#I know I'm partial to him in a t-shirt

[bunny-jpeg]

puppy hybrid!simon (18+)

inspirations taken from this post

price had to go away for a little while, which was hard to tell his favourite puppy! he had only recently taken you in and it was hard for him to leave you behind. you were all mopey and sad eyes a week before he left. originally he was going to have you stay at a hybrid daycare for the duration of his time away.

but johnny had another idea! he said that he'd watch you! he joked that if he could handle the mutt hybrid he called simon, he could handle a purebred like you. with your floppy ears and cute tail!

you were so well behaved and price was so proud of you. he made sure anything you needed was packed up for your little "trip" to visit johnny and simon.

johnny wasn't as good of a owner as he propositioned to price. he went out to the bar with kyle for an evening, which left price's pretty (expensive) puppy with the bully mixed mutt that was simon.

didn't take long for the much larger hybrid to almost tear off your cute little clothes and just fuck you. he had his arm around your middle as he pushed his cock as far as it could go. he knew he was hitting up against your cervix.

he chuckled, "gonna make a new breed of puppy with you." his voice was low and grumbled, it made you soaked between your legs as he stretched out your poor little cunt.

when you thought that he was done, he enjoyed when you'd scamper off to go pee or get some water. it only encouraged him to sniff out his mate, as if the trail of his cum leaking down your leg didn't make it easy enough.

he made a face when he saw the trail, it should be in you, little pup! not all over the hardwood floor! eventually he had you over the couch, behind the kitchen island, in the bathroom and finally in simon's bed where he could smother your purebred scent with his.

johnny knew he was fucked when he came home the next morning and found you naked under a partially clothed simon. your belly a bit swollen from the gallons of hybrid cum stuffed in there.

"price, i'm so sorry. i didn't know, i thought he was well behaved!" johnny looked pale when price came home to get you.

you were curled up in simon's arms in the doggy bed. gone were the cute pink bows and little outfits, you were swimming in simon's cheap black t-shirt with a motorcycle on it. but even price could see the slight slope in your belly.

"but, price!" you whined when your owner tried to pull you away from the mutt, as last ditch effort to save you. you kicked out your little legs, "i love him."

the older man sighed. spoiled little puppy. he ended up taking in simon too, he saw how anxious you were without your mate. johnny promised the dog hybrid to visit often but simon was too busy snuggled up with his new missuses (sorry johnny!). now price has two hybrids to take care of plus whatever was slumbering in your belly.

you were still price's little puppy, even if your attention was split between owner and mate. when you ate at the table to eat, you'd give simon a light smack on the hand if he was eating like a prisoner. you pouted your lips and shook your head.

simon sighed and took you by the head to kiss one of your soft ears, "sorry, love." at least price didn't have to train the mutt, you were doing the hard work for him.

simon followed you like a shadow, protective of his mate. and even the home you inhabited. you'd often lie on the doggy bed with simon behind you, large hand on your swollen middle and his lips at the back of your neck. but the mutt wasn't fully house trained. there had been a few times that price would be watching the football game and he could hear the whines of his beloved puppy, only to look over and see simon just pinning you down and rutting against you.

"bad dog." price grumbled as he tried to grab simon by the collar, "she's already pregnant, you animal!"

but price had to admit, you were rather cute all pregnant. if anything your floppy ears only got softer, your smile on wider. price had just wished you picked a mate of a higher caliber.

he wouldn't mind puppies, but you were of a softer breed. you shouldn't have ended up with a bully of a dog. but price had to (begrudgingly) admit, it was nice to know when he went out that there was guard dog in the house.

that didn't mean he was the biggest fan of simon.

"get off of her, simon." price rolled up the newspaper to wack the mutt hybrid, "she's got no room in her for that. she's already swimming in puppies!"

simon growled and just fucked between your thighs until he made a mess of himself. the older man looked at the hybrid and the hybrid looked back in defiance.

you on the other hand were sound asleep on the doggy bed, covered in simon's cum. even that stretch marked lined belly was too.

price was only in his late thirties, he thought he was a little young to be a grandfather figure to the rowdy puppies that you give birth to. all with your beautiful eyes but the personality and points ears of their father.

"i need another drink."

[steddie-as-they-come]

"Mom," Steve whispered in the inky blackness of his parents' room. "Mom, there's something under my bed."

Patricia Harrington turned over. "Steven, go back to sleep," she murmured.

"I can't." Steve said. "There's a monster."

"No such thing." his mom said, angrier, more awake. "Go to bed now, and if I catch you out of bed again you can forget going to Tommy's this weekend."

Steve nodded and padded back down the hall, pausing at his door then taking a running jump into bed.

The room was silent.

"I know you're here." Steve whispered, making sure all his limbs were tucked safely away under the covers. "You don't scare me."

A couple minutes of quiet, then Steve heard a scraping sound come from under his bed. He squeaked and pulled his blankets up to his nose.

A horrible, raspy laugh came from below him. "I do scare you!" said a voice. "You lied!"

"No-no you don't!" Steve said boldly. He clutched his blanket tighter, then said, "I can't be scared of something I can't see! That's just dumb."

Something dark began to slither across the floor out of the corner of Steve's eye. Oh, I'm gonna regret that, he thought.

The thing began to pull itself up, looming over Steve. It cracked a smile, and sharp white teeth gleamed in the light from his closet.

Steve screamed.

"Shut up!" his dad shouted angrily from downstairs, and Steve clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes flicking between the shadow and the door like he wasn't sure which monster to be more afraid of.

The monster crept toward him, and Steve dug his fingernails into his face, scooting away from the horror. He whimpered, not daring to close his eyes.

Then the monster began to shrink.

It shriveled away, changing color and backing up, until a little boy, about Steve's age, stood in front of him. He had long curly hair and was dressed in a t-shirt that was way too big on him. When he opened his eyes, Steve flinched, because the whites of his eyes simply...weren't there. His eyes were an onyx black.

"Hi," the boy said. "I'm Eddie."

Steve was too stunned to speak, but he did uncover his mouth.

"I'm the monster under your bed!" Eddie said. "I'm supposed to scare you, but, um-" he risked a quick look at the door "-I don't think you need my help for that."

"Why are you supposed to scare me?" Steve asked.

Eddie shrugged. "Dunno. Every kid's got one. It's just how it works. I was made to be your monster, forever!" He sat down on the edge Steve's bed, bumping Steve's shoulder against his. "Weird to be on this side of the bed. No dust bunnies or anything."

Steve giggled, forgetting his fear. "You're fun!"

Eddie grinned at him. "Thank you! None of the other monsters think my jokes are funny."

"So you have to scare me?" Steve asked. "But you're not scary. Not after talking to me."

Eddie paused. "Oh, right. I'm not supposed to talk to you. Um..."

"What if we just say you're scaring me?" Steve asked. "I'll pretend I'm really scared of the monster under my bed, and you pretend you scare me every single night. But really we're hanging out instead of scaring!"

"Ooh, I like that idea!" Eddie struck a dramatic pose. "I'll be the monster under your bed, but I'll be ready to protect you if you need it too!"

Steve stuck out his hand like he saw his dad do for business deals. "Deal?"

Eddie shook it. "Deal."

-

Steve sprinted through the forest, the kids hot on his heels. "There!" he shouted. "Everyone in!"

The kids bolted to the abandoned cabin, and Steve slammed the door shut. "Is there a bed in here?" he called. "A couch? A fridge?"

"Bed's in here!" Will yelled, and Steve followed his voice to the cluttered bedroom, complete with partially-caved-in bedframe. He gingerly took a seat on the mattress, cringing when it crackled. He did not need to know what was on this.

"Eddie?" he called, tapping on the flaky painted wood.

The shitheads crowded in, and Mike murmured. "What the fuck is he doing?"

Steve ignored him. "Eddie, come on, I need your help."

Something tall, dark, and lanky slid out from under the bed, and all the kids jumped back in fright, raising their various weapons. Steve leapt to get in front of them, raising his hands as a shield. "Chill! Calm down, this is Eddie!"

Eddie shrank into his human form, draping himself over Steve. "You had to summon me to the nastiest bed in Indiana? Really, Steve?"

Steve shrugged. "This was the closest one. We need your help, Eds."

"We?" He focused on the Party. "Well, these must be the infamous buttheads." Eddie slid into the shadows and reappeared behind the Party, inspecting them. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, right?" he said, pointing at each one as he said their names.

"What the fuck are you?" Dustin asked.

Suddenly Eddie was under Steve's arm, wrapping a hand around his waist. "I'm Steve's monster under the bed." he said. "I'm just... friendlier with Steve than most of the monsters I work with."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You can tell him you're my boyfriend, they know I'm bi." He kissed Eddie on the cheek.

The kids all broke into gasps, except for Max, who fake gagged. "Don't be gross!" she yelled. "Demogorgon outside, remember?"

"Ah, right." Steve said. "Eds, can you-"

"On it." Eddie kissed Steve. "I'll be back."

The kids watched Eddie melt into shadows, then wheeled on Steve. "Steven Don't-Know-Your-Middle-Name Harrington," Dustin said. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

edit: i did not expect this response to the short little thing that took me 30 mins max at 2am!! i’m planning on rewriting it and turning it into a full length fic, so i’ll come back and edit this with the link!

edit #2: if there’s anything you guys want to see in the full length version of this please let me know!! i’m trying my best to make it a slowburn which is horrid for my adhd so let me know if there’s anything you want!!

[babyleostuff]

jealousy, jealousy | choi seungcheol

fluff (+ a bit of angst) 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!cheol x gn!reader 𐙚 wc: 1.1k

. . . seungcheol getting jealous of a fictional character

“cheol, it’s just a fictional character,” you sighed, trying to explain for the tenth time since you got out of the movie theatre that, yes - the main lead was hot, but no - you wouldn’t ever leave seungcheol for him.

sometimes you wondered if he was turning thirty or ten next year. 

you didn’t mean to be all heart eyes at the movies, but it wasn’t your fault the main lead was good looking, not that it even mattered - seungcheol had his celebrity crushes too, but you didn’t go around and whine about it. “you know it doesn’t mean anything, baby,” reaching over, you ran your fingers through his hair, like you always did whenever he was stressed or anxious, turning him into a puddle in your arms in a second.

“mhm,” your boyfriend mumbled, and gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, not sparing you a single glance. you sighed and dropped your hand. 

any other time you’d find this situation quite amusing - cheol jealous of a fictional character you happened to gush over, if not for the fact that you knew exactly how this would end.

with a silent treatment and an extremely pouty boyfriend.

normally you found that side of him very endearing, but dealing with a jealous coups was not an easy task, partially because your boyfriend happened to be one of the most stubborn people in the world.

now it was him and his pout against the world.  

“you know i love you,” you said, and turned your body away from him towards the window. 

if he was going to act like a child, then so be it.

“i’m a fucking idiot” seungcheol grumbled to himself, pulling his shirt over his head with a bit too much force, hitting himself in the head in the process. “fuck.” 

he couldn’t get the image of your soft gaze and gentle voice out of his head, when you tried to cheer him up in the car after he acted like a complete asshole. he was the last person that deserved your sweet affection, and he was so mad at himself for acting like a fucking toddler instead of pulling the car over and throwing himself into your arms to beg for forgiveness. 

“are you okay?” suddenly your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. you peeked through the door, and rubbed your eyes, already wearing his t-shirt that you always wore to sleep. the genuine concern in your eyes, and your adorably sleepy expression made seungcheol want to bang his head against the wall. 

how could he be so stupid, and get jealous and angry at you for finding a fictional character attractive? 

"uh, i'm fine, i just hit my head," he said quietly, not really looking at you. usually you’d immediately coo at him, and kiss the spot where he hit himself - of course you knew how much seungcheol loved your attention when he injured himself, even if it was just a scratch, but now he could only watch as you nodded and left without a word. 

he sighed, picking up his toothbrush to finish up his bedtime routine. there was no way he’d sleep in your bed tonight, seungcheol wouldn’t be able to lay next to you knowing how much he hurt you.

besides, there was so way you’d allow him to cuddle you after how he acted, and that was something he would not be able to stand. 

looking at his reflection in the mirror for the last time, seungcheol turned all of the lights in the bathroom, and padded over to your shared bedroom to take his pillow, and a blanket from the closet. 

he’d take the couch, it’d be less painful than sleeping in the same bed without being able to hug you. 

“what are you doing?” you suddenly asked, your voice laced with sleep. you pushed yourself up to take a better look at your boyfriend, who was standing at his side of the bed with what looked like his pillow and a blanket, his expression reminiscing one of a kicked puppy. “you have to be kidding me, choi seungcheol.” 

you looked so disappointed, and… annoyed? that was his last straw, and fuck every part of his dignity he had left - he’d beg on his knees for you forgiveness if that’s what it took. 

“ ‘m sorry, okay?” he said, his voice breaking. you could bet that if you turned the lights you’d see your boyfriend all teary eyed, not that it would surprise you - seungcheol was usually quite emotional when it came to you and your fights.

“i know there was no reason for me to get jealous and act like the biggest asshole about it, you didn’t deserve any of it,” he gripped the pillow tighter as if it would help. “and then i got so embarrassed of myself, i didn’t have the guts to tell you how sorry i was. please forgive me baby, i’m so sorry.” 

“oh, cheol,” you sighed and opened your arms. without a second thought, the boy threw the pillow aside and ran into your embrace, his strong arms wrapping tightly around your waist as if he was afraid that you were about to run away.

“i'm not mad at you,” you pressed your cheek against the side of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. “okay, maybe i was at first, but that's only because you seriously act like a child sometimes.” seungcheol groaned, as if he didn’t know that already. 

you sat like that for a moment - your arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, with his head buried in your neck where he placed gentle kisses, just like the fight never happened. 

"did you seriously want to go to sleep on the couch?" you asked, kissing his forehead.

cheol leaned back, revealing the pouty lips, and his big doe eyes you knew so well. you could swear some day he’d be the death of you. "yeah, i wanted to. that was the plan," he admitted shyly, his thumbs running over your exposed hip.  

"you're so dramatic, cheollie," you sighed and shook your head, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "why didn't you want to sleep with me, though?" 

your boyfriend groaned again, hiding in your neck like it was his safe space, pushing you back onto the bed with the force that he tackled you in. "i wouldn't be able to cuddle you," he murmured after a short while, like he was scared to admit it.  

"again, i didn't hear you." the truth was you heard him perfectly fine, but what was better than making your usually confident boyfriend shy and blushy. 

"i wouldn’t be able to cuddle you!" he huffed, looking at you again. "happy?" 

"very much, darling," you smiled at him. “now stop being a drama queen, and come to bed.” 

seungcheol nodded like a child that was just promised an ice cream, and scrambled out of your embrace, quickly grabbing his pillow from the ground. you smiled to yourself, watching your big teddy bear of a boyfriend crawl back into bed. 

“no more fighting, okay?” you murmured, your cheek pressed against his chest. “we just wasted a perfectly fine afternoon on your whining, you big baby.” 

seungcheol knew you didn’t mean to make him feel bad about what happened, he was sure you were probably used to his antics by now, but it didn’t change the fact that if it was up to him he’d spend the night worshipping you in every way he could just to show you how much he loved you. 

“i’m really sorry.” 

“it’s okay baby. let’s just sleep, yeah?” you said, and snuck your hand under his t-shirt, dragging you nails over his tummy. “and you know i’m yours, right? and that won’t change. ever.”

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[pedge-page]

What about Joel having to spend a night away for work last minute and reader sulking about it when he gets home and blanking him? 🤣 Cue grovelling from Joel lol

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Late From Work

Notes: I must be too yeehaw American because I had to look up what "blanking" someone meant 😂. Anyway, I had so much fun writing this! Decided to make him late rather than spending a whole night away because lets be real, she'd be serving divorce papers for that.

Warnings: brief oral (f receiving) scene; jealous!Reader, Stubborn reader is BACK

18+ ONLY:

- - - -

He knows he fucked up too. Big time. 

When he said he’d be home at the latest by 7:00pm and it’s now 7:02 and he’s just getting in the truck leaving the site. And when his call goes to voicemail for the 3rd time, and then the fourth time tells him that the number is no longer valid (he’s been blocked), he knows he’s in Big-Fucking-Trouble.

Doesn’t want to call Tommy up for help to coax partially because he wants to fix this own his own, and partially to save Tommy from your wrath you most certainly will take out on him rather than your absent husband.

He grabbed a bouquet of flowers at the grocery store (he’s already in the doghouse so what’s another 5 minutes added to his sentence) and is currently speeding home, a solid 15mph over the limit. Tonight isn’t even anything special: you had both just come back from a lovely weekend trip on the coast and were just settling back in to your house. But when Joel doesn’t deliver on his word, isn’t home for pizza and Pepsi, and sitting behind you while rubbings your back and belly for a quiet movie night…

Well, he’s never been late since the start of your pregnancy. Doesn’t want to think what hellfire you’re going to spit at him the moment he walks in that door.

