the first few notes of the song with his skillful fingers before his voice joins in. It’s been a long time since you heard it like this. Corroded Coffin is first and foremost a metal band. Eddie’s harsh vocals and rough high notes are otherworldly, he commands every room he’s in and his stage presence is mesmerizing. You’ve heard every single one of their songs. You’ve listened to his entire discography back to back a hundred times and there’s maybe three ballads in total. Ones you secretly hoped were about you. 

But when you were younger, Eddie would always serenade you with his acoustic. He’d sing to you on warm spring days while you had a picnic, or while you dozed off in his bed in his trailer. They were always songs about princesses and dragons. He wrote a few songs about all the reasons he loved you that could be passed off as platonic but were just barely teetering the line of something more. As he begins to sing you realize you recognize this song, it’s one of those songs that was about you. It’s different now though, it’s not borderline romantic, it’s a full blown love song. 

Eddie sings about how beautiful you are, how easy being around you has always been, he sings about your late night milkshake runs to the diner and how his life would’ve never been the same without you. Even if you’re the only person in the world who knows it, he’s singing this just for you. To you. You aren’t sure if he knows you’re watching but the fact that he’s doing it even with the slim chance that you’d never see it means a lot to you. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Steve’s thumb comes up to wipe away your tears. He’s watching over your shoulder and he doesn’t feel jealous at all. He feels like something is missing. Like he knows Eddie is supposed to be here with the two of you. He would never push you to do anything but he really thinks you should at least hear him out. Plus you’re not wrong, Eddie is hot as hell.

Eddie plays the last few notes of the song before leaning down to get a better look at the comments flooding in. They’re mostly people wondering who the song is about and girls thirsting after him. You can’t help yourself and you drop a little pink heart emoji. And you can’t stop the butterflies that start to flutter in your belly at the way Eddie’s eyes grow comically large when he sees your comment.

“To all of you guys asking who this song is about, it’s something I wrote a long time ago.” Eddie chuckles gently. “When I played it for her originally, I changed the lyrics around so it seemed a little less romantic because back then we were just two best friends pretending we weren’t in love with each other. This is the way it was originally written though. I’ve taken a few liberties since it’s been so long… But I didn’t change much.” 

He takes a deep breath before looking directly into the camera and saying your name. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I know I fucked up. Bad. But please, just give me a chance to explain? You’re not just my omega because of whatever cosmic bullshit that made us scent matches, you’re also my best fucking friend. I would choose you even if you weren’t meant for me. Even if you were a beta. Like I should’ve before. I was young and dumb but I love you and I’ll do anything it takes to prove that to you. I’ll go all the way to Mordor and back if that’s what it takes, princess. Just say the word.”

Eddie smiles at the camera gently before ending the live. 

“Wow.” Steve blows out a puff of air as he looks down at you. There’s tears streaming down your pretty face in buckets and he can’t help but pull you into his lap. He runs his hands along your back soothingly. “That was… Are you okay?”

“I - I don’t even know.” You laugh but it turns into a sob. “I miss him so much but I’m scared, Stevie.” You tuck your face into his neck and inhale his fresh scent to help ground you a little. 

“I know, honey.” Steve hums as he smoothes out the back of your hair. “But I think you’ll feel better if you just talk to him. And I can’t lie, I have to give him props for that, it was smooth as hell. I feel like even I was swooning a little.”

“Steve!” You chuckle as you swat his chest playfully. 

“I’m sorry baby, but I have to admit, the man is pretty and talented.” Steve shrugs as you look at him in shock. You’re about to tease him because it kind of seems like he has a crush on Eddie but your phone dings a bunch of times in a row, distracting you. When you pick it up and look at it, you see instagram message notifications from Eddie. 

“Thank you for watching, princess.”

“Please just give me a chance to explain myself?”

“I’ll be at the diner near your work tomorrow at 5PM. Will you meet me? Just to talk.”

“I was such a fucking idiot for letting you go. But I never will again, if you just give me a chance. I miss you so much.”

You read the messages and take a deep breath, throwing your head up toward the ceiling. You gather your thoughts for a moment before typing out your reply. As angry as you still are with Eddie, you know that you can’t live without him. If you reject your bond it’ll be like losing a limb and you’ve already lost him once. 

“Okay.” Is all you type before hitting send. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

“Are you sure about this?” Steve stops you by your shoulders to look into your eyes. It’s a little after five and you’re standing outside the diner Eddie said to meet at. You would’ve been earlier but you wanted to go home and change. You also decided last minute that you wanted Steve to come with you. You said no when he originally offered (without pressure of course because he’s perfect in every way) but after thinking about it, you realized it would be best to be upfront with Eddie about Steve. If he isn’t okay with Steve being part of your life, then he’s already ruined his chance. So it’s also a bit of a test. 

“Yeah, let’s fucking do this shit.” You give Steve a determined nod before pressing a kiss to his lips and marching into the diner with your head held high. Steve watches after you for a second, you’re so fucking cute when you’re all fired up. Plus the way your ass looks in those shorts is almost criminal. 

You look around the dimly lit diner. There’s black and white checkered flooring and retro art on the walls. The tables and chairs are a shiny red that perfectly matches the red and silver counter bar. You look around for Eddie and it isn’t hard to spot him. The diner isn’t very busy, there’s an old man sitting at the bar and a younger couple in a corner booth. And then there’s Eddie. Sitting in one of the large round booths, looking annoyingly irresistible. His hair looks like he just washed and styled it and he’s wearing a white cut off band tank that has his toned, fully tattooed arms on display. There’s a soft look in his pretty brown eyes when they meet yours but when they travel to Steve who has his arm resting on his lower back his lip curls up in a snarl. Shit. 

“Who the hell is that?” Eddie’s voice comes out as a growl as you approach the table and stop a few feet away. 

“This is Steve, he’s my alpha.” Your eyes shoot daggers at Eddie, challenging him to question you. “Is that going to be a problem? Because if it is, then we can just leave.”

“No, don’t go!” Eddie’s look softens again as he urgently shakes his hands in front of him. “I was just surprised, I’m sorry, please don’t go.”

“It’s fine. Me and Steve are a package deal though. There is no me without him.” You cross your arms, pushing your tits together in your little tank top and it makes Eddie’s cock stir. “He’s my scent match too.”

“God, I missed your sassy little self.” Eddie smiles at you and it takes everything in you to not just cave and forgive him on the spot. 

“I really want to punch you in the fucking face, Eddie.” Steve bursts out laughing at that and Eddie can’t help the smirk that spreads across his lips. 

“Well, if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me, I’ll gladly let you punch me in the face as many times as you want.” That makes you snort out a laugh, the tension between the three of you easing a bit. You slide into the booth next to him and Steve follows suit. Eddie’s crisp, warm apple cinnamon scent floods your nose and it makes you clench your thighs to try and hide the scent of the slick that drips into your panties. 

“I missed you.” Eddie rests his forearm on the table so he can turn toward you and you have to physically rip your eyes away from his ringed hand spread out on the table. It doesn’t help that he’s still wearing the skull ring you got him back in highschool.

“I missed you too, Eddie.” You sigh as you look over at him with sad eyes and Eddie wishes he could kick his own ass for it. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie takes in a shaky deep breath as he closes his eyes, grounding himself before meeting your gaze again. “I was such a fucking idiot, princess. I really thought I was protecting you. I’d never hurt you just to hurt you. I didn’t know you’d just disappear from my life. I didn’t know I’d… I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t know it could happen. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

His bottom lip quivers as he looks up at the ceiling to try and keep the tears in his water line from falling. 

“You knew I loved you Eddie, you knew I had always imagined us together. In what universe would you telling me that you’d never want to be with me, that you found someone else, not be painful?” The wide eyed look of hurt on your face makes Eddie blink hard, a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks. 

“If the roles were reversed, if I was an omega and you never presented as an alpha I would’ve stuck by you, Eddie. Yeah, my silly childhood dream was for us to be fated mates but that wasn’t all it was about. It was about you, about us, not just our designations. If you didn’t love me, you could’ve just said so, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble to lie in order to reject me. Or if you really did care that much about if I was an omega or not, if that’s what was make or break for you, maybe I just never really knew you at all.” 

“No.” Eddie brushes the tears on his cheeks away with his ringed thumb. He doesn’t deserve to cry right now. “That is not how it is, at all. I’m just a fucking idiot. I loved you, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life. I got in my head, I convinced myself that shutting down any chance of us being together was the right thing. I thought if I told you I found my omega before I actually did, it would be easier for us both in the long run. I made that decision for both of us and that wasn’t fair, I should’ve talked to you first. But I didn’t, I smashed your heart into a million pieces. I gave up on you. You knew you were an omega, my omega, and I didn’t listen. I’m not any better than your parents and all those doctors. I failed you.” 

“Yeah, you did.” You look over at Eddie with your brow furrowed, you want so badly to go off on him, be mean like you always planned. But now that you’re here? Smothered between His cozy autumn and Steve’s fresh spring scent, you feel at home, you feel complete. Steve’s hand finds your bare thigh, his thumb gently caressing your skin, grounding you with his presence in the way he does. You peer over your shoulder at him, he gives you a reassuring nod and it gives you the courage to go on. 

“You broke me, Eddie. You shattered me into a million pieces. Not only did you break my heart, you broke my mind too. Every single word of doubt and discouragement I’d heard in those years flooded me to the point that I questioned my entire existence. I knew I was an omega, I knew with every fiber of my being. But no one believed me. Not even the one person who was always there for me. So maybe it really was just all in my head, huh?” You shake your head as you chuckle dryly. “Doctors deemed me mentally unwell and delusional. I was forced into rehabilitation therapy and they wouldn’t let me stop until I finally just lied to them and told them I knew I was a beta, that I was ready to let my ‘fantasy’ about being an omega go. Even if I never truly believed it. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me?”

“God fucking damn it.” Eddie groans and pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes. “That’s fucking disgusting, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I wish I had words for how fucking sorry I am. I never should have left you. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done and I completely understand if you want nothing to do with me for the rest of our lives, I’ll respect that. But, god, it would kill me. I’ll do anything, anything to prove to you that I was wrong. I haven’t been happy since I lost you. I achieved my biggest dreams but it felt dull and grey without you. Nothing has ever felt right without you. I’d give it all up in an instant if it meant I could go back in time and spend it with you instead. I’m such a fucking dumb ass.” 

“Yeah, you are.” You giggle as you look over at Eddie with tears in your eyes and he can’t help the goofy smile that spreads across his lips. “I never could stay mad at you, could I?” 

“Nah, you can’t resist my dorky ass.” Eddie chuckles and he takes your hands in his before the look on his face turns serious. “I understand if you stay pissed at me though, you have every right to be.”

“Oh, I’m gonna be pissed for a while.” Eddie’s face falls slightly but you squeeze his hands to keep his eyes on you. “But, I quite like the look of the pathetic beggar on you, Munson, so I think I’ll keep you around.” 

“Yeah? You’d bestow such a high honor on a lowly peasant like me, fair maiden?” Eddie’s eyes twinkle with hope and you couldn’t dream of crushing it. 

“Yeah, dumby. But you better not fuck it up.” You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder playfully.

“Wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it, princess.” Eddie smiles at you and it heats your entire body, a million good memories flashing through your mind.  

“Kiss, kiss, kiss.” Steve whisper chants on the opposite side of you and Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice, he takes your face in his hands so he can pull your lips against his own. You’ve kissed Eddie before, a playful peck as children, that one time you learned how to make out by practicing on each other. But nothing like this. 

Eddie’s lips feel like heaven as they mold perfectly against yours. Your entire body lights up like wildfire and you don’t think any amount of clenching your thighs could cover up the smell of the slick that drips out of you at his taste. Eddie’s tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and you open your mouth so he can slip it inside, your hands find purchase in his curly mane as you tangle your tongues together. You start going at it like horny teenagers, almost completely forgetting where you are until Steve clears his throat. 

“You guys are really hot together and all, but we are in a public space and the pheromones coming off the two of you could send even a beta into a frenzy.” Steve chuckles at the way Eddie’s face turns bright red and you stick your tongue out at him. He thinks he could get used to this dynamic. 

“Oooh, Stevie, you think Eddie is hot?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. 

“Honey, look at him.” Steve gestures toward Eddie with an almost lustful look in his eyes and the images of them making out that flood your brain have another wave of slick dripping from you. 

“I think your boyfriend is hitting on me.” Eddie leans down to whisper in your ear loud enough for Steve to still hear. His warm breath fans out against your neck as his scent almost swallows you whole and you want him to sink his teeth into your mating gland right fucking here. “But that's okay because he’s pretty cute.”

“He’s so sexy, right?” You giggle. 

The three of you bound easily, meshing together like the missing pieces of a puzzle. You order food, crack jokes, tell life stories. Eddie tells Steve what you were like growing up and Steve tells the both of you about how he was in highschool. All while you’re practically glued to the seat by the slick that’s now seeping out of your yoga shorts. You know this isn’t the time to be absolutely feral but the longer you sit here between them the more horny you get. They both smell intoxicating and their body heat pressed to either side of you warms you from the inside out to the point that you’re starting to sweat and overheat. But the thought of not being between them at this moment makes you whine deep in your throat.

“Whoa, honey.” Steve stops talking abruptly, his eyes searching your face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just - I was thinking about how we are going to have to leave soon and I got really anxious all of a sudden.” You tangle your hands together as you look down at your lap. 

“Hey.” Eddie rests his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re looking at him. He smiles gently. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

“That makes me really happy to hear, Eddie.” You smile back but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “It’s just right now the thought of walking away from you after this even just for the night, I don’t know, it just sounds really awful if that makes sense? God, is it hot in here?”

Steve’s hand rests on your forehead, checking your temperature. He observes the thin layer of sweat on your skin, how strong your scent is, the hazy look in your eyes. “Baby, I think you’re going into heat.”

“What? It’s probably just one of my heat spikes, I just need some fresh air-” Your words are cut short by a stabbing pain in your abdomen that makes your body bend in half. “Oh my god, ow! Shit, okay, maybe you’re right.”

“Fuck, should I go?” Eddie looks over your shoulder at Steve in a panic. The thought of leaving you right now disgusts him but he isn’t exactly sure where he fits in this puzzle yet. Steve’s eyes widen as he shakes his head slowly while mouthing the word “no”. 

“No!” Your hands fly to Eddie’s arm in a panic, your nails digging into his bare skin from the strength in which you latch on. “Please, no. Don’t leave me again, Eddie, I need you.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve barely even forgiven me.” Eddie pulls your hands from his arm and takes them in his own, caressing your heated skin gently. His touch calms you a bit and slight embarrassment sets in at your desperation. “Are you sure? I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret when your heat is over.” 

“I’m still upset with you, Eddie. But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you if you don’t stay with me through this. I need you with me.” You meet his eyes, forcing the haziness from taking over just long enough so he can see how much you mean it. “I am still sound of mind enough to know that I want this, I want you. Please?”

“I don’t ever want to hear you beg me for a single goddamn thing, alright?” Eddie drops your hands so he can cup your cheeks instead. “I am the only one who should ever be begging for anything in this relationship. I will always give you what you need.” 

The way his words mirror the ones Steve said to you before he fucked you the first time heats your body and your heart. A few months ago you were still a lonely beta and now you’re an omega, with two alphas that are devoted to you and your happiness.

“What if I’m a real bad girl and you have to punish me until I beg you to stop or let me finally cum?” The haze in your eyes returns as you look at Eddie lustfully, your bottom lip secured between your teeth. Steve and Eddie both groan in unison as a puff of each of their pheromones fills your nose, making you dizzy.

“Oh, jesus fucking christ.” Eddie’s cock feels like it’s going to burst out of his jeans and he really isn’t sure what’s stopping him from knotting and claiming you right here in this booth. 

“Alright, we better get the fuck out of here before it starts getting pornographic.” Steve chuckles as he starts to slide out of the booth but you latch onto his arm with both of yours, stopping him. “Honey, I’m going to go pay and Eddie is going to take you out to the car, then we will get you home and give you all the knots you want, alright?” You let out a cute little growl as you clutch onto him tighter. 

“Princess, it’s okay.” Eddie grabs your hands and gently pulls them off Steve. “Steve will be just a second, right Steve? And then we will all go in the same car together. We can leave Steve’s car here.”

“What? Why my car? I know the way there, I should be the one driving.” Steve raises a brow at Eddie.

“No offense dude, but, I saw your mom wagon and I'd waaay rather leave that here than my Lambo. You can drive, though.” Eddie pulls his keys from his pocket, points the fob toward his car to unlock it, and throws Steve the keys before picking you up bridal style and carrying you out of the diner. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

It takes everything in Eddie to not sink his cock into your dripping heat in the passenger of his two seater. The drive to your house is only about ten minutes but you’re sitting on his lap and the material of his jeans is soaked through from you grinding your needy, slick dripping pussy against him. It doesn’t help that you’re pawing at his clothes while you look at him with big desperate eyes and your scent was so thick in the small space he felt high off of it. “Princess, the first time I fuck you is not going to be in my car, okay?”

“We’re almost there honey, only like one more minute.” Steve peaks over at you and he feels like his cock is going to explode out of his jeans. 

When Steve pulls into the driveway he’s barely parked before he’s out of the car and speed walking around the front. He pulls the passenger door open and practically rips you from Eddie’s lap and speed walks toward the front door with Eddie close on his heels. Once you’re inside he heads directly for your room while you writhe around in his arms. 

Steve throws you down on the bed amongst the various pillows and articles of clothing you’ve been arranging there for the last week. Your skin is flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat and your little pink yoga shorts are completely soaked at the crutch, making them a shade darker. You’re breathing heavily, making your tits bounce in your little top and the look in your eyes is feral. Eddie comes to stand at the end of the bed with Steve and your knees subconsciously fall to your sides, causing a strong wave of your arousal to waft through the room. 

“Please?” You whine as you look up at them with glassy eyes, they’re both so fucking hot. Steve in his tight white t-shirt that you can just barely see his chest hair through and his thick cock straining against his jeans that always seem to mold perfectly with his body. His chestnut hair is tousled and his hazel eyes are almost black as he stares down at you hungrily. That goddamn cut off shirt Eddie is wearing shows off his tattoo covered arms and it hits just above his belt, giving you a delicious view of his happy trail and slutty lower stomach tattoo. His ripped black jeans fit looser on the bottom but they’re tight in all the right places. Like his ass and his big fucking cock that you’re dying to see, his zipper looks like it’s going to burst and you kind of hope it does. Also they both smell so fucking good it’s making you more dizzy than you already.

A stabbing pain shoots through your abdomen causing you to cry out. “Please fuck me? Bite me, knot me, fill me with cum until I’m so full it just keeps spilling out and then fill me some more.” 

Steve’s nostrils flare and he breathes out through his nose almost like a bull. He rips his shirt over his head so fast you hear a tearing sound and tosses it on the bed among the various clothing items already there. His large hand wraps around your ankle and he pulls you to the edge of the bed until your calves are hanging off. He grips onto the top of your shorts, ripping them in two with such ease you’d think they were a piece of paper. When he sees you’re not wearing panties, your glistening, puffy cunt on full display for him with your honey-sweet scent flooding his senses, he loses it. 

“Mine.” Steve growls and drops to his knees in front of the bed, throwing your legs over his shoulders and shoves his face between your legs. He runs the tip of his nose through your folds, inhaling deeply. He flattens his tongue and licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, he circles your bud a few times before bringing his tongue back to your hole so he can taste your sweet nectar. Sweet fucks you with his tongue, sucking your clit and shoving his tongue as deep as it will go inside of you until you’re coming apart for him. Your back arches off the bed so far he has to pin you down and your slick drips down his chin and neck as you cry out his name. 

“Fuck, that’s a beautiful sight.” Somewhere amongst your orgasm haze you hear Eddie’s voice and it has another orgasm hurtling through you. Steve fucks you through it before standing up and riding himself of the rest of his clothes. Eddie comes to sit beside you on the edge of the bed and your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight of him. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Need you.” You reach for him as another shooting pain stabs through you but he grabs onto your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

“I know, sweetheart.” Eddie pushes some of your hair out of your face and runs a ringed finger along your temple down your jaw. “But it’s only fair that I let Stevie here have you first.”

“I think I just might like you, Munson.” Steve smirks at Eddie as he grabs onto one of your thighs and throws it around his hip. He cups your pussy, grinding his palm against your pulsing clit so he can collect some of your slick. Steve takes his shaft in his wet hand and pumps it a few times before lining up and burying his cock inside you in one rough thrust. Your pussy greedily sucks him in, the feeling of his cock easing the stabbing pain coursing through you. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into you and starting up at a rough pace. 

“Oh, fuck yes.” You moan loudly as Steve practically uses your pussy as a cock sleeve, you hear a zipper next to your head and when you look over you see Eddie pulling his cock from his jeans as he watches the way Steve slides in and out of you, the sounds of your slick filling the room. His ringed hand slides between your legs rubbing against your clit. His palm rests against your mound as he spreads his fingers down the middle and runs them down either side of Steve’s cock that’s nestled inside you. He slides his fingers up and down a few times, gathering your slick as his rings rub against the soft skin of Steve’s cock. You watch Steve’s face for his reaction and when you see the way he’s looking at Eddie with fire in his eyes it makes your walls clench around him. 

“I think I might like you too, Steve.” You tilt your head to look at Eddie and he has that shit eating grin that you know all too well plastered on his face. He pulls his hand from between your legs and uses it to lube up his cock before gripping onto it so he can stroke himself. 

“God, that was so hot.” Your words are slurred and you have this hazy look in your eyes but that doesn’t spot you from returning Eddie’s smirk with one of your own. “I wanna see you guys kiss.”

“Yeah? Maybe one day, honey.” Steve grabs onto your thighs and throws them over his shoulders as he pumps his cock into you, the new angle has the head of him pressing right against your sweet spot and it makes your pussy clench like vice grip around his cock while you come undone for him. “That’s a good girl, cum all over your alpha’s cock.”

“You’re taking him so well, baby girl.” Eddie cups your cheek gently as he looks down at you in awe. He’s stroking his cock leisurely while he watches you, scared he might bust his nut at the sight of you like this if he gets too carried away. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you, how does she feel, Steve?”

“So fucking good, so fucking tight and wet. Her pussy is fucking perfect.” Steve moans as he leans over you, his hands coming down on either side of your head with your legs still thrown over his shoulders, practically folding you in half like a pretzel. 

“Yes! Oh my god alpha, that’s so good.” Your hands grip onto Steve's forearms, your nails digging into his flesh deliciously. “I’m so close, choke me, Eddie.”

“Jesus Christ, are you for real?” Eddie groans and his cock twitches in his hand. 

“She’s deadly fucking serious, our omega is a little masochist.” Steve chimes in for you.

“God, I’m so fucking obsessed with you.” Eddie licks his lips as he brings his free hand to your throat. He wraps his thick ringed fingers around your flesh before squeezing just tight enough to obstruct your air flow. You pussy spasms around Steve’s cock as another ogasm has euphoria over taking your entire being. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” Steve moans as he pushes himself up to stand again, he grabs onto the back of your thighs and pushes them to your chest as he fucks you like a wild animal. It doesn’t take long for his cock to pulse inside you as ropes of his cum fill your walls.

“Knot, alpha, give me your knot. Need it.” Your mind is so foggy it feels like silent hill has taken up residence there and all you can think about now is how badly you need Steve’s knot inside you. You don’t have to want long because as soon as he stops cumming you feel the head of his cock inflate inside you. There’s a stabbing pain that’s quickly replaced with otherworldly pleasure, your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body probably would’ve flown off the bed if Eddie’s hands didn’t come down to pin your hips. It feels like it takes you forever to come down from your high. But when you finally do, Steve grabs onto you so he can pick you up just long enough to lay down on the bed on his back with you straddling him. 

“Mmm, you feeling any better, honey?” Steve’s knot is still nestled inside of you and he runs his hands down your hair to your back where he traces little circles on your skin with his fingertips. You feel the mattress shift and when you peel your tired eyes open you see a now shirtless Eddie propped up on his elbow the bed beside you.

“Yes, a little.” You nod, your cheek rubbing against Steve’s sweaty chest hair. “But, I need Eddie’s knot too.” Your bottom lip juts out as you look over at him with puppy dog eyes.

“And I’m going to give it to you, sweet thing.” Eddie hums. “As soon as Steve’s goes down, I’m all yours.”

After about ten minutes you feel Steve’s cock start to soften inside you, his knot unlocking from your walls. You’re so wet he slips out of you once he’s fully soft and Eddie wastes absolutely no time ripping your body from Steve’s and throwing you onto your back. He hovers over you on his knees and the sight of him all tattooed and now fully naked makes you whimper. He runs two of his fingers through your slit, gathering your slick and Steve’s cum onto them. He brings them to your lips, smearing the wetness across them like lipgloss. 

“Taste it.” You oblige him, taking his thick fingers into your mouth until his rings hit your lips. You swirl your tongue around, your eyes rolling back with a moan at the taste of you and Steve together. Eddie pulls his fingers from your mouth and leans down to lick your lips before kissing you hard. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip and you open your mouth so he can slide it against yours. He tangles your tongues together before sucking yours into his mouth and pulling off, a string of spit still connecting you. 

“Damn, you guys taste delicious together.” Eddie smirks over at Steve with his wet mouth and it has his cock hardening again already. 

“Are you flirting with me, Munson?” Steve raises a thick brow at him, returning his smirk with one of his own. 

“I thought it would be obvious by now.” Eddie chuckles.

“You guys are super cute and all but I feel like I’m getting stabbed and if you don’t fuck me soon I’m gonna lose my shit.” You look between them, a devious little smirk of your own finding your lips. “Unless you guys are gonna kiss, then I can wait for that.” 

“Well, what the princess wants…” Eddie leans over you to grab the back of Steve’s neck so he pull his mouth against his in a hard kiss. Steve’s hands find purchase in Eddie’s hair and their lips move together roughly. Their mouths open and you see their tongues dancing with each other messily. It’s messy and rough and it looks like they’re fighting for dominance.

“That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” Your voice has your alphas breaking their kiss and their attention directed back to you. “Maybe I can watch you guys fuck someday.” 

“I’m sure you’d love that.” Eddie chuckles before wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing. He leans down so his face less than an inch from yours, his hot breath hitting your face. “But right now, you’re fucking mine. I have waited so long for this and I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk for days.”

“Do it. Fucking ruin me, Eddie.” It’s like you said the magic words because Eddie grips onto your hips so he can flip you onto your stomach. You push yourself up onto your hands and arch your back so your ass is in the air for him. His hand comes down on your asscheek hard, his rings biting your skin. He gives the other cheek the same treatment before thrusting two thick fingers inside of you.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Eddie groans as he pumps his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. You clench around his fingers, your orgasm just in reach, but he pulls his fingers out of you, taking your orgasm with him.

“Hey! I was about to cum!” You whine.

“I know, baby, but I need you to cum on my cock.” You feel the tip of Eddie’s cock slide through your folds before his slams into you in one thrust and starts to fuck you with no remorse. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight, oh my god.”

“You feel so fucking good, alpha.” You bounce back against him, meeting his thrusts the best you can. Eddie’s hand smacks your ass again before he roughly grips onto your hips as you fucks you like his life depends on it. 

“Damn, you’re right, that is a beautiful sight.” The sound of Steve’s voice has your head whipping toward him and you moan at the sight of him. His hair is a complete mess, his skin is shiny with sweat, including his glistening chest hair, and he’s jerking himself off. “You look so fucking gorgeous, baby.”

“So gorgeous.” Eddie agrees as he wraps your hair around his hand, he pulls it so hard it makes your hands raise off the bed. He snaps his hips into you over and over again, the sound of skin slapping on skin and your slick practically echoing off the walls. 

“Bite me, Eddie.” You lean your head to the side, bearing your neck to him.

“Fuck, princess, are you sure?” Eddie’s thrusts slow for a moment as he looks down at you, hesitantly. He shoots Steve a questioning look and the other alpha gives him a reassuring nod.

“I’m so fucking sure, I’ve wanted it for as long as I can remember, I’m done waiting.” Eddie growls, pulling out of you and pushing you onto your back and slamming his cock back into you before you hardly have time to miss it. 

“You’re mine, baby, you always have been, and now you always will be.” Eddie presses his hand under your head so he can cup the back of your neck before leaning down and running his tongue along the column of your throat as he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you and then he bares his teeth, sinking them into your flesh while he slams his cock into you rough and deep. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire and you have the most mind blowing orgasm of the night. Eddie pulls away and looks at you like you just gave him the world, because you did, you’re his everything. 

“My turn. Where can I…?” You look over Eddie’s inked form, there isn’t much left that isn’t tattooed but as you’re looking for a spot to bite him, you spot an empty patch of skin right on the side of his neck, underneath one of his neck tattoos. You run your finger along it as you look into his chocolatey eyes. “Is this spot okay?”

“Of course, that’s your spot, remember?” Eddie cups your jaw and runs his thumb along the apple of your cheek. You try to search your foggy mind for what he’s talking about but you’re coming up short. You give him a puzzled look as you shake your head gently. “It was right after I presented when we were sixteen, we were sitting in the back of the van at the lake. It was a hot ass hell summer day so we went swimming and you brought lunch for us because you’re just always prepared like that.” Eddie chuckles fondly. “I was shirtless and had just gotten my first chest tattoo for my birthday and you look at me dead in the eyes, pointed at that spot on my neck and said ‘I know you want to be covered in tattoos one day, but you better always leave this spot open for me to mark’ and so I did.”

“Eddie’s that’s-” You eyes well up with tears as you look up at the man you’ve loved all your life. He’s so beautiful, his button nose, those plush pink lips, those sweet chocolate eyes that assured you on your worst days. You lost him, and you were so angry at him for it. But now he’s here, inside you, with a beautiful patch of porcelain skin that he kept bare for the last seventeen years, for you. “I fucking love you, Eddie munson.”

“And I fucking love you, sweetheart.” He sends you that goofy smile that you love so much and you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him down so you can sink your teeth into him. A second shockwave buzzes through your body as you feel your bond with Eddie snap into place, an unexpected orgasm taking you by surprise. “I’m glad we covered that because I’m going to fuck the shit out of you and knot you now.”

“God, you guys are so cute.” You hear Steve gush beside you and you smile over at him sweetly.

“I love you too, Stevie.” Your eyes don’t stay on him for long because Eddie rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re straddling him. He plants his feet on the mattress and grabs onto your ass as he fucks up into you hard and deep. 

“I love you honey, get that knot.” Steve chuckles and you suddenly feel like he’s too far from you. Your sweet, handsome, dorky doctor. 

“I wanna suck your cock.” You pout through the moans that are falling from your lips like a song from the way Eddie is fucking you. 

“Anything for you.” Steve crawls over to you and presses himself up on his knees, planting one foot on the mattress. He grips onto the back of your head and pulls you down to his cock. You open your mouth and Steve doesn’t waste any time thrusting into it, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. 

“Goddamn, princess, look at you.” Eddie groans as he continues to thrust up into you, using his grip on your ass to bounce you even faster up and down on his cock. “You’re such a good little omega, taking us both so well.”

“Mhm, you’re such a good girl.” Steve moans at the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock, your tongue running along the vein on the underside of his shaft. His hand palms the back of your head as he starts to fuck your throat. Eddie’s thumb finds your clit and it has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Steve’s fingers lace through your hair, yanking your head back and his free hand wraps around your throat. “Look at me while Eddie makes you fall apart on his cock, I wanna see the look in your eyes while he takes what belongs to us.”

“Give your alpha’s your cum, cum on my cock, baby.” Eddie’s words are what teeters you over the edge. Your walls practically swallow his cock and it has him cumming right along with you. Eddie growls as his thick cock pulses cum into your wet cunt. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum too.” Steve’s grabs both sides of your head in his hands as he fucks your mouth until his balls twitch and he’s cuming in ropes down your throat as he stares deeply into your eyes. “That’s it, omega, swallow every drop.” 

“Shit, yes.” Eddie’s knot pops inside of you causing you to pull off Steve’s cock with a cry. The pain turns into another orgasm, your body going rigid as you fall forward on Eddie’s chest. You lay there, sweaty and panting as you come down from your high. Once your heart rate starts to even out you feel how right everything feels. You can feel your bond with Eddie and Steve both and you finally feel complete. Steve lays down on the bed next to you, looking over at you sweetly while he gently caresses your back. And you’ve never felt more at home than you do right now, wrapped in their fresh lemon and warm apple scents. 

“You did so good for us, omega.” Eddie sighs contently as he presses a kiss against your sweaty forehead. Your mind feels a little less foggy than before but you know it won’t be long until you’re a knot hungry monster again. 

“You’re amazing, honey.” Steve leans over to kiss your lips sweetly. “I’m gonna go to the store and get supplies for the week. Two knots won’t be enough for long.”

“You’re leaving?” Your brow pinches and you feel a sudden rush of panic hit you.

“Just for like thirty minutes, baby, I’ll be back as soon as you can. Eddie will be here with you. It’ll be good for you guys to have a moment to yourselves.” Steve kisses you again before getting up to get dressed. Eddie smiles up at him, mouthing thank you and Steve shoots him a wink. That makes Eddie blush even though they just made out less than thirty minutes ago. All three of you are definitely looking forward to exploring that more. Steve leans over to kiss your head again before leaving you and Eddie alone. 

“I’m truly sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie sighs. “I’m so sorry I deprived us of this for so long.”

“Yeah you really fucked up on that one.” You chuckle, pushing yourself up so you’re sitting, his knot still nestled inside of you. You smile down at him fondly as you take his face in your hands. “We have it now though, for the rest of our lives, and that’s all that matters. Holding onto that pain won’t do us any good.”

“I’m not worthy of you, I love you so fucking much.” Eddie pulls you down so he can kiss you deeply, pouring all his apologies and love into this one kiss that makes your head spin and your pussy clench. 

“I love you too, Teddie.” You giggle, resting your forehead against his. “I’m glad we covered that, because I’m really fucking horny again and your knot just went down.”

Eddie chuckles at you throwing his earlier words back at him before throwing you on your back. He leans over you, sending you that smile that you never want to go another day without seeing. “Alright then, let’s feed the knot monster.”

Taglist: @eddiesxangel @eerielamb @moonlightseranade @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @phantommoondoll @frombeyondthegravez @ali-r3n @sugasweettea @minniture @micheledawn1975 @bellalillyrose @bakusquadobsessed

Dividers by: @anitalenia & @strangergraphics

[minniture]

Post workout meal~

♱⋅── caleb x reader

♱⋅── about: honestly? caleb just can't get enough of you, especially after you're finally his, and especially after the two of you come back from the gym together.

♱⋅── word count: 3.8k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, pwp, scent kink, oral, shower sex, thigh choking?, sweat is mentioned a LOT, caleb's a perv but what else is new

art credit to 粟糍 @/realccc_ on x, dividers by @cafekitsune

Caleb is a horrible gym buddy. 

Don’t misunderstand, he’s been there every step of your fitness journey. From racing each other barefoot across the backyard as kids, to crashing into each other during high school basketball drills, to now, years later, spotting you through PRs and designing workout programs whenever you ask. 

You’re not sure when he turned into your unofficial personal trainer, but you do know you wouldn’t be half as consistent without him dragging you out of bed with pre-workout in hand.

It’s Monday, which means, obviously, it’s leg day. You and Caleb walk into the gym like routine, sharing a single pair of AirPods, one bud each, an unspoken ritual. Your playlist, naturally. Today you need a little bit more motivation, so it’s 2000s rap and phonk, enough base to usually drown out everything else, except for the fact that Caleb seems set on distracting you. 

He’s doing that thing again.

Hyping you up without a shame in the world, grinning like the devil as he watches you load up the hack squat. “C’mon, your quads are doing god’s work today,” he says, whistling low and obnoxiously close to your ear. You can practically feel the gummy smile in his voice.

You glare at him, but you’re already laughing, already flustered.

“Oh come on, you got two more,” he says smugly when you’re shaking already on rep fucking nine, voice dipped just enough to sound like a challenge. You want to say no, maybe curse him out. Instead, you bite down and do three. Just to spite him.

And when you rack the sled, gasping, barely able to stand, he leans over you and yells, loud enough for the guy curling way too close to hear—

“Push, push, push. Good fucking job.”

You groan. “Can you not obnoxiously moan at me in public?”

Caleb just grins, completely unapologetic. “Can’t help it. You’re hot when you suffer.”

Your face is already flushed from the set, but now it’s burning so violently you can feel it heat up. The worst part? Caleb definitely noticed it.

When he does decide to take mercy on you and call it a day, it’s mirror selfies and flexing like idiots in the locker room. He makes you pose next to him—every time—and posts every single picture of the two of you with the dumbest captions like, ‘Leg day with my pipsqueak’. 

He even adds a fire emoji—five times in a row. You're too tired to even fight him on it.

By the time you get home, drenched in sweat and barely functional, you're ready to collapse. But it’s what he does when you get through the door, sweaty and raw and wrung-out, that reminds you Caleb’s generosity always comes with a cost.

Or rather, it's what he refuses to let you do.

You only just make it back to your apartment, groaning as you drop your gym bag with an uncerimous thud, limply kicking your shoes off as your quads and hamstrings tremble in protest. “Holy fuck, this is going to hurt in two days.”

Caleb laughs behind you as he closes the door with his foot. “That’s ‘cause you refused to stretch with me, pipsqueak.”

You don’t even get a chance to throw something snarky back before his arms are around you. Not just a hug—a trap. He hauls you in like you weigh nothing, plastering his sweat-slick forehead against your neck as you let out a strangled groan at the sudden warmth and overwhelming scent of something so Caleb your brain short-circuits, trying and failing to pry him off as he just squeezes you tighter. 

“Don’t say I didn’t tell ya so.”

“Whatever, can you just—ugh—let go,” you huff, arms straining uselessly against the bulk of his shoulders, but your fingers only slide along damp skin, unable to get any real leverage. “Caleb, you reek.”

“Mhm, and you smell great.” 

As if to further prove his point, Caleb buries his head right back into the crook of your neck without a hint of shame. And then, he inhales. Deeply. Open-mouthed and right up against your neck.

Something feral, something desperate. 

“Caleb,” you warn, voice wavering despite yourself, but his hands are already wandering up your sides, fingertips hot as they trace the exposed skin between your tight bra and even tighter shorts. Another sharp inhale, cursing, “Fuck.”

Not even a moment later, Caleb’s spinning you around like it’s nothing, lifting you straight off your feet. You yelp, arms flailing until they find purchase in his hair, right as he licks a slow, hot, disgusting stripe up your throat.

“Ew, ew,” You flail in his arms, laughing and shrieking all at once, unable to even budge the man as he continues to suck and kiss at the drying rivulets of sweat across your neck and collarbones. “Ew! Caleb, what the actual— at least let me shower first you psycho!”

He looks offended at the very thought.

“Fuck no. That defeats the point.” Caleb rolls his eyes before going right back to licking your exposed sweat-slicked skin, lips dragging along your jaw. Up until the thick smell of you and the tang of salt thins out on his tongue, and he immediately looks down, eager for more.

 “I don’t think--” another kiss, this time right next to the strap of your sports bra, “--you understand--” his teeth tug at the fabric, “--how good you smell.” 

That’s all the warning you get before Caleb buries his face straight into the crook of your armpit. 

You scream bloody murder, full-on thrashing now, trying to dislodge him, grabbing his ears, his hair, anything. He’s laughing into your skin like a man possessed, barely able to hold you up as your squirming turns violent, the two of you tumbling further into your apartment. He stumbles as you continue to fight, nearly trips as he still can’t see anything from between your arms, leading you both to unceremoniously crash into the living room couch. 

Caleb dumps you there like you weigh nothing, his arms braced on either side of your head as he towers above, eyes wild, cheeks flushed. His chest heaves in sharp, shallow bursts, and you're just as breathless, laughter fading into something quieter, heavier.

“You ticklish or something?” he mocks with a cocked brow, all faux innocence. Like he hasn’t memorised every inch of you. Like he hasn’t known all the little tells and soft spots and the way your body fits against his since before either of you knew what that meant.

“Don’t you dare.”

Caleb only laughs again, crawling over to you as you try to squirm away, not getting very far as the leather of the couch sticks to every exposed inch of your sweat-soaked skin, holding you hostage.

“Nuh-uh, you can’t run away from me.” A smile, one far too innocent for the way his hulking body traps yours beneath him. His voice drops just enough to make your pulse skip. “I won’t let you, princess.”

The change of nickname makes you stutter. 

That’s all the opening Caleb needs before his mouth comes right back into your skin like he belongs there. Like it’s his. Humming shamelessly at the scent of your shampoo, slight remnants of perfume, and of course the scent of your sweat that all wrap him right back up with every glorious inhale. 

Lifting the band of your sports bra, Caleb traces the pink indents left behind before his tongue follows, hot and slow, moaning unashamedly at the thick taste of salt along the seams. He starts at the straps, sucking light marks into your collarbone and upper chest before he nuzzles his head right in between your boobs, looking up at you between them with innocent puppy-dog eyes as though he’s not doing the filthiest thing in the world. 

Your cheeks are burning. You can’t hold his gaze, not like this. Not when you’re pinned, not when he’s touching you like you’re something precious after all these years of wanting him. Unable to keep eye contact, you snap your gaze away, hand shielding the warmth of your face until something grabs at your wrist.

“Don’t,” Caleb says, and it’s not teasing this time. His voice is soft, and all he does is simply look you in the eyes once more. “Please, don’t hide from me.”

He lures your hand away and slowly moves to grip your chin instead, guiding your jaw down to watch as he lifts your bra, sucking at the sweat-damp fabric, letting the vibrant pink color turn dark with his saliva before letting it snap back against your clavicle with a wet slap.

“Can I?”

You can’t help it when he looks up at you like this, like someone revenant, someone hungry. Someone in love. All you see is the boy you grew up with, the man you love. And that makes you so, so weak for him. 

“Please,” you whisper, melting into his touch. 

Caleb’s grin returns, all boyish charm and puppy love. “Well then,” he says, voice low and delighted, “bon appétit.”

That fucking— 

You can’t even yell at him before Caleb shoves your sports bra right up, mouth instantly latching onto your nipple as your boobs bounce out from their constraints. Hot, desperate, starving. He latches onto your nipple like he’s been denied this for years, sucking hard enough to make your whole body jolt beneath him. 

It’s glorious to him, the still-wet patch of sweat between your chest, the way you arch up into the heat of his mouth as his tongue drags up the underside of one breast, moaning at the taste of you once again, leaving a teasing nip before tracing the damp, reddened outline of where the bra once was. 

Then he shifts, dragging his tongue across the underside of your other breast, following the line where your bra used to rest, tracing the sweat there like it’s honey. His breath is hot against your flushed skin. “I used to dream about this,” he mutters between kisses, sounding almost angry about it, like the taste of you is too much, like you’ve ruined him just by existing. “Instead of just watching you, imagining you. I’ve wanted you forever.”

That’s the confession that finally breaks you.

It’s not just the way he says it, voice low and hoarse, like every word costs him. It’s the weight of it, the dirty truth behind it, thick and sharp in your chest. The admission of guilt, of sin, of longing for longer than either of you can ever admit. 

If it’s not that, then it’s the heat of your sweat drying sticky on your skin, or the way Caleb’s spit is now everywhere, dragging across your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. He’s replaced your sweat with something worse and he just keeps licking, mouthing, groaning into you like a man starved.

“Caleb, please,” you gasp, tugging at his hair, trying to drag him away, to slow him down, but he only whines low in his throat, stubborn as always, kissing down your stomach with messy, frantic little presses of his mouth. You realize too late what he’s after, your desperation spiking. “No. No, Caleb, please just let me shower first.”

That earns a noise from him, half-animal and offended, Caleb not even bothering to respond as he just dips lower, hands sliding down to cup the sore backs of your thighs. His thumbs press into the trembling muscle, prying you apart like he needs this. 

You writhe, legs instinctively trying to clamp shut, but Caleb only leans further on top of you, using his weight to pin you back down. Groaning, he drags his tongue up the sweat-slick muscle of your quad. 

It’s disgusting. He’s disgusting.

And you’re embarrassingly turned on. 