So here he is about to walk in that door. He takes a big breath, not feeling this anxious since the he proposed to you, and steps in.

He immediately makes contact with you: standing at the end of the hall, illuminated by the kitchen light with your extra extra large T shirt stretched over your belly and dangling loosely around your thighs, hands by your side, barefoot, despite how often he nags at you to wear socks around the house so your feet don’t get cold. He’s thankful to see you hadn’t packed a suitcase, trying to leave the house with a “my husband doesn’t love me” stunt again. 

You clearly had just been walking past when you heard the door, not even fully turning to him but just having your head directed to the entrance the second he walked in. You briefly note the flowers in his hands before your eyes quickly go back to his. He feints an apologetic smile, heart beating so hard. You’re soooo quiet. The calm before the storm.

He gulps hard. 

Instead, you turn forward once more and continue walking towards the living room without a word.

You have a hand on your back as you gently collapse onto the couch. 

“Baby,” he says meekly, voice all tiny yet determined.

You pull your legs up over a pillow and fold open your book.

He comes to kneel beside you, immediately kissing your shoulder.

You do nothing. 

“Baby,” he says more clearly. “I’m sorry, honey. I couldn’t beat the time.”

You flip a page, tilting your head to read the fascinating text on the page rather than listen to your poor husband on his knees for you.

His fights with the sleeve of your shirt. Would you at least look at him? He’s holding the flowers still in his hand, big puppy dog eyes trying their best to plea with you, and with his irresistible pouty lips that get him just about anything he wanted from you. But you only lend him a sigh, flipping yet another page.

So it’s gonna be like that.

"Please, angel. I was tryin' so hard to leave on time like I said. They got the concrete all mixed up and it needed to be set today, was tryin' to get out of there, just couldn't get it moving fast enough, I'm sorry baby I really sped over here fast I can to see ya, couldn't wait a second longer—"

“Oh!” You gasp suddenly.

He’s started, but nonetheless quick to be by you.

You check the clock on the wall and laugh. Time had gotten away from you too. You slam your book and hoist yourself up, on the other end of the couch to avoid his anxious hands fluttering to your aid. You brush past him and start your climb up the stairs.

Joel is right behind you, a bit of hope stirring in him. Its not until you’re walking through your bedroom door—and slamming it right in his face that he gets the message loud and clear.

Perhaps he earned a night on the couch to pray your forgiveness. After finding a suitable vase for the roses, he puffs up his pillow, his back killing him (though he’d never say it aloud while you’re waddling around with a whole 'nother being in your belly for the last few months) and crashes down on the sofa.

He just makes out the light go off under the door in the bedroom before he too is closing his eyes.

Tomorrow brings a new day, and he’s gonna spend every second satisfying his wife. He’s deserves his stay on the couch tonight.

-

He did NOT deserve this bullshit.

It’s been 3 fucking days since he came home late.

3 days of waking up early, trying to kiss his beautiful wife and baby momma with sweet affirmations and praises, which you dodge and continue about your stubborn ignoring-test. He spent all morning cooking every single food you’d craved since your pregnancy started—waffles, French toast, cinnamon pancakes, toast with special mixed fruit jam you can only get at a grocery store an hour away, scrambled, over easy, poached, hard boiled eggs. All arranged so beautifully on the table, even going as far to put the napkins on the left, after you screeched at him a few months ago for haphazardly having them on either the right or left, and never with the fork consistently on top.

He thought he’d learned his lesson, thought he made more than enough up to you, but no. You breeze right by, making a cup of tea, and go back upstairs to your closed door.

Your sadistic mind had given him false hope when you hadn’t locked the door on him on night number two. He slept in his bed, but you had made a clear parry by slotting between the two of you the infernal pregnancy pillow that Joel had kept in storage since you “Much preferred your husband’s plushy belly and soothing rubs.” 

Fat chance tonight.

Every minute he wasn’t telling you how beautiful you are, how amazing you are, how lucky he is, he spends groveling with please forgive me, I’m so sorry, I’m such a worm.

None of it sways you any differently. 

By day 4, he’s given up the sweet talk and grand gestures. Goes for a “think like her” kind of mental approach. 

He tries to bribe you—either making you a Pepsi float, or even bringing home the famous Hot Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy Milkshake with EXTRA Rainbow sprinkles. But even as he temptingly waves in front of your little wiggly nose, you don’t acknowledge him.

He makes a big show to sigh heavily in defeat, leaving it on the kitchen table alone and trotting helplessly upstairs for a shower.

Less than 7 minutes later he’s come back down to see if you’d given in yet, maybe even telling him what a fantastic husband he is while shoveling your face with ice cream and admitting you were being dramatic. 

Instead, you’re still sitting on the couch, exactly as he left you. Of course, the milkshake cup is completely empty, sucked clean of its gooeyness, and there’s a little splotch of chocolate sauce lingering on your chin you had failed to wipe clean. 

A start, he thinks.

Still though, you don’t pay him any mind, scrolling on your phone with tight lips.  

He wonders how long you could go on with this game.  

It’s honestly a fucking terrible miracle—not even since before you were pregnant had you gone this long shutting the fuck up. But now its horrifyingly eerie, like a curse has fallen upon him and he’s doing everything he can to break it, to bring back your nagging and bitching and whining and crying because it would be so much more relaxing than this new kind of psychotic hell you’ve subjected him to.

He starts getting a little more involved: playing with your body, touching you softly with gentle strokes along your thighs and belly. You hadn’t flinched away, or tried moving to another spot on the couch. 

Which confirmed one thing to him: your horniness and lack of physical attention from your husband due to your stubborn mind was losing your mental battle to hold out against him.

So Joel doesn’t say anything either as he moves his lips over your breasts, down your swollen belly and kissing his babygirl in your bump. He mumbles, “Mommy is awfully mad at Daddy, think I can cheer her up?” 

The baby kicks as if in agreement. His gaze glances up briefly to see if you’re listening.

Your eyes catch and yours quickly dart away, leaning back and pretending to yawn. He snickers before continuing his hot trail of open mouthed kisses until your legs “shift” and “accidentally” part on their own.

He makes sweet, insatiable yet slow love to your pussy, licking a fat strip from your little clenched hole to that hot delicious center that is beyond wet for him—yet another example of how much your body clearly can’t ignore him forever.

But, ever as he brings you to a long needed orgasm, you bite your tongue, absolutely refusing to give him even the slightest sound of satisfaction despite clenching tightly around his thick digits pumping into you. Only letting out a strangled breath through your nose while you stare up to the ceiling, fingers folded across your tummy as if bored. 

He wipes away the slick from his mustache. Hell, even he can admit you deserve an applaud for making it through that without uttering a peep to his skills.

Hurts like hell on the inside though that you’re just that mad still.

He had hoped that being forced to drive with him due to your size preventing you from sitting behind the wheel would corner you into talking him, but even then, as he opens the passenger door for you, you climb aboard and slam the door shut without his assistance.

Now the two of you are on your way to yours and Maria’s weekend brunch. Tommy was also coming to drop his girlfriend off, so it would be a good time to catch him up on this unqiuely-pregnant-you madness.

You snatch your purse and hop out of the car, mood going a full 180 and instantly greeting Maria with a warm hug and perky voice. The two of you sit down at a little table way aways from your idiot husband and brother in law.

Tommy nods him over to the bar and Joel grumbles over.

“She ignoring you?” His little brother asks while shelling peanuts.

“Is it that obvious?” Joel shakes his head. He can’t even leave off with Tommy because he knows you won’t answer his texts asking what time you’re done for pickup. So he’s stuck here to wait for you the entire time.

“You try going down on—“

“Yes! Yes I fucking tried.”

“She didn’t like it?”

“Oh no, she came hard. Wouldn’t even whimper for me when she was clenching her little cunt around my fingers—” he says with an aggressive whisper, his pointer and middle fingers shooting up in the air with wild eyes demonstrating the scene, “—and her little numb twitchin’ on my tongue. Didn’t even fucking moan. She’s a stubborn girl but I don’t deserve that.”

Tommy shakes his head with a chuckle. “Damn. That’s just determination right there. Gotta give it to her.”

Tommy excuses himself with a slap to the shoulder, muttering “gotta take a leak” and disappears to the bathroom.

Joel wouldn’t mind having a drink right now, but know’s he’s gotta stay sober to drive you home. A miserable, silent filled drive once again. He glanced at his watch, following each tick of the hand.

“Hi there.”

Joel almost didn’t address the voice of the woman who had gentle snuck up behind him, moving to take Tommy’s seat. She’s probably a little younger than you, a nice kind smile, inviting and warm towards a stranger. 

Joel politely smiles back with a little nod. 

She offers a sweet “thanks”, a blush creeping on her cheeks before she begins to speak: “Listen, I don’t mean to prude… but I saw you come in and ...I’m usually not so brash—but I was wondering…”

-

Meanwhile, your baby is beat boxing extra hard today in your stomach. You can’t even focus on eating your salad and keeping up with Maria’s chatter about Tommy’s nose hairs all over the vanity. 

Your baby is smart. She knows something is up. You narrow your eyes and look around, finding Joel and company at the bar— 

Except the company he is keeping is NOT Tommy but instead, a gorgeous woman tossing her hair and flashing her pearly white teeth off at your husband, who’s giving her his full attention. She’s giggling with him, taking animatedly with her hands, lingering heavy eye contact and touching his watch as if looking for an excuse to get closer.

You forget about the massive planet sized lump in your belly as you instantly stand up, nearly tipping the table and all its dishes and cutlery over. 

Maria is calling your name but you don’t have the mind to answer, striding over like a bull towards the bar.

-

“Hiiiiiiii!”

Joel and the woman both jump at the harsh shrill of an annoying, high pitched, slightly perturbed but faking a smile, voice screeching behind them—the most beautiful voice Joel’s ever heard…and had missed so dearly this week.  

The woman looks over to you, seemingly startled that you had interrupted the conversation so brazenly.

“Oh, um, hi,” she offers, blinking off your pregnant belly and abrupt appearance.

“This is Joel,” you boast, pointing the shlump of a man in front of her.

“Ah-Hello—“ she smiles again to him.

You add quickly. “He’s my husband.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m his wife.”

“Ah—I—“

“Annnnnnnnd this is our baby!” You boast, proudly rubbing over that enormous swell of your tumtum so she can see in case it wasn’t the biggest fucking thing in this room. “And… you are?” You ask sweetly.

“Um…” she takes one last glance at Joel, his apologetic shrug saying everything then at you, your hard gaze burning holes into her head. “…leaving,” she says towards you.

“Great answer. I like you :) Bye Bye now!” You wave enthusiastically with a chipper voice and a deadly smile. She nods fretfully and pops off the stool, walking away like a threatened animal.

He just chuckles, shaking his head and looking down at his hands with a grin. “Ya know, she just came over to ask where I got my watch.”

“And did you tell her your WIFE bought it?” You ask, poking your finger at his chest.

He has to hide his crooked smile. It’s the first time you’ve directly spoken to him since Monday. “Yeah, I did. She asked where ya got it, because she was looking for one just like it—for her husband.”

Your finger fidgets slightly, expression drawing a blank at the revelation turning over in your mind.

“……………………………………………....................................oh.”

He rotates his stool to face you. You’re steeping in your thoughts, the confidence faltering just slightly in your mind at the realization of how grossly you had interpreted the situation between that innocent woman and your hubby. He didn’t even care, though. All he could think about was how his heart feels 10x lighter seeing you back in your usual, bold, daring, audacious self. All of your attention on him once again.

“I’ll admit, still felt good havin’ ya come to my rescue.”

You scoff, near offended by his words. “Well duh, you’re mine.”

“That right? Even these last few days?”

Yet another bomb goes off in your head at the second realization—that you had forfeited your punishment to ignore him to the ends of the earth.

 You cross your arms defensively anyway. “Well... I…decided.”

“Mmm?”

“That…I needed a back rub. But you clearly you can’t pick up on that on your own so—now I have to verbally tell you.”

“Ah huh. Sure it wasn’t cuz you were jealous? Couldn’t stand me being interested in another woman since my own made it clear she didn’t want me no more? Because my wife decided she couldn’t be patient and wait the extra 13 minutes I was running late before punishin’ me all goddamn week?”

Oh wait—was he really only late by 13 minutes? You could have sworn it was an hour plus!

“That wasn’t 13 minutes! Do you know how to tell time? It was over an hour—“

“Did you set your clock back like I told you to the night before when we got back from the coast, into our own time zone?”

😳

- - - -

Also this is how I see reader getting ate out but trying to be nonchalaunt about it:

conveniently also my favorite shot of Pedro during a photoshoot

Permanent taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[lis-likes-fics]

It's Gonna Be a Scream!

Pairings: Stu Macher x Reader Word Count: 3.7 words Kink: Erotic Photos Warnings: NSFW, smut, erotic photography, swearing, fingering, oral (f and m! receiving), multilple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, sadistic and masochistic tendencies, creampie, praise kink, slight degradation kink... A/N: This is a day late but I got it done! I hope you enjoy and thank you so much! Feel free to add yourself onto the taglist for message me to be added! Link posted below.

You shake your head as another click fills the room. You ignore him and readjust your position in bed, laying on your belly with your papers splayed before you. Your boyfriend looks at you through his brand new camera, which you'd gotten him for Christmas. He's been prancing around you all day, taking all the pictures of you while he giggles and tells you to “smile all pretty for me”.

“Stu, baby,” you sigh when he lies down on his back in front of you, laying on top of your homework and effectively halting your studies. “I'm trying to focus.” You can't help the chuckle he pulls out of you when he flashes you an adorable grin.

He reaches underneath him and pulls out all of your work, glancing at it before tossing it into the air and letting it fall to the floor. You ignore it. “Well, you shouldn't be. It's Christmas, and you're sitting here doing homework. You're boring.” He says this as he gently pokes his finger into your shoulder, moving to hook his finger around the dainty golden chain of your new necklace. It was his gift to you, it had both your initials on a tiny little heart. It sat along your collarbone, cold and pleasant against your skin.

“Stu,” you try to complain. “Let me finish this last bit, and we can watch a movie or something. Whatever you want.”

He points his finger at your face, not moving when you lean forward and bite the tip of it gently. “Don't say that,” he laughs, “Or you'll be watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

You scoff, “Again? You'd think you would get tired of it by now.”

He flashes a wide smile, “Never, baby.”

You make a sound of disgust, shoving him out of your face so he rolls over onto the floor. He lets go of the camera to keep it on the bed as he lands with a thud.

“Ow,” he complains, sitting up on his knees and looking up at you from the floor. He leans forward, his lips pressing to yours as you smile and suck on his bottom lip. You giggle against his mouth when your teeth take his lip between them. He just kisses you back, a little rougher as he growls playfully against you—he's just being weird.

You hear the click again and pull back to see him taking a picture of you kissing. “You're insufferable.”

“Shh-t-t-t,” he smiles, kissing you again as he takes your face in his hands. You melt against his lips, your lips parted as his tongue slips between them. His hands press to your shoulders and he rolls you onto your back.

Shifting up, he stands above you as he continues to hold your face, his lips mashing with yours. He pulls away, grabbing his camera again. He aims the lens at you, and you roll your eyes, chuckling lightly.

“Smile for me, baby,” he grins, lining his shot.

With a sigh, you look at the camera and smile softly. He licks his lip, clicking the shutter button. “Make it sexier,” he says.

You scoff, parting your lips and letting your lashes flutter, your eyes hooded. He shakes his head in disbelief of you and your beauty, taking more pictures and requesting “sexier, sexier, sexier” each time.

“I don't know what you want me to do, Stu,” you say, removing one hand from the dip of your thigh and the other from your partially exposed collarbone.

“Well, you're doing perfectly,” he shrugs.

You shake your head, grabbing at his body until he ends over and kisses you again. His lips slide off yours and up to your neck, his teeth nibbling at the skin as his fingers play with your shirt. After a moment, he bares his teeth around your throat and bites down, just out the pure impulse to do so. You moan at the feeling tangling your fingers in his hair. He continues kissing you, laving his tongue hungrily over your flesh as he slowly pulls at your shirt. When he's got it off, he admires your covered breasts with his hands and your breath shudders at the feeling of it.

He doesn't bother trying to undo it from the back. He wraps his fingers around the bottom and pulls it over your head. His tongue traces down the valley of your chest and licks up to one of your nipples, taking it between his lips and flicking it.

“Stu,” you breathe, inhaling the scent of his cologne as he body leans over you.

He seems to be enjoying himself by the way he hums around your nipples, playing with one as he savors the other. You feel slick gathering between your thighs as you lay there, your fingertips brushing over his body.