The addictive smell of you, so much stronger after the gym, has his eyes rolling back. His fingers flex against your thighs, kneading and massaging at the tremors he caused, mouth following the trail of sweat that leads him further and further down.

Your hips buck in protest, but Caleb doesn’t budge. Just presses a hand to your stomach, holding you still with no effort at all, looking down at you like your squirming is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“You pervert,” you curse, your voice somewhere between horrified and breathless. “This is disgusting.”

“Don’t care,” Caleb rolls his eyes, voice muffled as he leans in and breathes deep, straight through his mouth, his nose dragging along the crease of your thigh until it bumps the edge of your shorts. “Need to taste you, feel you. Need everything you give me.”

He practically nuzzles into the damp fabric, the center of your gym shorts already darkened from the mix of sweat and something worse. His moan is guttural this time, desperate, like he’s been deprived of air and this is the only thing that can bring him back.

“Holy fuck,” Caleb’s slurring now, rutting forward just slightly—god you don’t think he realizes he’s doing that— hands shaking as they spread you wider. “More, need more.”

“Caleb, don’t— Caleb—”

“Shhh,” His eyes flash up, pupils blown wide, eclipsing the purple of his iris so violently you only see black. “You don’t even get it,” he whispers, before diving right back, licking a long, slow stripe right over the seam of your shorts.

You jolt, biting your lip to stifle a whine.

“Fuck, how do you always smell this good?” He’s groaning now, open-mouthed against the fabric, mouthing and licking at you like the flimsy pieces of fabric weren’t even there. “Even better now, after the gym. So. Fucking. Perfect.”

And god help you, your hips are moving into it now. You really are no better than him. 

It’s only when Caleb begins tugging at the high waistband of your shorts that you panic, hands shooting up into his hair as you yank—hard. 

The force of it jerks his head back with a whine, and you freeze when you feel his hips buck up into you at the same time. Half-lidded and dizzy, Caleb’s eyes narrow as he looks down at you as if daring. You tighten your grip experimentally, just a little, and his eyes roll into the back of his skull, jaw dropping open in a raw, broken moan.

“Shower, Caleb,” you hiss, trying to sound firm, trying to sound like you still have any leverage even as you nearly break at the feeling of Caleb subtly still humping your thigh. “Shower, or you don’t get anything more.”

There’s a beat. He blinks like he’s rebooting, then that boyish, infuriating grin spreads slow across his face. Pink rushes up his cheeks as he laughs, a little breathless, and without a word, he lifts you. Just scoops you right off the couch like you weigh nothing, still flushed and wide-eyed and painfully hard as he chases your lips again, mouth as greedy as always.

Caleb practically races across your apartment, kicking open your bathroom door as he licks into your mouth, sloppy and a little uncoordinated as he tastes every bit of you. 

“Fine,” another kiss, “We can shower. But let me eat you out first.”

You open your mouth to object, to remind him you just said shower first, but he’s kissing you again before the words can even leave your lips. And again. And again. Sweet, searing little kisses, each one chipping away at your resistance, his tongue dragging against yours until you’re dizzy, until your fingers claw into his hair to pull him closer, until you're the one moaning now.

You don’t even register your back hitting the shower tile until the cold sends a shock straight down your exposed spine.

Gasping, Caleb takes the opportunity to lick up into your mouth once more before pulling back, a thick strand of saliva still connecting the two of you as he carefully sets you down.  “Sorry, princess,” he breathes, crowding into your space, “you’re just too hot to wait. Can’t help it.”

You blink up at him, breathless, your sports bra halfway up your chest, still sticky with sweat and spit and whatever the hell else, and Caleb just leans in and licks another slow line up the side of your neck, groaning low like even this is the filthy luxury he’s waited decades for.

“Turn it on,” you say, barely recognizing your own voice, “Turn on the water.”

He does, one-handed, not even looking, his other hand sliding up your thigh and thumbing the band of your shorts, dragging the fabric down as the spray bursts to life behind him. 

The first hit of cold water makes you squeak, but then Caleb’s hands are on your ass, and his mouth is back, giving you one sweet kiss before tracing back down your body once again as he sinks to his knees before you like he’s praying.

Caleb’s clothes are entirely soaked already, sticking to every bulge of muscle and the obvious strain in his shorts as he coaxes both your thighs over his shoulders, pinning you between him and the wall.  

“So beautiful,” he breathes, voice almost reverent, letting your shorts hit the floor as the water turns hot, rushing over both of you. “So perfect like this. All wet. Just for me.”

Your fingers tangle into his hair, trembling as he shifts you further up on his shoulders, inhaling deeply as if scared the water might wash the scent of your sweat and arousal away. 

“You promised…” And fuck it comes out so weak now, your chest heaving as steam curls between you, sliding down Caleb’s flushed face as he looks up from between your legs, eyes dark and shining.

“Sure did, pipsqueak. And I always keep my promises,” and then Caleb’s mouth is on you.

Just like he did to your shorts, he licks up your entire cunt in one slow, greedy stroke, groaning at the taste of you before his lips suck onto your clit. He moans into you again, a full-body sound, and the vibration coupled with each flick of his tongue makes your whole spine arch off the wall.

You’re scrambling for anything, his hair, the slick tile, the edge of the shower door, but the steam and the rush of water have you slipping, half off balance. Caleb simply slides in closer, ignoring the scratch of tile against his knees, catching you by the hips like it’s nothing. 

You let out a shocked laugh, too breathless to be annoyed, and his grin grows wicked as he kisses the inside of your thigh, shamelessly admiring the way your muscles twitch and flex, and then bites—just hard enough to make you gasp—harder when you don’t pull away.

“You have no idea what these do to me,” he murmurs, tongue dragging up your thigh again. “Every time you run? Every time you squat? The way you look in those fucking shorts?” Another kiss. Another scrape of teeth. “I’ve been obsessed.”

And then his tongue is back, curling up into you greedily, lovingly, while the heat of the water pelts his back and your fists close around his wet hair. Again, the sting of your tugging only instinctively makes him push closer, his mouth works deeper, firmer, and you don’t mean to, but your thighs start to tremble, closing in around his head. 

Caleb moans into you like that’s all he’s ever wanted.

He tilts his head like he’s giving your cunt a messy kiss, mouth opened and drooling as his tongue pushes in deeper,  his nose nubbing up and down across your clit, forcing you to squeeze your legs tighter, to lock him in between, to choke him with the strength he’s worshipped for years.

“Shit, Caleb,” you whimper, thighs trembling around his ears. “You’re gonna, gonna suffocate—”

He hums like it’s encouragement. Like it’s all he wanted. 

You try to relax your hold, but he sure as hell won’t let you. Hands grip tight and take it further, pulling one of your legs to lock around his head entirely as Caleb puts himself in a headlock between your thighs, muffling praises and moans into your cunt as he eats at you like he’s going to die soon.

Caleb’s so hard it hurts but god that’s the last fucking thing he’s thinking about, not with the the heady smell and taste of you on his tongue, not with the way you’re squirming and whining and denying how turned on you are by this all, not with the way his vision is starting to go black from the pressure and lack of oxygen.

Ya that’s it, he wants to say, choke me, come undone for me, show me just how much you still need me. 

Your thighs tremble around his head, heels digging into the soaked fabric of his shirt, your pitched, desperate cries of Caleb’s name muffled by the rush of the shower and Caleb’s own wet, messy licks to your clit. Another scream of his name and Caleb feels you arch off the shower wall, squirting into his mouth as the pressure of your thighs finally eases around his head, the rush of air and your cum making him feel dizzy as he gasps and swallows it all. 

How is it possible for you to still look so cute? Even while choking him, even while trembling on his shoulders at the aftershocks of your orgasm, even with your hair dripping wet and plastered to your face, Caleb swears he’s never seen anything as perfect as you. 

He really is obsessed.

The heat and steam from the shower really isn’t helping either of your lightheadedness. Caleb’s arms tremble as he sets your legs down, holding up your hips when your knees threaten to give out, laughing, breathless and dizzy.

“Are you,” you inhale, shaky, bracing yourself against the shower wall as you try and pry your soaked sports bra off. “Are you going to help me shower now?”

Caleb grins from where he sits on the floor, eyes still hazy as he looks up at you, drenched in sweat, water, and now your cum. “Sure,” he says, voice hoarse, and you swear you’ve never heard anything so sexy in your life. “Right after you help me up. I don’t trust my legs anymore.”

You huff and pull him up, Caleb dramatically groaning to his feet before leaning into your touch like you’re the only thing keeping him anchored.

The two of you stumble under the spray of the shower, laughing and teasing, until Caleb eventually reaches over you to grab the shampoo. His fingers work gently through your hair, as easy as muscle memory, falling into the same routine of washing your hair as he did when you were children, except now he allows himself to place gentle kisses all across your bare neck, shoulders, and back whenever he has the chance. 

Yes, obsessed. This must be what obsession is, what love is. 

And Caleb smiles.

[minniture]

gawgeous 😮‍💨‼️

[minniture]

time to read some good smutty fanfiction

[minniture]

bless up 😩

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

[minniture]

*looks at drafts. sighs*

[minniture]

this app is like a pacifier to me

[minniture]

NEED this bad omggg!

Acknowledge Me

or: Simon finally gives you attention after you piss him off.

“The power it takes, to make me cry that way. Baby, I hate me when you get under my skin.”

cw: 3.6k words (lord), 18+ MDNI, Toxic!Simon/Meanie!Simon, smut with plot, daddy kink (daddy, pa), dubcon, p in v, dacryphilia, degradation (like hell), water park amusement, pvssy slapping, creampie, marathon!, intoxicated sex, pet names (lovie, doll, pup), overstim, orgasm denial, straight debauchery, after care, y/n visuals.

a/n: acknowledge me by doja cat was the big inspo.

Were you a fucking stupid brat?

Or were you simply itching for attention that you deserved?

If you told your friends, they wouldn’t call you a fucking brat. Stupid? Yeah.

For being with a man who didn’t hesitate to curse you out when you annoyed him. Simon Riley didn’t even flinch when you started hearing those hiccups over the phone, he could already picture your trembling bottom lip, huffed out cheeks and tears forming at your water line. If anything it pissed him off further.

“Don’t fuckin try it with those tears [+]. I fuckin told you, you tell me where the fuck you’re goin. Why the fuck did I have see you move to five different bars in three fuckin hours and you didn’t say a word to me about it till now!?” Simon yelled through the phone.

“You and your dumb ass friends are too fuckin reckless—“

“—Don’t call them that-“ you chided.

“-Oh, I promise you lovie, I don’t give a shit.” his voice with venom.

For fucks sake, it was supposed to be a fun night out and if you were one of your friends, it would’ve been. You and your friends loved bar hopping, enjoying the vibe wherever you went and free alcohol that men and women would order for you. You don’t remember how many bars ago, but your phone died somewhere in the middle and you did spend about five minutes at the last 6 bars trying to find an outlet before your friends dragged you away to the dance floor. That had to count for something, right? You did try to get some form of life on your phone for thirty minutes!

You’d finally gotten to an outlet, right next to the fucking bathroom. ‘15 missed called 4 new messages.’ A string of curses leaving your mouth once you dialed that memorized phone number. And there Simon was, talking to you out the ass while the music was booming in the distance, you had your phone in one hand and a finger in the other trying to hear him properly, the smell of only-god-knows from god-knows-what filling your poor nose all so you could attempt to fix your accidental boo-boo :( — but that bastard had to have you crying in the club.

Like you were thirsty for his attention. you were.

No, none of this was your fault. You didn’t need to update the 6’4, blonde, hunk of a damn brat, when he hadn’t even bothered to contact you in a month.

Yup, the ghost was actually known for ghosting you.

Purposely declining your calls, leaving your texts on read or worse: replying with a ‘k’ when you tried to meet up when you knew (least for the most part) he kept to himself. When he was stationed near by, he was at his own fucking house minding his own business. He was the worst. And the cherry on top?

The fucker had your location on.

You swore he did this to get a rise out of you, to see you teetering off the brink of sanity— and you had to attempt to reel yourself back in every. fucking. time. You weren’t his little plaything, you didn’t need him.

“Don’t fuck with me.” you mumbled, salty tears hitting your mouth. Those would be the last for the night, you swore it. It was like the liquor finally left your heart and went to your brain. Liquid courage.

“What’dyou just say t’me?”

Louder, “I said, don’t fuck with me! I’m sick of your shit Simon!” You snapped. You weren’t an angry person, you’d just hit an annoying wall you needed to get though. The annoying wall called Ghost Riley.

“You always- always come out of the fucking blue ‘nd think you tell me what to do! I’m not a fucking idiot, I know what the fuck I’m doin! Don’t be bitchy at me cause I like to have a little fuckin fun with my friends even when you’ve been ignoring me. Fuckin ignoring me instead of telling me what’s up! The fuck do I gotta do to get you off my dick?!”

“You like the messy shit, Si! You like seein me pissed at you just so you’re the one who has to come and fix it! I can’t stand it. You should go find a bitch who likes that shit because I don’t! I hate how I feel right now and I hate that you can’t be one of those kind boyfriends who’ll come and fuckin hold me nice and shit! Hell, maybe I’ll go find someone to hold me realll nice like since you fuckin won’t!” You spat, nose flaring, you were trembling with rage.

“Pup,” one word. Cut throat. Yanking you right back down to reality. “You take your pretty ass home, ‘nd I’ll go easy on you, yeah?”

You felt your chest rising and falling rapidly, you were frustrated that he clearly didn’t listen to your little rant but you felt your panties get damp. Just a bit. Just like always when you saw a punishment coming. You couldn’t help yourself.

“I-“

“—She’s busy right now please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeeep.” Your friend, Sharon, has snactched your phone out of you hand, quickly interjecting your conversation with the man and hanging up. She hiccuped, nodding her head in satisfaction.

“You can’t spend the whoooole night by this stinky ass bathroom. Let’s go daaaaance, or-or drink.” She giggled, taking your hands. “Or both!” She squealed at her own words.

Fuck it.

You went out with your friends so you could have a good time, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Simon had such a nice way of breaking you down to your knees, so you were the one sobbing and begging then bringing you back up. He didn’t do it often, he wasn’t that fucking mean, but he did it when you really pissed him off. Simon needed you to understand— you weren’t in charge. He was. The man doesn’t remember exactly what you did to piss him anymore, it had been a long and grueling month for him anyway. But he had to follow through with something because he’d be damned if he had to actually apologize, you being with your idiot friends didn’t help your case. So he threw it in the melting pot of why he had a right to bully you.

The motherfucker couldn’t help himself.

When he entered your empty and annoyingly small studio apartment, he added another mark to his ‘reasons to fuck babygirl up’ list. He told you to take your sweet ass home, didn’t he? And where were you?

He’d make sure the neighbors knew exactly who the fuck he was.

It should’ve been easy for you to check in, no? He worried about your safety above all else, but it always seemed to fly out the window when you were with your friends who were notorious and extreme party girls while you just went with the flow. He didn’t not like them sober, it’s when you went clubbing you, for some reason, would get hard headed, defiant. It pissed him off, which would always lead to an argument. Usually he’d come snatch you up while you were tipsy, you’d have a cry in the car, mumbling something about how you just knew the man didn’t like you or take you serious.

And partially, Ghost didn’t. He brushed your insecurities away at first, thinking nothing of it as you went about your life. But you kept being on edge drunk or sober. So he would be right there, finger fucking you otherwise while the car was still in motion. And maybe you were right, maybe he wasn’t the sweet and soft boyfriend you wanted who’d hold your cute little hand when you made him angry. He wasn’t the type to coddle you, chicken peck your face with kisses when you felt down. Simon Riley was the gruff and overbearing man you needed to set you straight, keep you grounded when the world went to shit.

That’s what your cute little tantrum was about, least part of it was. Simon knew he was distant, you just needed a reminder he was yours and you were his. And only his. You craved him like you needed food, it was obvious to anyone who saw you two together. He chuckled, couldn’t believe you even suggested fucking some other man. As if they could handle you, as if they knew what you needed.

He’d set that attitude straight.

The shower was running when the front door of your flat closed behind you. There’s no way you left it on this whole time, did you? You didn’t remember. The night turned into a long one.

No, you didn’t get black out drunk like your friends suggested. You had another shot or two, deciding to stay on the sober side with your DD. You two did smoke a fat blunt before hitting another club though, that made you feel like you were starting to lose your hearing. But it mellowed you out completely. The anger you felt, all that angst and sadness? Gone like a snap of your fingers. The person who was yelling and crying earlier? Technically it wasn’t you, you just needed a little peace. A little medicinal help.

After singing and dancing as hard as you could, your drunk friends taking blurry photos and videos of you that you’d probably post later, you persuaded them it’d be best to get something to eat and head home around two am. It took thirty minutes to find a convenience store that was open so you could chow down on something, and fifteen to get home. With a basically empty bag of chips in one hand, purse slung over your shoulder like a duffle, a bag of junk food in your other hand, low red eyes and a small smile— you finally got home.

You’d deal with that asshole tomorrow. Or next week— maybe next month if you gave enough of a fuck like he did.

Who knows.

You sat the bag of food on the coffee table, right now the priority was your skin care routine, then eat, then zonk out till 2 pm. You still can’t believe you left the shower and the bathroom light on that was now blinding your eyes but whatever. You’d turn it off as soon as you were done since it was warm due to the slight steam.

Routine, routine, routin— you stumbled over a pile of clothes. Large male clothes— okay, maybe you were in the wrong apartment.

Not your first rodeo.

You’d just slowly back out and try looking for your apartment. No big deal.

But the shower curtain swung open and you tripped over the clothes, falling right on your ass with a yelp.

“Ya can’t be that fuckin drunk, can ya?”

Your eyes darted open, right at the familiar deep cockney accent— Simon Riley was right there in the flesh, water dripping down his scarred and large body, making him dazzle like a God in that fucked up bathroom light.

Now that was blinding.

“Hello? Are ya listenin?”

Oh, he really wanted an answer.

“ ‘M not drunk.” You said breathlessly. Intoxicated? Yes. But not drunk. The shots had worn off ages ago. Hell, maybe your high was too at the sight of this brute.

What the fuck was he doing here?

The blonde ignored the confused look on your face. Taking a towel that sat on the sink and drying his hair. No point in drying off anything else, he was about to sweat.

So were you.

Simon continued on, stepping past you and you quickly got up, following right behind him like a starved puppy. For someone who hated your apartment, he sure walked around like he owned the place. Nude, large cock swinging, and the look of annoyance written on his handsome unmasked face.

He sat on the bed, manspreading nonchalantly. Knowing you were looking at it, your eyes immediately went elsewhere.

“What do you want?” You mumbled out, shifting from foot to foot.

As if you didn’t know what was bound to happen.

The older man laughed, sarcasm dripping down his throat.

“Be good ‘nd strip, won’t repeat myself.”

“Si-Simon!” Your breath hitched once a large hand came down on your ass, once for good measure.

“Who?” He slapped his thick member on your ass, sliding it through the crevice of your cheeks.

“But- but Simon-“ another slap.

“You’re gonna make it worse for yourself, call me proper.” He smacked his cock over your glistening folds. So fucking wet.

“Daddy mmph,” You moaned.

“All this ‘b-b-but’ bullshit from ya. You’ve pissed me off more than enough. You’ll take all of it today.” Simon slipped inside your hole, filling you to the brim even with half of that girthy cock in you. You both hissed, fuck, it was always so good when he was inside your walls. Simon slowly started to rock his hips into you, slowly but surely making sure you took every inch if his manhood had to offer.

It was when he bottomed out, you knew you were in for it. Simon wasn’t talking to you, he forced your head down on the bed, forcing your back to arch further as he thrusted right at your spot. Over and over and over.

“Gonna cum pa, gonna cum.” You stuttered, feeling the pit in your stomach starting to turn.

“No you’re not.”

“—But—”

“I dare you [+]. I know you’d just looove seein how that turns out.”

You hiccuped, tears brimming as Simons pace got faster. You could feel him throbbing inside you but he wouldn’t cave. He was making the both of you suffer over a petty argument— a mistake that in any normal relationship wouldn’t be that serious.

“I- no- anngh— I need to cum—”

“-You don’t need shit you greedy. fuckin. bitch.” He grunted, swatting your ass with every thrust.

The man yanked you up by your tosseled hair, “You had your oh-so lovin Daddy fuckin worried about’cha so you can be safe then when I finally get a hold of ya ‘nd tell you to go home, you ignore me. Threatenin to go fuck some idiot, but he couldn’t fuck you like I can? Can he? Can’t keep you pretty ‘nd upright? Can he?” His hand trailed from your throat to the buldge at your stomach. He scuffed, “now you’re itching t’cum just because I have my cock right here in ya? Fuckin dumb bitch shit,”

“You a dumb bitch?” He asked, making sure you were fucking him back. Ripples forming on your ass with every thrust.

“Noooo.” You cried out, trying to get away but it only made the brute dig into you further.

“What?”

“No sir.”

“Thaaats right princess. You're my smart little girl, listen to me next time. Good on you- fuck— for tryin to salvage yourself.” He huffed.

You didn’t realize your own toes curling at that small praise, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

“Hold it, did you just fuckin cum? When I told you not to?” He growled, forcing you to look at his eyes that were practically red with anger.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You really couldn’t help yourself, you’d been holding it for how long? And you were still kinda high which made you feel the sensations ten fold, Simon was drilling into you like no tomorrow and then he gave you an inch of kindness after being so mean to you this whole fucking time.

Your body unconsciously took a mile.

“Nope.” He yanked you back to lay your back on him, the rest of his drenched length in you, and lifted your leg so it was over your head, legs parted like the red sea. The first smack on your cunt for the night had you screaming, water spraying out.

Simon gripped your chin, forcing you to look down at the mess you created while harshly rubbing your pearl, still thrusting into you from behind, “You wanna act like a greedy bitch and think with your pussy? Then you cum like a greedy fuckin bitch. Cum you dirty pup.”

And he kept smacking down on your poor cunt, unable to stop yourself from cumming and squirting. Completely creaming Simons girthy cock so that a ring of cum formed around the base of his length.

“Daddy I can’t-“ you keened.

The man scowled, “-Shut. the fuck. up. You never shut the fuck up, the only thing I wanna hear is how fucking wet that pussy is. Keep fuckin cummin like a dirty slut you are.”

And you did.

You were wetting the bed like a dog. Water flying everywhere with every thwack of Simons hand on your abused and misused clit. You didn’t even know how many times you had cum by that point. Words? What were those? You wouldn’t even be able to read a street sign or name your favorite color if asked.

You were seeing pure white, the only thing you could hear was the loud squelching of Simon pumped himself in and out of you. He pulled out for a second causing you to whine at the loss of him, but he slipped back into your tight walls, fucking you in a nice missionary.

He gave your face a few light smacks to the face, tutting “Ah, ah, ah, pup, don’t you fuckin pass out. Eyes on Daddy.”

You managed to pry those long lashes open, hooded and lower than they could ever get when you were high.

“Therrrre my pretty girl is. Look so good bein fuckin stupid on my dick doll. This is alllll my girl needed. A good lesson, yeah? Remind ‘er who’s boss, huh?” He smirked, dragging himself down to you so your legs were at your chest.

“Shit baby, feel you squeezing down on me. Wanna cum with me? Missed me given it to ya just like you always need?” Oh, you were crying again. Yeah, you did miss his mean ass.

And his mean beautifully scarred up face, the mean way his muscles flexed when he did anything, his stupid fucking mouth that had to say some stupid shit touching your full lips, his disgustingly sexy muscular yet pudgy stomach with a happy trail touching your stomach everytime he wrapped those arms around you. His massive presence when he stood next to you, mean brown eyes watching while you did your hair, your makeup, or got dressed. Heartless hands that rubbed your neck everytime he didn’t know how to comfort you because that asshole trying his hardest to understand you.

And that undeniably cruel, overly massive cock fucking you like you were the final girl getting a well deserved an award for making it out the trenches in a horror film.

Your head was full with the thought of daddy, daddy, daddy— you shook your head but you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. You hung on to whatever bullshit that man gave you. Only him. Always him.

“Wan- I wan it pa! Wan your cum in me.” you babbled through your sobs.

“Course ya fuckin do. Can’t do shit without me.” The older man crooned. He finally planted his lips on yours, you moaned at just the feel. Pink walls fluttering in ecstasy as he filled you to the brim. Slow thrusts making sure he pumped everything he had into your perfect cunt.

So much for not crying anymore.

The only sound you could be heard in that studio was you cries, like a fucking baby, bouncing off your thin walls. The headboard was finally able to rest, you knew for a fact your neighbors probably despise your being now.

“Why didn’t you- you come see me? I wanted- hicc- I wanted to see you. But- but- you wouldn’t come see me! Wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone,” You sobbed, tripping and falling through your words. “you must hate me.”

The older man rolled his eyes, “Didn’t ever say tha’. How can I hate’cha ‘nd your mine? Doesn’t make sense mama.”

“Didn’t call me though.” You were sprawled out on the bed now, fat tears escaping your eyes. The blonde was sitting on the bed, grabbing the bottled water that he kept in the nightstand, opening it and putting it to your lips to drink. You did, lifting just enough for a bit to go down your bound to be sore throat and flopping back on the bed.

“Was busy swee’art.” Half truth, half lie. Though it was habit, he was trying to keep you in the loop of his life this time. But old habits die hard. The man forgot to reply. His work schedule was fucked, and he was busy spending his free time moving house. The house he planned to give you, it just wasn’t ready yet. Simon was actually being good for you, for once.

“You’re not always busy Si, you just don’t like my annoying voice!” You whimpered.

It took everything in the older brute to not laugh, you were bein so fucking cute. Babbling nonsense but still clinging to him like a lifeline. Still wanting, still his baby girl.

“Told ya, you weren’t annoyin. Got a nice voice, so get it out silly skull.” He cooed, sitting you on your bottom to face him.

You sniffed, moaning and groaning in annoyance but choosing to accept those words. And only those though.

“Fucks sake, Stop it.”

“I caaaant.” You whined, profusely wiping your tears.

“No, dummy.” Simon pushed your hands off your own face, gently wiping the tears with his thumbs that continued to poor out, “Yer gonna throw a fuckin fit if your face ends up bein puffy cause you wipe your tears so damn rough. Take it easy.”

No one knew how to wipe your tears better than the man who created them.

“I wanna make up, you don’t want to?” That was as close to an apology you’d ever get. Always.

A proper Ghost apology was rare as is and you wouldn’t be getting that after your little tantrum tonight. So you ate up what you could get.

“I wanna- I wanna make up too Daddy.” You croaked, dragging out your words. Adorable princess.

“Pfft,” he ruffled your now messy, sweated out hair, “I gotcha.”

“Up you go.” Like a feather, Simon lifted you from the bed, walking to the bedroom you too had been at who knows how many hours ago. He gently sat you on the counter of the sink,

“Let’s get you all ready for bed, yeah?”

a/n: I really love meanie!Simon the most. Let me know what you think about him.

[minniture]

literally hit one of these omfggg what a pleasant read this was! five billion out of ten 🙂‍↕️

the four steps between (best) friends and lovers

summary: Long-time best friends, it's not a surprise that it's you Steve comes to when he needs a fake girlfriend. One little white lie, one perilous family dinner, one evening of pretending to be a couple.

How hard could it be?

[ 12k + best friends to lovers + fake dating + fem!reader]

STEP ONE: THE PROPOSAL

"Be my girlfriend."

The glass held between your fingers slips and makes a loud bang as it hits the sink. The water from the tap pours over it, unaware of the incredibly unusual change in the universe that just occurred.

You tilt your head up, ignoring the lost glass, and raise your eyebrows high. "Come again?"

Steve huffs a little, as though you're the one being rather dramatic, and leans further forward across the island. His hands are planted firmly, his hazel eyes wide as he all but pouts at you. You're still grappling with where the hell that came from.

"Be my girlfriend. Please." He says. "For just one dinner, I promise. I swear I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't actually desperate."

You blink, clearly having missed a beat somewhere.

Frowning, you finally shut off the tap and rescue your abandoned glass from the bottom of the sink. You pick up and give it a quick once over for any chips. Scot-free, luckily.

"Okay, back up." You say, giving a small shake to clear your head. You make a face. "First of all, Harrington, ouch."

Steve sags a bit. "C'mon, you know that's not what I mean."

Not even a hint of a smile at your dig — which tells you he's probably pretty serious then.

"Secondly, what dinner is this? What could be so important that you have to show up with a faux-girlfriend on your arm?"

Steve properly slumps this time, a loud groan accompanying the languished movement. His forehead presses against the counter-top and you bite your tongue to avoid making an unhelpful, teasing comment about it. Instead, you refill the glass in your hand and wait patiently.

"I…" Steve begins, his voice muffled against the counter-top.

"MybrotherisintownwithhisfiancéeandI—"

"Steveeee," You interrupt as you give in to the urge, leaning over and poking him in the head. "If you want my help, please stop mumbling into the counter and tell me the problem."

He doesn't move for a moment, still face down, but you can see the rise and fall of his back as he sighs deeply. He shifts, twisting so his face is no longer hidden. It's noticeably pinker than it was a minute ago.

"My brother is in town next week." He explains. "With his fiancée. And my parents really love to kick up a fuss whenever he gets brought up, whether it's, yanno, like, about jobs and shit or whatever."

Steve waves a careless hand out. He rises from his slumped position, tucking his chin into the palm of his hand.

"And, like, this time it was about relationships. It was all," Steve's voice pitches up, whiny and nasally. "When are you going to get a serious relationship like Brandon, Steve? When are you going to settle down, Steve? When are you going to stop being a disappointment, Steve?"

He huffs another sigh, this one tinged with more defeat. You feel your face twitch in sympathy.

"So, just to get them shut up I…" Steve averts his gaze to study the counter-top suddenly. He draws an idle circle with his free hand. "I said that I was actually dating someone."

You take in his words. "But you're not."

"Thank you, genius. I had no idea." Steve straightens up with a scoff, throwing his hands out. Dragging them down his face, another groan warbles out of him.

"But now they're expecting me to show up to this dinner with someone — someone I'm dating — and I cannot admit I lied. So, please, be my girlfriend for one night."

You snort. His distress, a disaster of his own making, is just a tad bit funny. Just a little. A smidge. "Dude, chill. Just say your girlfriend is sick and she can't come."

Steve laughs mirthlessly. "That's like the adult equivalent of saying oh you don't know her, she goes to another school. No, I can't do that! C'mon, please."

His hands clasp together, raised in a plea.

"Think of it as one hugely, massive favour."

You take a moment to think it over.

"When is it?"

"This weekend, Saturday, 5 o'clock."

"Dress code?"

"Formal. Duh."

"How many people?"

"Uh, my mom, my dad, my brother, his fiancée. Maybe my uncle? Four or five."

Saturday was only a couple days away. He'd left it awfully late to ask—and you're not exactly sure who else would step up for the job if you said no. For the first time since he threw out the insane suggestion, you properly consider it — and feel your face screw up instinctively.

You? Pretending to be Steve's girlfriend?

Sure, to some girls that probably sounded like a dream come true, but it hadn't ever been like that between you and Steve.

You weren't even sure if you could picture it, being tucked under his arm, receiving delicate kisses on the head instead of noogies. Your nose wrinkles again at the oddity.

It wasn't like people didn't like to speculate — men and women can't just be friends, after all — but getting on Steve Harrington's kiss list had never really been a priority to you. Would you even be able to pull it off?

Your mind casts out to the girls that Steve tends to date, nit-picking as you try to think of what separated you from them. While Steve would certainly vehemently deny it, you're pretty sure you can pick a pattern out from the array of girls. A type that you certainly wouldn't see yourself fitting into.

Steve just… doesn't go for girls like you.

Steve, watching you closely, sees the hesitation sink in. He leans forward again, bargaining face on.

"You can veto every movie we watch for the next month."

You squint at him. Raise your chin an inch, forcing yourself not to smile too obviously. It's not often you get to see Steve looking ready to actually grovel for something.

He narrows his eyes, catching onto your deviousness. "Fine. I'll pay for your shakes for the next month, too."

You take another moment to think it over, exaggerating the hmmm sound you make. You tap your finger against your chin, indicating you're not quite convinced yet.

Steve leans further forward, his expression inching toward a bitchy disbelief. A muscle in his jaw twitches.

He looks as though he might start another slew of scoffing, his tongue pressed into his cheek, before he seems to re-evaluate what's at stake here.

He says, "I will drive you up to Indianapolis on—" He holds up one finger. "—one occasion when you ask."

Grinning, you stick out your hand for him to shake.

"You've got a deal, mister."

Steve sighs, his shoulders sagging in relief as he drops his hand to rest in yours. You give it a firm shake and just when you can see the thank-you forming on his lips, you tug his hand forward. You grin wider, almost taunting.

"I would've done it just for the shakes, just so you know."

Steve does scoff this time, ripping his hand back from yours. "You're an awful friend."

You bite down your smile, already dreaming of the free shake you'll be sipping all the way out to Indianapolis. You take a sip of your water and raise your brows at Steve over the lip of your cup.

"Hey. Don't you mean awful girlfriend." You wiggle your brows, not failing to see the hint of pink that colours Steve's cheeks.

Despite the colour in his face, Steve manages to deliver a long, unimpressed stare at you.

His eyes flick down your figure, clearly turning your words over in his head, then back up. As though he's actually realising what he's asked you to do.

He huffs another sigh, running his hand down his face. "Jesus Christ. This is an awful idea."

"Hey, it's your idea, not mine."

—

A stray blouse flies from the closet, landing in an unceremonious lump at the foot of your bed.

You toe at it gently, narrowed gaze travelling from the murky colour up toward the closet, to the perpetrator currently tearing your wardrobe apart. He doesn't even pause, hands still digging, almost resembling a dog burying a bone.

Sighing, you drop your head back, hair splaying against your pillow. The water-stain on your bedroom ceiling greets your sigh with silence.

You had thought that, while sure, yeah, the Harrington's are a fancy bunch, it ultimately wouldn't be that much of a hassle to step in as Steve's date.

You'd have to dig through your closet for the nicest thing you owned (and seldom wore) and you and Steve would concoct a ludicrous story that could be the next John Hughes film.

It would take an hour, tops.

A severe underestimation. Maybe the promise of one hugely, massive favour should've tipped you off.

"Are you being serious right now?" You moan from your place on the bed. You shift your head forward again, eyeing your best friend across the room.

Steve, still buried in your closet, makes a loud harumph in answer. His voice comes out muffled against the clothes, too swamped amongst the fabric. "—Y'know, this wouldn't be so hard if you actually had anything wearable in here—"

You make a noise of indignation, tipping your head further forward. Your necklace shifts, the pendant sliding down the chain and hitting the comforter beneath you.

"And just what are you trying to say?"

Steve pauses for a moment, his hands halted on a pair of coat-hangers. He leans out from the clothing and lets his head loll back, his hazel eyes forming a flat stare.

"Har har." Steve says sarcastically. He turns back to the closet, the coat-hanger in his hand scraping as he pushes it along, assessing each piece with quick, attuned eyes. "I'm just saying you have a lack of clothing that my mother deems acceptable."

He turns back for a second. "Which is a good thing, by the way."

You hum in agreement, letting your head flop back onto your pillow. You've seen the pantsuits Cynthia Harrington wears.

Steve continues his barrage through your wardrobe, making a noise of disapproval every couple of seconds.

You also can't say you had expected to get started so soon; as in immediately post fake-girlfriend proposal. It occurs to you that perhaps you've said yes to something bigger than you expected.

"You're taking this really seriously." You comment.

"Yeah, well," Steve reaches in and tosses another blouse, this one pale-blue, on the bed by your feet. "I know you've met my parents before but they're, like, different when Brandon comes around."

"Different?"

"Like worse. Way, way worse." He draws a line with a flat hand. "Brandon makes them just so—"

His hand curls up, forming a fist. He sighs, dropping it to rest on his hip. For a long moment, he stares into your wardrobe.

You push up on one elbow, brows knitting together. "Steve?"

Steve jolts lightly at your voice, torn out of his thoughts. He reaches out and plucks another blouse from your wardrobe, a maroon pleated one that you'd sworn you had thrown away. It's horrendous and definitely picked out by your mother. He turns and chucks it on the bed, crumpling atop the others and looks up at you, hands perched on his hips.

"Just, like, the smoother this dinner goes, the better, okay?"

You sit up completely, catching the seriousness leaking into Steve's voice. Damn. He actually sounds pretty worked up about the whole thing.

You smile, aiming for comfort. Even if you hadn't quite grasped what you had said yes to, Steve was still your best friend.

His parents were… difficult on the best of days. It was clear he was going for the least eventful, head-down approach as he could for this.

You could do that.

"Okay." You nod, more serious this time, eyeing the blouses on the end of the bed. You miss the relief that shutters across Steve's face. "We got three days til Saturday. What do you need me to do?"

"You can start," Steve says, spinning back to face your chest of drawers this time. His eyes flash over, with a hint of mirth. "By telling me if you even own a skirt that goes below your knees, you scandalous woman."

You laugh and get to your feet, wandering towards your drawers to pull open the bottom most one. Fishing around, you try to recall if you have anything church-worthy, tongue poking out your lips.

A hideous woollen skirt gifted to you for Christmas a couple years ago springs to mind. You shiver.

"Below the knee, huh?" You say. "You better start telling me about the role I'll be playing if I can't even turn up as myself."

You're only half joking. Your fingers curl around the scratchy fabric and you wrinkle your nose in recognition. Tugging it forward, it escapes the confines of your drawers and splays out with a sudden poof. You get the joy of remembering just how ugly it really is.

Twisting, you hold it up to Steve who has taken your place on your bed, laid back.

"Think this'll do?"

Steve's head perks up and he locks onto the skirt in your grasp. "Ugh, it's awful. Perfect."

You drop the skirt, abandoning it to take your place next to Steve on the bed. The springs creak slightly as your weight joins Steve's, the bed dipping and forcing you closer together. A smile sneaks onto his face.

"Okay, but for real," You jab a finger into the softness of Steve's side and he makes a little noise of complaint. "You've gotta tell me what I'm expecting for this, dude. It would be, like, catastrophically mean of you to send me in there blind."

Steve sighs — something he's really doing that a lot recently — and rolls toward you, propping his head up with one arm. The edges of his polo stretch as his bicep bulges. He frowns down at your comforter as he thinks.

"I don't know if I actually can prepare you for it." He admits, raising his gaze to look at you through his lashes. "Like, I think we're gonna have to just come up with a story and fend off the questions as best we can."

Another thought occurs to you. You frown. "Wait, don't your parents, like, know about me already?"

Steve's gaze darts away, this time staring at your comforter with a greater intensity. He gives a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, well, that's why it'll work. They basically already ask me when we'll be getting together."

Your brows jump. A teasing grin taunts your mouth but you forsake it for a more helpful approach.

"Alright, then," You say. "Then let's do better than fending off the wolves. If I'm gonna be your fake girlfriend, I'm not gonna half-ass it. Let's knock the socks off your parents."

Steve's eyes jump up, meeting your stare and it takes another moment before he realises you're being genuine. You grin, poking him in the side again.

"And Brandon."

"Yeah?" Steve smiles. He sounds a tad awed at your dedication, his eyes roaming over your face gently. After a moment, he shakes his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "Okay. Uh, we have to come up with a backstory first."

"And it has to be one that your parents will believe too."

Steve nods, then pauses, a frown knitting together his eyebrows. "Wait, when did we get together? We can't have just started dating that's— like, almost as bad as showing up without a girlfriend."

You blink, perturbed. "What?"

"Oh, hey mom and dad." Steve says, his tone sardonic and flat. "Oh yeah, this is my girlfriend who I somehow started dating just one week ago, coincidentally just in time for this family dinner."

You cringe a little. He does have a point.

"Fine." You say. A little worry burrows into your brain — the longer you make your 'relationship', the more details you have to construct, to remember, and recall correctly.

You worry your bottom lip. "How long is long enough though? If it's too long, we have to remember more things."

Steve's mouth twists in thought. He gives a hmm.

"I think the last time you saw my parents was… sometime around New Year's Eve, right? They had that party, d'ya remember?"

You wrack your brain and find a memory with glittering fireworks and greasy hot-dogs. Steve had too much champagne and emptied his stomach into a bush. Faintly, the memory of passing by Mr and Mrs. Harrington fits in there— only for a moment.

"Yeah," You say.

Combing over the last years' events, you try to think if there's anything else you would've seen them at.

Graduation? You try to smooth out the wrinkles of that memory too; sunny day, sweltering gown. You hadn't remembered seeing Steve's parents there. "'Cos they didn't come to graduation, did they?"

"Nope." Steve says, popping the p. He rolls back to lie flat on your bed, folding his hands to rest on his chest. "What about after one of my basketball games? The final one of the season." He proposes, eyes tracking back to you.

You laugh without meaning to, spurred on by Steve's surprise.

"Really? At your basketball game? That's when the sparks went flying and we got together?"

Steve's mouth drops open an inch in offense. He throws his hands up. "What? That's, like, totally romantic." He defends. "Besides, it's a good reason for our friendship to have changed."

"You lost that game."

"I still scored!"

"Fine." You appease, laughing lightly. "We got together after you lost the last basketball game of the season."

Steve wrinkles his nose again. "Well, don't put it like that."

You laugh again, soft and light.

"Who asked who?"

"I asked you." Steve says.

You nod, carefully trying to commit the detail to memory. Your head spins as you try to think up the variety of different questions you might get asked at the dinner.

What sort of questions might his parents ask? Or his brother? They'll probably want to know the basics — how you got together, how it's going. You might get a shake-down to see if you're worthy of dating a Harrington.

Then, of course, there is the matter of ensuring you're a convincing couple. In love enough to be brought along to an exclusive family event.

That means… getting touchy. The thought sends a jolt through your stomach— will you have to kiss?

You bury the thought. You'll cross that bridge and have it's subsequently unavoidable, awkward conversation when you get to it.

You're not sure who'll you will have more trouble convincing; Brandon or Steve's parents. But from what you know of Steve's family, you'd bet none of them know him that well.

For all you know, this could well be a walk in the park. Maybe the easiest free trip to Indianapolis ever earned.

"What's Brandon like?" You ask, trying to get a better sense of who you'll be fooling. "Do you think he'll ask many questions?"

"He's…" Steve's eyes shift from you to the ceiling, his mouth forming a flat line. "An asshole, like my dad. He's got this amazing talent for getting under my skin. Which usually includes undermining just about anything I have going for me in my life. Or—" He gestures to you with a sigh. "—what I actually don't have going."

He rolls his head in your direction, his mouth twisted into a bitchy frown.

"He used to always rat on me to our parents when I was kid. He once got me in trouble for going to see Tommy just because he didn't want to walk me over. Said I disobeyed authority." Steve makes quotations with his fingers.

Your brows raise in disbelief. "Isn't he, like, fifteen years older than you?"

Steve huffs a mirthless laugh. "Yep. Told you, asshole. So, yes, he'll probably ask questions but I don't think he'll expect I'd do something as desperately pathetic as faking a girlfriend so hopefully we'll fly under his radar."

Reaching out, you whack Steve on the arm, relishing in his annoyed ow!

Eyes narrowed, you wait til he's looking at you with his what gives? face before you say, "What you're doing is not pathetic, nor is it desperate. It is an act of survival against your shitty family, okay?"

Steve stares at you for a moment before his shoulders seem to melt, the tension leaking from them. He flops his head back.

"Okay." He murmurs in agreement.

"Alright," You say. "Now, let's get this story straight. We got together at the final game of the season, which would mean we've been together for nearly…"

STEP TWO: THE ACT

Your legs itch and you fight the urge to readjust your tights for the umpteenth time.

Steve, in the driver's seat beside you, drums his hands against the steering wheel too rapidly to be casual. He keeps darting one hand to his mouth, teeth worrying at his thumbnail.

You'd reach out and smack him to get him to stop but you're beginning to feel the lurch of nerves yourself. The drive from your house to Steve's has never seemed so, so entirely too short.

"Okay, uh," Steve's throat clicks, clammed up from his silence for too long.

He hadn't spoken much when he had picked you up, other than to laugh at your joke at the mismatch of yourself and your prim outfit.