His hand wanders from your breast and smooths down your tummy, down to the waistband of your tiny shorts, that he simply slips underneath as he presses his hand to your mound. Your hips pump forward slightly, a slight moan getting caught in your throat as he smiles around your nipple.

He separates from your breasts to get a good look at you, untying the strings around your waist and peeling the shorts off your body. Biting his lip at your lacey red panties, he shudders at the sight of them. After a brief pause, you hear his camera sound.

“Stu!” you exclaim, your words breathy with a laugh. You smack his sides, pinching them for more effectiveness.

He squirms, laughing, “Ow—Hey! I can't help it if you're so cute!”

“Ugh!”

He giggles like a child as he pulls down your panties to show your smooth little pussy. “Well, Merry Christmas to me.” He bites his lip. “Is this all for me?”Another camera shutter, you shudder. “God, you're fucking beautiful, baby.”

Your hips jerk when his fingers rub along the seam of you, collecting the arousal that had gathered there. You stifle a moan when you hear his lips smack softly after his fingers leave you. “You taste so good,” he hums, tracing your entrance again before pushing in. You hum as his fingers part your lips, starting out with two long slender fingers that already stretch you out real nice.

You moan his name, slipping your hands under his shirt, which drapes over your face as you feel his body leaning over your own. You lean forward just enough to kiss his lower belly, clenching around his fingers as they massage that part inside of you he knows drives you crazy.

He takes another picture, and you suck his fingers in with your insecurity. His thumb presses to your clit. You grip his waist a little tighter, pulling body down just enough to kiss his belly again.

After a moment, he breaks from you, standing back up to tower over you. You take his belt, keeping him closer as you start unbuckling it, effectively sidetracking him as you start pulling them down his legs.

He stares at you as he pulls the camera up to you. As his cock springs free and you press your lips to his pelvis, his warm length against your cheek. “Just like that, baby,” he smiles, a red light glowing from the camera as he records you. “Just like that.”

You wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him a few times as he sighs, a bead of precum leaking from the slit as you bring his tip to your lips to lick it off. You lave your tongue against the head, sucking him into your mouth with a little hum.

He presses his hips forward slowly, the tip of his cock brushing against the back of your tongue and taunting your gag reflex. His hand squeezes your breast, smacking it lightly as you suckle around him.

He smooths his hand up your chest until it settles it around your throat, slowly pulling out to the tip before pushing back into your mouth until his balls press against your nose. You gag lightly as he slots into your throat, a huff leaving his chest as he feels himself bulging in your throat under his palm.

“Suck on it, sweetheart. There ya go,” he encourages, pulling out and pumping back in again. He builds a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of your throat as he slowly quickens his speed. But he doesn't do too much, saving himself as he enjoys the view of you taking his cock down your throat, the camera capturing every moment for him to relive the moment whenever he likes.

Your hand is settled between your thighs, fingers rubbing your clit. You gag sometimes when he does a little too deep, but you're so used to him by now that it's not a problem as you moan when you have breath to.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hard and hot at the feeling of your tight throat. “Good girl.”

When you suck around him, his hips jerk slightly before he's lingering somewhere in the back of your throat and pulling out. You take in a deep breath, placing a hand on his hip to keep him back.

“Beautiful, babe,” he praises, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it a few times before he squeezes the base with a groan.

You scoot yourself more onto the bed as you lay there, catching your breath as he pans the camera closer to your face. His smile is wider now, a sinister undertone to his as he captures your wet lips covered with precum and saliva, your lust blown eyes blinking away the tears on the sides of your face. “Absolutely beautiful.”

He ends the recording, leaning down to kiss your sloppy face before he rounds the bed to join you. He sits across from you, taking your hips in his hands, bending down to kiss your chest. His lips slide against your skin until he's reached your belly, his tongue licking at your slit before he wraps his mouth around you and starts licking into your pussy.

You grip the sheets, clenching your thighs lightly around his head. You lay your head back, your lashes fluttering as you breathe. His tongue plunges between your folds, licking into you as making you squirm.

You roll your head back, grinding your hips into his face. As you spit his camera on the bed, you take in between your hands and examine the equipment. “How do I do it?” you ask between breaths.

He looks up at you and smiles. “That button to record, that one to take a picture.”

Tentatively, you press the record button as you look at the feed it shows you. He smiles and digs back in, his tongue flicking and suckling at your clit. You moan as he does it. He's too good with his tongue.

After a moment, he thrusts two fingers into you and looks at you, your face blocked by the camera. “You like that?”

You nod, “Yeah.” His fingers brush deeply inside of you, and you whimper a little at the feeling.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” he laughs. “Nasty slut.” He sticks his tongue out to his chin to lick a long stripe up your cunt, closing his mouth around you at the end of it. Your hips jerk as he hums his laugh against you.

He seems to thrive under the shot of the camera, his drama increasing to over-exaggerate the process, but you don't mind. You watch him, lust-stricken as you hold the camera up with shaky hands. His fingers pump into you, his tongue licks at you, his lips suck on your clit. Your back arches and your stifled moans become a little looser as your need to cum slowly builds within you, his mouth bringing it closer as he gives you a perfect view.

You reach one hand down to his hair, combing your fingers through it before you grip lightly at a particular pump of his fingers. Your lips part as your breath becomes unsteady. “Baby, fuck—I'm gonna cum.”

He hums, sing-songy as he keeps sucking on your clit, pressing his fingers deeper and curling them just right. "Please, I’m gonna cum, Stu."

He coaxes you closer and closer, playing you like an expert. A knot builds in the pit of your stomach and you tense as the impending release hangs over your head. When the coil snaps and you're overcome with the bliss it brings, you moan breathily and shudder. Stu smiles at the way you suck his fingers in. He continues fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around him, easing you through your orgasm. You chant his name under your breath, riding out your high against his face with an insistence he adores.

“Good girl,” he eases you, slowly pulling his fingers out of your and admiring the result of his work. He stares directly into the lens as he places his fingers on his tongue and sucks.

You catch your breath as you come down from your high, lazily ending the video. He takes the camera from you, snapping pictures of your disheveled face as he pulls you by your hips onto his lap as you lay back.

His hands stroke the length of your sides, and you grab his wrists to stroke them. He smiles at you, standing on his knees and planting his fists into the bed next to your head. He kisses your lips softly and flips you onto your stomach. He grasps your hips roughly, pulling you up to your knees and pressing you back against him to feel his erection against your cheeks. You moan lightly, pressing your back and grinding your ass against him.

“Such a naughty girl,” he tsks, smacking your ass harshly and moaning at the sharp sound of his hand on your skin. “Be good for me, sweetheart.”

Stu pumps his cock in one hand, picking up his camera again as he pans the lens up and down the length of your back, the dip of your spine caressed by his fingers as he traces it. You shudder, holding yourself up carefully as you do.

He takes his cock, pressing his tip between your folds and pushing his hips into you, inch by inch as he fills you slowly to the brim with him. Your eyes flutter and you moan deeply as his thick, hot length thrusts inside.

Stu groans, grinding his own hips into you once he's fully seated inside, making sure he got every second of it on film. “You're so tight, sweetheart. Fucking perfect for me”

You let your head fall onto your crossed arms. Stu presses his hands to your back, holding you down as he pulls out to the tip, only to split you open once more on his cock. You let out a breathy moan, letting the pleasure blossom within you. You clench around him, sucking him in as he takes you from behind.

You whimper his name. He doesn't bother going slow on you. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you back up so he can fuck you nice and deep. He holds the camera as steady as he can as his hair travels to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat so he can move your hips to meet each thrust.

His rhythm is rough and fast. He snaps into you, your body bouncing with each in and out of his cock. Your clit throbs between your legs, and your arousal is dripping down your thighs with each thrust. “S-Stu,” you moan breathlessly. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, giving you a rougher thrust just to pull another moan out of you. “You like when I fuck you like this?” He laughs, tightening his hand around your throat. “Of course you do. You're a good little whore, aren't you?”

You just nod, appreciating his hand around your throat. It's tight and your breath is thinner going through to your lungs, but your clit throbs and your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest at the sensation.

Stu pans the camera down to your ass, where his cock disappears and reappears with each thrust. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You're fucking suckin’ me into you.”

He ruts into you, splitting you apart on his cock as he drives it in and out of your dripping cunt. He fills you with a mind-numbing pleasure that throws you in a daze as you take it all. You squeeze his cock as your legs tremble, sucking him in each deeper as the slap of his hips becomes louder with your slick building up.

All too quickly he pulls out. He pushes you onto your back with little regard to gentleness. You haven't caught up yet by the time he's pulling your hips closer and shoving his cock back inside.

You stare at the camera as he directs it at your face, fucked out as you moan so nicely for him. It captures your bouncing tits, the pumping of his cock into your tight pussy. Every nerve ending burns with pleasure. Every movement licks at you like the flickers of a fire. You clench around him as he presses himself deeply within you, moaning his name at the feeling of his hips fucking into yours.

Stu’s lips part as he watches you, his head falling back as he moans before looking back at you again, hungry at the sight of your body. He loves your body. Your skin is soft and malleable. He bets that if he pressed a silver blade to your flesh, it would slice so nicely. He'd watch the red slip from the wound and decorate your pretty skin.

He wouldn't hurt you too bad. No, against his better judgment, he loved you too much. And, besides, he's got you wrapped around his finger just as much as you've got him around yours.

By now you'd invite the pain. If he took a belt to your back, you would cum when he beat welts into your skin. If he put a knife to your throat, you'd bare your neck to him and tell him to do it. Even now, as his hands slots around your throat once more and squeezes, you huff a moan and squeeze around his cock.

“Look at the camera, baby,” he breathes, moving his thumb from your neck to give you air to speak. He doesn't stop, still fucking into you just as roughly. “Tell ‘em who you belong to.” You whimper. “Go on, tell him. Who's the only person who can make you feel this nice, babygirl?”

You reach a hand to his waist as he leans in to get a better view of your face. Stringing words together to create a coherent sentence, you speak, “Y-you. Fuck, only you, Stu.”

“Say it again, baby.”

His finger presses to your clit and you lose breath when it does, moaning a little louder as he massages it to coax you to a release. “F-Fuck. Only you can…make me f-feel so good, Stu.”

He smiles wide, rubbing your clit a little faster as a reward. “Good girl,” he praises. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod desperately. “Yes! Fuck, yes.”

His grin widens, his thrusts getting sloppy as he gets closer and closer to his release. He curses under his breath, “Come on, babygirl. Cum for me.”

The coil snaps as you do, throwing your head back as you're blinded by the pleasure. “Stu!” you exclaim, moaning loudly as you cum, sucking him in with each flutter of your pussy.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he rambles, joining you as he's pushed over the edge of ecstasy. He cums with a loud groan, shoving his cock inside of you as he paints your walls white. You milk him, taking everything he gives to you as the pleasure builds inside of you like a heavy crescendo.

You trembled and moaned as he spills inside of you with a rough thrust deep inside you, tiny little ones following after to fuck his cum a little deeper. Stu leans forward and smacks his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he moans deeply. You wrap your heavy arms around his neck to keep him there, lazily kissing him with just as much passion, both of you forgetting the camera laying forgotten on the bed, the lens still pointed at your sloppy kiss.

You bite his bottom lip, taking it between your teeth and digging them inside until you draw blood. He swears he could've cum again as you keep kissing him, sucking on his lip as you do.

He grinds lazily inside of you as the last few sparks of pleasure dot your skin. Stu smiles against your lips, pulling back as he giggles. “I love you, sweetheart.”

You smile, his joy contagious as you join his little giggle. “I love you, too.” You kiss him again, addicted to the taste of him.

Pulling back again, he stares at your face and nods to himself. “I'm keeping you forever.”

And he will. Because ever since he fell in love with you, he's been shaping you to be like him. And, by the time September rolls around next year, you'll be just as fucked up as him that Billy will have to let him keep you. You'll be his forever, and you'll be perfectly happy with that because you love him just as much.

He pulls out of you with a sigh, and you whine at the empty feeling that sprouts in your belly. He picks up the camera again and makes sure to capture every inch of you: the light sheen of sweat on your skin, the mess of your hair, the wetness of your swollen lips, the hickeys he had worked into your skin, the swell of your breasts, the cum stuffed in your dripping pussy, his claim marked in you forever. He briefly wonders if he should carve his initials into your skin.

He smiles wide, pointing the camera at your face again. “We're gonna make so many movies together,” he prides, bending down to kiss you once more. With his excitement simmering in his chest, he chuckles quietly. “It's gonna be a scream, baby!”

Stu Macher taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess Tag yourself here...

[predestinatos]

CHALLENGERS — CL16 & MV1 🏓

summary: the line between rivals and friends was blurred. and then you came. MINORS DNI!!!!

word count: 3.5k

tags: charles leclerc x fem!reader x max verstappen, implied cheating, flirting, them being horny boys, 3some vibes, heavily inspired by challengers.

warnings: smut (no sex but... everything else) dirty talking, cheating, cursing.

note: yes i've been obsessed with challengers and i thought the dynamics would look rlly fun on a fic!!! am 100% invested on making this a series! also i'm aware those are padel things in tbe picture but this is just for the cover aesthetics okay!

12:52AM

“You know I can beat him, right?” Charles’ voice sounded rough as he stood against the doorframe, confident smile spread across his lips, arms crossed against his chest, making his muscles stand out. You looked at him then, from your lying position across the hotel bed – one you shouldn’t be on – and shrugged. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

The defiance in your tone registered like a cold breeze across his skin, causing him to shiver slightly yet not break his demeanour as he moved towards you silently, lowering himself towards you on the bed now, face inches away from yours. “I didn’t know you still needed convincing.” Charles noticed how you licked your lips as you stared at his, how for a quick second you almost forgot what you were talking about as your breaths melted into each other. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed, both of you so silent it could’ve been a scene from a nature documentary: prey seducing predator, but which is which?

“You asked” you replied, refusing to break the distance first, wanting to prove that you were stronger than he thought, that he needed something from you which he couldn’t possibly get, not anymore at least. You looked at his eyes, its bright colour now so darkened by something close to thrill over what was going on in that moment, a thrill you wanted to suppress. “Just wanted to see how good of a liar you were” Charles bit his lip, smile now growing slightly. Maybe it wasn’t thrill. Maybe it was actual amusement.

“You’re unbearable” you said, now turning your face away from him, rolling your eyes at his sheer arrogance. “You want me” he got up from bed, taking off his t-shirt as he searched for his pyjamas. His back flexed with every movement, muscles stranding out in his glistening skin. He smiled knowingly, because although he could not see your face, he knew you were looking. He always knew.

“Brave of you to think so” you shot back, getting up as well, grabbing your bag from the small armchair placed in the corner of the room. Rushing towards the hotel door, his frame stood between you and it – the ability to breathe, the absence of guilt, the absolution of uncommitted sins. “See, you’re still a bad liar” his bare chest rose and fell in front of you and Charles wished he could say he wasn’t about to crumble before you but that wouldn’t be true either. His confidence was only partially real, for he did not have the strength to do more than this, to test you and push you only this far – part of him knew you couldn’t resist, but he was never entirely sure.

YEARS EARLIER

The country club was boring. You didn’t know why your family insisted on going apart from trying to prove how rich they were, something which got exhausting too quickly. Sitting at the table, you played with the olive in your martini as your dad talked about “business” and your mom laughed about something.

The sun warmed your skin as your bare legs welcomed the heat gladly, the only source of some amusement in that place. It was tiring. Your brain felt like it could explode from lack of stimulation. Minutes passed at the speed of years. You had to do something, quick, or else- “I’m going for a walk” you said suddenly, or a voice said, part of your brain who was even more tired than you thought. Your family stood, staring at you briefly before nodding and continuing their tasks, like robots who were well instructed to continue their mission but not used to abnormalities.

Max was sweating. We would feel disgusting, unclean, even, were it not for how focused he was on the game, on his friend – rival, for a few minutes – in front of him. The tennis ball travelled from his racket to Charles in something near to slow motion for him.

Charles was amused. He always was, for he loved playing almost more than winning. He loved getting under his friend’s skin, seeing how hard he tried to beat him while his careless attitude ate him with each hit he took. There was something god-like about his commitment, his seriousness, that Charles admired, if not even envied. He couldn’t care as much about things the way his friend did – he was passion, Max was reason. That’s the way they always worked, and you could see it in the way they played, hear it in the way they grunted as they hit the ball with their utmost force.

“Okay let’s take a break” Charles said, throwing his racket carelessly on the floor as he walked towards the end of the field, towards his water bottle. Max stood in place, looking at his friend, wondering if he looked as disheveled as him – dark hair glued to his skin, cheeks red and a constant frown on his face from the sun’s insistence on affecting them. “It’s 30-all! You can’t just ask for a break when it’s 30-all!” his complaints were dismissed with a shrug of shoulders. “I just did”

Max inhaled heavily, used to this behaviour yet not immune to how much it annoyed him, and on his exhale, he felt his friend’s hands on his shoulders, massaging them gently. “Relax, don’t be so tense all the time,” Charles whispered, slight irony laced in his tone as he buried his hands in his friend’s warm shoulders from the heat.