You'd ended up finding a double-breasted blazer in your mom's closet and you look almost ready to run as the local mayor. You're even wearing tights.

"We got together the 20th—"

"—of June, last year." You finish for him.

Steve nods, his face still facing forward. His eyes look a tad unfocused, even as he reaches out to adjust the collar of his dress shirt. "Right. So we've been together for, uh, about ten months."

You nod encouragingly, checking the details in your head. "You asked me out. Our first date was—"

"—at The Hawk." Steve cuts in, parroting off your memorised answers. "We saw Labyrinth and, uh, then I drove you home."

That part isn't technically untrue. You and Steve had gone to see Labyrinth together back in June of last year, but it certainly hadn't been a date. You find the details lend themselves quite easily regardless.

"That's when we had our first kiss." You remind him, even if it makes your face heat minisculy. "What did you get me for Christmas?" You quiz.

"Uh," Steve's hand rabbits against the steering wheel, nerves evident. He finally breaks his stare from the road to glance at you, his brows furrowed together, eyes worried. "Fuck, I can't remember."

"It's fine," You stress, waving a hand. "You got me tickets to Billy Joel and we drove out to Indianapolis for the concert in April."

Steve nods a bit too manically, his perfectly coiffed hair coming a bit loose. The houses flashing by the window gradually get bigger, fancier. He bites his thumbnail again and this time you do reach out and tug his wrist away.

"Thanks." He murmurs.

He turns the wheel, the engine droning as the car takes the corner to enter his street. Your nerves hike a mile higher and you tug at your tights fruitlessly again. The street is lined with nice cars — not unexpected for Steve's neighbourhood.

What is unexpected is the sheer volume. You and Steve peer out the car windows, eyes wide, as you take in the full street. When you swallow, your throat feels particularly dry.

You turn to Steve. "I thought they said it was a family dinner?"

Steve, his eyes darting from car to car, either trying to find a park amongst the packed sidewalk or maybe just panicking like you are, takes a moment to meet your eyes. He looks a lovely shade of chalky white.

"They definitely did."

There's a free space down the end of Steve's street, the driveway already full with two cars, neither you can recognise.

Steve's foot hits against the brake too abruptly and the car jerks to a stop, rocking forward. You grip the edges of your seat tightly as Steve kills the engine. For a moment, neither of you make a sound.

"What if there's more than just family in there?" Steve croaks, turning slowly to face you.

The paleness in his face has pitched toward something greener. He swallows heavily, twisting back to stare out the windshield and his hands on the wheel tighten. "Oh my god, this is— this isn't gonna to work."

"Steve."

"Valentines, we did Lover's Lake," Steve mutters to himself, eyes still out the window. "Fuck, this is so stupid."

"Steve," You try again. His own panic is worsening your own and if he continues to spiral, you fear you might never make it out of the car and you did not wear itchy tights for that to happen.

"You got me the Michael Jackson record for my birthday," He rattles off again, almost absentmindedly, as though his mind can't pick between panicking about trying to remember all the details or the apparent extra guests.

"This is— oh my god, we're never gonna convince them."

"Steve." You say firmly. His head snaps around, broken from his mutterings. He blinks at you.

You take a deep, exaggerated breath in. Steve follows instinctively, his shoulders rising as he inhales.

"We will convince them." You insist earnestly.

Offering out your upturned hand, you wait for Steve to shift to place his bigger hand in yours. When he does, your fingers curl around it, cradling it.

You can feel the rabbit of his pulse at your fingertips and you meet his eye as you say, "We know each other—really well. We're best friends. We've practised, we look the part, okay? Now, all we have to do is… be a couple for an evening. It's going to be fine."

Steve swallows and for a moment, he doesn't say anything. Then his breath bursts out in a release of tension, his hand finally squeezing yours back. "God, what would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn, probably." You tease, thankful when unease hanging on his frame is replaced by something more familiar.

Steve makes an appalled noise, tightening his grip on your hand so you can't pull it back. His other hand moves, his fingers dancing across the ticklish skin on the inside of your arm til you shriek out in laughter, yanking your hand back.

Your laughter seems to have dimmed the nervousness a bit. You glance over your shoulder, down the street, and track an older couple dressed primly entering the Harrington home. As you turn back to Steve, you swallow to gather your nerves.

"Ready?"

Steve doesn't look like he is, his shifting, unsure eyes and stressing hands. He pushes his palms against his slacks and takes a sharp inhale, before meeting your eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

You count the steps up to the doorway without even meaning to, arriving at the Harrington doorstep in approximately 47 steps. The maroon double doors before you seem taller than usual. Steve raises his hand to knock and then halts, his attention shifting to his upraised hand.

He quickly tucks it back against his side, except this time with his elbow held out for you.

A faint pang of surprise in your chest, coloured with something softer, nicer. You’ve seen somewhat what Steve’s like on his dates and you’ve certainly heard plenty of the aftermath. But you’ve never been on one, of course.

As you loop your arm to nook in his, you find yourself unexpectedly eager to find out exactly what it’s like to be Steve Harrington’s date.

Steve knocks on the door, then twists the knob and lets himself in.

Despite seeing the earlier guests, there’s little to prepare you for the room full of people that stand on the other side of the door. Moving on instinct, clinging to Steve’s arm, you step through the threshold and into the lion's den.

Your nerves fry. Never mind lion's den; you feel more like a fly caught in a web. Frog boiling in a pot? No, that doesn't work because you know exactly what you were signed up to when you said yes to Steve.

Well, not precisely. You survey the crowd, counting at least three times as many people as you were expecting with nervous eyes.

Your little white lie with Steve just graduated to having an entire audience. No pressure, right?

“Steven.”

The croon of Cynthia Harrington greets the pair of you.

You feel Steve stiffen up beside you, his shoulders rolling back, his entire body straightening up. His throat bobs as he swallows nervously.

“Mom,” Steve says. His voice is a bit dry and he swallows again. “You didn’t say there were going to be this many people here.”

He’s polite enough to not word it as an accusation. His niceties don’t work, bouncing off the painstakingly sculpted smile of a businesswoman.

“Please, it’s a networking event, I’m not sure what you expected.” She adjusts her diamond earring, swaying and heavy, as she speaks dismissively. “I told you this, Steven.”

You never hear anyone call Steve Steven other than his parents.

“No, Mom, you didn’t.”

There’s a barely restrained bite in his words.

That catches Cynthia’s attention. She stops her roaming gaze to focus on her son, not even glancing at you. After a moment, she gives an exasperated huff.

“Well, why else would we be back, Steven? Your father is trying to close business with Mr. Collings.”

The sting isn’t even for you — in fact, you don’t even think she realises she’s dealt it — but you feel it all the same. Steve’s arm looped with yours tightens, a minuscule motion.

Though you know he thinks they’re all assholes, it doesn’t stop Steve from hoping they’ll come back for him.

“Right.” Steve says, voice tight. “Sure. Of course.”

You’re just thinking about dragging him away from this barbed conversation, clearly pricking all his sensitive spots, when Cynthia’s sharp gaze slides over to you.

Her eyes gleam in recognition and her posture changes.

“Oh, is this the girlfriend you’ve spoken of?”

This time you’re the one who stiffens up. It’s momentary. You know that Steve’s likely freaking out too and at least one of you has to pull yourself together.

The most winning smile you can manage glides onto your face.

“That’s me.” You squeeze Steve’s arm with your hand. It's half in genuine comfort, half in show.

Cynthia regards you for another long moment before she manages to straighten up further, as though pinched.

“Oh! Yes, I recognise you. Remind me of your name, dear?”

It’s a struggle not to grit your teeth. Steve and you have been friends for nearing ten years now.

Still, you relay it politely for her. Your smile feels a bit wooden now.

“Oh, Steven. How nice.” Cynthia says, a touch of patronisation in her tone. Her beady eyes slice back to yours. “He had such a crush on you for the longest time, it’s—”

“Mom.” Steve hisses, cutting her off. Another unexpected jolt of something warm in your chest. Wait, really?

You chance a glance up at Steve. His ears are tinted pink.

You’re not entirely sure what to make of how that makes you feel, so you shelve it for later. Maybe when you’re not being thrown to the sharks by Steve’s awful parents.

Okay, too many animal metaphors. Falling asleep to the Discovery Channel last night is definitely taking its toll.

“We’re gonna mingle, find Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. He moves forward, past his mother, and tugs you with him. Your legs itch with the reminder of your scratchy tights.

“Alright, Steven. Make sure you say hello to your brother!”

Steve huffs, loud enough that you hear it, and you let him lead you through the throngs of middle-aged people. He stops when he reaches the kitchen, finally unwinding his arm with yours.

He does it so he can shove his hands in his hair, a stressed motion from Steve if you’ve ever seen one.

“God, okay, that went well.” He says sarcastically.

“Stop. You’re ruining your hair.” You reach up and rescue his lochs from his harsh grip, fingers around his wrists to tug his hands away. You’re far too aware of how long it had taken him to do.

Steve lets you. When you focus on his face, you notice the pink from his ears is also on his cheeks.

The question jumps off your tongue, unbidden.

“Was she telling the truth? About… the crush? Or was she just trying to tease you?”

The pink dips closer to scarlet. Steve sighs, his eyes closing for a moment.

“I— she- yes,” He admits. Your heart shudders at the revelation. Steve’s eyes open and he twists his hands so he can hold yours in them. “But, like, not now. In the past. Years ago, I promise.”

For his sake, you do your best not to take it too seriously. Even if you wanted to pry, now is not the time nor the place to do so.

However, you can’t resist a small, teasing grin. Steve catches it and his embarrassment gives way to exasperation instantly.

“You likeeed me,” You say in a sing-song voice.

Teasing is not unfamiliar in your friendship with Steve and getting to joke around, even at this strange party, feels nicer. Steve groans dramatically, his eyes closing and his hands pushing against your hands to shove you away.

A new voice interrupts.

“Liked? I sure hope he likes you now, being his girlfriend and all.”

You and Steve both snap out of your easy joking, remembering that you’re supposed to be presenting as a couple. Head turning to who had spoken, it only takes a couple of seconds for you to place who it is.

He looks a little bit like Steve, but not really.

The eyes are different, not as slanted and he hasn’t got any of Steve’s beautiful moles. But the nose, the mouth, put together with matching brown hair and tan skin, you know who this is without having to ask.

“Brandon.” Steve says. The name is stilted in his mouth.

Brandon smirks, his same hazel coloured eyes dragging a long, scathing once-over of his younger brother. He doesn’t look impressed, if his disinterested expression is anything to go by.

Then he does the same to you.

It’s almost tangible, the prickly feeling of his gaze raked over your body. Searching, hunting, nearly making you want to perk up to gain his approval.

God, Steve was right on the money. This guy is like his father but worse.

“The eye-candy of the month, huh?” He says to you, chuckling as if he’s made a joke.

You consider, then make the decision to throw all pleasantries out the window. You don’t smile back.

“Actually, Steve and I will be coming up on one year soon.”

Tangling your hands back together as you say it, you lean into Steve’s side. It’s warm, smells of his cologne. Only when you gaze up at him, do you let a smile grace your lips. It’s soft and genuine.

Steve smiles back down at you, crooked and lovely.

“I’m surprised anyone could settle him down,” Brandon continues and you turn back to him, fighting the urge to narrow your eyes. It doesn’t escape you how he’s jumped from one slight dig to the next.

He’s clever with it. Polite enough that Steve can’t exactly bring it up as an issue.

Brandon continues, swirling his crystal tumbler of whiskey idly. “Surprised he wanted to. Little bro always seemed like such a womanizer. Didn’t think he’d want just one chick.”

He leans in and socks Steve on the shoulder, hard, when he says the word womanizer. He’s grinning.

You have to admit, Brandon’s far too good at this — good at getting under your skin. If you hadn’t been forewarned of his behaviour, if you actually were Steve’s girlfriend, it would certainly rub you the wrong way. He’s certainly doing his best to sprinkle grit and strife between you two.

And you know it hurts Steve to hear — Sure, maybe when he was a thick-headed freshman, with no clue about the world, he had acted that way.

Nowadays... Anyone who knows Steve, even a little bit, knows he wants the real deal, more than anything.

“Not anymore,” Steve says, though it’s not nearly as confident as he usually is. He clears his throat and casts his gaze around. “Where’s Ariel?”

“Ah,” Brandon hums, looking around himself. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “Not sure. I think I left her in conversation with the Erickson’s from across the street. She’s been pleading with her eyes to be saved but hey, she’s gotta learn sometime, right?”

Your lip curls up in distaste before you remember yourself. Fingers intertwined with Steve’s, you clutch them tighter for some semblance of strength.

You’ve got to get the two of you out of here before you start outright sneering at this man — which is very much not the heads-down approach Steve had asked for.

“Babe,” you say, effectively dismissing Brandon’s comment as you look up at Steve. He looks down at you and squeezes your hand. “Can we grab a drink, please? I’m feeling thirsty.”

Steve murmurs his affirmation and you both turn back to Brandon to bid a polite goodbye. His left eye twitches just once, the only indication that he’s put off by your subtle rejection.

“Well,” Brandon fixes his features, his smirk sliding back into place. “Don’t let me keep you. What was your name again, sweetheart?”

“I didn’t say.” You say, forcing the politest, more nonchalant expression on your face. You let him stew in the awkwardness, waiting for him to break and ask.

He doesn't. Brandon just smiles, though this time it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He holds out his hand and despite how you don’t want to, you place your own in it to shake it.

“Well, it’s been real nice getting to meet you. I hope I’ll see more of you later tonight.” He smiles like a promise. His grip tightens in the handshake.

You grip his hand tighter, matching his strength, and for the first time in the whole conversation, you match his perfectly fake smile.

“Not if I see you first,” You say, spoken pleasantly enough that the meaning of your words doesn’t sink in until you’ve pulled back. You urge Steve somewhere, anywhere that’s not here.

“C’mon, let’s get that drink.”

There’s a punch-bowl out in the living room, thankfully. Displayed next to it is a large jell-o mould, arsenic green, and jiggling gently whenever someone bumps the table. Rich people stuff, you assume.

You eye it curiously as Steve quietly ladles a cup for you, then himself.

The punch is pineapple flavoured but peachy in colour. You sniff the cup Steve gives you hesitantly before you take a small sip. It’s nice. Mostly juice.

You peer up at Steve over the next sip and the cup hides your near hiccup of surprise when his hand slides along your waist. His hand, warm and large, settles on the small on your back and urges you closer.

“That was— wait, this is okay, right?” He pulls his hand back an inch, hovering over your waist. You nod without having to think about it.

“Okay,” He sighs in relief, resting it back down. His thumb moves, soothing along the fabric almost absentmindedly.

He grins at you, “That was, like, amazing to watch. The whole —not if I see you first— just, god, his face. Amazing.” His hand on your waist squeezes lightly. “You’re amazing. I didn’t know you could be so snobby.”

He says the last word slightly too loud and you laugh, worriedly stealing a glance around the room. No one’s paying you much mind. You do notice, however, that Brandon’s meandered into the living room now.

You sidle closer, tucking up under Steve’s arm.

Surprise touches Steve's features; his brows raising a bit, lips parting, and cheeks colouring that ruby colour once more.

It’s as if, despite all your previous agreements, he’s forgotten that you’re supposed to be acting like a couple.

As if he’s forgotten that couples act like this. In love, that is.

“Are you finding this weird?” He murmurs, volume control on this time. It’s said just to you, muffled into your hairline.

From afar, you think it might look like he’s kissing your forehead.

You take another sip of the punch, peering at his dress shirt, and consider his question. It’s not weird, per se. You tell him as much.

“I think it’s just new,” You look up at him — closer than you usually ever see him. His lashes are long and spidery. His hazel eyes are lighter under the lights. “Just different to what we’re used to. It’s… nice, I think.”

“You think?”

You expect Steve to tease you for your own unexpected soft answer but instead, his response comes out with a strange reverence.

If you had to pick a word, something traitorous would maybe call it hopeful. Wait, traitorous? Wait, hopeful?

"Yeah," You shrug a little, no big deal. "I mean it's not that much different from how we already are, right? Just a little more..."

Steve's thumb swatches along your back, more intentionally this time.

"Touchy?" He provides.

You nod and pretend the strange acknowledgement isn't making you feel a tad more flustered.

The touchiness is really quite nice. It’s sweet to have an anchor in this freaky social situation, very much unlike the aforementioned and abandoned Ariel. Steve’s hand on you is a grounding touch, a constant soft reminder of the person who has your back—literally.

And the person is Steve — which, again, isn’t really that different from what you’re used to. He sorta always has your back anyway.

You suppose it hasn't really crossed your mind before, not in depth at least, the small changes that would occur if you and Steve really did date.

How different would it really be?

Chin tilting up, you slyly steal a look at him as Steve scans the party. He's probably planning escape routes, jaw clenched subtly. He's clean-shaven, not a whisper of that stubble that you think suits him rather well.

Would you still be friends, if the two of you dated?

The question feels silly the moment you think it, even if it's only spoken in your mind. You wrinkle your nose lightly and hide it behind another sip of punch. There's an easy answer to that.

Of course you would. It's like you just said: not that different from how you are now. Same teasing dynamic, same loyal history, same sharing embarrassing secrets and same driving around doing nothing, loving it.

Just more. More of this.

Steve squeezes your side warmly, his head twisted to look back down at you. He's asked you a question you realise.

"Hm?"

"I was asking how long do you think it's acceptable to wait to fake a heart-attack to get us out of here?”

Amusement draws your eyebrows up. You grin up at Steve. "A heart-attack? At your youthful, healthy age? C'mon, Steve, they'll never believe it."

Steve's expression twitches closer to bitchy as he considers your rebuttal. You take another sip of punch. He relents.

"Fine. What else? I’m not above faking haemorrhoids.”

The punch in your mouth comes back out in a surprised splutter, thankfully landing mostly back in your cup. A drop of it streaks down your chin.

Your surprise quickly morphs into a glare, eyes shifting up to deliver it to your best friend.

The shit-eating grin on Steve’s face tells you that his timing was not accidental.

“You’re unbelievable,” You hiss because what happened to the polite, head down, and not eventful approach that Steve had all but pleaded from you?

He reaches for a napkin for you without asking — and then tugs you in closer with the hand around your waist, brings the napkin up to your face. He hovers, giving you a moment to realise what he’s doing, before he dotingly swipes away the streak of juice.

“Careful now, honey,” He says, giving the petname a teasing intonation.

How he managed to pick the petname that does actually make your heart perk up in your chest is beyond you. Maybe he knows you better than you think.

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You ask, brows raised, pretending to be annoyed. Your bitten-back grin gives you away. “Making me spit my punch and then just sprinkling in a petname—”

“—like you didn’t do that first, with Brandon in the kitchen.” Steve interjects. He crumples the napkin and drops it back on the table.

“Okay," You say. "Fair."

"We forgot to discuss that, actually," Steve says. He sounds casual but he looks away, studying the punchbowl rather intently. "What... like, do you like to be called? In a relationship?"

It is an oversight both of you managed to miss, which makes you feel a little foolish now. You focus on the question.

"I like honey," You admit gingerly. A tepid smile threatens at your lips and when you look up at Steve, he's already turned back to watch you closely. "It's a bit old-fashioned. Sounds more like something you say if you're married but...I think it's nice."

"Yeah," Steve says softly. "Me too."

Something hums brightly in your chest at his gentle expression, his fondness zeroed in only on you. You break his gaze to swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

"What about you?"

Steve chuckles. "Don't like babe."

"Too late."

“Yeah, well, obviously.”

There’s a beat and you think if you’ve ever had this conversation before. Sweetened preferences didn’t usually make it into your gossip sessions. This is new territory.

“I like sweetheart too,” Steve says, somewhat offbeat. As if he’d thought for too long if he’d say it or not.

He peers down at you, a scrunch in his nose. “Not like Brandon says it though. He might’ve ruined that one for me.”

“He can ruin this dinner, but not that.” You decide for him. “C’mon, sweetheart. We look like we’re stealing all the punch.”

Using your hand in his, you lead him away from the punch table and weave through the people milling about the living room. A touch of resistance makes you glance back. You can see a pink glow painted on Steve’s cheeks.

Your feet come to a halt, twisting back to properly face him. You can’t resist the urge to tease. “Oho, you weren’t kidding- you do like that one.”

“Oh, shut up,” Steve murmurs, his tongue pressed into his cheek and his eyes narrowed.

“I don’t believe I raised you so poorly as to address a lady like that, Steven.”

You jump at the intrusion, realising you’d unluckily managed to stop right beside Mr. Harrington. Fuck, why are all of Steve’s family so good at sneaking up on you? You chalk it up to their snakeish tendencies.

“Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. Then, with a quick swallow, he corrects himself. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Harrington is not what you’d call an impressive man. Sure, his suit is tailored to fit and you have no doubt his overwhelming cologne costs more than three paychecks combined — but in substance? He lacks. Severely.

You’ve met him thrice.

Every time, you wonder how someone as wonderful as Steve, can come from someone like him.

Though, it certainly explains the god-awful ‘King Steve’ phase Steve had gone through in his freshman and sophomore year. You shiver at the memory.

“It was warranted, Mr. Harrington, believe me,” You jump in to move the attention of Steve’s father back to you, easily shouldering the blame. A smile, cool and collected, graces your face. “I was teasing him, after all.”

Mr. Harrington grunts in disagreement. “Hardly an excuse to speak so crudely, especially in front of guests.”

Opening your mouth to defend him again, Steve speaks first. “You’re right, sir. I apologise, it won’t happen again.”

Steve still shoots you a thankful glance. You clamp down your half-formed response and squeeze his hand instead. He squeezes back.

Maybe the two of you should’ve learned morse-code with all the squeezing you’re both doing. You hadn’t anticipated holding his hand for this long.

You could let go. You don’t really want to — and you’re pretty sure, neither does Steve.

You can’t remember the last time you held his hand.

“Your new girlfriend, I presume?” Mr. Harrington nods to you.

Steve barely gets a moment to respond when his father is waving him forward, stepping back to open a circle of middle-aged men behind him.

“Come, there’s a few associates I’d like you to meet, Steven.”