“Don't stop now, I was enjoying it” your voice broke through them unexpectedly, causing them to turn their eyes towards you simultaneously. Max stared at you, his eyes locked on your teasing ones. But it was Charles who spoke first, in an attempt to match your tone. “And who are you, exactly?” Though you answered his friend, your eyes remained on Max's green ones, on the shy smirk growing slowly across his lips. The hands previously on his shoulders fell across them, brushing his back and finally leaving him altogether, as if melting from the heat. He barely noticed. Maybe he didn’t notice it at all. “I'm Charles” he walked towards you confidently, leaning against the railing that separated the court from the bleachers, one eye closed in a permanent blink due to the sun. You got up, looking, for the first time, at the dark haired man closer to you. Moving slowly towards him as you climbed down the stairs, you felt his defiant gaze, so different from his friend’s yet equally as alluring to you. Now as close to him as you could, your hand on the railing, mere inches away from his arm, you spoke. “And your friend over there?” Charles looked back, as if trying to recall who you could be referring to, prolonging a moment unnecessarily, only to allow his arm to brush against your hand as he turned back towards you, head tilted. “Why do you want to know?” Max’s racket felt cold against his burning skin, the image of his friend's toned back and tanned neck directed towards you, with a short skirt and tight top, causing him to wonder if he was hallucinating, overheating, going crazy. “Charles, she wants us to play more.”

10:45PM

He liked watching you, how you moved so softly, hands caressing your legs as you applied mosturizer. It was almost religious, how your breath guided his unintentionally, how he forgot everything for a few seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours.

He leaned against the bathroom sink as you placed your foot on top of the toilet seat to better access some parts of your skin you could not otherwise reach. You felt his gaze, still so similar to the one he first used when he first layed his eyes on you – the same intensity, mind over matter debate circulating through his mind as he analyzed every inch of your skin.

“I’m going to win tomorrow” Max said from behind you; a certainty in his voice that made you chuckle with something close to frustration. You muttered an ‘okay’ as you continued your movements, your bracelets clinking against each other. “I’m serious. You know I’m serious” he repeated, frustrated at your nonchalantness, at your dismissal of his convictions.

“Don’t be patronizing” you finally said, turning around as you spread the remains of the cream on your arms and hands. Though you were in underwear and he was clothed, he felt vulnerable in front of you. The ring adorning both of your fingers didn’t make your presence any easier to bear over the years, despite his attempts at pretending it did.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows now raised, turning his head to follow your frame which walked towards the hotel bed. “You know what I mean, Max” your voice was stern, your head always high despite you being shorter, as if he was the one who had to look up to you, though he hadn’t, not really.

“You weren’t like this with him” he looked down now, his profile outlined by the bathroom lights. You admired his attractiveness, his intentional care to be clean, precise, as close to perfect as he could. You admired how his expressions never oscilated between extremes, or at least how he managed to hide it so well if they did.

“You don’t need me to tell you these things the way he does” you sighed. You had had this conversation, or something close to it too many times to count. “You have the girl, you have the championship, what else do you want, Max? You want me to constantly tell you you’re a winner, you’re a big fucking boy who’s so so good?” you continued, more aggressively than you perhaps intended, though it did not matter, not really, at least.

He looked back at you now, though he dare not move. His throat bobbed up and down now, and you noticed how his knuckles whitened slightly as he held the sink tightly. “Maybe I do” it was almost a whisper, the way he said it, trying to hide from the attention he so craved, his body manifesting more than he wanted to show.

You looked further down his body, to where your words seemed to affect him most, though he remained looking at you. You admired his silent boldness in contrast to Charles’ loud one. "I chose you, Max" your voice sounded velvety to him, almost driving him insane as he felt his cock hardening. He felt ridiculous. Maybe he was; his obsession with your approval was also an obsession with beating Charles' appeal to you. He might have won many battles but Max had won the war.

YEARS EARLIER

Charles was better - better looking, better skilled, and effortlessly so. Max thought all of this as he stared at the back of his friend's slightly burned neck, standing behind him in front of a bedroom door.

"Ok so, let's not fuck this up" Charles said, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a match. "She clearly wants us"

"Us?" Charles turned around at the question, incredulity written across his face. "Yes, us. Now which one she wants more... We'll find out"

Before he could protest at his friend's unapologetic confidence, the door opened. You stood there, oversized t-shirt being worn as a nightgown, smiling at the two boys.

Both of them frozen, lusting over you so obviously it was almost insulting, were you not turned on by the way their gaze explored your body. Charles had a signature smirk that did not care to hide where his imagination was roaming as he stared at your bare legs; Max, on the other hand, was overcome by a darkness that almost intimidated you, studying every inch of your body hungrily.

"You're just going to stand there?" you asked, half laughing, waking the boys up from their trance. They both rushed inside excitedly, causing you to giggle subtly. It was flattering, how much they seemed to crave your sheer attention.

“So…” you asked, moving to sit on the carpeted floor, trying to make them comfortable – which didn’t need much effort, as they seemed to make themselves at home promptly, Charles’ unbuttoned shirt exposing his chest to you, and Max’s own t-shirt was so tight it left little to the imagination.

“You liked to see us play” Max started, a newly found confidence reaching him, a smile matching it perfectly. Maybe you were the one to give it to him, your eyes landing on him as if daring him to speak, him specifically. Charles’ opened up a bottle of a cheap drink he found at the liquor store they had ran to just hours before, as they realized they might actually have a chance with you.

“I did” you answered with a nod, now looking at Charles, who offered you a glass, your fingers brushing his purposefully.

“So much that you wanted more” Max continued, so factual it could pass as arrogance – though it resulted in a blush from you. You admired his sudden calculated boldness, the way he brought the cup to his lips after saying those words, as if he had commented on the state of the weather.

“And you gave me more” you replied, trying to match his – maybe their – tone.

“Oh, we haven’t given you nearly enough” Charles now stepped in. He couldn’t help himself, not with you in front of him, not with the small room closing in on him as he felt your need grow along with his, along with Max’s, along with the cups and the drink and the sheets and the carpeted floor.

“You two do this a lot?” you asked, daringly, though the question had crossed your mind throughout the day. Was this enticing to them? Sharing a woman, pleasuring her together, driving her mad with their games, their touch and words?

They let out a soft laugh together, almost synchronized. They were both beautiful, though in opposite ways – Max’s features were hard despite his soft, quiet demeanor, while Charles’s were softer, more carefully sculpted despite his own careless behavior.

“What, go after the same girl?” Charles asked, looking at Max, who looked at him as well. They found it amusing and rather ironic, really. Everything was a competition to them, even if nothing got in the way of their friendship. What made you especially exciting was how they both wanted you, and how both of them were aware of that fact. They both know the game was on the minute you showed up, like a match they fought in the court.

Upon your nod, Max decided to speak up. He had to; it was somehow agreed and decided who would say what, an unspoken rule he seemed to have made with Charles but couldn’t quite remember. “No, not at all” he laughed, cup now empty as Charles grabbed the bottle and filled it some more.

“What he means is… You’re just that attractive” the brown-haired man spoke. Was he flirting with you, or were they both doing so, even if it came only from his voice? You couldn’t help but feel your whole body responding to how they looked at you, how they seemed to crave you with indescribable need.

“What about you two?” you asked now, blaming the alcohol – though you had barely drunk anything. Their eyes went from you to each other again, awkward and rapidly, as they blushed slightly.

“No, I mean… no we haven’t” Max said, causing a soft chuckle to come out of Charles, his friend’s shyness over the topic making amusing him. It’s not like they haven’t thought about it – not at all – but they hadn’t told each other this. This concept lived in their heads, and none of them dared to bring it up, though they had seen each other naked and crossed lines most so-called friends probably wouldn’t. But neither of them had the conversation about what it meant, or what it could mean, because they didn’t feel the need to. Not until now.

You shrugged it off, finishing your drink in a single gulp. Looking at those two men, you realized you couldn’t quite decide what to do next – you wanted to do so many things that felt too forbidden to speak.

You looked up at Max, his eyes so needy it made your blood pulsate in your veins, the certainty that he would do anything for your touch right in that moment causing you to shiver. Slowly, you moved towards him, his face so close to yours that he dared not move, not until your hands reached his neck and pulled him towards you, kissing him.

That seemed to shift something in him, his own arms holding you as if scared you’d leave, as if wanting to consume you all, taste all of you. His hand instinctively grabbed your waist, though you knelt on the ground and couldn’t – wouldn’t – go anywhere.

“Oh, fuck” Charles said, looking at the both of you. The sight should make him jealous, but it did quite the opposite. He felt aroused, more than he wanted to admit, watching Max controlling your body and movements, eyebrows furrowed from pleasure, as your own lips moved messily and erratic against his, not caring about how it looked. You were putting on a show for him as you savored all of Max – Max was simply savoring all of you, for he had forgotten his friend was even there.

You pulled away, however, now deciding you had to try the other man, who seemed to be in a state of pure bliss over you, your attitude, your movements. You barely moved towards him – you didn’t need to – as he rushed towards you his hand resting on your thigh and grabbing it tightly. He was more aggressive, more assertive and confident in his kiss. He didn’t let go of himself the way Max did, but then again he barely held himself back at all when it came to you.

Max was staring. He knew he was staring but he couldn’t look away. The sight was erotic, something out of his deepest, darkest fantasies – your hair being slightly pulled by Charles’ strong grip, your own hands on his cheeks as his tongue travelled across your mouth. Suddenly, his kissing went down to your neck, and you held him there as you looked directly at Max.

Just your look could have driven him insane, right there and then, but he wouldn’t let it happen. He was hungry for more of you, more of whatever was going on, wanted it to last as long as it possibly could. “Come here” you called for him, who obliged immediately.

At first, he mimicked Charles, but soon his mouth was on yours again and you felt both boys’ mouths on your body, the amount of sensations fogging your mind as you let them both consume you. You pulled Charles mouth to yours, joining the kiss you were sharing with Max. The three of you kissed – messily, sloppily, completely letting the primal, animalistic part of you loose.

You wanted to touch yourself. Wanted them to touch you, feel how wet you were, savoring all of you. You wanted them to touch each other for you – for your gaze, for your entertainment and fulfillment, the way they were doing so now, as you pulled away and watched their own mouths against each other.

Max was hard. He couldn’t think anymore, dizzy from the caresses he was feeling on his body, from the insanity of the moment, from everything and nothing. Charles was drunk – drunk on the intense rush flowing through him, from how hard he knew he was, from how fucking spectacular everything seemed in that moment.

You were in complete bliss. The two men before you were in absolute awe of you, yearning for you with fervent need, letting themselves go to the point where they even yearned for each other. It was time to stop it.

“Okay” you said, snapping both of them back to reality instantly. Both Max and Charles were shocked at how they felt nothing close to shame over the moment. In fact, they felt exhilarated, ready to keep going, to prolong the moment with each other, with you, forever. “It’s time to go” you continued, watching the glow disappear from their faces as they breathed hard, chests falling and rising rapidly. “What?” they asked in unison, something close to innocence returning to their faces.

“We’ll do this again, right?” Charles asked, getting up after you did, with Max following. He was aware that he was hard, his cock rubbing against the fabric of his boxers and shorts uncomfortably. And he was also aware that you were turned on, though he could only imagine how soaked you actually were – a picture that didn’t help his situation.

“Sure” you answered, seeing their gleeful faces one last time before adding, as you walked them to the door “one of you will. The one who wins tomorrow”, closing it on them before you could see the smile turn into a frown.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (5)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following the events of PART FOUR, you all begin to pick up the pieces and start to heal.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: kissing, messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing/name calling; arguments; crying; hurt/comfort; angst; miscommunication; jealousy; happy ending; fluff

A/N: We have made it to the final part of our story. I'm honestly sad to see it end- but it's not *really* over, is it? Again, everyone who has commented and reblogged- you are my muse. It was your kind words who kept me motivated. Thank you so much. You all are so amazing. Please, please, please don't hesitate to send me questions or requests- do you want to see more post-story drabbles, more angsty flashbacks, headcannons? Let me know and I will do my best to deliver. My inbox is open for requests.

Alternative ending coming soon!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Because Steve crashed at his parent’s house, he hadn’t been home to see that Eddie never came back last night. Instead, he woke up in his childhood bedroom after a night of tossing and turning. He wanted to call you- he picked up the phone and hung it up so many times last night. He knew you probably wouldn’t appreciate it, so he resolved to wait until morning. He hardly slept. 

With tear stained cheeks, Steve knew he needed to get up and shower. After he was dressed for the day, he sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t want to go home yet. He couldn’t face Eddie. He was so embarrassed and ashamed. 

He needed to take a walk to clear his head. He ended up deciding to get coffee. There was a coffee place he walked to and after that, with 2 coffees and a bag of bagels in hand. He decided to stop by your apartment. You’d have coffee and bagels and talk this out. If you would let him, it would be his do over to make up for last night. 

He walked up to your apartment two steps at a time balancing the coffee tray carefully with both hands to not spill. He lets himself take a moment. He smooths out the front of his jacket. And tousled his hair to look a little more presentable. He hopes you don’t slam the door in his face when he knocks. He stands up straighter when he hears the door unlock.

You open the door, but not all the way. You poke your head out from behind the partially open door. You’re still in your pajamas. A very old t-shirt that Steve has seen you in a million times before and flannel pajama pants- you look your best like this, Steve thinks. His brows furrowed in confusion when you step out onto the porch with a sweatshirt and don’t invite him in. 

“I got you a coffee,” he offers, “a peace offering for last night.”

. I was being an asshole.” 

“Listen, Steve..,” you begin. You cross your arms over your chest and look down at your feet. “I don’t know how to say this… Now isn’t the right time…”

“I’m sorry, I just thought we could talk in person,” he explains, “I just wanted to- you know, apologize in person.” 

“I get it.”

“I- I just, look,” he says gathering his thoughts, “I didn’t handle any of this right- at all. I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for taking this long to realize my feelings, but…”

“Steve. Stop- listen,” you say anxiously, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Before you go on, I need to tell you…”

“What is it?”

“Eddie stayed over last night.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Oh…”

“Steve-”

“He’s still here, isn’t he?” Steve finally catches on. You hang your head, unable to look him in the eye. He blinks back the threat of tears. “Okay, um,” he clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, get out of here.”

“Steve- wait…”

“No, no it’s okay, really,” he tries to insist, trying his best to not break his cool. “Uh, anyways- take the coffee and stuff, anyways… I gotta go anyway.” 

He’s down the stairs and down the block before you can stop him. You slip back inside. You leave the coffee and the paper bag on the table. You couldn’t touch them. You take a seat at the kitchen table, staring at them. Eddie was still asleep, easily slept through Steve’s knocking. It’s a few minutes of solitude, just lost in thought, before the front door opens with a whoosh. 

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Robin marvels, kicking off her shoes. She hangs up her jacket, she’s wearing her same clothes as yesterday. You offer her a knowing smile. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “You just missed Steve.”

“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly. “Did you and Steve-”

“Nope,” you say, realizing now what that sounded like. You shake your head- you have so much to fill her in on. “Eddie’s here- and Steve showed up with coffee and bagel for me.” 

“Wait. Wait. Wait,” she hurries over and takes the seat across from you- taking one of the coffees. “You slept with Eddie?”

“Eddie and I went to Lover’s Lake after the game-”

“Ew! Did you do it in the van?” Robin gasps. 

“No!” You say embarrassed, “We were just there, and Steve followed us. He started banging on the side of the van and scared the shit out of me.”

“What did he say?”

“Get your fucking hands off my girl.” You watch Robin’s jaw drop. 

“No, he didn’t!”

“He did! And he called me ‘baby.’” 

“What happened after that?”

“Well, Eddie drove me home and I invited him to stay. It wasn’t like that at first. I just- you weren’t home and I didn’t want to be alone so I asked him to stay with me.” 

“Sounds like it was that from the beginning,” Robin teases. “And Steve came here this morning to apologize and win you over and you had to tell him you slept with Eddie.”

“Pretty much,” you nod. “He’s still here.”

“Eddie’s still here?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep.” 

“Holy shit, dude.”

“I know!”

“Explains that huge hickey,” she jokes and you swat her arm. “Was he.. Was he good?”

Your eyes widen, “Robin!”

“I don’t know what to ask!” She holds her arms up in surrender. “So are you and Eddie, like together?”

“We didn’t really talk about that yet.” 

“He’s been in love with you since he was like 17,” Robin points out. “You think he’s going to not want to be with you?”

“No- it’s just, it’s all happened so fast. I just don’t want to ruin anything.” 

“I’m gonna call Steve,” Robin says, “I want to check on him.” You nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, that would be good,” you agree. 

The door creaks open when you slip back into your bedroom. In your absence, Eddie has starfished out on his stomach and has taken up the whole mattress. In just his boxers, he snores very softly as the light from the window is starting to beam in through the panels of your blinds. You walk over to the side of the bed, crouching down to be eye level. You gently stir him awake. 

Eddie can’t put into words how incredible a feeling it is that you are the first thing he sees when he wakes up. He smiles lazily with his face squished against the pillows. He reaches out and beckons for you to join him back in bed. He scoots over so you can have space to slide in next to him. The messy bed and the cozy blankets are so inviting, it would be just enough to help you forget about what’s waiting for you outside this little sanctuary. 

“Come on,” he pouts, and you can’t help but concede. He pulls you into him, spooning you. He pulls the blankets over the two of you. You turn to face him, but he keeps his arm slung over your waist. 

“Steve was just here,” you whisper. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. The news of Steve’s visit wakes him up. You nod. 

“Yes, it was just a hard conversation,” you volunteer. “He knows you stayed here last night.” 

“How’d he take that?” Eddie asks.

“Um, I could tell he felt hurt,” you admit, “he brought me breakfast; wanted to apologize and try it over with me… I told him you were here, and he accepted it. He was clearly upset, but he didn’t take it out on me. He, um, looked devastated. But he just left after I told him.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie asks, sounding shy and suddenly unsure of himself. 

“Of course,” you say encouragingly. 

“What did last night mean? You know, like- where do we stand?” Eddie isn’t sure if he even wants to know the answer. He’s so worried you’re going to reject him- tell him last night was a mistake. He’s bracing himself for the heartache of losing you.

You trace your hand gently over the side of his face, helping move his hair away from his eyes. Is it even still a question? You can’t help but smile. It all makes sense.

“I love you, Eds,” you confess and it feels like the weight of the world lifts off his shoulders. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see that,” you apologize, but he’s too wrapped up, he doesn’t even care. He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and passionate. Everything feels right- finally. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips. 

Your senior year (Eddie’s second), Eddie finally convinced you to sneak out on a Tuesday night and come see Corroded Coffin play at The Hideout. Your parents would kill you if they knew you were at a bar forty-five minutes away past eleven on a school night to see some boy with long hair and tattoos play in his metal band. They wouldn’t care if you insisted he was just a friend.  Thankfully, this is something they will never find out. 

Eddie felt on top of the world that night. He played better than he ever has, because you were there to impress. He could watch you, as you sat comfortable at a table all to yourself, singing along to songs you had no idea where even about you. You cheered and clapped at the end of every song- not caring if you were the only one in the room to acknowledge them. 

“Are you gonna ask her out tonight?” Jeff asks, covering his microphone between songs. 

“I don’t know- maybe. Shut up,” Eddie flushes, petrified you would hear. You hadn’t- you were completely oblivious to the way you made him feel. 

“If you don’t, I will!” Gareth whisper-shouts over his drum set. He laughs when Eddie turns around and flips him off. When he turns back around, you lamely throw him two thumbs up and grin widely. He mouths “Dweeb” to you across the bar and you stick your tongue out at him. 

Eddie did attempt to ask you out that night. Unfortunately, he was so nervous when he did it, you didn’t realize he had meant for it to be a date. He still cringes at how he ended up paying for Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Max to play mini golf and how shocked he was when they ended up tagging along. When he thought it couldn’t have gotten worse, the rest of Hellfire showed up as well. Since when did he have this many friends? He remembered thinking. 

Robin calls Steve a few times before she’s able to get through. She must have caught him right as he was getting home. 

“Yeah?” He sounds irritated. 

“Wow,” she says with a tisk. “Rude much?” She hears him take a breath. 

“I’m sorry, long day,” he mumbles. 

“It’s like 9:30,” Robin muses and he scoffs. 

“So you know?” He asks. 

“I know.” 

“I’m a fucking douchebag!” Steve exclaims, upset with himself still- clearly. “I can’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with me.” 

“You’re her oldest friend, Steve,” Robin points out, “She didn’t say she wanted nothing to do with you. She and everyone else I’m sure just everything to go back to normal.” 

“Normal except she’s with Eddie and I have to be around that everyday.” 

“Like how she was with you, for I don’t know- years! You’re being hypocritical. Don’t you think?” 

“Did she say that she and Eddie are together?”

“Not explicitly,” she says hesitantly, “Come on, Steve. You gotta let it go.” 

Steve flops down onto the couch and groans. He knows he’s being hypocritical- he knows he isn’t being fair. It doesn’t make the pain hurt any less. Something he couldn’t shake tugs at the back of his mind. You didn’t tell him you and Eddie were together, just that he stayed over. That doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily together. He knows he’s fooling himself. It’s so hard to just let it go. 

“The whole thing is way too close to home,” Robin muses, “maybe expand your dating pool to outside your immediate friend group?”

“I just need to actually hear her say it,” Steve says, but in agreement with Robin. “I just won’t be able to let it go until I actually hear it from her that she has no feelings for me.” 

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Robin points out and he knows she’s right. “You need to figure out yourself. Do you actually love her? Or was it the idea of living her that you got so wrapped up in?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“There’s a difference. Were you actually in love with your best friend, or were you just in love with the idea of having someone you love who knows you like a best friend? Like you’ve known her for so long, and you’ve never thought of her as more than a friend until very recently? It might make sense you were wrapped up in the idea of it all- than actually falling in love with her. Does that make sense?” She takes a long pause. “The romanticism of it all, being wrapped up in that- you know?”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “It would’ve been really great.” 

“It would’ve,” Robin agrees. “But it wasn’t meant to be.” 

“No?” 

“No.” 

When Eddie gets back to the apartment later, he doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know if  Steve will take a swing at him, if he’ll yell, or if he will even be there. He doesn’t know what to anticipate Steve’s reaction to be. 

Surprised, Steve is sitting in their living room… calm. He looks solemn. He’s sitting on the same chair he sat the day of the huge fight. He’s staring at the spot where Nancy sat, and then his eyes move over to where you were. Eddie clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up like he’s been snapped out of a trance. 

“I’m sorry, man,” Steve says, immediately. “I really fucked that up.” 

“I don’t know- I get it,” Eddie sympathizes. “The whole situation is fucked.” 

“Yeah, totally.” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Steve drags his hands across his face. Eddie can tell he hardly slept. He looks exhausted. “I will get over it, I’m sure. I just need a little time to get my shit together. Get over myself, you know?” He jokes in a self-deprecating manner. Eddie offers a sympathetic smile, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. They both know they’ll be fine in time. 

The next morning, you’re at their apartment door first thing with coffee in hand. 

“Do-over?” You ask with a tilt of your head when Steve opens the door. 

“Do-over,” he offers a half smile, taking one of the to-go cups from your hand. 

“Eddie’s left for work already?” You guess and he nods. You stand in the door frame, face to face in a few long moments of silence.

“I really miss my best friend,” you say finally.

“Do you still even want to be friends after all of this?” Steve asks, stepping aside so you can come in.

“Steve,” you say with a deep breath. “I always want you to be in my life. You are my oldest friend and I hate that everything has blown up the way it has. I know we can’t go back to the way everything was before. We can move past this, together, can’t we?” 

“I really missed you too,” he admits. “I talked to Robin- I think she was right about a lot of things. You and Eddie- you guys are my best friends. I can’t stand in the way of you too. I think like how I was so hung up on Nancy- I was idealizing her; remembering just the good parts. I know I would’ve been so happy to end up with you. But I think I was more in love with an idea.”

“I get that. I think I’m guilty of that myself,” you chuckle, thinking back to the many years you held Steve up on a pedestal. He smiles back at you- a wide, all encompassing Steve Harrington smile. You had him back. “So, we’re going to be okay?” you ask, a smile creeping onto your lips. 

“We’re okay,” he reaffirms. 

A few months later, following the truce with Steve, everyone is piled into Steve and Eddie’s living room. A movie is playing you’ve all long since forgotten about. Nancy and Jonathan sit in the love seat, his arm around her as they watch amused as Steve and Robin argue- both of them standing on opposite ends of the coffee table as they debate the logistics of whether or not it’s pronounced “Duh-MEE” or “Dem-EE” Moore. Neither one of them plans to back down anytime soon. 

Vicky watches from her seat in the recliner like a tennis match, her eyes bouncing between her girlfriend and Steve- enough to give herself whiplash. This was not how she expected her first movie night with Robin’s friends to go- but what else would she expect besides utter chaos. 

“I thought something was gonna be catching on fire,” Eddie whispers in your ear. “This is boring,” he says in reference to the movie. 

His arms sit loosely around your waist as you sit on his lap. Your legs lay across his lap, resting your head on his shoulder as you sit together in the chair opposite Vicky. You can’t help but laugh at his commentary. 

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen, hun,” you say with a smile, offering condolences for his disappointment in the movie. 

“You’re a moron if you think it’s Dem-EE,” Robin shouts, losing her patience with each passing second. “Everyone knows it’s Duh-MEE!”

“Robin- I swear to god! It’s Dem-EE- it would be spelled differently if it was Duh-MEE,” Steve argues. 

“It’s French!” Robin yells, exasperated, ready to pull out her hair. She couldn’t believe that he’s still pushing this issue. 

Eddie runs his hand up and down your leg as he tries to act remotely interested in the movie. He knows you like it, so he’s trying his hardest to pay attention despite the distractions- Robin & Steve’s antics sure, but more so, sitting so close to you. He can smell your shampoo and your skin is so smooth when he touches it. It’s hard to not be consumed but the sensation. He squeezes your hip, and kisses your temple. 

Eddie loves the simple touches. It’s the things he thought about for so long. It’s so easy. The things he always wanted to say to you, everything he wanted to do are just habitual now. He can grab your hand and kiss the back whenever he gets the urge. He can tell you he loves you randomly whenever he pleases. He can kiss you- kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could go back and tell himself that he got the girl- that she loves him just as much. Tell him it’s better than he ever imagined it. 

The dust has settled. The worst of it all seems to be behind you all. Steve has a date lined up for tomorrow night and it seems he’s finally been able to let the idea of you go. Maybe, you’ll always be the one that got away, but he knows he’ll find the person he was always meant to be with. He has a really good feeling about the girl he’s seeing tomorrow. 

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! Please let me know if you liked it. I decided on doing a follow-up story (maybe 3 parts?) focusing on this Steve and an another reader insert! Hopefully that's not too confusing lol It's going to focus on Steve meeting someone new, and falling for her. It can be read as a standalone or as a follow-up to this story. I'm going to do my best to have it out as soon as I can. Let me know if you like the idea or if it's too confusing.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik

[chrisisvbun]

little intern. matt murdock x ftm!reader.

synopsis: you, a lawyer intern, found matt, your boss, in his office at night.

cw: boss/intern dynamic, dom!matt, sub!reader, piv, possessive matt, innocent reader, age gap (matt is 30, reader is nineteen), slight fingering, riding.

words: 1.3k

a ten nsfw chapter series masterlist.

You were about to open your mouth but Matt spoke first.

"I know it's you, handsome." He smiled, taking off his glasses on the chair of his office.

The warm light of the desk lamp allowed you to see his loose tie, his wrinkled shirt, and some scratches on his eyebrow and cheekbone. He sighed, evidently tired.

"You know you don't have to stay this late, sweet, you still have classes in the morning." He rubbed his temple.

"I-I don't mind staying, Mr. Murdock, and classes start pretty late for me." You said, squeezing your forms on your chest. "A-a friend of mine found some archives that might be useful for your case, I just finished checking them." You spoke as you put down the archives.

He smiled almost proudly, his eyes never really finding yours. Beautiful, dead eyes that shined from that innocent nature they kept due to the fact they never got to see how hurt their world was.

"Workin' so good for us. I like that." You noticed how that 'us' was a 'me' that he swallowed. "Come closer to me, sugar." He made a little sign that made you get closer like he was magnetic.

You stood in front of his chest, your hands fidgeting behind your back, swallowing nervously.

"How are your studies going?" He got rid of his tie, folding it on his desk.

"G-good..." You blushed.

Matt was your boss, someone older than you, almost —that almost is important— double your age, a good lawyer, someone smart, kind, strong and very, very hot.

You couldn't help it, you couldn't help but to stare at his body, a part of you taking advantage of his blindness to roam your eyes over his body again and again and again.

You shook your head when you noticed that your answer was to vague. "I've been studying a lot, my grades keep getting better, t-thanks to everything I've learnt with you... a-and Mr. Nelson."

He chuckled softly. "I'm glad about it, sweetheart." He smiled up to you —to where he could partially tell your face was—. "Come closer, I won't bite." He sat straighter in his chair.

You swallowed, nervously stepping closer to him, standing next to him as he turned his chair to you.

"L-like this?" You said blushed.

He shook his head and patted his thigh. The mother fucker patted his thigh.

"C'mon, don't keep your boss waiting." He smirked.

You shivered at his words, shyly sitting on his knees. His hands ran through his thighs, trying to fins your waist. Once he found it, he pulled you closer, you gasped at the sudden feeling of the hardness on his jeans.

"Mr. Murdock..." You shivered.

"Yes, handsome?" He ran his hands through your back.

"I-I'm not sure how okay this is." You said shyly, he chuckled.

His hands moved back to your hips, one of them moving under your shirt and caressing your tummy, making you squirm.

"Shh, don't worry about a thing. I want that pretty mind of yours to focus on studying and me." I have pressed a gentle kiss on your collarbone, making you bite the inside part of your cheek, whimpering. "Is this okay, love?"

You nodded quickly. "Yeah..." You pronounced as you swallowed hard.

Matt knew that wasn't a good thing to do, he was your boss and you were only nineteen, a shy little boy who found his boss very hot, and he was taking advantage of that, he knew it. But even being catholic, he never considered himself a good man.

His hands moved to your back, running them up and down over your skin beneath your shirt until the hem of your binder.

"Are you gonna let me feel that pretty body of yours?" He purred as he peppered kisses over your collarbone and throat.

"Y-yes. Yes, Mr. Murdock." You whined quietly.

Matt pulled away. "C'mon, take it off." He ordered.

You couldn't not obey, he was your boss.

You unbuttoned your white shirt, throwing it on the office floor.

He noticed when you stopped moving. "Everything."

He wasn't even thinking of your comfort, of how that would make you feel, and God, that turned you on even more.

You unzipped your binder, sighing when breasts stretched free.

Matt's mouth instantly went to your chest, his hands roamed your stomach and the small of your back while his mouth worshipped your breasts, taking your nipples into his mouth and sucking from them.

"You feel so good..." Matt almost moaned against your tits, rubbing his face against them.

You were a whining, red mess, your face was burning hot while your lips were parted with whiny sounds that came out of it, and all of that while your brain tried to process the fact that you had your hot boss sucking your tits in his office.

With one swift move, he sat you on the edge of his desk, kissing your knees and thighs while his hands worked on taking off his belt and pants. You did the same with yours, pulling down your pants and Matt quickly moved a broad hand to the pit of your boxers, one rough pad rubbing your already wet clit. You sank your nails on his shoulders, not expecting that sudden touch, moaning out loud.

"So wet, handsome, is this all for me?" He smiled, rubbing harder. You couldn't answer, you were a mess, unable to pronounce anything other than whiny sounds with 'Mr. Murdock' in between of them. "C'mon, don't lie to me, is this cunt all mine, pretty boy?"

"Y-yes! Yes, M-mr. Murdock!" You moaned when he pressed your sweet button.

"That's a good boy." He groaned, biting the inside part of your thigh. "Take them off and come back here." He bossed.

Of course, you obeyed. Shyly but quickly, you removed your boxers, getting completely naked for him.

"Very good." He smiled again. You wouldn't lie, his praises were making you shiver, you thought you would come if you heard even one more little praise.

He moved you again to his bare lap, his pants all pressed on his ankles, his shirt open, and his cross necklace hanging from his neck. Your hands held his shoulders, squeezing them when you felt his cock hard between your bodies.

"Feeling how you got me? Huh?" He moved your hips, making you grind against his hardness. "This is every fucking day. How am I supposed to focus on work and on teaching you when you get me so freaking hard?"

You whined, desperately. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock."

He shook his head, one hand moving to cup your cheek. "No, handsome, sorry isn't enough." He lifted your hips, making your slowly sink on his hard cock, your wetness making that smoother. Your eyes opened wide, you could feel his broad, fat cock spreading you open, warm and deliciously.

"You are gonna be mine, you got that? That pussy belongs to me, for me to use when I want." He moved his hips in circles, his veiny dick rubbing against your velvety walls. "Understood?"

"Uh-hum..." You whined out, hugging his neck.