There’s no question, only a demand. Despite how it feels like stepping into a pit of vipers — damn you, Discovery Channel — you and Steve join the circle.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Harrington addresses the four men before you, a wry smile on his face. “My son, Steven.”

Then, as an afterthought, with a glance your way. “And his girlfriend.”

“Oh? Not fianceé?” One of the men speaks up. He’s balding, his hair combed over in an attempt to cover his ruddy coloured scalp.

“I’m afraid you’re thinking of my other son, Brandon.” Mr. Harrington says, words suddenly imbued with a proud tone. Steve’s hand grows rigid in yours, though you don’t think he’s even noticed. You send a squeeze back.

A different man speaks up. This man has all his hair, but also has a pot-belly that threatens to send buttons on his dress shirt flying.

“Ah, well, fianceé to be, I bet.” He says, speaking directly to Steve and ignoring you. “Soon it’ll be the ol’ ball and chain. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, son.”

Then the fucker winks at you—as if you’re in on some big joke. A deep, miserable pity dawns in you for their wives.

“Actually,” Steve begins. There’s an edge in his voice.

You glance up at him concernedly — sure, these guys are douchebags, but you know that. Throwing in the polite and heads-down approach in front of his father might be the worst timing ever.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Steve says. The bite in his voice has receded and instead, he sounds calm. Polite. “My girlfriend is one of the best things in my life. She’s smart, talented, beautiful— and why she chooses to waste her time with me is a mystery to me.”

He speaks as though he believes every word he’s saying, a hundred percent. You realise you’re holding your breath when Steve turns to look down at you. His hazel eyes are soft, genuine.

“She makes me a better person. She’s… She’s my best friend.”

The line between your genuine friendship and this fake concocted act blurs entirely — and suddenly, you can’t tell what is real and what is not.

Worse, you’re not sure which you'd prefer more.

Does he really think all those things about you?

Steve, who should probably, definitely take up an acting gig after this, plants a quick, nimble kiss on your forehead to sell his loving words.

He turns back to his father’s business friends.

“Believe me, if I ever get so lucky as to marry her, I’d be the ball and chain.” He chuckles. “Not the other way around.”

You’re still holding your breath, heart stuck somewhere halfway up your throat. The businessmen before you show varying amounts of surprise and annoyance—none more of the latter than Mr. Harrington himself.

It doesn’t matter. Steve’s said it all in that perfectly polite way that’s so often been used against him. Something within you glows hotly with pride.

“Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us,” Steve says politely. He drops your hand to re-link your arms once more, then nods to them. “I need to reapply my haemorrhoid cream.”

You’re pretty sure Steve turns you both away from the conversation as fast as he does, knowing that you’re gonna laugh. You do, his last sentence so unexpected it turns your laugh into this foul half hacking, half coughing noise.

Steve pats your back, expecting it, raising his voice as he walks you forward, “There, there.”

There’s a little smugness in his tone. You wait until you pass back into the front hall — now Cynthia Harrington free — to unlink your arms and smack him on the chest.

“Asshole!” You exclaim, but you’re already laughing. Steve’s laughing too, the sound bright and honeyed amongst the dull murmur of the event. God, the looks on their faces.

“I didn’t think you would actually do that.”

“Hey, it got us out of the conversation, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but,” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze falling from his for a moment. “I mean, won’t your dad…?”

Steve sighs and then shrugs. “I think I’m done trying to impress people like that. If you’re not up to standard to them, why the hell would I care about their opinion of me?”

Your heart feels a little wobbly at that. Steve has always been devastatingly earnest; it’s just less often directed at you. The two of you are used to teasing.

You fall back on it. “Awww,” You coo, gripping his forearms and leaning forward with a coy grin. “You got haemorrhoids for me, honey? That’s so romantic.”

Steve narrows his eyes, trying and failing to suppress his own smile.

“Hey. Fake haemorrhoids, thank you very much.”

“Eh, what’s the big difference?”

“One is my bleeding heart, the other is my bleeding ass, is the big difference.”

He can barely get through the sentence before his laugh takes over. You dissolve into laughter too, cheeks beginning to ache with the force of your grin.

“Steve? Leaving so soon?”

The sweet bubble of laughter around you and Steve pops at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He’s in the doorway that leads to the kitchen and at your attention, he steps toward you, slow and deliberate.

“Yeah, actually,” Steve says. His eyes track Brandon with every calculated step his brother makes til he stops, a few metres from you both.

“Y’know, I heard that hasty exit in front of dad. Did you know that was in front of Mr. Collings? Y’know, the one guy dad’s trying to close a deal with?”

Shit. You swallow heavily. You didn’t know that. You know neither did Steve.

Beside you, Steve grows tense. When he swallows, you hear his throat click from dryness.

Brandon watches and revels in the tiny reactions, his smirk growing. He tucks his hands into his suit pockets casually.

“I talked with mom, too. Learned some interesting stuff, especially about your pretty lady here.”

He nods to you, hazel eyes slicing across to meet yours. Your nerves start to stand on end, something threatening in his calm demeanour setting you off. You grip Steve’s forearms tighter.

“That she is the best friend you’ve been mooning over all these years. And I just thought—” Brandon clicks his tongue. “Man, what are the chances that we don’t hear a thing about you two getting together until this conference? Crazy timing, if you ask me.”

He tilts his head to the side, examining the two of you closely. His smug nature is far, far too much like that of a predator toying with its prey.

“It’s like- wait, no—”

Brandon cuts himself out, fishing a hand out his pocket to gesture to you, grinning smugly like something is funny.

“Is he paying you?”

You recoil back, so baffled and taken aback by the cruel mockery Brandon jumps to make of his younger brother. To make of your best friend.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snap.

Brandon blinks, surprised, and a bit of his smugness dries up. He draws his hand back, holding it up defensively.

“C'mon, like it's not just the kind of pathetic move he’d pull. I haven’t even seen the two of you kiss.”

He chuckles as if the idea is ludicrous.

STEP THREE: THE KISS

You act without thinking — turning back to Steve, your hands reach up to tightly grasp the collar of his dress shirt.

You see Steve’s hazel eyes widen ever-slightly, then you’re pulling him down, pressing up on your toes, and kissing him.

And… oh.

He’s not half bad at that, you think. It takes Steve a moment, but then his arms circle your waist and after a tentative moment, he kisses back gently, deepening the kiss. Not bad at this at all.

For one brief, precious second, you’re kissing your best friend.

And it's entirely incomparable to any kiss you've experienced before—immeasurable in passion and utterly undoing in a thousand ways.

Steve breathes a little heavier, his cheeks flushed, when you break away. You sink back down off your tiptoes, hands dragging off Steve’s rumpled collar to rest on his chest. You turn to face Brandon.

He doesn’t look so smug anymore. He looks ticked off. Good.

“Brandon, you’re an asshole.” You state plainly. “I hope one day, soon, your fiancée realises what a cruel and shallow bully you really are. And I hope she leaves you for it. Truly.”

The ticked off expression on Brandon's face veers closer to aghast and offended—as if he can’t believe you have the gall to speak to him that way.

“I hope you realise what a stain you are on other people’s life and I sincerely hope that I never have the displeasure of meeting you again.”

Moving to grip Steve’s hand in yours, you move towards the door without a goodbye.

STEP FOUR: THE AFTERMATH

It’s bright outside. Stepping out feels a bit like waking from a stress dream, where in reality, the sun is shining and things that were driving you nuts aren't really problems you actually have.

You stall on the front doorstep, where you were just an hour or so ago.

Well, that didn’t go… awfully, you think. In fact, you’re feeling quite happy with serving Brandon a perfect brand of his own medicine.

You’re about to open your mouth and say as much when Steve drops your hand, brushing past you to head down the stairs, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Your stomach drops at the tone of his voice, a prickly disappointment draped over his words. You’d think you’re reading into it — if Steve wasn’t currently heading for the car, not even waiting for you to catch up. A dead giveaway.

Tights itching from the hasty movement, you quickly follow him and puzzle for a moment. He’s mad. But at what? It takes only a moment to hazard a pretty good guess.

Before the dinner, the awkward conversation of how touchy you two would be had been breached. You and Steve both agreed; no kissing. Even with how close the two of you were, it felt like strange territory to cross into. An unspoken line not to cross.

By kissing him, you’d broken that rule.

Guilt wells up within you. Your moment of telling Brandon to suck it suddenly feels tainted by the sliminess of kissing Steve without permission. You pull at your tights uncomfortably, trailing behind Steve on the sidewalk.

As you reach his car, you swallow the lump in your throat, and speak up.

“I'm sorry, okay?"

Steve, who's reached the driver's side door, looks up and over the top of the car. Then furrows his brow.

"What?"

"For..." The word gets stuck in your throat like wet paper. "Kissing you when we said we wouldn't do that. That was-" You inhale sharply and study the trim along the edge of the car window.

"I just really couldn't stand how he was talking to you. And I thought that would shut him up."

You glimpse back up at Steve. He's softened a little at your words, the crease between his brows gone now. His eyes dart away, a muscle in his jaw working tightly.

"Yeah, well, you were right. It worked."

Steve seems to hear how short his words sound right after he says them, especially as you rear back an inch. He gives a sigh, his eyes falling shut for a moment. "Look, I'm not mad about the kiss, okay?"

His particular wording isn't lost on you.

"But you are mad." You press.

"I'm not."

You step closer to the car, desperate to understand. He is mad but he's not mad about the kiss? Does that mean he is or isn't mad at you?

"You sound mad."

Steve makes a sputtering noise, like he's torn between denying it or not. You catch it, pressing your hands against the car window to lean in even closer.

"So, you are mad. At me? Are you sure it's not because of the kiss?"

“Yes. No." He's furrowing his brow again, confused between how to answer your question correctly. He pinches the bridge of his nose with another sigh. "It’s- no, I'm not mad at you.”

Still not an exact answer. You eye him warily, your guilt still lingering at the front of your chest, aching painfully. It forces out your next words, reminiscent of a rambling apology. You take a step back from the car and begin to pace.

"It's okay if it is the kiss, Steve. I- I mean, we said we wouldn't and I broke that- and I don't want you to ever feel like—"

“I just— I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that!”

That halts your pacing, feet quite suddenly rooted to the spot. You turn rapidly back to Steve, your eyes wider than they were a moment ago, heart jammed back up your throat. Did he just say...?

Steve realises what's escaped him a moment after you do. His hand leaps to cover his mouth as if he can smother the secret he's just let slip.

His eyes crush closed. He smushes his hand against his face more forcefully as though he's trying to push the words back into his mouth.

"What does that mean?" You ask softly. "Steve?"

He clears his throat, dragging the hand down and off his face sluggishly. "That, ah, no- nothing!" He deflects, hands making a crossing motion. "It means—zilch. I just, ah, you know- it's—"

He's thought about it before—about how he'd want a first kiss between the two of you to go.

A glow in you dissolves, the saturated sweetness of it riding through your veins like a sugar rush. You have a sudden wish you weren't wearing such a ghastly outfit for this conversation.

"Steve," You interrupt him. You round the front of the car slowly, stopping with still some distance between you. Let him meet you in the middle. If you're right about all this, that is.

"If there's even a small part of you that wants to do that again," Your breath shudders at your inhale. "You need to tell me."

"A small part?" Steve echoes your words, his tone incredulous. He rounds the car to meet you, his hands out in front of him, flexing into fists. "Don't— don't say what I think you're going to say, if you don't mean it."

He pauses in front of you, eyes blazing with a fierce emotion as he stares down at you. He studies your face and then groans, tipping his head back and burying his hands in his hair.

"It's a big part, y/n. A huge fucking part of me wants to kiss you again and has wanted to for awhile." Steve stresses. His hands sag down from his mussed hair to hang off his neck before he gestures back to the Harrington house.

"What I said in there? About my crush on you being ages ago? I lied. I've had a crush on you for years and I don't think I ever stopped and so if you don’t mean what I think you mean, please don’t… Don’t give me hope.”

There's desperation in his final plea.

A thousand emotions course through you, all competing for your attention. You squint incredulously at Steve, half tempted to sock him for the feeling of a kept-secret. You're best friends for gods sake. Years. Years, he said.

A tremble takes your heart. You open your mouth and try to find the right words.

"Wha... You never said anything."

It comes out a little insulted.

Steve stares at you, flabbergasted. "You never seemed interested!"

"I didn't think I was your type!"

Though it seems impossible, Steve's eyes widen further, his hands shifting to hold out before him, fingers spread wide.

"Are you saying you've thought about it before!?"

"No!" You exclaim, suddenly stressed. You run your hands across your face agitatedly. "I mean, yes. Of course, I've thought about it before!”

Your fingers splay against your cheeks, pulling an expression not unlike the painting The Scream. You're not sure you've ever been this stressed, this undone before.

“Every day through fuckin' high school someone asked me if we were a thing. I just... hadn't, like, considered it til today. Properly."

"Okay, okay," Steve breathes in deeply.

He brings his hands together, clasping them, and he rests them against his forehead. For a second, he stares at the ground before he meets your gaze, dropping his hands.

"And... now?"

Fuck. Right. Cards on the table, you guess.

"Like," You don't know where to put your hands now. They drop off your face and hang loosely at your side. "I told you, I hadn't really, like, thought about it — but we were in there and it just wasn't that different!"

It's a heavy effort to keep yourself looking at Steve. There's no decoding the expression on his face, not when you're already frantically trying to unscramble your own feelings.

"If we did actually, yanno—" You stumble over the words, a fierce and bumbling heat flaming your face. "—date and be—I don't know—boyfriend and girlfriend, like, I guess what would actually change? And now I think we've just been one step removed from dating this whole time!"

Steve takes an almost quivering breath in and takes a step forward, bringing you both closer. He asks the million-dollar question.

"Would you... want that?"

"I," You flex your hands anxiously. "I don't think we can go back to the way things were." You say truthfully.

Something crestfallen ripples across Steve's face. It's hidden away in the next second. You gulp involuntarily. You feel so nervous you can feel it's fizzing inside you, bubbling like a freshly carbonated drink.

But more than that, it feels like you're balancing on the precipice of something good. Like waiting for news on whether you get something you desperately want.

And there it is; the true revelation.

"And I don't think I want to."

The admittance hangs between you, strung out and tinged with your apprehension and Steve's disbelief. He stares at you, brown hair tousled and messy, pink lips parted in his surprise.

He's your best friend and he's been waiting all this time. Holding the torch quietly, the flame flickering low sometimes, but always burning, always for you.

How the hell did you miss it?

"You..." He croaks. He reaches up and tugs at his tie as if it's suddenly too tight around his neck. "You mean that? You'd want to, like, date me?"

What you really want is to kiss him again. To chase away the tender look of disbelief in his eyes with a passionate press of your mouth against his. But you won't kiss him without asking twice in one day.

"I would like to try," You say. It takes a lot of courage to not lose your nerve. You rock up onto the balls of your feet to let out some of the rampant nervous energy.

Steve clocks it, some part of his brain that knows you, and all your tells well, finally coming back online. You're as nervous as he is, and maybe just as unsure.

But you want to try.

That's about all Steve's ever wanted. A chance for more between you.

He closes the distance between you, his hands shifting up and sliding along your neck to cup your jaw. It's ticklish enough to make you shiver and Steve smiles at the motion. He draws your faces closer and you push up on your toes to reach properly, magnetically drawn in.

He pauses just before your lips can touch.

Your eyes scan his face and he does the same to yours, both of you drinking in the intimate closeness. This close, you can see the tiny quiver hidden in his lips.

Fondness percolates between you, sweeter than sunlight and softer than a daydream. You can't resist the smile that toys at your mouth. Steve smiles too.

You're excited.

His pupils are blown wider than usual, only a ring of hazel around them. It might be your new favourite colour.

"I imagined," Steve murmurs lowly, his eyes now trained on your lips. "Our first kiss would be more like this."

The kiss is different from the one in the hallway. There's no surprise in it, no hesitance — Steve cradles your face between his hands preciously and kisses you so fiercely you ache.

He kisses with painstaking reverence. With an unfaltering adoration. Steve kisses you as though he envies anything that's ever touched your lips.

You grapple to find purchase on his suit jacket, your fingers curling around the material and pulling him closer without breaking the kiss. Steve hums into your mouth, his nose pressing against yours. You're both trying to pull each other closer.

"That was-" You breath heavily against his mouth as the kiss breaks. Your eyes open. Steve's gazing at you through his lashes, honey-eyes doting.

"You-" You try again, realising you haven't finished your sentence. You can barely get a word out, a relentless grin overtaking your lips. "I mean—you thought it- like that?"

"I hoped." Steve whispers. He's grinning too, not yielding any of the nearness between you. His thumbs on your jaw swatch softly across your skin.

God, he'll undo you entirely. This newness, this intimacy, it's ruining you. You capture your bottom lip with your teeth and bite it meanly to try to contain your grin.

"So, like, you wanna try? For real?" You say, matching his whisper. Speaking too loud feels like it breaks the moment—and you want to savour it as long as you can.

You can't even imagine how Steve must be feeling, waiting all those years. You take your feelings and multiple them tenfold. It's dizzying. It only endears you even more.

"Like, being boyfriend girlfriend?"

Steve's eyes crinkle in happiness as he scrunches them closed for a moment. His nose scrunches a little too at the motion. He takes a deep inhale and opens his eyes.

"Dating, boyfriend girlfriend, sweethearts, I don't care what you call it." He breathes. "Yes. Yes, to all of it."

Then he kisses you again, stealing the affection off your lips with an ardour that threatens to make your knees weak.

You kiss and kiss until you and Steve are both smiling too much to properly continue.

Only a couple days ago he'd asked the same question you had asked him, except as a begged request to help his ruse. He's the only one you'd have said yes to, you know now, the only exception.

One can only wonder how the two of you would have carried on if you had said no — never gone along with his frankly ridiculous plan, never showed up on his arm to fool an event full of people, never kissed him just to piss off his brother.

Never known the true depths of affection Steve held for you.

As you crowd in closer — your lips skimming across his gently, hearing the hitch in Steve's breath before you kiss him once more— you're thankful you'll never really know.

taggin some peeps below! @illyrianbitch @headkiss @brettsgoldstein @spideystevie @djotime

@katsu28 @inthehystericalrealm @djarinova @cheugyphobe @sunshinesteviee

@sunlitide @citrinesparkles @bigfrogs

just ppl that either expressed interest in the preview or i thought would enjoy! <3 i don't know what possessed me to pick this draft up and straight up like double the word count and finish it in one day but whew,,, i enjoyed that sm

[minniture]

YESLAWD 😩

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[minniture]

absolute masterpiece. 50000/10

✧.* IN BLOOM

✧.* summary summer rains bring about the faint scent of asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. time stands still, fragments of moments leading you right to this very second. you take his hand and a deep breath. “anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, caleb.” 

it’s all the permission he needs. 

✧.* warnings first time, mutual virginity loss, slightttt psuedo-cest if you squint, soft and smutty, size kink, spanking, oral sex, mating press, dirty talk, breeding, slight aftercare at the end, pillowtalk

✧.* dawn says something different from the dark content i usually write and tried my best to balance fluff and the feelings of losing your v-card for the first time (cue rose from titanic's voice: "it's been 84 yearsssss…")

It’s the middle of the night somewhere in Skyhaven. 

The street lights reflect puddles of rain left from a thunderstorm, and the air smells faintly of petrichor, reassuring weary strays and rain-soaked passersby alike that the worst is already over. 

While the world dries off from another raging tempest, inside Caleb’s home, you’re in his arms, warm and tipsy from the intimacy of shallow breaths gracing your parted lips. 

Smack. Huff. A caress. 

Slick and hot, the soft sounds of his kisses make you flush deeper, and you tighten your fingers in his hair. 

Caleb moans, unrestrained, as he feels you shift on his lap. Like a drug, he can’t get enough of you. The smell of wildflowers in your hair, how you taste like the strawberry balm he bought for you days ago when you complained of chapped lips. Slick fruitiness glides over his parched mouth, making his kisses glide effortlessly. 

He tangles his tongue with yours, sending a jolt of desire running up your spine. 

“Mhmph,” you moan against his mouth. “Oh… Caleb .” 

His name, sticky sweet with cadences of love, slips past your bruised lips, and he swears his heart chokes on a stutter.

Cool fingers push a stray lock of hair behind your ear, and he hums, those purple eyes vortexes of yearning. The maelstrom of emotion in them makes your chest squeeze, and you lean into his touch, breath coming out in a soft huff.

The unspoken tenuous line looms before the two of you, and you wonder if tonight is the night you’ll dare cross it. 

Flames from the digital fireplace flicker, synchronous with the temperature on the thermostat bumping up a notch, the one Caleb got installed because you grumbled that Skyhaven was colder than you remembered. Beads of sweat drip down his temples, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. 

You gently run the back of your hand against the muggy skin, wiping his perspiration away. 

This close, your breaths mingle and blend into one, the tips of your nose rubbing against each other. 

Inevitably, Caleb would pull back, sigh, and tell you to go to sleep while he takes a ridiculously long cold shower. You’d be left alone in your room, an ache blooming between your thighs, and frustration keeping you up all night.

That bastard. 

At your core, you understand your ex-older brother figure didn’t mean to edge you to the precipice of oblivion. His protective tendencies, while great in keeping danger away from you, are a hindrance to taking the next, natural step forward together.

As you feather another kiss to his jaw, you feel him pull back. 

Caleb’s cheeks are ruddy, not from the heat of the room, but from the one building between the two of you. 

He licks his lips, inadvertently drawing your attention to the puffy flesh which is still sticky from your errant smears of lip oil. With a huge sigh, he drags himself back from your orbit, as if he can’t bear to be within crashing distance of your surface. 

“Pipsqueak, it’s late,” Caleb whispers, the tenderness of his words brushing against your earlobe. 

You shiver when his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. 

“You need to sleep—”

Stubbornly, or perhaps, foolishly, you tighten your grip around his neck and drag him closer to you till his forehead bumps yours.

Your lips seek him with a newfound determination, and he almost stumbles back into the stuffed cushion, a moan of desperation slipping past his carefully crafted self-control. 

“Pip—”

“No,” you mumble heatedly, and drag your tongue across his lower lip, begging him for access into his mouth. 