He smiled when he heard your little whine, his hips slowly rocking upwards against your little wet cunt, you let out little cries as you felt him all over your tight walls that clenched around him, sucking him in.

"I almost can't move here, handsome, so freaking small and tight." He almost mocked you, kissing your chest softly. "You can't ride, can you? You can't even move."

He smiled, you were squeezing his shoulders as you tried your best to accommodate his length, but it was almost impossible.

"Just for tonight, I'll be doing the work, but we are gonna need some practice here, alright? I want you to ride me everytime, pretty boy, and I'll teach you all about it, my good little intern."

[golbrocklovely]

candid // colby brock

A/N: i know yall…. it’s been so long since i last posted anything. my apologies on that one. i just haven’t been in the mood to write anything. but shoutout to these pics of colby bc the moment i saw them, i knew i had to write a fic about them. this one is sweet and basically just a blurb, but i promise i’m coming out with a longer fic soon. i got a lot i gotta make up for, and this is just the beginning lol lmk what you think and hope you enjoy !

prompt: your boyfriend looks good one day and you decide you need to take a picture of him. || colby brock x reader

trigger warning: none, super sweet and fluffy 🙂

word count: 853

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You look so handsome today.” I smiled sweetly, staring up at Colby.

He glanced away from his phone to me, his brow furrowing sassily. “What?”

“I said you look handsome.” I repeated.

He looked down at what he was wearing: a big t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His feet were bare, and his hair was not completely done the way he usually did it: straightened and with a bit of gel to keep it so. He had woken up from a nap an hour ago, his hair losing its flat texture for a more wavy, messy type.

He looked so beautiful, truly. But when didn't I think of him that way? I always found him beautiful, even well before we started dating.

He hid a smile at the corner of his mouth, “Really? I look a mess.”

“Not at all.” I shook my head, stepping closer to him.

He slid his phone into his pocket, locking eyes with me. His voice was low, bashful. “But you always say that about me. That I look nice…”

“Have I ever lied?” I questioned.

He twisted his face jokingly. “I feel like you probably have at least once.”

I gasped, swatting at him. “Absolutely not! You take that back.”

He grabbed my wrist, sliding his hand into mine. A playful smile rested on his lips. “You're too kind to me.”

“Maybe you need to see what you look like…” I pulled my hand from his grasp, taking my phone and pulling up the camera.

“Aww, c’mon babe. No.” He walked around the island in the kitchen, laughing halfheartedly.

I followed after him, “What? You don't want me to take a pic of you?”

“Not really, no.” He shook his head.

“Oh, coming from the guy that takes pics of me when I sleep?” I argued.

He turned to me, still backing away from me. “I only did that twice, and both times you looked so cute.”

I scoffed, “My hair was going in six different directions, and I was basically drooling!”

He grinned, his dimples appearing. “And you still looked beautiful to me.”

I held my breath; damn he was attractive… “Exactly how I feel about you.”

He groaned, covering his face. He stopped moving away from me however, leaning his one hip against the counter.

“Move your hands.” I grabbed his one arm, pulling it down. Both of his hands followed and I snapped a quick pic. His face was still partially covered, his eyes being the only part really showing.

“Maybe next time warn me about the flash. I'm blind now.” Colby blinked harshly, his eyes unfocused.

“Oh relax, you big baby.” I murmured, pulling up the pic. “See! Look how good you look.”

He gazed down at my screen, giving me a quizzical look. “You think I look good?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was so stubborn sometimes. “Yes.”

“My hair is so messy. I think I need a haircut.” He remarked.

I bit my lip, staring up at his hair. “I like when your hair is a bit messy.”

“I know you do. I don't, though.” He replied. 

“What? I never knew that.” I deadpanned.

He glared down at me, rolling his eyes and walking to the living room.

“Let me take another one!” I called after him.

He huffed, walking through the living room. “No. No. I think we're good with the candids today.”

“C'mon Colby, I whined, catching up to him. “You really do look so nice. Just let me take one more.”

He reached the stairs, ready to go up. “I think one is enough.”

I cut him off, jumping in front of him on the stairs. “Please.... just one more.”

“Why are you so adamant about taking a picture of me?” He snorted.

“I don't know, babe. Maybe because you're my boyfriend, and I love you, and I want as many pics of you as I can get in this lifetime?” I admitted, placing my hands on my hips.

He turned his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yeah. Plus you look really hot.” I added, winking.

He stared at me, his piercing blue eyes playful. He sucked his teeth dramatically. “Fine. But just one more.”

“Okay. Just one more.” I lined my phone up, "Pose for me, baby."

He rolled his eyes, placing one hand on his face, the other on the banister. I took the picture quickly, whispering a perfect under my breath.

Colby leaned over me, looking down at the picture. I smiled brightly. “Aww, this one is so good. What do you think?”

“It's not too bad.” He mumbled, shrugging.

“You'll grow to like it, I bet. Especially since I'm making it my background.” I smiled, already changing it to my background.

He took his phone out, following my lead. “I'm gonna make the one of you sleeping my background then.”

“As if you haven't done that before.” I raised an eyebrow at him, our eyes meeting.

Colby smirked at me. His eyes softened and he leaned in, kissing my lips. “Love you.”

My face warmed at his touch. “Love you too.”

[appocalipse]

hello! can I please request "I really, really want to kiss you right now." with steve and our shy!reader friend?!

here you go my love! hope you like it ♥ 1.3 k

The rain catches the two of you by surprise.

It pours down relentlessly, the cold droplets stinging your skin as you and Steve hurry towards his car, sadly parked way too far away from the charming flea market you had somehow dragged him to earlier that afternoon. 

Well, not really dragged exactly — Steve himself had volunteered to give you a ride the moment he heard you telling Robin how much you wanted to go and see if you could find some new furniture for your apartment, maybe even some decorations. But you felt as if you had dragged him there because, c'mon, what kind of guy thinks walking around a flea market with a friend is any fun?

And to top it off, the summer rain had come out of nowhere, sending everyone desperately running for shelter somewhere. Some lucky vendors had their tents already set up when it started, others began trying to cover their wares with tarps or whatever else they had at hand. A good number of them simply started to pack up their things to leave though, as did most of the potential customers who had been taking a look around — you and Steve included.

He had left his BMW in the parking lot of a closed store. It had seemed much closer before than it does now, as you and him run through the rain, palms over your heads to try to shield your faces from the relentless water.

You accidentally step into a puddle. Water splashes around your ankle, wetting the bare skin all the way up to your calf. You mutter a curse under your breath, deeply resenting your decision of wearing a summer dress today. "Oh, great." 

Steve chuckles, looking over his shoulder to you. Then what you can only assume is instant karma happens, and he slips and falls into a larger puddle, splashing water all over his pants and shoes.

You try to hold back, you really do, but the laughter is already building up inside of you, threatening to come out. And besides, he makes no move to get up, sitting there on the ground all wet, looking up at you like an abandoned puppy.

You giggle, which makes him laugh as well. 

"Sure," he says, "go ahead and laugh."

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" you choke out, trying to hold back your laughter as you approach him, offering one hand to help him up. "Are you okay?"

But of course he is. Except for the blow to his ego, that is. And now, in addition to just being wet, his jeans are also partially stained with mud.

And the t-shirt — which is white, no less — starts to stick to his skin, giving you a view you didn't ask for but that's certainly hard to ignore.

Steve accepts your hand, but you use both hands and too much force to pull him up, so he almost collides with you when he finally stands, his face inches from yours. You both laugh, because it was supposed to be funny — his head almost bumps into yours — but he grabs your shoulders and the remnants of the laughter from before slowly die when you realize without a doubt that he's looking at your mouth.

And you at his. In the rain. Doesn't get any more romantic than this.

Except for the fact that Steve is Steve, the former King Steve, the boy who had a pretty girl on his arm every week, while you are...you.

You're not sure who pulls away first, who clears their throat, changes the subject. But before you know it, you're sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's car, staring at the dashboard as lightning cuts across the darkened sky in the distance, a storm clearly brewing.

And it's worse. This feeling you have whenever you look at him or he says your name or anyone mentions his…it's somehow worse like this, in this moment, inside this car.

As if that wasn't enough, he offers you a jacket that he takes from the backseat. His jacket.

"Thanks," you murmur, taking the jacket and putting it on. It's warm. You remember the last time you saw him wearing it and resist the urge to close your eyes for a moment, inhaling his scent that still clings to the fabric. It's like a mix of laundry detergent, soap, and something uniquely Steve.

You feel a blush creep up your neck, and you look away, trying to focus on something else. Anything else.

He hasn't started the car yet, you notice. Perhaps  he's considering waiting to see if the weather will get a little better? It doesn't look that bad that it's not safe to drive, you think.

“Sorry for dragging you here for nothing,” you say, when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything.

“You didn’t drag me,” Steve assures you, sitting half to the side to look at you. "And what do you mean, for nothing? You wanted to look at the furniture, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we didn't buy anything and now you're all wet."

He chuckles so quietly you almost don't hear. "I didn't come here to buy furniture."

You think about asking what he actually came for, but that would be a stupid question, wouldn't it? A hope of hearing something that he probably won't say. He came so you could buy what you wanted. He's a good friend like that.

Still, when you turn your head to look at him, there's something different in the way he's looking back at you. You smile, hoping to God he doesn't notice the nervous edge behind it, "What?"

Steve opens his mouth. He's pretty sure he didn't give those words permission to come out, and yet they come out anyway,  hoarse and low, "I really, really want to kiss you right now."

You watch his lips move as he speaks, but it's like your mind can't process the words. 

And once you do, you blink, not quite sure what to say to that. Your heart feels like it's trying to escape your chest, a wild thing thumping against your ribs. But there's something else in there too. Something warm. Something you haven't felt in a long time.

The front seats are close enough, so Steve reaches out, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing across your lips. "I've wanted to for a while now," he whispers, leaning in closer.

You feel hot all over, the air in the car suddenly too thick to breathe. 

Steve's fingers trail down your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip, teasing you. It's a slow, deliberate movement, as if he's memorizing every inch of your face, every second of this moment. "Do you want me to?" he whispers, and the teasing tone in his voice makes your stomach flip over. 

Your mind is spinning, but somehow you manage to force out the words, "Yes." You mean it. God, you mean it.

Steve's smile grows in that charming, lopsided way he has when he's happy. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leans in closer, closer…and then his lips are there, pressing softly against yours. Feather-light at first, like he's testing the waters, making sure this is what you want. But when you part your lips, letting him in, he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a slow, lazy rhythm, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you to him.

And then, all too soon, he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. "Was that…was that okay?"

You smile, leaning as close to him as you can without jumping over the gearshift.

"It was more than okay."

[join my 3k followers celebration! ♥]

[bunny-jpeg]

a side of fries

toto wolff

tags: smut/fluff, food (mcdonalds), age gap (26/52), pregnancy, pregnant!reader, gentle sex, sweet & spicy fic, cowgirl position, domestic

it was ten at night on a friday. and most women your age were probably at a bar or some club, they were dancing the night away in uncomfortable heels and short dresses. the loud thump of the bass and the endless drinks.

you could even hear them walking and chatting past your apartment in monaco. but you weren't a club go-er, not since your met toto. and not since you got pregnant.

you were half of toto's age almost to a t, twenty six while he was fifty-two. you both made quite the pair, but you loved him so deeply. you loved in a way that you never felt for anyone else. he was unlike any other man you had ever met.

you actually were the girlfriend of a young engineer and at a race in your home country, you ran into and met toto. while it was an honour to meet someone like him. it wouldn't come till after you and your boyfriend broke up that toto would come back into your life.

"you don't have to." you played with the bracelet around your wrist as you stood outside the expensive restaurant in monaco. he flew you out for the weekend, he told you that he wanted you to go on a real date.

he simply held your lower back and smiled down at you, "i want to, you are not making me do anything i don't want to do, meine prinzessin." then leaned in a little, "may i kiss you?" and that was when you knew that you were in love with toto.

and in turn he loved you more than the stars that dotted the sky.

it was ten at night, toto had been busy in the home office with work for the next leg of the season. he only had a month with you before he was back in different parts of the world. thankfully, you were able to join him for the dutch and italian grand prix.

he was comfortable being on the couch next to you, you tucked into his side. you wore one of his quarter zip sweaters that was loose enough on you to be comfortable. toto had an arm around you while you watched a movie on the television. it wasn't anything too difficult, toto had mentioned earlier that day that he had never seen those "animated spiderman movies" when he caught you looking at baby onesies online. you had your eye on a little spiderman one.

now you were snuggled up as you watched spider-man: into the spider-verse. and while you loved the movie, there was something else on your mind. you leaned up and kissed your lover on the jaw.

"toto." you said softly.

"yes, liebste." he asked as he pulled you a little closer to kiss the top of your head. he then looked at your face and asked, "what are you thinking about?"

"i'm hungry." you rested your chin up against him. you looked at him, "i want mcdonalds."

toto made a slight face before he ran his fingers through your hair, "darling." he said, "you know that isn't healthy for you or the baby." you only pouted further.

"but me and the peanut want it."

toto chuckled, affected by your puppy-dog eyes. he was glad that he married his weak spot. he moved his hand to your middle and rubbed it, the rounded belly you had. he said, "my sweetheart, please. we have food at home."

you pouted, "please... please!"

before toto knew it, he had a pair of proper pants on and a cleaner t-shirt. you were in maternity shorts and one of his t-shirts. he had sneakers on while you were wearing flip flops. toto thought you were beautiful. you were his weakness, he hoped that you didn't make a habit of weaponizing your puppy-dog eyes to get junk food.

you both went down to the car and soon were headed towards the fast-food place. it was odd, in a city with so much food and culture. you wanted greasy fast food. his hand was on your thigh as he rubbed the partially exposed skin.

toto entered the restaurant with you, his hand on your lower back. you went to the self ordering station and he stayed close to you. you looked at him and asked, "do you want anything?"

he raised his eyebrows at you and you tilted your head towards the screen.

he chuckled, "i don't think it'll agree with my stomach at this age... and if you're getting a soft drink, please get something with no sugar. i don't need the doctor giving you or me a hard time because of your sweet tooth."

you ordered a cheeseburger, a large (diet) coke, and a side of fries. you could already taste the grease on your tongue. toto thought it was adorable, how excited you were. how excited you were.

he remained close to you, a protective hand at your waist as you both waited for your food. he looked down at you and asked, "are you alright, liebste?"

you nodded and replied in what little german you knew, "mir geht es großartig." you stumbled over the last part a little and toto beamed at you. obviously the child you were having together was going to be multi-lingual but you didn't want to miss out on their conversations in german. so you've been trying to learn.

he rubbed your back a little bit and you had a hand at your swollen middle. your number was soon called and you got closer to the counter with toto close behind like a shadow.

the employee looked at you and then toto. she looked a bit confused and you just sheepishly smiled as you took the meal. you thanked her before you shuffled out of the restaurant.

when you got in the car and put the straw in your diet coke, before you took a sip you said, "she thought we were father and daughter."

toto made a face as he got into the driver's suit. he reached over and rubbed your middle, "and here i thought that getting you pregnant would solve that problem." he leaned over and kissed you, the sharp taste of coke on his lips before he buckled himself and drove off.

back at the apartment, you happily ate your greasy food while toto played with your hair. he was impressed with you in everything you did, you were the perfect wife for him.

"happy?"

you nodded, with half of a fry sticking out of your mouth. toto leaned in and ate the other half before he kissed you. by the time you finished your meal and got rid of the garbage. he was hungry for something else. as you were partially bent over to throw out the wrappers. he draped an arm over your belly and pressed his chest up against your back.

eventually he rubbed your middle and sighed happily, "you look divine." he pressed you closer to him and kissed the side of your neck, "you carry my child so well. you're going to be an amazing mother."

just as toto couldn't deny you, you couldn't deny him. you giggled a little and turned in his grasp. you kissed him on the lips, the taste of grease still stained them. you shuddered with warmth.

when he pulled away he simply suggested, "why don't we go to bed, you must be tired." he cupped your face with his large hand and smiled.

you ended up on the bed with toto slowly pulling the shirt over your body, exposing your pregnant body to him. he placed a hand on your rounded middle and leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, you could hear him say he loved you against your skin. sex was slowly becoming a little more difficult thanks to the bump. but you'd always find ways to make do. your husband stripped you free of your clothes like a present. his hungry gaze on your swollen breasts. even giving the tender flash a kiss when he got you out of the sports bra.

your body had changed so much these last few months. all because of him, it was quite the boost to his ego. that as his age he could still father a child with such a beautiful, lovely woman. he pulled back while you sat on the bed and admired you. he licked his lips at the sight of you and felt warmth pool through his body.

you sat there naked, it was only fair that he did the same. you admired him, licked your lips hungrily as he joined in you in bed. naked as well. he was still fit for a man his age, he took care of himself. he still had enough stamina left in him to make sure his wife was taken care of. he wrapped his arms around you as he laid in bed. with you still seated upwards, it was the perfect angle for him to kiss you bare bump.

"you're such a good wife, good mother." he said lowly as his hand dipped further down until he was between your legs. his long fingers toyed with your pussy as he kissed at your swell, "from the moment i laid eyes on you, i knew you had to be mine. no one that beautiful should go without. and in return you gave me the most precious gift ever."

he pressed you closer for a moment, his nose squished against your belly. he exhaled deeply. that was why he spoiled you, as a thank you. you were giving him a child. when he pulled away, he had a hand on your hip and watched you move on top of him.

due to the pregnancy, you had to switch up the positions. and while toto loved classic missionary, having you in his lap wasn't too bad either. his hands on your belly as he eyed at you, his dark eyes pulled you in. he licked his lips as you shifted yourself on his lap. then sank down on his cock.

you whimpered a little and it was music to his ears. he loved how you sounded and it only spurred him on further to touch you. to love you. to give his wife all the affection she yearned for. you were all his, and he'd give you the world.

"how are you feeling? sick at all from the food?" he asked. during your pregnancy he wanted to make sure that you were eating well and taking care of yourself. he worried about you, work made it hard for him to be around often. but regardless, he was still weak to your puppy dog eyes.

he held your hips as you moved against him. he wanted to steady you as you pleasured the both of you. so pregnant yet working so hard. toto was a lucky man. he admired you as the pleasure coursed through his body. he asked you once more, "is the movements hurting you?" concern in his voice where the edges were tinged with lust.

"no, no, it's perfect. it's fine. nothing hurts, not even my hips." you said with pleasure seeped deep into your voice as you moved against him even more. you felt the crawl of want through your core and your cunt clenched around his achy cock. you exhaled deeply, "toto, this feels amazing." you chuckled lightly, "even better than the mcdonalds."

toto took a firmer grasp of your ass and said, "that's good to know. that my cock is better than fast food. i'd say that it doesn't add pounds on you, but.." he eyed your swollen belly, "i fear that's not the case." he relaxed a little bit as you continued to move up and down his cock.

you moaned as you held onto his short dark hair and gazed into his dark eyes. he can see the lust heavy in your gaze as you moved up and down his cock. you arched your back a little more and he placed both hands on your swollen middle.

"my wife." he groaned, "i got you all nice and pregnant. spoiled you, made you all mine. a yet you've only become more beautiful. stunning in a ways that keep me hooked to you. i need you, my darling. every inch i can have you." he panted against your warm chest, "i got you pregnant, i made you mine."

his words made your stomach flip as you continued to pleasure him. the feeling was immense, his words were like hot coals against your already heated skin. and it made your head swim with euphoric want. only toto wolff could make you feel revered and adored, but also like a slut. a whore for him to play with. even though he spoiled you in every aspect he could.

it was a duality that made you shudder as you felt the pleasure continue to mount in your core. he kissed at your chest and it made you clutch onto his hair tightly. the thumping in your chest felt faster with each buck of your hips. you were beyond excited, pleasure dripped from your core as you took his entire length.

you felt a haze in your system as you rode him. he happily let his sweet wife keep the pace. let you get to climax first. he cupped your swollen belly, the feeling of the skin under his hands made his cock twitch. even at his age he could knock up someone as beautiful as you. it didn't take much either, just a weekend in the swiss alps... or maybe it was the hotel in monza.... or the back of a cab at an after party a week later. regardless, he got your pregnant.

you tensed up around him, your cunt tightened around his cock as you held on tighter. you came around his length and continued your hot, quick movements.

you near sang his praises as you came, tensed up around him and he pulled you down for a searing kiss. he picked up the pace of his movements and fucked you feverishly till he reached his own climax. the feeling flooded his head and left little room for coherent thought. almost like a primal need to fuck you until a base part of his was satified. so he continued to move his hips once he finished inside of you.

when the clarity hit, he stopped and held your face to pepper your heated skin with kisses. he rested against you and panted heavily, "alright, alright, my treasure. my love." he held your back more tenderly before he guided you fully onto the bed and laid a protective hand at your waist.

"i love you."

"i love you too. now don't think you can always get your way by giving me sex." he playfully scolded you. he shifted himself close to your pregnant form. how warm you felt even from a small gap between you two.

you just smiled at your beloved toto and said, "oh don't worry. i'll use my powers for good." as if you hadn't been using your child to be a very spoiled mrs. wolff. <3

[lawboysammyy]

he’s a gentleman — clark kent x sensitive!reader

summary: clark comes home to find his pretty angel baking in the kitchen on valentine’s day

contains: soft and sweet boyfriend clark, suggestive towards the end

The smell of freshly baked cookies and the sound of a faith hill song invaded Clark's senses as he walked into the kitchen. He saw you standing at the counter wearing one of his flannels and a pair of pajama shorts, setting down a tray of what appeared to be chocolate chip cookies on the stove.  

“Hey, angel. What are you baking in here?” Clark's voice caused you to jump backwards into his strong chest as he walked up behind you.  

“Clark! You scared me. I though I've told you not to sneak up on me like that,” you smiled as you turned to face the tall brunette. He had kicked off his work boots by the door, leaving him clad in a dirty, white t-shirt and his typical blue jeans.  

God, how did he manage to make such a simple outfit look so good? 

“I'm sorry, angel. I didn't think you'd be up this early,” Clark replied earnestly. He was right, it was early for you. The clock on the oven read 8:24 and you usually didn’t wake up until well after 9 o'clock when you spent the night at the Kent house.  

You turned to face the counter again, cleaning up the slight mess of ingredients as Clark wrapped his arms around your waist, bending down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “To answer your question, I baked some cookies to thank Lana for letting me pick up some shifts at the Talon.” 

Clark smiled into your neck, inhaling the scent of yesterday’s perfume. “Well, that’s real sweet of you, honey. I'm sure she’ll appreciate it. I hope you weren’t planning on hanging out with Lana all day, though, because I've got somethin’ special planned for you for valentine’s day.”  

You tossed the rag you were using to clean onto the oven handle and turned to face Clark. “Oh yeah? Can I have a little insight into this plan, so I know what to wear? I got a new dress the other day and I wanna wear it out,” you told Clark. While this was partially true, you really just wanted to know what your boyfriend was planning because while he was good at keeping secrets from his peers, Clark just couldn’t help it when it came to keeping secrets from you.  

Clark let out a soft chuckle before answering your question. “i was thinking of going to a movie, then a nice dinner...maybe have a little fun after dinner.” You knew what he was hinting at in the last part of his plan. His parents were out of town for a wedding, leaving the house empty for you and Clark. “How does that sound, angel?” 

You hummed contently, standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to the boy’s lips. “I think that sounds perfect, Clark. Thank you,” you complimented as you took Clark's hand in yours and began to lead him to the staircase. “But what if we had a little fun right now? We've got a couple hours to kill. I told Lana I'd stop by her place at around 10 to drop off a top I borrowed from her”  

Clark’s eyes practically lit up at your suggestion, and suddenly you were in his bedroom, pressed against the door. “That sounds like a great idea,” Clark replied in between kisses. 

[leclerc-hs]

fille stupide pt. 3 - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader / max verstappen x fem!reader Summary: in which you now kind of know French and a not so stranger is still here Warnings: smut, oral (f-receiving), angstyyyy (?), cheating (again, i'm sorry), 18+!, not proofread!!, bad French (correct me please!!), bad Dutch (correct me please!!) Word Count: 1985 Author's Note: ok so I think we'll end fille stupide here 🤭 I absolutely loved writing this (if you couldn't tell by how fast i was able to write it lmaooo). I honestly WOULD NOT mind writing more scenarios for them in the future. Like if I ever write mean dom charles, my mind will automatically come back to them. please don't forget to leave feedback! love y'all french edited by @shewantsvengeance!!! dutch edited by @deanlovescassie!!!

PART 1 PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

STARTLED BY A loud bang in the kitchen, you jolt awake. The bright sun streaming through your windows blinds you as you try to make sense of the abrupt awakening and your surroundings. You were no longer naked; a large plain white t-shirt enveloped your body. A t-shirt you don’t remember even putting on or falling asleep in. A t-shirt, that’s not even yours.

Caution gripped you as you inched towards the kitchen, moving slowly down the hall. The muffled sounds persisted, their meaning elusive, while the clattering of cabinets continued. As you finally reached the corner of the hallway, you were met with the sight of a partially naked Charles in the kitchen, an array of food on the stove top cooked. The aroma of bacon and eggs wafted through the kitchen, prompting your stomach to audibly grumble in response. You leaned against the countertop across from him, just watching the muscles of his back flex with each deliberate movement. He stayed?

You let out a breath of air in relief at the sight of him. Not just because he was there and stayed, but because it wasn’t somebody breaking in.

He didn’t even turn around before saying, “Où ranges-tu tes assiettes?” Where do you keep your plates? “Oh, I found them!” He didn’t have to turn around to sense your presence; all his senses seemed attuned to your proximity. Your body called to him, like it demanded his attention. As if your cells were able to alert his own, screaming for them to merge with yours.

You felt a swirl of need form in your stomach at the sight of your scratch marks on his back. As if he was marked for your territory only. You also felt a surge of panic form in your throat as the memories of last night came flooding back. 

Tell me who your body belongs to.

Je t’appartiens, Charles.

A sensation of unease churned in your stomach as thoughts of Max’s face crossed your mind. The guilt weighed heavily, and you felt on the verge of nausea for what you had done to him. How was it possible that something so bad felt so good? It was as if Charles held complete control over you, rendering you senseless and devoid of rational thoughts and actions. Tears prick at your eyes as you observe the bruises on the insides of your legs and felt the welts on your neck. Your body looks and feels both used and abused. Nothing about this situation is okay. Last night, you both had been remarkably careless. 

The panic began to subside only when Charles turned around and met your gaze. His eyes, an unusually light shade of green, captured your attention. His disheveled hair hinted at just having woken up not too long ago.

“I didn’t know you stayed,” you began, confusion laced in your voice. “I heard the door shut last night.”

“Fille stupide,” Stupid girl. A smile crept on his face, carrying a mocking undertone that seemed directed at you.  “I went to store to get you a pill last night. Je suis revenu.” I came back.

You despised how profoundly his words impacted you, how his return stirred a need for you to rationalize both your actions and his, even when there was no justification for what had transpired. Anxious, your fingers fidgeted with the end of the T-shirt that rested at the middle of your thighs. He advanced towards you, trapping you between him and the counter – a familiar position whenever you find yourself in his presence. His hands find their way to your face, their size enough to envelope majority of it. His fingers sprawl on your jawline, and his thumbs rest on your cheekbones as he looks at you. Really looks at you. Like he’s memorizing every inch of your face. Like you’re a textbook and he has a test to study for. 

“Tu es tellement belle,” You’re so beautiful. Despite his sweet words, a sinister gleam in his eyes followed the contours of your body, his hands firmly gripping your hips as he pressed himself to you, “I meant what I said last night.”

Mine, you’re fucking mine.

The ache in between your legs was growing with each passing second. He was too close, his smell and warmth surrounding you, creating a sense of intoxication. You felt the need to press your thighs together, but Charles stood between them, smirking down at you like he knew. 

Words fail you as you gaze up at him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He stands there patiently, waiting as you study the furrow of his eyebrow. He stands there patiently, waiting as your eyes delve into his, memorizing every shade of color within them. He stands there patiently, waiting as your gaze fixates on his lips.

It was almost as if you didn’t have a choice. Like he was a pre-determined answer to your life. A definition to your word.

“Guess I didn’t give it to you hard enough last night, hm?” It wasn’t until your hands settle on his biceps that he realizes you’ve given him consent. Suddenly, his hands are everywhere. Roaming your body like an unexplored map; squeezing your waist, pinching your nipples, squeezing your butt. He just can’t get enough of you. “Need me to take the ache away?”

A moan escapes your lips as you yield, unable to resist him. Your body, seemingly under his command, surrenders to its desires. 

His tongue presses against yours, never losing contact. He quickly flips the both of you around, pushing you until your back met the countertop of the island. With determination, he lifts you onto it, shoving anything that finds solace there, to the floor. His hands push you down, so you now lay sprawled on the counter in the center of the kitchen. You replacing the breakfast Charles had made.

“Mon dieu,” My God. He growls at the sight of your legs spread and bare for him. “Je pourrais mourir heureux.” I could die happy. You have no idea what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. Especially when his tongue met your clit, licking you as if you were the last meal on Earth and he was starving.

His two fingers slid into your heated core, curling them to brush your g-spot with every stroke. “Tellement bon,” So fucking good. He’s moaning into your pussy, sending you into oblivion. 

“Putain de salope.” Fucking dirty slut. He manages to mumble in between your legs, the vibration of his words pushing you closer to the edge.

Around his fingers, you clench. You revel in the feeling of him in you, no matter what or how it’s done. Your fingers clench in his hair, it’s longer than the first time you met, tugging to anchor yourself. His hands on you are equivalent to an out of body experience. You could never tire of it. 

“You like that?” Yes! You wanted to yell. You more than liked it. You loved it.

It wasn’t until his other hand, the one not inside of you, groped one of your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, that you went flying over the edge, relishing in the waves of pleasure as he continues to thrust his fingers in you – coaxing you through the orgasm. 

His mouth is hot on you, swallowing anything you’ll give him. Your legs shake, his mouth on you becoming too much as you squirm until he stops and looks at you, his lips glossy and coated.

“Tellement foutrement doux,” So fucking sweet. He murmured as he pulled you up, holding you in an upright position to look at him. You still don’t know what he’s saying, but you didn’t care. Your ears were ringing as you came down from your high, feeling limp against the hands of Charles.

You shut your eyes as you began to feel the panic surge. You gave in, again.  He peppered small kisses to your neck, almost too softly, a stark contrast from how he treats you in the midst of sex. He was soft with you now -- tender. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop. As if sensing your panic, Charles tips your chin to look at him.

“Cherie, you are made for me.” You feel the panic claw at your throat, constricting you, and the tears begin to spill from your eyes. “Don’t you see?”

You did see it. You could see it clear as day. After all, there wasn’t a day that he wasn’t on your mind since the first encounter. You don’t understand what’s happening to you. How could you betray Max like this? He didn’t deserve it, and you didn’t deserve him. It feels like there’s no choice when it comes to Charles. It’s as if your body responds instantly to his mere gaze. He’s the batteries, and you’re the remote control. Completely useless without its batteries.

You knew you had to tell Max. You couldn’t bear to hurt him any further. You observed Charles begin to furrow his eyebrows in frustration as he sensed you withdrawing from him. The sight pained him, and it hurt to witness.

“I need to tell Max,” You started, but were quickly cut off by a voice.

“Tell Max what?” 

You felt your heart stop and face flush red, as none other than Max stood just a few feet away in the entry way of your home, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a spare key to your apartment in the other. Time seemed to slow down as you observed Max’s eyes darting between the proximity of you and Charles. There you were, perched on the counter, with Charles standing between your legs. Your cheeks flushed red as you sat with nothing but Charles t-shirt on your body. The kitchen island was wiped clean, everything scattered on the floor. The air hung heavy with an unspoken tension.

He didn’t even speak. He simply dropped the flowers and spare key on the entry way table and turned around, heading for the door. You shoved Charles out of the way, running towards the door. Running towards Max.

“Please, I can explain,” you were shouting. Completely panicked. But really, there was nothing to explain. It was clear as day, all cards laid out on the table in front of Max’s eyes.

“You don’t need to explain.” He scoffed, his jaw clenched in anger, as his eyes bounced from you, standing in front of him, to Charles, who remained planted in the kitchen. “Ik ben er klaar mee.” I’m done. He spoke in his native tongue, knowing you understood.

“Ik walg van je.” You disgust me. His words were sharp, stabbing you where it hurt most. He couldn’t even look you in the eye as he stepped out of the apartment as fast as he could.

You convince yourself that something has to be wrong with you. You were so mad that you did this. So mad that you hurt Max. But still, despite it all, everything with Charles feels so right.

Tears spilled hotly from your eyes, falling to the floor as you sobbed into your hands. Charles hurried over, lifting you to your feet and cradling you in his arms. Swiftly, he carried you to your bed, gently placing you on the covers. Pulling you into his chest, he held you tightly, providing comfort and solace.

“Je te protégerai.” I’ll keep you safe. Charles mutters into the nape of your neck, rubbing your back soothingly as you cry into him. “Tu es faite pour moi.” You’re meant for me.

You cried for what felt like hours. Charles only continued to whisper sweet nothings to you as he held you. You cried until you were limp with exhaustion, eyes closing, surrounded in the warmth of Charles. You didn’t deserve it.