Caleb reluctantly parts his lips and you tangle your tongue with his, tasting the sweetness of the apple soda he just drank half an hour ago. 

“Mhm,” he moans, and gives in to your momentary distraction, knotting his fingers into your already disheveled hair.

Something hard pokes your lower belly, and you whine into the heat of his kisses, running your tongue over the hard palate of his teeth. 

Caleb tightens his grip on your hips, and relents into the force of your yearning, feeling the contours of your body melting against the hard planes of his own muscular build. You shiver when he dips his fingers past the hemline of the tank top you’re wearing, your breasts pressed up to his chiseled pecs. He’s bare except for a low-slung pair of sweatpants, temptation right in the palm of your hand.

Your nipples pebble from the friction of his body slowly rubbing against yours, and the need he’s been stoking throbs warmly between your thighs, an aching thirst demanding to be quenched.

“ Caleb… ” 

The whispered moan feathers across his cheeks, grazing him with the warm softness that is entirely you.

In his arms, you’re sin waiting to be devoured—those doe-innocent eyes and warm, wet mouth that get him harder than steel. 

He whimpers when your lower body drags against his bulge, and winces when you giggle and gently nip his lower lip.

“Pipsqueak—”

Hoarse and ragged, the sound of your childhood nickname brings you up short.

“Caleb, why do you always insist on calling me that when I’m trying to… you know…” you trail off, equally as shy as him. 

It’s clear he doesn’t expect you to directly address the elephant in the room. But, after almost losing him once to the explosion and another time to his spiraling secrets, you desperately want to hold on to the man who had taught you what love was.

Caleb’s thumbs stroke the fleshy part of your hips, drawing tender circles on your skin. Those purple eyes flash like a doleful puppy’s and you resist the urge to pinch his cheek. He looks like he’s in pain—as if one touch from you could break him. 

“Are you sure?” 

His voice is hoarse. Uncertain.

“Once we do this, it’s…” he trails off. Years of knowing his ins and outs make you privy to the true meaning of his hesitation: 

Are you sure you want to cross this line with me? 

Your fingers tremble when they caress his jaw. Summer rains bring about the faint scent of Asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. 

Time stands still, fragments of moments leading you upright to this very second. 

You take his hand and a deep breath. Caleb sees your crystal clear eyes, free from the shadows of the doubt creeping into his mind. He tastes the first stirrings of hope, right in the center of his rib cage where his heart pounds valiantly, and tightens his grip on your hand.

You look at him like he’s something precious —gold and gems in the palm of your hand. Tenderly, you press a kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of his skin, and murmur: 

“Anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, Caleb. ” 

It’s all the permission he needs. 

Caleb snaps you up into his arms effortlessly, using his unbeatable strength to carry you back to his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours.

The heat of the moment is only broken when he sets you down on the bed, his lips detaching from yours for a moment to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking his marks all over the pristine canvas of your skin. You gasp, arching into his touch, when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your shoulder; biting down on the stretch of skin just begging to be marked by him.

He slides the strap of your tank top to the side, stamping more heated kisses down onto your shoulder, the jut of your arm. Every loving graze is punctuated by his devotion, those violet eyes brewing with the storm of his affection about to snap and break. 

Caleb… you whine, and he answers with a low grunt, his entire weight bearing down on you.

As kids, he’s always had the unfair advantage of his build and age to win at wrestling. Gran would often find the two of you entangled on the rug, you flushed and seething and him glowing with triumph when he’s won—yet again. 

But, the press of his body on yours is different this time. 

It carries a more intimate intention, all of which is far from the innocence of playfully fighting each other for the last hawthorn-flavored candy in the fridge, or the privilege of choosing what Saturday morning cartoons to watch. 

He sweeps your hair back, letting it drape over your other shoulder as he moves his lips to the delicate stretch of skin still untouched by the heat of his mouth. Caleb’s teeth graze your pulse point, and you jerk, as if electrocuted. 

“Nghm,��� you moan, and he huffs a chuckle, his warm breath making goosebumps erupt across your arms. “ Fuc—”

“Uh-uh,” he chastises, the heat of his mouth swelling over your pulse point, gently sucking on your skin. Leaving another errant mark. “Don’t swear—good princesses never swear.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip. You feel dizzy and elated at the same time like you’re standing on the highest point of the earth, looking down at the swirling colors below.

“Ngh—C-Caleb. ” 

Oh, you sound so weak. Already driven to your knees, metaphorically, for this man who had as much power over you as you did over him. 

“Yeah, princess?” 

He moves his lips down to your sternum, hot puffs making your nipples perk up from her dormant slumber. They tent underneath the ratty, old t-shirt you’re wearing, the one that used to belong to him, demanding to be sucked and teased.

Caleb is careful to not push your boundaries, but you don’t want any of that.

Grabbing his head, you press it none-too-gently in between the valley of your tits, wordlessly signaling what you need.

His dog tag shines in the low light of his bedroom, the apple charm a glint of red that complements the fog of lust taking over you. Everywhere you look, you feel, is nothing but Caleb.

He presses you flat into the bed, the sheets bunching up under you and in your tight fists. 

“Don’t touch… not yet. Can you follow my orders, baby?” 

There’s no choice for you, but to nod. 

Slowly, like molasses dripping from the lip of a bottle, he wraps his mouth around your turgid, right nipple. The dampness of his saliva seeps past the thin fabric, and you cry out when he bites down on your bud, the brief flash of pain lighting up your nerves from head to toe.

 Slick need saturates the seat of your old sleep pants. You whimper when the head of his cock drives between the cleft of your pussy, digging against your clit. 

Sparks of pleasure ricochet from the tips of your fingers up to your hairline and you groan, mouth falling lax.

He takes his time, swirling his tongue over your tender peak, broad strokes of his tongue spreading more spit and heat, wetting the front of your shirt. It’s methodical, how every stroke of attention stacks up to a building heat throbbing at your core.

A supernova of desire, bulging and waiting to explode.

(And, he hasn’t even fucked you yet).

Caleb moves his attention to your other peak, and you cry out when he nibbles on it, your hands breaking formation from the bed where he’s ordered them to be stationed, and tangling disobediently in his dark hair.

But, he doesn’t chastise you. 

Caleb continues to purl swathes of his tongue over your tender nipple, flickering his darkened gaze up to the line of your jaw as the pleasure unfurls across your heated face.

You choke on another cry when he pries your thighs further apart, settling his bigger build between them. 

“Look at you.” Heated derision drips from his venomous lips, and you lap them up, tilting his head up to taste his lips. You’re not sure how you ended up in this position when it was you who wanted this. The last bit of control you have dissipates, and your body falls open for him like the spine of a well-read book. 

It scares you how much Caleb knows about your body. The small scar above your knee when you crashed your bike into the wide trunk of an oak tree. The grooves of your neck now bear his kisses and marks.

Despite staying true to his word about never getting a girlfriend, Caleb is mysteriously nimble and sure for a virgin. 

“Did you have another girl before me?”

You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words fly from your puffy lips and you can’t take them back.

Not when he glances up at you as if you had insulted thirteen generations of his family.

“Uh—no,” he mutters defensively, caustically pushing back his sweat-soaked bangs from his flushed face. “ Excuseeee me, princess. What’s with that tone? You know you’re the only woman I’d ever touch.”

You purse your lips and level him another glare, though it’s tempered by a glowing warmth in your chest. 

“R-really?” 

You hate how whiny you sound, like a psychotic girlfriend. But, Caleb does have a penchant for bringing out the crazy in you when you least expect it.

He brings your knuckles to his lips, feathering a soft kiss on them. “Yeah. Why do you think I took so many cold showers growing up? This little pipsqueak is far too tempting for me.” He punctuates his point with another kiss on the nape of your neck. 

His Adam's apple bobs from the admission, and your eyes widen. 

“Huh. I seeee .” 

You drag your words like him, playfully pinching his cheek. “That’s… kinda sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his gruffness reminds you of a ruffled puppy, and you laugh, tugging his silver chain with two fingers. 

The scene flickers. The man on top of you cracks, and a fragment of the boy you grew up with glimmers; the past merges with the present, and the essence of who Caleb is grins mischievously right in front of you. 

Like so many times before, he tackles you onto the bed, hands flying underneath your shirt to tickle your sides.

“No! Caleb! I yield! I yield—! ” 

Your infectious laughter bounces across the monochromatic walls of his room and fills his lungs with bubbles of joy. 

“Yeah, you better,” he threatens jokingly. While you’re still giggling, he grabs the hem of your shirt and gives it an experimental tug. When you don’t resist, Caleb pushes the envelope of your consent and lifts the shirt past the smooth terrain of your tummy, inching it up slowly… so slow… 

His fingers are trembling, and you take over, helping him with the last stretch, leaning up to tug your shirt completely off your body. 

Your chest squeezes with a mix of dread and anticipation when he eyes your bare breasts, a myriad of emotions flitting across those deep-set purple eyes.

Need, desire, shame, anger—tenderness.

His eyes speak the truth, even when he remains silent, and no matter how much he changes into the stoic Colonel you now have to coincide with your gentle older brother figure, those irises will always betray his true emotions for you. 

Now, they’re gooey with a feeling neither of you can name, as he peppers more kisses around the plush fat of your breast. Taking his time, he teases you with puffs of hot breath and grazes of his teeth.

Working you up to a crescendo of need before he gives you what you want. 

And god, do you want it.

Your body is arching tighter than a bow ready to strike, so keyed up from his few touches and the previous makeout session. 

“Caleb—”

“Yeah, gotcha.” 

He samples the flavor of your skin, closer now to your nipple. Your thoughts flat lines into a white-hot buzzing hum when he finally— finally —wraps his lips around your tender bud. 

Fuuucckkk. Your keening sigh sends a chill straight to his bones. 

Suckling tenderly, he pulls the taut flesh into the enticing vacuum of his mouth and releases it, forming a small ‘O’ with his puffy lips and moving on to your next breast. 

The twinge of unending sucking and nibbling rubs your tender flesh raw. 

Caleb… Caleb… 

You’re panting like you’re racing a marathon. He leaves a bunch of hickies down the pillowy fat of your tits, making his mark loud and clear on your body for the world to see.

A possessive hint curls on the edges of his smile and he braces himself on his forearms, juicy biceps glistening in the interplay of shadow and light in this muggy room. 

Peeling your glassy eyes at him, you huff, grumbling.

“Tease.”

He laughs heartily at your adorable accusation.

“Never said I wasn’t a right bastard, love,” he coos, cocky and sure. You want to wipe the smirk off his infuriatingly handsome face.

Leaning up, your spit-soaked nipples rub the hard planes of his broad chest, and you tangle your hand in his hair, drawing him down into the plush sin of your eager kisses.

“S-low down,” he huffs, smothered by your smacking little puckers. 

You giggle, a vixen on the loose, needing to rein her mate in. “Nuh-uh. Not until you finally fuck me senseless.”

Caleb cocks a brow. “S’that an invitation, darlin’?” 

Stuttering, you realize your mistake a second too late when he prowls over you, pressing you into the mattress, fluid like a panther locking sights on its prey.

“ Wait— ”

Caleb wastes no time hooking his thumbs under the frayed band of your shorts, tugging it down in staccato drags to mess with you. 

“ Caleb—! ” 

You whine, more turned on than annoyed by his teasing. It’s not until the sight of your mound appears, clinging to the edge of the band like the horizon of a new world beckoning to be explored does he stops, gaping at the sight with reddening ears.

It’s your turn to mess with him. “Cat got your tongue… gege?” 

He stares at the sliver of skin like a blind man feeling the sun on his face for the first time. 

“Shit,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful .” 

Tentatively, he drags the last remaining piece of clothing off your body, his breath lodging in the back of his throat. 

God… he groans. Pretty, little princess… gonna taste you so good.

Two worlds crash, sky to earth, and Caleb’s mouth meets the terrain of your pelvis. Traveling downward, he connects a path from hip to mound, and you feel his tongue sampling this uncharted territory. 

His broad back almost blocks out the light above and god—you’re already panting when the sharp jut of his shoulder blades creates an attractive silhouette sliding down the last few inches of your body, finding his haven in the juncture of your thighs. 

Caleb spreads' em’ nice and wide, making sure to run the tip of his tongue over the cushiony bounce of his lower lip. Shit, you murmur under your breath, before he dips his head and enjoys his meal. 

The tapered edge of his tongue touches your clit, and you lose the last semblance of control. 

You know Caleb’s always been a foodie, and the way he practically feasts on your pussy is no different.

Slick juices smear across his pretty mauve lips, and he slurps you up obscenely. The gloss of his spit lubes you up hotly from the inside, filling you with a pressing slick. 

Oh—mhmph… you groan, panting heavily. 

How was he so goddamn good with his tongue?

“Nghmm,” he moans, looking up at you with drunken purple eyes, lost in the sweetness of this sin he can’t stop devouring. “You taste heavenly.” 

Caleb presses into your pussy, treating her like an old lover he wants to French kiss till dawn. 

The high bridge of his nose bumps against your tender clitty, and he takes this chance to smear his lips all over your folds, rubbing your bundle of nerves raw. 

Your back lifts off from the bed and you can’t make sense of where you start and he ends.

“H-ahhh,” you moan, and twine your fingers in his hair, tugging.

“Easy,” he groans, lifting his wet, plump lips from where your core is inhaling him in. “Y’gonna make me bald in no time, princess…”

A senseless dribble of drool trickles past your lips, and you feel the thick toughness of his finger swiping it up, popping it into his mouth. Caleb grins, spreading your legs wider, and lifts your lower body off the bed. The sight of a dark spot seeping the front of his pants makes your breathing stutter, and you can’t keep your eyes away from such a lewd show. 

“See what’cha do to me, sweetness?” He moans and gingerly takes your hand with his right one to press it right on his crotch.

Holy shit. Your eyes bulge wide. 

He’s fucking huge.

You lick your lips in nerves, unable to tear your eyes away from the undulating mass of his rock-hard abs moving with every ragged breath he takes. 

“Is that…?” 

Caleb smirks, a dark look flitting in his eyes. “All for you?” he finishes. “Yeah, sweetness.” 

As if goading you to take the next step, he tips his head to the side, looking at you from under his thick lashes, his magnetic eyes pinning you to the bed.

“Wanna see it?” 

He guides your hand to rock against the hard bulge, and you swallow when you feel him twitch under your palm.

The reality of your position under him hits you, and you feel as if every breath you take might make you float up to the ceiling. Your mind is racing, a cacophony of thoughts that swirl and blend into one pulsing thrum of more, more, more. 

“Y-yeah.” 

He grunts at your admittance and steers your fingers to the edge of his band. “There you go—tug it down, princess…” 

You do as he says, and gasp when the crown of his cock comes into view. 

Girthy, thick. Veiny. 

A dark, almost violet-inky trail of hair leads down to the rise of his pubic bone, and you stare as the curve of his cock becomes more pronounced. Flaccid at 6 inches, he would rise to greater heights once released into the open air, and you panic, closing your fist around his still-clothed head as you beg him with your eyes to pause.

“Hold on…” you gasp. “Jus’ wait a minute.”

Caleb pauses, his eyes flashing. 

“You… don’t want this?” 

The implicit question hangs heavy in the air. 

You don't want me?

It pains you how quick he is to incriminate himself as undesirable when it's the furthest thing from the truth. 

“No!” you mumble and gently hook your fingers under his chin to get him to look at you. “I just… need a second to recalibrate cause… holy shit… you’re massive—”

He guffaws, shaking his head, boyish face lit up in joy. “S’that all? Aw, princess…” he coos and flicks your nose with his index finger. “Swear, you can be so adorable sometimes…” he teases, and you huff.

You take a deep breath and center yourself, before finding the courage to proceed with tugging down his boxers and sweatpants. 

“Okay…” you murmur, and un-fist the soft material, dragging it down with bated breath. 

There he is, in all his glory. 

He’s warm and alive in your hands, and you give the girthy base a generous pump. His smell hits you—musk, man, briny… 

Is this how a real man feels? You think your obvious lack of experience makes you faint with worry. 

Would Caleb notice? 

Would he hate how you don’t even know what to do with a cock? 

What if he doesn’t want you to touch him—deciding you’re too inexperienced for his tastes…? 

“Shit—” Caleb hisses, taken off guard by your sudden movement. “You’re killing me here, princess…” 

In such simple praise, you find your footing once more against the tidal wave of insecurity. 

Pushing aside your worries, you hum, taking your time to explore his body. 

The divots of his abs, the crinkles of his girth as it sits so pretty on his lower body like a pair of crown jewels. 

You run your thumb over the pulsing globes of his balls, feeling the soft, almost velvety skin dimpling under your touch. 

Caleb grunts, and you flicker your gaze to him. His brows are furrowed, and he looks a second away from busting a vein, his face a light shade of puce.

“Caleb?” You softly call out to him in worry. “Are you—?”

“Yeah,” he gasps, and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Jus’... didn’t expect you to feel this good…”

Good? 

You feel… good? 

Licking your lips, you focus your concentration on the fleshy plump head of his cock. If he has sensitive balls, Caleb is practically a timebomb of nerves on the tip of his arousal. 

Flushed and sticky with pre, you swipe your thumb through the crease of his slit, gathering the milky white deposit and slowly bringing it to your mouth.

Salty. With a hint of bitterness.

Surprisingly, he tastes amazing—

Large hands yank your away from his cock. 

He doesn’t give you the luxury of time to enjoy him. 

Your world suddenly tilts and Caleb’s growl is loud in your ear. He has you pressed into the sheets, your face in the soft cotton, and his large palms kneading the doughy rise of your bare ass. 

Smack!

You gasp and jerk back, indignation at the tip of your tongue. But, it dissipates when he drivels a finger right into your core, sinking fully into the heat of your pussy. 

Your scream is muffled into the pillowy sheets, and he wastes no time in hooking his meaty digit up, hitting a spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

With his other hand, he continues to spank you, little pert taps that grow in intensity as his frustration builds.

“Look - at - how - wet - you’re - getting,” he snarls, and withdraws his fingers to show you the trails webbing in between them, proof of your not-so-innocent reciprocation. Caleb taps his slick fingers to your lips, and you part them obediently, half-thrills of fear and lust curling up your spine.

The taste of you perforates your tongue. Sweet and musky, you've sampled your arousal before, but never from his hand. Gagging lightly on his digits, your eyes roll back into your head and you feel his fingers tickling your uvula.

Shit, he curses under his breath. You're too cute, Pipsqueak… too precious.

He moans as you gurgle his name. Cwaleb…

Throaty and sweet, you're the perfect symphony and he could listen to you all night. 

Caleb withdraws his sticky fingers from the back of your throat with a damp, little ‘pop’ as his spit-slicked digits tap your cheek.

“Fuck, you're too perfect .”

He sets you back on your back, your pouty, glossy lips twisting in a smirk. Caleb hooks your ankles around his shoulders, and—showing he's about as virginal as a town bicycle—smooths his thumb through the mess of your folds.

His pointer catches on the lip of your gaping, swollen pussy, and he hums when he smears your love juices all around, making sure to get it as messy and creamy as possible.

Inching his thumb past the loosened ring of muscle, he grins. 

The gooey, silky mess coats him to the knuckle. You're already pretty free and easy for him to slip his cock in.

“Just a little more, sweetness,” he coos, twisting his thumb, slipping it out only to replace it with his index finger. His now free thumb smears the cream of your arousal around, catching on the pearly mound of your clit as he deepens the pressure.

Nghh ahhh, Caleb! You cry out. 

Your cheeks are warm, eyes glossy with heat and Caleb can't get enough of the way you're panting and twisting on the sheets, writhing like a prey caught in his trap.

It's too much. Too fucking much.

Desire turns your thoughts hazy. There’s a swollen spot inside of you that he manipulates with ease, pressing down on it— “S’good girl,” he murmurs into your neck. “Taking my fingers so well. You make me so damn proud, darlin’.” 

You’re panting, lapping at the sweat beading on your upper lip.

It’s too hot. 

He feels like a fucking furnace above you.

Bigger than any man you ever imagined to take, Caleb is a beast trapped in the body of the boy you love. His scent drenches you—cedar wood body soap bleeding into your pores, marking you as his. The scent of his aftershave grazes your cheek as he leans in to give you a sloppy, full-tongued kiss. 

Mhmmph—you mewl, clinging onto him like ivy.

Your thighs wrap around his waist instinctively, and everything is primal when you finally give yourself up to him. 

His plump, weepy tip catches on your pulsing opening, and he groans at the briefest contact of slick mingling together. You’re so wet, your pussy juices web with his pre, silvery strands clinging to the lip of that little hole he wants so badly to sink into.

Like the deepest tunnel in space, Caleb wants to venture where no man will ever go. He grasps the head of his cock and guides it right to where the blackhole of all his desires resides, rimming the opening where he swears nirvana throbs out his name.

Caleb… she calls out to him. Claim me. Come in me. 

He answers her signal, forehead smushed with yours, his sweat dripping into your slack mouth.

It’s a strange sensation.

Fingers. Tampons. The occasional vibrator. 

None of it can compare to the sheer volume and intensity of a real cock pushing past the envelope of your flesh. The ridges and bumps feel magnified as if there’s a forcefield of pleasure accompanying such penetration. Like it’s sucking you into a different dimension. 

Your head spins and your gasps sound far away, like someone has plunged you right into a swimming pool. 

The only anchor you have is Caleb’s broad shoulders.

You hold onto him as he rocks his hips forward, pleasure unfurling down your spine like a current. 

Fuck… Caleb… 

There’s nothing else in your mind but him.

The sound of his groans. The pinched furrow of ecstasy on his brow. His swollen lips hovering over yours. 

Even the dim lighting of the room makes you feel cocooned in his embrace, safe from the horrors of the world. 

It’s effortless, really, how he grasps your hips and opens you up to him like you’re a centerpiece dish all bared out and vulnerable. 

Nimble hands arrange you into the meanest mating press as your legs dangle above you uselessly, swaying with every hard roll of his thrusts. 

Caleb fucks like he wants to put you through the mattress. 

There’s nothing romantic about this—a man hellbent on making you his. His cockhead smushes with your cervix in a romantic dance of fleeting French kisses. Marking you for days. God, you whine. God, you’re—

So good.

So good.

Oh, Caleb. 

More. More. 

You don’t even notice the light schmear of blood coating his length. Or, how the pinch of pain is overridden by the messy plap plap plap of your bodies meeting together.

You’ve just given up your virginity to the boy you love—the man who’s been with you through hell and back. 

Caleb grabs your ankles and presses it down onto the pillows above your head, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. It’s sloppy and you’re making a mess everywhere.

Foamy white creams at the base of his cock, dribbling onto the dark sheets of his duvet.

Your body rocks with him, the bed creak creak creaking under the brunt of his thrusts. 

He dwarfs you, a mountain of a man bruising the same golden spot that makes your toes curl in your periphery.

“Fuck,” he drawls, purple eyes gouging on your every reaction. “You— mhm —’re squeezin’ down so good, princess.” He huffs, dew drops of sin splattering from his lips and lapped up by your tongue on his jaw. Caleb groans, his hips stuttering. “Can’t get enough of you,” he starts to babble, face flush and eyes heavy with intoxication. Your pussy is the perfect drug for him. 

He starts to whine, dog tags slicked with sweat and heavy with his body heat thudding against your jaw. You part your lips and bite down on the metal, tasting salt and tang. “You—ngmmm—feel too good… so good—ah, shit, sweetness—” Caleb curses, thick fingers dimpling into the flesh of your hips and tipping you up to be fuller of him. 

C-can’t hold back, darlin’, he almost whimpers. I-I can’t… you gotta come with me. Come on, sweetness, give it to me… give me your cum, baby. That’s it, baby. Ooohhh, yes. Yes. There she is. Atta girl. Goooddd girl. Stay with me, baby. Don’t—lift your hips, fuck. Lemme rub that pretty pearl, darlin’. You look so good cummin’ all over me—

Your screams pierce the night air, echoing with a clap of thunder outside the windows. But, you can’t pay attention to storms, not when the biggest one is wrecking you apart.

Caleb moves like a man possessed, greasin’ his thumb around your pebbled clit, changing the angle so he’s pushing even deeper—

“Caleb!” 

Your back arches off the bed, till only the crown of your head remains on the pillows. Caleb pushes back, drowning you back into the sheets, his whole body pressing down— “Shit, nghmmm! —” he grounds out in a low voice. 

Almost a growl. 

It makes your insides shiver around his cock. He doesn’t jackhammer you like those oiled-up studs do in pornos. 

He takes it intensely, grinding his hips, injecting his rhythm with a few punctuating thrusts. 

“Good —” you choke out. “—fuck me so good— ”

Yeah? He teases, dark bangs falling in his face, covering one of his magnetic violet irises. 

Your body tenses, abs clenching, and he groans.

Tipping you further down the precipice, Caleb ducks his head and engorges his wet, hot mouth around your swollen nipples. He pinches the other one with his free hand, the spare still frigging your clit with the intensity of a madman. 

Your eyes roll back into your head.

You clench—hard.

White hot paint splatters behind your closed eyes, imprinting on your lids and the world fades into hypersound as you scream:

Caaaleeeebbbb!

Oh, shit. 

Your walls massage him better than any fleshlight could. Definitely a thousand times better than his hand. 

He’s a goner right there and then. 

Thick, fat spurts of hot, sticky cum fill you up. Neither he nor you care about what this means, pumping you to the brim until wet, gummy dribbles splotch down onto the bed. Caleb shudders like a great beast, and with one last, heaving push, he breeds you. 

.

.

.

There’s nothing else in the ringing quiet but your ragged breath. 

The world slowly comes back—a flickering flash of thunder. Caleb’s soft groan. 

He pulls himself out, and the effect is a reverse weirdness of when he fucked himself in. 

It leaves you gaping. Empty. You whine and he chuckles tiredly, gathering you into his arms.

All's silent for a few moments until you hear the bed creak and his weight off the mattress. Your blurry eyes open to find his massive, muscular frame in all its naked glory ambling to the bathroom. In a few moments, a warm softness glides between your puffy, well-abused folds, and you moan, twitching away.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “But, I gotta get you cleaned up. Stay still, sweets.”

He wipes you down until you’re clean again, and tosses the soiled rag to the floor. Your arms open on autopilot for him, and Caleb chuckles, sinking back into the ring of warmth your body gives him. 

Sighing into your hair, he tightens his grip around you. Outside, the eddies of raindrops swirl down the window panes, and another flash of thunderclaps. He slowly presses a kiss to your head, holding you tighter as a new storm rages unceasingly. 

Caleb yanks the blankets up to your waist, and uses himself as a weighted one, pressing you into the soft mattress, much to your bubbling giggles. He smiles, loving the sound, and gently flicks your chin with his index finger.

“I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I?” 

He moves to your side and you turn around, propping your head under your arm to gaze at him, a lovesick expression etched on your face.

Caleb mirrors your movement, also sliding his arm under his head, his other slung casually on your hip.

“Nah,” you admit after a beat of silence. “Didn’t even feel it.”

He pretends to pout. “Y’know, if you say that in a different context, I would get really, really hurt, Pipsqueak.”

You groan, and smack his chest. “Just like you to ruin the mood.”

He catches your hand, pressing your palm to his cheek with a boyish laugh. 

“I’m kiddin'! Kidding, darlin’. C’mere—” 

Yoinking you closer, he smears a kiss onto the nape of your neck. 

As you trace his arm, he hums.

“You… really blew my mind,” he admits sheepishly. 

“Huh. I did?” It’s your turn to tease him now. “Well… I guess so did you.”

You yelp when he pinches your ass playfully. 

“‘Oh, Calebbbb ’.” He mocks your earlier moans. “‘Ahhhh moreee moreee— ’” 

“Hey—!” 

He lets you smack his chest, snickering in glee like a stupid boy. 

“Juussstt kiddin’, sweets.” He kisses you right on your pouty lips. “Knew you’d be perfect. You’re always perfect.”

And, your heart melts.

“Really?” You whisper as a subtle flash of lightning illuminates one side of his grin. Warmth fills you up when he nods.

“Is it sad to say I’ve been dreamin’ about you like this for eons?” 

You shake your head, a smile playing on the corners of your lips. Slightly breathless, you respond: 

“I’ve been… thinking about you that way, too, baby.”

You expect him to make a stupid joke, or to diffuse the tender moment with his snark. 

But, Caleb doesn’t do that. He loves being in this delicate bubble with you—and only you. 

“Good,” he hums. “Because I’m not done with you yet, sweets—not by a lonnggg shot.”

a/n: comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ! thank you for reading ;D

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.

[minniture]

flord have merthy

JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III (2023)

[minniture]

Blocking people becomes a form of self care after a while.

[minniture]

“I crave space. It charges my batteries. It helps me breathe. Being around people can be so exhausting, because most of them love to take and barely know how to give - except for a rare few.”

— Katie Kacvinsky

[minniture]

You have to start showing up for your future. You’ve got the overseas mansion on your vision board, clean, immaculate, pristine, but you skip making your bed and keeping your apartment clean. You have dreams of being a 7-figure CEO, but lack the discipline to manage your time effectively throughout the day. You have body goals, but prefer to overeat, and order your favourite greasy takeout. Your dream life can’t take you seriously when you don’t show up for yourself, money can’t magnetise itself to you when you spend in fear. Healthy relationships can’t want you when you prefer to gossip and judge on the phone each night. You, yes YOU have to start taking ownership of your day, and be intentional about creating the life you desperately desire, it's in the small details. Those micro changes compound, so take inventory of what you’re manifesting vs how you’re showing up each day. Edit your life ruthlessly. This is your one shot. Don’t delay your blessings by not showing up for your future. Become the version of you that would have the life you’re praying for. 

[minniture]

CW: 18+ MDNI, loan shark!price x reader part 1, fem!reader, afab!reader, noncon elements, manipulative price, implied violence (not reader), petting, almost(?) fingering - 3K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune massive thank you to @pricetagged for keeping me sane writing this

“Mr. Price-” you spoke up, fingers massaging into your temples. 

“Said you can call me John, Sweetheart.” the man interjected with a serious look. 

He was currently hanging your entire life over your head and he knew it, you most certainly were not going to call him by his first name. Noticing your reluctance, he shrugged and leaned back into your dining room chair.

“Look, I’ve been as kind as a man like me ought to be. Don’t know how much longer I can shoulder the loss, and I don't know how much longer you-” He sent a condescending look of concern your way, a hand fishing into his pocket. “-can take the fees. I’m playing the good guy here, y’gotta pay up, lovie.” 

“No smoking inside.” you warned, voice less confident than you would have liked it to be.

His hand paused in his coat before slipping out and up in a sign of surrender.

There was a buzzing silence between the two of you, only interrupted by the occasional tick of your kitchen clock. It was hard to meet his gaze, eyes rooted downwards towards your table under the weight of your rising debt to one of the most notorious men in the city.

“Right then.” he huffed, palms coming down to rest on the table before twitching upwards. “So?” 

“Give me another month to pull something together.” you spoke, wincing when you caught the way his eyebrows quirked in surprise. “-Please?”

There was no telling a man like John Price what would be happening. He was the shot caller, the unequivocal card dealer, it was only by some higher grace that he let your ill manners slip. 

He grumbled for a moment before looking up. “I respect what you’ve got going on in the shop, I do. Lovely place, good atmosphere—we’re both the entrepreneurial type, so to say I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for you-” the thought that he’d lump your small shop in with his exploitative business made your stomach turn. “-but this is a bit much, yeah? Let’s give it up, sweetheart.” 

Your face twisted into a sharp grimace, but that was all you could do—what right did you have to tell the man whose money you were living off of to get out of your house? Even worse, you hated that he had a point; you were so tired of your lackluster sales and mounting bills, but-

“I’m not the only owner, I-I can’t just make decisions like that.” you reasoned.

He looked incredibly unimpressed, nostrils flaring with a dissatisfied huff. “Right, your business partner.” 

“H-he-”

“If it’s what you want, m’sure he’ll understand,” Mr. Price hummed, eyes narrowing. “I think you’ll find my men and I can be quite persuasive.” 

Registering your cautious demeanor, his lips curled upwards.

“Where is the bloke anyway?” John asked in faux-disinterest, disapproval blooming from his tone. “Always sends you to talk to the big mean lender. S’not right.” 

He shook his head and sighed.

“-Seen this play out before, love. He’s throwing you under the bus.” 

Your mouth shut, hard set into a frown—you knew he was right. Your business partner was most likely enjoying his morning in peace knowing it was your apartment above the building—your life about to be uprooted if it all went tits-up. It was hard not to feel played.

Mr. Price’s gaze glimmered in recognition, and slowly, like a languid predator, he was leaning across the table with a large hand over your own. 

You studied the sparse dusting of translucent hair on his fingers, the trimmed nails at the ends of his stocky fingers, his nice, expensive-looking watch—anything not to meet his eyes. 

“S’not worth it,” he urged softly. “spreading yourself thin like this.” he paused to think. “My advice? Liquidate, I'm sure you and I can work something out in the long term.”

You swallowed, throat feeling impossibly dry as you focused on the twitch of his thumb.

“I’ll think about it.” 

“I don’t want to be the bad guy, but business is business, sweetheart—I’m offering you a hand, it’s in your best interest to take it.” he spoke, palm patting over your digits before withdrawing into his pocket. There was a deep breath drawn in through his lips. “Right, I’ll be off then—Unless you want me over for lunch?” 

He chuckled deeply in solus as he stood, reminding you of a proud and awful beast. “Maybe another time then, love.” 

Ideally not.

-

The shop had closed on another unnoteworthy day, only serving to further hammer in Mr. Price’s point. With defeated footfall on the stairs up to your flat, you nearly slipped, shocked by a fist beating on the front door frantically. You slowly turned around, heart pounding from the sound.

“-Christ! Let me in!” Ewan, your business partner cried out from the other side of the threshold.

You hurried to the door; pushed aside as soon as the lock had released.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” you scolded over the shop door’s welcome chime. You were met without response while the man darted for the till. “What are you-”

“Not now,” he growled. “we need to get out of here.” 

Studying him closer, you realized one of his arms had been held up by a makeshift sling, tucked neatly beneath his quilted coat.

“W-what are you talking about?”

He paused, looking up. 

Your eyes widened when the light from the street outside washed over his face. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” he snarled, freshly dried blood crusting at the movement. His head dipped down as he popped open the till. “Price and his dogs want our heads.” 

“I just spoke to him this morning-” 

“Things change—may have pushed our luck a little too far. We’ve got to get out of town.” 

You frowned “I-I can’t just-” 

“Suit yourself.” he snapped, voice dropping to a mumble while his fingers grabbed at whatever they could, stuffing it into his coat pocket haphazardly. “-Sitting duck.”

“Wait—that's our money.” you balked, watching the empty register drawer shut. He offered you a bloody, tight-lipped smile as he sped past you towards the door; in and out like a typhoon.

“Good luck.”

You were stuck where you stood when the door swung shut, absolutely beside yourself in shock as you watched his figure disappear from view into the night. Looking around your shop, it was just as it had been when you closed up, but the knowledge that you were sitting on an empty till, all alone with the looming threat of a less-than-savory money lender finding out you were back to square one for your upcoming payment was not kind as it crashed into you. 

After a sobering moment, you hobbled over to the point of sales, turning the drawer’s lock tentatively. Of course, the tray was as empty as the day you had bought it, save for a spare coin roll shoved into the side. You stared down at the dark plastic, hand clumsily digging into your pocket for your phone. Swiping at the device, you paused, debating for a moment over whether or not to open the banking app; you already knew what you’d see if you did.

Confirming your fears, the log showed a hefty transaction at the branch earlier that day. The account had been emptied right before the banks closed. 

You had nothing to give John Price.

It was all gone.

You stared at your feet while it sunk in. Slowly, you regained the ability to move, making your way over to the shop door and locking it back up before spinning on your heels. The trip upstairs was eerily silent as you slipped into your flat, legs wobbling as you ambled into your washroom and stepped under the hot stream from your showerhead. You let the water run over you for far longer than necessary, only stepping out onto the frigid tile once your fingers had pruned. 

The dinner prep that followed had gone surprisingly smooth, serving as a vessel to pretend the foundation of your life wasn't crumbling away. You replayed comforting thoughts, words passing through your mind like a liferaft just out of reach– you knew Mr. Price, he always spoke gently to you, he would understand, he-

A fat tear fell onto the hand that braced you over the stove, watching the bubbling pasta through bleary eyes. With a shaking grip, you drained the water and slipped the noodles into your saucepan, stirring and sniffling lamely.

You made too much—you had nothing to give and you had made too much. Typical.

Sitting at your table, you ate in near-silence, listening to your clock’s soft ticking as you tried to ignore the afterburn image of Mr. Price across from you where he had sat that morning.

Your fork paused mid-air when the downstairs shop chime rang out. 

Had Ewan come to his senses? 

You closed your eyes and waited for him to call up to you. 

The stark sound of heavy footfall bustling around the lower level was the first thing to alert you to the intrusion—too much noise for one man. Setting down your fork, you stared owlishly at the door to your flat as if it was the last line of defense between you and whatever was happening down there. Through the muffled commotion, you could faintly make out the creak of your stairs getting louder—closer, you watched helplessly as the knob slowly turned.

The door opened a fraction, a thick hand curling around the side to brace it against the three thunderous knocks that echoed throughout the room.

“Come in.” you spoke up once your heartbeat had evened out, blinking as Mr. Price emerged from the dark stairway.

“Mmh, you’re here.” he stared down at you, a pleased rumble rolling around in his chest. “‘Course you didn’t skip town, smart. Good girl.”

He kicked his boots off and drifted through your kitchen; cabinets and drawers clattering behind you while he whistled breathily, dishing up some pasta as if you had made it for him—you do suppose he had every right to, though. 

Your whole body tensed as a palm ghosted across your back. The plate was set down, and the chair beside you was tugged out from beneath the table. 

Your eyes darted to his dish where it sat, steam trailing fragrantly. Mr. Price tucked in, humming lowly despite his tense demeanor. 

“S’good, Love. eat up.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and grabbed your fork, gaze falling back to your dish as you picked at the food, appetite long gone. Once again, it was you, Mr. Price, and the sounds of your kitchen—an unwelcome sense of Deja Vu creeping in. 

“Your money’s gone.” you whispered, unable to stand the silence.

He reached towards you, grabbing your napkin, and patting his mouth. “I know.” he scratched at his beard idly. “My boys are dealing with that.” 

You paled, trying not to think about what would happen to your business partner as you watched Mr.Price fuss with his fork, leaning in to take another large bite; a nauseated feeling washing over you. 

“What's going to happen to me?” you murmured, eyes downcast. 

His fork clattered quietly against his plate as his hand came to rest on the back of your neck, thumb petting at your nape. “That’s what I'm here to sort out, sweetheart.” 

Sort out. It was ugly, spoken as if you were just one of his assets. You nodded; compliance met with a soft, affirming squeeze. 

“We can work something out.” his hand traveled downwards, grazing your arm before landing on the meat of your thigh. “I don’t have to be the bad guy.” 

“Mr. Price..” you spoke after a sharp breath, tears threatening to well up. 

You missed the way his eyes crinkled at your weepy tone, thumb brushing your thigh in comfort. 

“I’ve had my eye on you, love—Would have never lent you as much as I did if I wasn't sweet on you. Thought maybe I’d be able to charm my way into your life but it seems like I only see you when you’re late on a payment.” he laughed hoarsely. A knee knocked into yours as he stood; his chair scraping beneath him. The floor creaked under bulk, two large hands coming to rub at your arms with hot breath and trimmed beard tickling at your ear. “-I’m a hopeless romantic, y’see.” 

“Price!” a voice hollered up, causing the man to straighten with a low growl. 

“What?” he barked, voice aimed downstairs.

“Trucks loaded up, gonna head back to the office, yeah? See if Simon needs any help retrieving the cash.” 

His hands flexed around your shoulders. “Good, lock up behind yourself. I’ll be a bit.”

You froze, looking up to see the looming shadow of a man; profile distinct in the low light. He turned to you, offering a tight grin while a wayward hand trailed from your arm to your neck, caressing the skin as he exhaled deeply behind you, resting your head against his abdomen. 

“It’s okay to give in, love.” he cooed. “Let me take care of it all.” 

You had nearly folded when that little prey animal in your brain stiffened, hackles raising. You stood carefully, sidestepping his grasp.

“No, I-I… I couldn’t impose… It’s alright.” you silently begged for him to understand your polite refusal.

“S’not imposing,” he challenged, glaring down at you. “imposing would be the number of zeroes on the sum you owe me—now you care about my burden?”

“That’s-”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart.” he laughed. “Now, sit back down.”

You complied, lowering back into the seat shamefully.

“Good.” he exhaled, crouching beside you with hands knotted together. “I always collect what’s owed, that’s one thing you need to understand.” 

You nodded.

“-But I’m not opposed to shouldering burdens where personal interest is involved.” His eyes searched your own desperately, palms unfurling to rest back on your legs. “You understand what I'm saying, yeah? You’ll never pay it off alone, let me help. I could take care of you.”

Overwhelmed, you turned away; the grip on your thighs tightening in response as he braced himself, standing up. A warm hand cradled your cheek as he drew your gaze upwards, free hand looping around your back and lifting you to stand against him like a marionette. 

“I don’t know what to do…” you sniffled as his big palm had begun to rub circles into your back. 

He shushed you. “-It’s okay, love. I can handle it, It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, turning and rubbing your face into his shirt as he comforted you. The entire situation was a disorienting experience. Had you done something so wrong to get here?– had it been a crime to want to live a gentle and quiet life in your shop? 

It was hard to care much for your sense of conviction when the root of your problem looked more like a finely woven cradle; what did it matter if you were to bend the knee to your devil’s appeal at this point? 

Still, it felt as if you were teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“I’m scared.” your lips settled for, hiccuping the words into his chest. 

He hummed thoughtfully, the noise buzzing around the walls of your head as his thick arms hooked around your neck, pulling you in deeper—a trap set without any fuss. 

“It’s okay for you to be scared,” he pressed a kiss to your crown. “There’s no way anyone was getting out of those rates you agreed to, love. Let me help you.”

You stiffened, head raising slowly to look at him. He smiled down at you.

“You definitely won’t be taking care of our finances, yeah?” John joked, letting out a deep, phlegmy laugh before he pecked your nose, pulling you back into his chest and rumbling against your head. “Enough nonsense. You’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

It was all so domestic—like he hadn’t just shown you his rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. 

His grip relented as he patted your bum. “Go on and get into bed, let me clean up dinner.”

-

So you did, brushing your teeth and feeling incredibly confused as to why you were readily complying. What truly got to you was how tender it felt—had you been so oblivious to his vying interest? You had just assumed he was a rare good-natured lender; though, you suppose neither of these had been true.

John Price was not a good man; although it was a recent revelation in the grand scheme of things, you knew this as a fact now. The other fact of the matter was that it seemed you were most likely the real collateral in the vulturine deal. Had he been playing the long game?

You could hear John floating around in the other room as you pulled an old shirt over your head to sleep in—the kitchen faucet running as you slipped into your bed. It all felt so wrong. 

Your eyes shot open when the bedroom’s aged floor creaked, deer-like paralysis keeping you snapshot-still as the ring of his belt buckle filled the static air. Was he—The rickety bed dipped behind you under John’s added weight, bedframe crying out with every shift of his body that came with tucking himself against you; achy grunts blowing out from his lips.

“Not as limber as I used to be.” he laughed modestly. “Still gets the job done though, I reckon.” 

He breathed for a moment before his nose dipped into the hair at your nape, sniffling around. 

“-Better than I imagined.” he grumbled contently.

Thick hands dipped under your shirt, massaging at the skin momentarily before slipping into your panties, tugging them out of the way. 

“Mr. Price.” you winced, feeling his cold hand on the sensitive skin.

his hands paused as the large man thought for a moment.

“Mrs. Price…” he chuckled after a beat, the hairs on your neck standing up in response. “-See? You don’t like it much, either. Now, what’s my name, love?”

“John.” you mumbled quietly, eyes darting around through the dark of your room.

“Mmh. good girl.” he hummed, hand cupping your cunt and thumbing at it absentmindedly. “Sleep, love. Big day tomorrow, yeah?”