“I will be here when you wake up, Cherie.” ----------- sorry max, you need to lose something 🤭

[gilverrwrites]

Have we discussed Roman’s separated wife hooking up with Bruce Wayne? You and Bruce have always been cordial, so when Roman doxxes you, Bruce lets you stay at the Manor and cry on his shoulder until the wine bottle is empty. He’s so nice and his hand is so warm on your cheek and oh Lord, it’s bigger than your face and you can’t remember the last time you felt safe while a man was touching you. You try to make a move, but Bruce knows he’s overindulged you (partially to get info about Roman but he’ll feel guilty about it later), so he stops you…but promises he’ll be more than ready and willing when you’re in your right mind and decide you still want this. You wait anxiously the entirety of the next day, until Bruce shows up at your door in the sluttiest t-shirt and sweatpants you’ve ever seen, his ginormous hand finding its place on your face again while the other one is slipping under the hem of your shirt.

Slutty top? You've hit a nerve anon, cause now all I'm thinking about is Brucie in a slutty little crop top, like sir put that washboard away before I bite it! Honestly, feral for anyone of any shape and size in a crop top, just show me your belly, please. Yeah, that would work on me.

But to answer your question, no we have not discussed this but we certainly can!!!!

Like, I can say earnestly, when he invited you to stay with him, sleeping with you did not cross his mind; he was purely thinking about;

Helping you get out of a bad situation

Good for the Brucie Wayne image (so long as the press don't get wind of it until you've found somewhere permanent to move too)

(as mentioned) Chance to get info on Black Mask

But the moment you flash that perfectly poised smile, even though you’re clearly on the brink of tears, he's thinking ‘Uh oh. I'm in trouble.’

He never thought much of you while you were with Roman, if maybe a little bit sorry for you. The extent of your relationship was occasional networking with Bruce at events, and Batman peeking through your windows at night to check on you when Roman was at his worst or imprisoned.

It helps that he thought you were pretty.

But now, as he's getting to know you on a personal level, seeing that you're stronger than he'd thought, and smarter. You're letting down walls and actually relaxing, and in his domain at that! It stirs something within him.

And for you, like Roman and Bruce are the same age, from similar backgrounds, similar personas for the public (charming and rich) but it's crazy to see how different they really are.

When you talk, Bruce isn't just waiting for his turn to speak, he listens.

There's no coercion when you set a boundary, he just respects it. Which funnily enough makes you more willing to share. He's just so easy to trust.

When you ask about interesting pieces around his house, he doesn't brag about where it's from and what it costs. Instead, he tells you stories about his parents or his kids interacting with it.

He's funny, and respectful, not at all what you'd expected.

And did you mention handsome? Oh, he's very handsome. That dark hair and those blue eyes. The chiselled jaw and the dimples and he smells good too, you find that out after you bury your nose into his chest while he's carrying you to bed that first night. You're tipsy, and his house is a maze, he's just trying to help and not at all showing off his strength.

The same way he's just dressed so casually the following day when he comes to find you, this is what he always lounges around. He's totally not subtly flexing his glamour muscles as you open the door.

Now, Roman is by no means bad in bed. He's just, shall we say, selfish? He has a set way in life and sex that he expects you to live up to.

Bruce though? He's a giver. He can take, when appropriate, but right now, he knows what you need.

You need those big hands on your waist as he chases you into the bed with his mouth. You need them soothing your tired body, massaging all the stress out of your aching body. You need his thumb to rub circles into your inner thighs while he kisses, and sucks, and laps at your hot, wet sex. You need his long hard fingers pumping into that sweet little hole, again and again until you cum all over them.

And that is just the start.

But you know one other really important thing you need? Some goddamn aftercare.

He knows it straight away, shouldn’t have been surprised. But when your body immediately falls limp after he rolls off of you, when you look at him confused as he asks if you need anything he knows your life has been lacking kindness for so long that you barely even recognise when it's extended to you.

He's not good at the emotional stuff, at comforting words but he reasons that you probably don't need to hear it right now. Don't need to be reminded of your mistakes, of your past.

Instead, he pulls you into him, wrapping his warmth around you like a giant weighted blanket. Holding you until you accept his affection and melt into his arms.

Meanwhile, the False Facers can't breach Bruces security, can't get a good look into the Manor. Which means they don't know what you're doing there. But they know you're there, and that means Roman knows you're there.

And Romans not stupid, you sneaky, no good, selfish whore.

He gave you everything, and this is how you repay him? You nasty little bitch. And with Bruce Wayne of all people?

Don't get comfy, because the moment you step outside those gates, the second you let your walls down, he's going to rock your shit. You're going to pay for all the crap you've put him through, tenfold.

Taglist: @wandalfnation

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, energy is tenseee

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -> PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE (partially written! wc: 1.4k)

You sigh, placing your phone next to you as you slide down further into your pillows. Time is running out to ask Minho, you know that, and Lily has been pressing too. The deadline for offering interviews lingers sooner than when they start. With a groan, you swing your feet over the edge of your bed and slip them into the bunny slippers previously kicked off at the end of your bedframe, trudging to your door.

Minho is already pouring a cup of coffee into a dark brown mug when you enter the kitchen, wearing his normal work attire; a tight black t-shirt tucked into black jeans and a belt. Sometimes you were jealous of the simplicity. He doesn't notice you lean on the island, back facing you. When he does turn around, he startles, the tiniest drop of hot coffee running down the side of his mug and seeping under his hand. He doesn't hiss at the burn, doesn't even flinch, just puts the mug down and wipes his hand on the cloth hanging off the oven door.

"Dont sneak up on people, it's not nice," he says, replacing the cloth.

You perk up at his voice. "We're talking again, good, that's good. Listen, I deeply apologize for what I said and I don't even believe that, you know? I'm sure your ex loved you a lot. There was definitely a really good reason for her to hide her husband from you. Maybe he sucked! In any case, you're a great guy, so why wouldn't she choose you?"

Taking a deep breath, you refocus yourself. Minho is staring at you from above his mug, blowing gently on the hot liquid. There's still tension between you two, the air thick and hot.

"Was there a point to all that?" He asks bluntly.

"Yes, um. This is bad timing, but have you decided if you're doing Lily's thing or not yet...?" He sets his mug down with a sigh. "Of course, it's okay if you don't want to! Deadlines are coming up though so she needs an answer whether you're doing it or not."

He takes his time answering, sipping his coffee, running a hand through his hair, stretching. Part of you is getting frustrated. How hard is it to say a simple yes or no? Either he's doing it or not, there's not exactly a grey area.

"I'll do it," Minho finally answers, and you barely contain a squeal of excitement.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You run around the island and hug him, nearly knocking over your stool in the process.

It's short-lived, pulling away to see Minho's face painted red, no doubt mimicking your own. Clearing his throat, he nods at you and grabs his coffee, turning away from you. You're about to leave when you remembered what prompted you to seek him out in the first place.

"We're having a game night tonight if you want to join? It's just gonna be the boys, Hyun, NingNing, and I invited Soobin too." You lean against the wall of the hallway leading to your rooms, waiting for a response.

"Ah, I might be working late again, but I'll see what Jeongin is up to. Is it okay if I..." He shakes his head. "Never mind, forget that. I'll either see you or I won't."

"Okaaay," you give him two thumbs up, but immediately put them back down when he gives you a weird look.

-

Game night is in full swing by ten with snacks and drinks taking up the island and bodies filling up the couch. A pile of UNO cards sit messily in the middle of the table, NingNing taking it upon herself to tidy it up every so often, even if it only stays like that for a couple of turns. You're so close to calling UNO, smirking as you place down another pick-up-4 card and watch as Soobin's head slowly turns to look at you with fake disdain. He keeps eye contact as his hand reaches for the deck, barely containing his own smile as he glares at you, and you can't help but giggle.

All night has been like this- teasing Soobin and getting him used to your friends now that you've become a bit more serious. His training under you has finally ended, so you feel less guilty about the whole thing. The only thing is that you still haven't shared it with your boss, but that's a problem for another day. Right now, all you can think of is the way Soobin has his free hand over yours, thumb caressing the back of your hand and only taking it away to place a card down. He fits in nicely with everyone, almost like he's always been there... which makes sense seeing as he was already friends with Beomgyu.

"UN-" you're attention turns to the two bodies walking through the front door, "-oh."

In comes Minho with a girl you don't recognize hanging off his arm, in their own world as they kick their shoes off and laugh at something she whispers in his ear. Neither seem to notice the big group around the table until the girl gives a little, and uncomfortable, wave. Minho has his arm wrapped around her waist tightly, and you follow his gaze to where Han and Beomgyu sit. On their faces are matching angry stares, Han with his mouth open slightly.

"You're kidding," Beomgyu scoffs. "Tell me you're kidding, Min."

"I forgot you were having a game night," Minho shifts.

"Don't ignore the question." You look at Beomgyu, anxiety crawling up your throat. "Why is she here? And why are you acting so... couple-y?"

Han stands, and you can see his hands are shaking. "You got back together?"

"Oh, come on," the girl speaks for the first time, a look of annoyance on her face. "We always get back together."

"I wasn't talking to you-" Han points a finger at her, then directs it to Minho. "You, explain."

"No," Minho sighs. "I don't think I need to. If you're unhappy with your own love lives, you don't need to project onto me. None of you can say shit about relationships here. You're sneaking around because you're ashamed, and Y/n is only with Soobin because she can't get over her ex. Just to name a few."

You avoid eye contact with Soobin, a pang of hurt in your chest, glaring at Minho.

"I'm not unhappy," you say, feeling Soobin squeeze your hand. "You have no right to comment on my relationships because you're jealous."

Hurt flashes over Minho's face for a millisecond, quickly covered by a stoic expression. "Why would I be jealous? People can change-"

"Like hell, they can." Beomgyu stands now, circling around the table and past the couch to get into his personal space. "You said it yourself you don't believe that! And what about your husband?" He looks the girl in the eye and you hear NingNing gasp; you forgot to tell her. "What does he think of all this?"

"We're divorcing," she answers quietly, looking down at the floor. "He wasn't good for me. Not like you'd understand, or even take the time to try and understand."

Her voice turns watery at the end of the sentence, orange hair shielding her face as she curls into Minho's chest. From the shudder of her body, you can tell she's starting to cry. You almost feel bad for her. Taking in her words, you feel there's more to the story than what you know and what the others are willing to listen to, but you're already to upset to care. Han joins Beomgyu, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe we should leave it alone."

"And maybe he should leave, take his princess back to her tower," Beomgyu spits.

Minho's eyes turn dark, jaw clenching. He's holding back hurtful comments, just barely. After another moment of tense staring, Minho breaks eye contact and leads the girl- his ex- back to the front door. Slipping on his shoes, he helps her with her own when her hands prove to be too shaky to tie the laces. When he leaves the room is completely silent, Beomgyu taking a seat next to Hyunjin on the couch and Han walking away down the hall, the sound of a door slamming following his departure.

-

notes -> maybe we were quick to judge his ex...? maybe.......?

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^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[yesimwriting]

post match

----

the edge of your thumb brushes against the bottom of your racket. again and again, a much more docile back and forth than the game of tennis you just finished.

"now that was a...game." the breathy quality bleeding into patrick's voice implies a tiredness that serves as a point of pride. you're a fan of keeping friendly games friendly, but after playing with a talented duo that understands each other as well as patrick and art do, it's nice to know that you held your own.

your knees bend slightly, arm reaching downwards to grab the gym bag that you abandoned on the sidelines. "yeah," you hum earnestly, "you guys were great."

art tilts his head upwards, the corner of his mouth tugging itself upwards as he reaches for his own bag. "please," he mumbles as he unzips his bag, "even when you were on the singles side you had us fighting for our lives."

the warmth of art's words makes it hard to focus on rearranging the contents of your duffle bag. "you're exaggerating." you push the sandals you were wearing earlier, a spare pair of socks, and a set of tennis balls to one end of your bag. "but i appreciate it."

you're a little more careful when it comes to moving your t-shirt and denim shorts, taking the time to keep the clothes folded as you move them further into your bag. as you retract your hand, the side of your palm brushes against something cool. your water bottle.

how did you forget about that? you pull out the metal container, tucking it between your chest and forearm as you adjust your hold on your gym bag. finally, you shove the head of your racket into the newly available space.

your eyes shift upwards as you tug on you bag's zipper. patrick and art are standing close together in a way that highlights their familiarity. you've always felt the way that they understand each other on the court, but you're just starting to get the way that their closeness translates itself into life outside of the game.

"you guys are really good together." the suddenness of your own words surprises you. "anticipating moves, knowing when to let who go for it..." your explanation borders on awkward for some reason you don't exactly get.

there's a beat of silence, and the two of them exchange a look. you don't fully understand that either, but the corner of patrick's mouth shifts into a smile. he leans towards art, extending an arm to pull it around art's shoulder. "we're the team."

art works at remaining stiff, shaking his head slightly as patrick makes a show of squeezing his arm. "yeah, because he needs me to-"

"need?" patrick tugs on art's arm. "really? i need you?"

art lets out a partial laugh, shaking his head once as he halfheartedly tries to pull away. "no, no--you cut me off."

patrick looks over at you, eyes narrowing skeptically. "i don't believe him."

you twist the cap off your water bottle. "i'm neutral."

"neutral?" patrick repeats, letting his arm fall off of art's shoulder. he takes a small step in your direction. "really?"

you nod once before lifting your water bottle to your lips. before you can actually take a sip, the bottle is pulled out of your hand. you recognize patrick's smug smile before you've fully processed the fact that he's now holding your water bottle.

you cross your arms in front of your chest, lifting your chin slightly in an attempt to seem firm. "patrick."

"what?" his grin broadens as he bends his arm, holding the water close to his chest and out of easy reach.

you let your arms fall to your side in an attempt to seem nonconfrontational. patrick watches you, eyebrows raised and smile still glued into place. you take one step forward, and then another, again and again until patrick's within reach.

he watches you with an openness that's almost hard to take in all at once. you hold his gaze for what might be a second or a minute--you can't quite tell--and then you lift your arm as quickly as you can manage.

patrick's not thrown by the suddenness of your movement, taking a step back with an ease that's honestly a little irritating. he lets out a slight laugh as his arm bumps into art's.

art places a hand on patrick's shoulder in an attempt to keep him steady. you reach forward without thinking, your hand finding the skin beneath his wrist.

his grin broadens. patrick moves at a snail's pace. your fingers bend around his forearm. to your surprise, he doesn't move away again. he extends his arm carefully until the water bottle is just shy of your lips.

sometimes patrick's full attention feels so intentional, you feel like you should be able to pinpoint why he's looking at you so distinctively. if you dwell on it for long enough, you start feeling like you're missing something.

this time, though, there seems to be a silent question behind his gaze. you let your chin dip downwards in a cautious nod.

patrick tilts the container, the edge of it pressing against your bottom lip as water spills forward. you take two sips before patrick's straightening his wrist. he pulls the water bottle back enough to offer it to you. you take the bottle back out of instinct.

the confidence his smile radiates implies a smugness that digs at your skin. if he was anyone else, you're not sure you'd be able to stand him. "come on." patrick slings his tennis bag around his shoulder. "we need to hurry if we're going to make that movie you want to see."

patrick turns on his heels, walking forward without another word. it's instinct to want to follow along. patrick's a touchy person, and if no one else is going to consider what just happened weird, you won't either.

art's still, tennis bag sitting on his shoulder. you can't get yourself to take more than a step forward without seeing him move. "art?"

his gaze shifts from something just past your shoulder and onto you. the weight of art's full attention settles on you differently than patrick's. when art watches you, it's consuming in a way that's patient. there's a steadiness to any underlying intensity, like a minute could pass or an hour or an eternity and it wouldn't make a difference. he'll see whatever he needs to all the same.

art turns to face you fully before taking a step forward. he continues to walk towards you until he's so close you can see the faint array of freckles scattered across his skin. there's a particularly dark one near his chin.

he lifts an arm slowly. you don't move, not even when you can feel the tips of his fingers near the side of your cheek. art studies you for a second longer before letting his thumb brush against the edge of your bottom lip. the side of his thumb briefly presses into your skin, just enough to get your lips to part.

art pulls his hand back carefully, letting his palm linger against your skin as he moves back. "there was water on your..." his eyes briefly dip downwards before finding your own again. "patrick's messy."

"oh," you say, because you need to say something, "yeah."

the corner of his mouth pulls itself into a partial smile. he turns before you have to say anything else. "come on." art throws an arm around your shoulder. "we're gonna miss the movie."

you smile, a part of you glad that neither of them are looking at you right. "yeah, let's go." it takes a conscious effort to keep in pace with his long strides, but you don't mind it. "i don't want to miss the previews."

art's eyebrows draw together as he turns his head. "no one likes the previews."

you force a glare, tilting your chin downwards in an attempt to seem more intimidating. "i like the previews."

he squeezes your shoulder warmly. "you're so weird."

you let out a mock gasp. "really? i'm the weird one?"